"So, can you breathe fire?"

"Gwaine!"

Merlin couldn't help but smile at the sound of Gwen slapping Gwaine somewhere, as the knight protested: "Hey, it's a fair question!"

"It's a bit rude," she hissed.

"I don't mind," he said placidly. "And for the record, Gwaine, no I can't. Or at least, I don't think so. I haven't actually tried – so technically, I might be able to."

"You should definitely try!" the knight exclaimed, excited. "But maybe somewhere outside, yeah? Where there aren't flammable things… and I'm not sitting in front of you."

"Duly noted," he said, still smiling.

It was early afternoon now and they were all sitting at a table in Gaius' chambers. Merlin had his hands around a cup of something, while Gwaine, Lancelot and Gwen sat beside him asking questions.

Gaius was at his desk making balms and other medicines for the inevitable injuries in the days to come, and keeping half an eye on the proceedings. He'd been particularly attentive since Merlin and Arthur had stumbled back into his room the night before, and Merlin was silently grateful for it.

They'd had a relatively incident-free journey back to Camelot from the clearing, Merlin stopping them only once when he'd sensed one of Morgana's patrols nearby. He'd felt Arthur looking at him as he'd said it, wondering how on earth he knew there was a patrol since he couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. Truth be told, he didn't really know. But as the initial pain and shock and disorientation of what the dragon had done wore off, he had found himself more and more aware of just how substantial a transformation he'd gone through, and was able to touch a power that would have terrified the young King, had he known more about it.

They'd avoided the patrol easily enough, and arrived back at Camelot to find it quiet. The remaining refugees had been told to get some rest; they would have to wait until the following night now to make their bid for Godwyn's kingdom. Dawn was too close, and it was likely they would be discovered if they tried to make the journey in daylight.

Arthur had led his horse into the courtyard, and Elyan met him there, relief clear on his face at seeing the King return unharmed. But Arthur had avoided his questions, vaguely repeating the story he'd invented earlier to explain Merlin's state, and then leading him away from the courtyard.

Gaius had been more demanding of answers, but was also so clearly delighted to see Merlin alive and more or less unscathed, that they were both patient with him. Really now all Arthur and Merlin wanted was sleep, and after only a short period of prodding and examination coupled with questions like: "So you're now talking again?" and "what did the dragon say?" Gaius seemed to sense this and had led Merlin to his bed, letting Arthur find his own way out. He'd told Merlin that he was proud of him as he helped him un-dress, then blew out the candle and left him alone.

Surprisingly, perhaps, he'd fallen asleep almost instantly, and had slept soundly until the noon bell woke him – or maybe it had been the none-too-quiet talking outside his door. He'd allowed himself to come slowly back to wakefulness, opening his eyes finally: and remembering. He felt tears prickling, and suffered a moment of grief for the loss of his sight. But he blinked it all away quickly. There was no time for that. He'd chosen this. He had to accept the cost.

Sitting up, he reached out with his magic, looking for his clothes without seeing them. and dressed, taking a bit longer than normal, but managing it without breaking anything or making much of a mess. Then he crossed to the door, and opened it.

All talking outside ceased instantly, and he was led down, sat at the table and given a meal. Gwen had been in the room, and she sat beside him making sympathetic noises, as he ate, clearly nervous at first about asking him questions.

He'd been a bit self-conscious; after all, they'd barely talked since their shared experience with the dragon all that time ago. Now he was blind, and just getting used to a new seething power. It shifted things.

"What does it feel like?" she had wondered.

He chewed a mouthful of food and considered telling her about the ringing in his ears, the dull ache behind his left eye, the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest fit to burst. Even the food tasted different: it was too cold; every iota of flavour screaming in his mouth.

"It feels odd," he answered eventually. "It's… it feels different."

She seemed to sense his discomfort and he felt a hand placed over his. "I'm sorry," she said very quietly so that Gaius would not hear. "I'm sorry I've been so strange these last months."

He tried to smile. "It's alright. I know it's been a lot for you to take in."

"I should have tried harder," she said. "You're my friend, my best friend. Nothing should change that."

"Well, I have you to thank for changing Arthur's mind about me anyway," he said.

Was that a guess or did he actually know? He wasn't sure. Gwen hadn't talked about her conversation with the King the night before. Merlin just felt like… he could almost imagine he'd seen it. That he'd been there.

She felt her hand squeeze his. "He didn't take much persuading," she whispered.

Gwaine slamming open the door pretty much broke the moment.

"Dragons and night time adventures, and no one tells me!" he exclaimed, marching in and putting his hands on his hips.

Merlin sat back, smiling genuinely at the voice of his friend.

"And you," Gwaine said, coming up to him. "I thought I was supposed to be watching your back. How the hell am I supposed to do that if you go disappearing off? What happened anyway?"

And so Merlin had to tell his story all over again, as he had done already for Gaius and for Gwen, or at least, the edited highlights. He then had to start again from the beginning when Lancelot joined them about half way through. Then the three of them had started to ask a lot of questions: about the power he'd taken on, about the demon, about Morgana.

"I think Arthur wanted to have her executed," Gwen said quietly. "But he seems to have changed his mind this morning. I don't know what he's going to do now."

"What do you think he should do, Merlin?" Lancelot had wondered.

Because I'm now the font of all magical knowledge, he thought to himself, sighing inwardly, but he just shook his head. "Killing her now won't change anything," he said. "She's already put things into play that are so deeply wrong, they've thrown the whole world out of balance. Killing her would just be an act of revenge, and whatever Arthur is, I don't believe he's vengeful."

"But she's a danger," Gwaine insisted. "That kind of hatred, I've seen it before. You'd be amazed how many times family members end up being each other's worst enemies. It's something about being able to hurt the most the ones closest to you. Arthur should kill her while he has the chance."

"Arthur is going to do nothing of the kind," the new King announced. They turned. He was standing in the doorway pulling off his gloves, looking tired and drawn.

Those at the table, barring Merlin (who felt it might have unfortunate consequences involving knocking things over), stumbled to their feet. Arthur just waved them back down again in slight frustration. This new King thing was going to take a bit of getting used to. He was after all, someone who didn't particularly like standing on ceremony.

He strode over to Gaius. "I was wondering if you had anything I could take for my shoulder?" he asked him quietly. "It's proving bothersome today."

"Of course sire," Gaius wondered over to his stack of bottles and began to rifle through them.

Arthur came to the table. "Morgana won't be dying by my hand," he continued his earlier train of thought. "Not today anyway."

"What's happened?" Merlin wondered. Something was wrong.

Arthur looked directly at him, and a shadow of sorrow passed over his face. But it faded quickly. "A scout has returned from the refugee parties en route to Godwyn's Kingdom," he said with a sigh. "The last group was attacked early this morning."

Gwen gasped and put a hand over her mouth

"Were there many killed?" Lancelot asked.

Arthur shook his head. "Slaughtered. Pretty much to a man, though the scout thought a few stragglers may have escaped in the chaos. It's possible a second group may have been attacked now as well, but it's too early to tell."

"Morgana's men?" Merlin asked.

"Yes. The bulk of her army is now moving on Camelot, squeezing us in." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "There's no way we can risk getting the remainder of the refugees out now. Anyone who's still here is trapped here for the duration. Whatever comes out of that hole Merlin, I just hope you've got it in you to defeat it."

He could feel them all looking at him. He could feel their doubt.

Uncomfortable, he put his hand on the table, feeling for his spoon, then picked it up and began to toy with the food left in his bowl.

"Why don't we attack them?" Gwaine asked, distracting Arthur's attention.

Arthur shook his head again. "We've barely enough men left now to defend the citadel. An all out assault would be pointless on our part."

"What about questioning Morgana?" Gwen piped up. "Maybe she can stop this."

"I've tried," Arthur said. "I spoke to her this morning. She's like a rock, fixed in her hatred. She will do nothing to help us."

"She can't," Merlin muttered. "She doesn't have the power to stop the demon even if she wanted to."

"Do you think they'll attempt to rescue her?" Gaius wondered, coming over and handing Arthur a small glass bottle, which he took gratefully.

"It's possible," he said with a smile. "Though if they do, I'm pretty sure they'll wait until darkness. I'll triple the guard on the prison tonight."

Suddenly, there was a small clattering sound as Merlin dropped the spoon he was holding. They all turned to look at him as he shut his eyes, a grimace on his face. Gaius too gave a gasp, and wobbled slightly, his hand going to the table to steady himself. Arthur took hold of his elbow instinctively. Then the tremor hit, louder than the others so far, and longer. They all looked up in fear as the room shook, glass bottles clinking against each other on shelves. A broom fell over in the corner, then one or two of the bottles smashed to the floor. It only lasted a few seconds, and then it all went silent.

They looked at each other, all breathing hard in fear.

Merlin opened his glowing eyes. "It's getting closer," he said.

Trapped in the citadel, the remaining citizens of Camelot spent the rest of the day preparing as best they could for what many considered would be the end. Uther Pendragon lay in state in one of the smaller halls, a cold room even in the summer heat. His burial would wait and would depend on the outcome of the morrow. After all, the dead could not tend the dead.

Gwen spent as much of that hot and portentous afternoon with Arthur as she could. She had duties to attend to in the makeshift hospital they had created, and he had duties commanding his men to defend the citadel and organise the remaining refugees. But when they could, they stole away together, minutes passing like seconds as they clung to each other, desperate that this day should not be their last.

The knights stayed busy, despising duty on the defensible walls, where their only task would be to stare at the hazy horizon, hot and dreamy in the afternoon sun. Arthur had met with them all in council in the early evening, telling them that they had a potential solution to the curse they were undergoing, a new weapon that they hoped could destroy the demon. There had been mutterings of joy and relief among the knights, only two staying silent as Arthur purposefully neglected to name the weapon or go into any detail about the hopeful source of their salvation. Arthur caught Gwaine's eye and looked away. He wasn't sure if he was protecting Merlin now, or if he was still denying his magic, denying that it was only through this mystical and banned power that they would all be saved. He'd ordered the guard tripled for that night, told the rest to get some sleep if they could, and left to seek out the arms of his love.

Merlin for his part stayed with Gaius, the two of them finally having the opportunity to talk in length about what had happened now that they were left alone. Merlin described in detail his encounter with the dragon: how the beast had been reluctant to carry out the task, how their wills had battled, how the dragon had warned he would be left drained by the procedure and would need to leave immediately to recover his strength. He talked briefly about the fire surrounding him, burning him without touching him, the swell of something terrible within, the feeling of the world closing in, and then waking to Arthur. He explained as best he could the abilities that were in him now, the things he could sense, the power running through his veins. But truth be told, he couldn't even begin to touch on it in language that Gaius could understand.

"But do you think it is enough to defeat the demon?" Gaius had wondered, placing his old hands over Merlin's.

The boy shook his head. "I won't know until I do it," he said evenly. "But it has to be Gaius. I can't let it end like this."

Arthur had insisted on a guard for outside Gaius' chambers, so as the afternoon wore on, the physician felt safe enough leaving his nephew to his own devices. Like Gwen, he had duties to attend to at the hospital. They had about 40 patients there now, all bed-ridden and in need of care. Lancelot had said he would stop in after Arthur's council meeting, and he himself would be home around nightfall. Merlin had assured him he would be fine. He had the power of dragons after all. And who would dare to rise up against that?

As it was, it was after dark before Gaius finished with his last patient, who had slipped away with only Gaius to hold her hand. She was a young girl, a teenager probably, with no family and no friends around her. She'd been too badly injured, and he'd known from when he first saw her that her chances were slim. But like all doctors, he had hope ingrained in his soul, hope that died just a little bit with the death of each patient.

When she died, he'd gazed sadly at her meagre possessions: a small bag and a dark green cloak was all she had in the world. For some reason, he didn't want those things being taken when the girl went for burial. He didn't want other people going through them with no connection to the person they had belonged to. He wanted them treated with respect, as he had treated her with respect. And so he'd gathered the items into his arms and taken them with him.

He felt heavy as he returned to his quarters, worried about his remaining patients left with just a few servants to tend them. He felt old and tired; tired of seeing the young die, tired of seeing them suffer. With Uther's death, he felt the kingdom should be moving into a new age, but here they were instead, stalled, and waiting for the end. All their hopes resting on the shoulders of one person.

Coming up to the corridor at his door he nodded to the two guards standing outside, so tired that he almost missed the fact that neither of them nodded back. He paused.

"Quiet evening?" he asked one of them.

The guard didn't answer, staring straight ahead. Now, either he was completely devoted to his duty and allowed no distractions, or something wasn't quite right.

Gaius raised his hand in front of the guard's face. No reaction. Glancing around to make sure they were alone, he raised his hand again, and muttered the word: áwæce, his eyes glowing briefly in the dark corridor.

The guard blinked and looked around instantly, flinching when he saw Gaius standing so close in front of him.

"Now how did you get there?" he wondered.

Gaius felt a stab of fear in his chest. "What's the last thing you remember?" he demanded quickly.

"What do you mean?" the guard look confused.

"The last thing you remember!" he repeated, trying to keep his voice down. "What's the last thing you heard or saw?"

The guard blinked and looked confused. "The last thing… I remember," he started. "Was the guard – yes the bell ringing for the changing of the guard. It was just now, a few moments ago."

Gaius' face tightened. It had been the guard bell that had prompted him to leave the hospital, but it had been more than just a few moments ago.

"Go and fetch the king," he said earnestly. "And find Sir Gwaine as well if you can. Bring them here immediately."

"But Gaius," the guard protested. "We're not supposed to leave our post unguarded."

"Your post has been unguarded!" Gauis hissed back. "You were enchanted. Now go and fetch Arthur!"

The guard looked at him with wide eyes before fleeing down the corridor with all speed. Gaius turned to the second guard and spoke the same word to break the spell holding him, quickly waving away his questions and confusion with a flick of his hand.

"For your own safety, I need you to stay here and not enter the room unless I shout for you," he said. "If I do, come quickly."

Resolutely, he turned to the door, afraid of what he would find within, but more afraid to stay without. He pushed it open gently, but it wouldn't move easily. Something was blocking it. He pushed a bit more firmly, and eventually made a big enough gap to squeeze through, his eyes on the floor to try to ascertain what had been blocking the door.

Lancelot was lying in a crumpled heap. Gaius crouched instantly beside him, as the door swung shut again, seeing the glint of wet blood on his hair. He was still breathing, but out cold. He put a hand to his neck and was relieved to find a steady beat.

Then he jumped, as a cry rang out, and his head whipped up in shock. He saw finally that the room beyond was in uproar, table over-turned, chairs tumbled aside, some broken. The floor was littered with glass from broken bottles, scorch marks stained the walls. But his gaze was drawn quickly past all that.

Near the back of the room, Alvarr was pressed against the wall, fixed as though held by an invisible hand, arms stretched out to the side, and ripples of blue energy passing almost invisibly up and down them. He looked pained, and it was clearly him who had cried out. Opposite him stood Merlin, one hand outstretched, but he didn't appear to be expending much effort keeping Alvarr where he was.

Gaius got slowly back to his feet and as he did so, Merlin's head flicked round and he looked at his uncle with unseeing eyes. His face was unforgiving, dark, and angry, and there was something there that Gaius had never seen before: hate.

TBC