Arthur and Gwaine were running.

Arthur hadn't been to start with, but then to be fair, it had taken a few corridors for his sleep-addled brain to make sense of the garbled message he'd been given by the guard (before the man had scampered off to find Gwaine). It had been something about being enchanted outside Gaius' chambers, and the command from the physician himself to come to the room as soon as he could.

Well, Arthur had at first taken that to mean that Merlin having done something magicky. He was, after all, the only sorcerer the King knew of in Camelot. But why would Merlin be enchanting the very guards put outside his door to protect him? It didn't make sense. And why would Gaius need him to come and do something about it?

His brain started to send him cautious warning signals, and his initial walk picked up in speed.

What if Merlin hadn't been the one doing the enchanting? Morgana had broken into the castle with relative ease, had made it to his father's chambers uncontested, had stabbed his father in the heart without even one guard making the attempt to stop her. She might now be in their dungeons, but Morgana wasn't the only sorcerer out there intent on bringing evil to the kingdom.

Arthur began to trot.

Merlin was Camelot's weapon, by all accounts their only hope now in destroying the demon. If somebody killed him first, they were lost. And Arthur had left him with only two guards to protect him.

Arthur began to run.

Sprinting round a corner, he practically collided with Gwaine coming the other way.

"Merlin's in trouble!" the knight exclaimed.

"I know!" Arthur protested.

They ran.

It didn't take them long to reach Gaius' chambers, and they found the remaining guard standing outside looking anxious and twitchy.

"What's happening?" Arthur demanded without preamble.

"Sire," he bowed. "Gaius told me to wait outside unless called. He said it was for my own safety."

"And he hasn't called?" the man shook his head. "Have you heard anything at all from inside the room?"

The man looked uncomfortable. "Strange noises sire – and someone crying out – in pain I thought."

"And you didn't go in to help?" Gwaine demanded, angry at the man's apparent cowardice.

"I was ordered not to," he protested feebly

"It's alright," Arthur said, drawing his sword. "Go and fetch me a contingent of knights and have them come here as soon as they can." He glanced at Gwaine, who also drew his sword. Then he pushed his way cautiously into the room, unhindered by the heavy door.

He was at once struck by the tableaux of Gaius standing just inches behind his nephew, who in turn was standing with one arm outstretched in the direction of a man Arthur recognised with instant disgust.

The sorcerer's face was a mass of pain and fear. All the arrogance and surety had gone. He was laid bare as the coward he was underneath his magic and his powers. He seemed to be pleading for his life, his back finally against the wall.

Arthur advanced forward as Merlin spoke in a voice so low that the King could not at first hear. Gwaine ducked down to check on Lancelot lying near the doorway. His face was creasing in pain as he started to come round.

"It doesn't need to be this way," Alvarr shouted at Merlin, responding to whatever it was he'd said. "I'll take it back. Whatever we did, I'll take it back!"

"Take it back?" Merlin responded slightly louder. He seemed oblivious to Arthur's presence, his energy and attention fixed on Alvarr. "You can't take this back! You mess with the very fabric of time, rip a beast from the darkest pits of existence, and you think you can take it back?"

"Then I'll help you!" Alvarr said quickly. "I'll help you defeat it. And afterwards you can take your rightful place, Merlin, as ruler of this kingdom."

Arthur swallowed uncomfortably at that.

"You have the power of gods now," Alvarr went on. "There is not one who would not bend his knee to you. Let me help you. I will kill Arthur, and his throne shall be yours. Your hands would be clean, you'd have no part in…" he broke off with a scream of pain, his head arching backwards as Merlin took a step forward towards him and made a gesture with his hand.

"You – do not speak to me of Arthur!" Merlin was clearly furious. His hand began to shake slightly.

Arthur felt Gwaine at his shoulder, but he didn't turn. His gaze was fixed in horror on his gentle friend advancing on the man he had in thrall.

"You do not speak of power!" Merlin went on, emotion straining his voice. "You know nothing else. You are why people hate magic, Alvarr. You use it only for your own purposes. You know nothing of loyalty, or good deeds just for the sake of what they are. You know only fear. Only revenge." He went closer still, his voice dropping to a hush, his face inches from his enemy's. "I pity you."

Alvarr was shaking. "We are brothers!" he pleaded desperately.

Merlin shook his head. "We are nothing to each other," he assured him. "I should kill you for what you did to me, for what you've done to this kingdom!" He raised both his hands.

"Merlin!" Arthur said arrestingly. "Don't."

There was a terrible silence in the room. Merlin drew back slightly, and turned his head, sightless eyes fixing on Arthur with unnerving accuracy. He seemed to be making an internal decision.

Then he took two steps backwards, reached out his hand to Alvarr, and made a grasping motion with his hand.

The sorcerer screamed again as he was drawn slightly forwards off the wall, and something seemed to come out of him, an energy that wavered across the room to Merlin's outstretched hand. It lasted only a few seconds then he slumped to the ground not moving.

Arthur looked horrified, as Merlin staggered backwards, breathing hard, but otherwise seemingly none the worse for wear. Gaius stepped forward and crouched down to check on Alvarr. Gwaine rushed over to Merlin, who flinched slightly at his touch.

"Is he dead?" Arthur wondered, not sure he really wanted to know.

"No," Gaius said, sounding surprised, and getting back to his feet. They all turned to look at Merlin.

"What did you do to him?" Arthur demanded.

Again, Merlin's face locked on his, and he raised his chin slightly as though expecting a rebuke and staving it off. "I took his powers," he said firmly, though his lip shook slightly. "You can lock him away now, he's no risk to any."

At that moment, the room began to fill with knights, all with their swords drawn and looking for a fight. Merlin quickly shut his eyes and turned his face away, as the knights looked around in consternation. Lancelot too was getting unsteadily to his feet, and one of the knights put an arm round his shoulders to support him.

"Take him away," Arthur commanded, pointing to the unconscious sorcerer, but all the while keeping his gaze on Merlin.

The room was awash with motion, as knights came over to take Alvarr, Lancelot was brought in, tables and chairs were turned back over, and general clearing began. But still Arthur stood there, looking at Merlin, and Merlin stood and let him look. Gwaine stood and wondered what the hell was going on between them, rather awkward about what he should do next.

Arthur saw Alvarr being manhandled from the room out of the corner of his eye, and with that, he nodded uncomfortably to Merlin and Gwaine, and turned to go without another word.

Gwaine felt Merlin slump a little and turned round, looking for a chair. He saw the bench at the table had been righted, and steered his friend back to it, sitting him down. Nearby, Gaius was beginning to treat Lancelot's head wound.

"Back in a mo," he said to Merlin, then dashed after the King.

He caught up with him outside in the corridor.

"Arthur!"

The blonde turned, expectant, as Gwaine came trotting up to him.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"What?"

"That in there?" the knight gestured towards the room.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Your friend," Gwaine said, putting a lot of emphasis on friend. "Was just attacked and could have been killed. You don't even ask how he is or stay to check he's alright? You don't say anything in fact, you just run out?"

"What exactly would you like me to say?" Arthur demanded. "After all, it's pretty clear he can take care of himself now."

Realisation flooded Gwaine's face, and he lifted his head, opening his mouth in understanding. "Oh, so that's it!"

"What's it?"

"You're afraid of him."

Arthur was incredulous. "Don't be ridiculous!"

But Gwaine was undeterred. "Your little helpless servant got himself some powers, and you can't handle it. You liked him helpless – liked someone you could pick on, is that it? But he can stand up for himself now, and it's freaking you out?"

"Gwaine, stop it," Arthur said, his tone making it clear that Gwaine was hitting close to the bone.

"And all that stuff Alvarr said about Merlin taking over, about killing you – you're taking that seriously aren't you, you actually think it might happen!"

"I don't have time for this," Arthur said, turning away, but Gwaine grabbed him back, unbothered by the impropriety of what he was doing.

Arthur glared at him, but Gwaine didn't flinch.

"You need to make a choice, Arthur," he said. "Either Merlin is loyal to Camelot or he isn't, either you trust him, or you don't. From what I saw in there, you've nothing to worry about. But then, I guess it depends how insecure you are." Finally he backed off, walking backwards a couple of steps. "Funny," he said. "I always thought more of you." And he turned and walked away, back towards Gaius' chambers.

Arthur watched him go, and said nothing.

That night became the stuff of legends, the night a young boy stole into Camelot, walked through the courtyard right under the noses of guards and knights, and broke into the prison. By the time anyone realised what was happening, Alvarr was already dead, killed for his betrayal; killed just as his mother said he would be, at the hands of a sorcerer. The same sorcerer who then released Morgana, the two of them slipping away into the darkness and into history, hand in hand.

"I doubt that's the last we'll see of her," Lancelot commented after Gaius had told them the story.

The knight had been commanded to remain in the physician's quarters for at least the night after his encounter with Alvarr – and his subsequent encounter with a wall and the floor. He was now sitting having breakfast with Merlin and Guinevere.

"Mm," Merlin agreed, but said nothing else. He'd said very little in fact since the previous night, only muttering a few words of explanation to Gwaine and Gaius about what had actually happened and how he and Alvarr had battled.

Gwaine, on the other hand, had been extremely vocal, mostly about Arthur, and mostly uncomplimentary. Merlin hadn't disagreed, but he also hadn't joined in.

Now, he was just ill at ease, and although his companions could sense it, they could have no idea that they were the cause. They didn't know that even though he couldn't see them, he knew they were stealing glances at each other; that Gwen's fingers had found Lancelot's on the table, wrapping round them tenderly, her concern for his well-being evident.

But she didn't stay long, and when she made to leave, Merlin asked her deliberately if she could tell Arthur he wanted to see him.

She'd agreed without hesitation, but Arthur hadn't come. And when Lancelot left an hour or so later carrying the same message, still no Arthur appeared.

Then again, Merlin thought, distracting himself from thoughts of fickle lovers, he was probably busy. Everyone was busy.

Around a thousand people remained in the citadel, trapped by the continuing presence of Morgana's army, and including scared civilians who needed to be housed and reassured. The knights were working to set up barricades in the courtyard as near to the now smoking hole as they dared go. Gaius, had hurried away before even Guinevere had left, to tend to the wounded. Only Merlin was left inactive, sitting alone in the dark and pondering.

It was hard to think now. His head was pounding as if with an approaching storm. Every time he would try to imagine a way to defeat the demon, he would lose himself in a cloud of confusion, and end up having to pace around trying to shake it off.

The castle too was suffering, as shockwave after shockwave vibrated the ancient structure to its very core. After one particularly intense shaking – during which Merlin had heard several louder than normal crashes, followed by some truly pitiful screams – he'd placed a hand absent-mindedly on the wall, and cast a spell to keep the stones of the whole castle in place whatever tremors they had to endure.

But his main concern was what was going to happen when the cause of all this chaos appeared in the courtyard, and all that would stand between it, Camelot and certain destruction was – well – him.

He couldn't do this alone. He needed Arthur. And he was annoyed with Arthur. It was just typical of him to show so much disregard, even when here he was laying his life on the line for the whole kingdom. Surely that was enough to counterbalance the little fact that he had magic and had been using it illegally in Camelot for years?

Then he thought of the previous night.

The encounter with Alvarr had been awful. The fight had been violent, and even he had been slightly surprised at his own abilities and the ease with which he had overpowered his enemy. Anger he supposed, and revenge had unleashed something within him, making him stronger. But while it had also made him briefly cruel, he'd reigned that back in. That had been Arthur's influence.

But now he wouldn't even come to talk when Merlin asked him to.

He knew that he'd freaked Arthur out. The King, who was still coming to terms with his own loss and his own ascension, was now being asked to accept a friend who'd been hiding in plain sight for years, who wasn't as weak as he'd made out. Merlin wondered what he would do if their positions were reversed, if, for example, Arthur suddenly turned out to be a peasant masquerading as a king, or really a woman.

Merlin smiled at the thought.

But the smile faded. He honestly couldn't think of a situation where Arthur could tell him something that would fundamentally change the basis of their relationship. Whatever Arthur did or said, he was still his friend, and he would stand by him. And if it had been something that Arthur had no control over, which came from a place of good heart and good conscience, then what was there to think about?

Arthur was just being a prat. And it was time Merlin stopped sitting in the dark and told him so.

Cautiously, he stood up and made his way to the door, avoiding benches and tables easily. Arthur had upped the guard outside, he knew that, though he wasn't sure by how much. And it was all pretty pointless anyway. If a sorcerer really wanted to attack him, two guards or twenty, it wasn't really going to make much difference.

Before opening the door, he cast a spell that would throw off the attention of others to not only his physical presence, but to any actions he took as well. So when the door silently opened, and then shut again with no one seeming to pass through, the ten guards didn't move a hair. They didn't see him as he walked cautiously between them, reaching out with his magic to make sure he didn't comically walk into one of them (because he was fairly certain that having someone smack into you was probably enough to make you aware of their existence, cloaking spell or no cloaking spell.)

Then he found a wall, and traced it with his fingers as he walked along, keeping his eyes shut, and concentrating for any thoughts or feelings or words as to where Arthur might be. Oddly, there was nothing. Two knights were discussing the King in the courtyard below, but they too were wondering where he was, and one of them was saying that Arthur hadn't been seen all morning.

Merlin's brow furrowed at that. Where was he hiding? Had Mordred and Morgana stolen him away? No, surely he would have sensed the threat. And they would have crowed about it too, loud and clear.

Well, he would just have to go to Arthur's room and wait for him there.

And so he did, taking off the spell after he'd made sure there was no one else there, and sitting, arms folded, wishing he'd thought to eat before he'd undertaken this little quest.

Time passes differently for those who do not see its passage, and the wait seemed to last years to the young warlock. Which meant, of course, that by the time the door opened, and Arthur strode in, some time later, he was in quite the mood.

The King was distracted, clearly, and didn't even see Merlin sitting at his table until after he'd walked past, unbuckling his sword belt, and turned back to throw it on the bed. Then he stopped, and his eyes narrowed.

"How did you get here?" he demanded curtly.

Merlin swallowed down his bad humour. No point entering this argument with hostility in his heart. "Arthur I've spent half my life in Camelot in this room," he said. "I always figured I could make it here blindfold," he smiled, sadly. "Guess I was half right."

Arthur didn't smile. He turned away. "What do you want?"

"To talk to you," Merlin said, his voice rising slightly.

"About what?"

Merlin laughed humourlessly. "About the Lammas celebrations," he said sarcastically. "What do you think, Arthur? There's a demon rising out of your courtyard. I may not be able to see what's going on, but I can sure as hell sense it."

Arthur didn't reply. Merlin wondered if he'd made him awkward by bringing up his blindness.

"Look," he said slightly softer. "I know what's happened is going to take us both a bit of getting used to…"

"What the fact that you're blind – or the fact that you have magic?" Arthur wondered. "Because I kind of think you've had longer to get used to that one than I have."

Merlin's mouth tightened. "Is that what's bothering you?"

"Nothing's bothering me, Merlin, I'm fine."

"Really?"

Arthur shot back. "If I say I'm fine, then I'm fine."

"Really?"

"Yes, really!"

"Then where have you been all morning? I've been asking for you and you haven't come. No one out there seems to have seen you."

"And like it's any of your business what I do or where I go in my own kingdom!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Oh stop being such a prat for once in your life Arthur!" Merlin retorted.

Arthur stiffened slightly. "That is no way to address me."

Merlin let out an exasperated breath: "It's the way I've always addressed you."

"Thing's are different now."

"Why?"

"You might not have noticed, but I'm actually the King now!"

"Really? And that changes what? Because a day ago I was given the power of a dragon. And that's actual power, not just a word or a position that comes with a pointy hat and some shiny new clothes. And I could probably destroy the world if I wanted to, or create a new one, I'm not really sure because this is immense and incredible and terrible and overwhelming… But do you know what? I don't really feel all that different. In fact, fundamentally, I don't feel any different. I'm still the same Merlin I was the day before, and the week before that, and last year. I'm still me. I haven't changed."

"Everything's changed," Arthur echoed sadly.

"Only if you let it!" Merlin protested. He shook his head, sensing this particular argument wasn't going anywhere. "Why haven't you come to see me?"

"I've been…!" Arthur stuttered. "Busy!"

"Where?"

"In the library," the King blurted out.

Surprise shut Merlin up – but only briefly. "The library?" he asked. "Doing what?"

"Reading about you if you must know," Arthur admitted defensively. "About this legend of Emrys and the once and future king."

"Oh," he said more soberly.

"Oh?" Arthur put his hands on his hips. "Is that all you've got to say? I break into the sealed section of the library to read prophetic books about you and me, and that's all you can say? Are you not at least surprised?"

"I really am," Merlin said earnestly. "I didn't know you could read."

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, indignant, but then he saw a rather impish grin spread itself across Merlin's face, and he couldn't help but smile himself. "Oh very funny," he said. Then he sighed and turned away again. "This is hard for me, Merlin," he admitted.

"Then let me help you," Merlin urged, taking a step forwards.

"You can't," Arthur tried to explain, speaking softly. "Not this time."

"Why?"

"Because believe it or not, however idiotic you've been in all of this, and however much I want to smack you over the head for lying to me all these years, there's actually someone in all of this who's behaved worse."

Merlin's brow furrowed. "Who?"

"Me"

Merlin had no answer to that. It wasn't what he'd been expecting.

Arthur, for his part, continued to wander to the other side of the room. "It was something Gwaine said believe it or not – something he said last night after the whole Alvarr thing." Arthur turned back to his friend, seeing him stand there with his glowing eyes and his monumental power, looking confused. "I haven't treated you very well through all these years."

"You've been alright," Merlin protested.

Now it was Arthur's turn to say: "Really?"

"Well," Merlin seemed to consider. "You could have been… better."

"I've been awful," Arthur corrected. "I've bullied you, I've pushed you around, I've used you, put you in danger, thrown goodness knows how many goblets at your head. And all that time you could have killed me with your little finger."

Merlin's eyes narrowed. "Yes, but you know I wouldn't have," he protested.

"And that's just it!" Arthur exclaimed. "All these years you've demonstrated immense self-control in the face of unbelievable provocation. If I'd been you I would have blown me up ages ago."

"I was tempted once or twice," Merlin admitted with a smile.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said truthfully, coming forwards. "I shouldn't have treated you like that – even if you didn't have the power to – eviscerate me. That's what Gwaine made me think about. I was standing there last night looking at you take rightful revenge against Alvarr – and I was afraid of you. I was afraid of what you might do to me."

Merlin took another step towards him. "Arthur…" he began, but the King cut him off.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said again. "No matter who you are and what you can do. You don't treat another person the way I treated you. I feel pretty bad about it to be honest."

Merlin's smile widened. "Arthur," he said. "Humility is a gift. It hurts – but it's a gift. Embrace it."

"I don't know how," he admitted. "And I don't know how to deal with all this." he waved his hand at the warlock. "How can I just accept you like this? How can I just think of it as normal suddenly when my whole life has been ordered around hating magic? How could my father have been so wrong?"

"Arthur," Merlin said again. "I wish – I really, really wish that we had time to re-build our friendship, and for you to get to trust me again. I do understand how odd it must be – I really do." He pointed in a random direction. "But that thing will be here before the sun sets tonight, and I can't defeat it on my own. I need you to accept this and move on. I need you to see me as your ally, not your enemy. Because fundamentally, I need your help."

Arthur was confused. "What can I do?"

"You read those books didn't you?"

"Not exactly all of them."

"Big picture then," Merlin suggested with a smile. "What did they say about the two of us?"

"Lots of things, lots of things that we do together, and have done together. Apparently you brought me back from the gates of Avalon?"

"Well it was more like a lake," Merlin protested.

"And you've been keeping Morgana from killing me for quite some time now?"

"Yes I have."

"And what's this thing about you making me a magical sword?"

"Oh I did that, burnished in the dragon's breath and everything. It's just – you can't have it yet."

"Why?" Arthur demanded slowly.

"It's – sort of in the forest in a really big stone."

"In a stone?"

"I put it there for safe keeping. It's too powerful to fall into the wrong hands, and it's not like I could tell you before. How on earth would I explain it?"

"Okay," Arthur seemed to accept that. "But why can't I have it now?"

"I told you," Merlin looked a little embarrassed. "It's in the forest, and there's this – army between us and it."

"And wouldn't a magical sword have been quite useful when it comes to fighting a demon?"

"Oh I don't think so," Merlin said breezily. "It kills things that are dead, and I'm pretty sure this demon's alive."

"So it wouldn't be helpful at all?"

"Well let's just say it won't be – because we can't get it now anyway," he said quickly. "But getting back to you and me and the legend and all that – we do stuff together Arthur, that's what we've always done. And I don't know what we do about this demon, but I do know we have to do it together. And for that to work, you need to trust me."

"I do trust you," Arthur said automatically.

"No you don't," Merlin retorted. "Have you even told anyone that I have magic?"

"I told Gwen."

"Gwen's known for months!" he snapped.

"Well I haven't had the chance to tell anyone else. And it's – difficult."

"No it's not," Merlin said shaking his head. "You need to admit what I am, get this out in the open, and then we can spend the rest of the day talking about this, finding a solution, coming up with a plan. Because I can tell you, pointing me in the direction of that thing and hoping that I'll just, magically do something to stop it, probably isn't going to work."

Arthur said something back to him, but suddenly, Merlin couldn't hear him.

His head filled with a rushing sound that drowned everything out, and sucked him down, and drowned him robbing him of breath. He heard a voice screaming in his ear, the words clear and terrifying. He knew what it was, but he couldn't breathe, and panic set in, and he scrambled to get away, feeling his back contact with something hard and sharp as the rushing sound finally started to fade.

"Merlin!"

Hands were on his arms.

"Merlin!"

"Arthur?" he gasped out, breathing hard. He tried to get his bearings. He appeared to be sitting on the floor.

Oh great.

"Are you alright?" The King sounded genuinely concerned.

"Fine." he lied. He could feel cold hard stone under his hands, tiny fragments of dirt snagging his fingertips as he moved. Arthur's floor needed a clean, he thought absently.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Arthur said. "You just had some sort of weird… fit and started babbling nonsense!"

"Oh," Merlin closed his aching eyes.

"Was it something to do with the demon?"

He shook his pounding head. "Something different." He was tired, wanted to sleep. Felt himself almost drifting away, even as Arthur was speaking to him again. But then there was an unbelievably loud knocking on the door and he jerked, wide awake.

"Yes!" Arthur shouted in frustration.

"Arthur?" it was Gwaine. "Where the hell have you been all morning?" The knight strode purposefully into the room, his red cape flowing off his shoulders. Then he stopped. "Merlin!" he exclaimed, rushing forwards. "What did you do to him?" he demanded of Arthur, pushing the King backwards and away from the warlock.

Arthur caught his balance quickly, and angrily gave Gwaine a shove back. "I didn't do anything to him!" he insisted.

"Gwaine it's alright, I'm alright!" Merlin protested, holding up a hand to stop his friends squabbling like little boys.

"Well what happened then?"

"He just nose dived onto the floor and started babbling," Arthur said. "And I mean worse than usual, real rubbish."

"Thanks," Merlin muttered.

"Oh," Gwaine said in understanding. He waved a hand in front of his face. "You mean he went visiony."

"You've seen this before?"

"Of course," Gwaine said with a cheeky smile. "That night in the forest when I brought him back after you'd sent him off for water. You know, that day of your suicidal dash back to Camelot."

Arthur remembered instantly the sight of Gwaine appearing out of the gloom with four water skins over one shoulder, and Merlin over the other. He remembered the twinge of fear, his feeling of powerlessness as they'd laid the warlock down and been unable to do anything to help him. "That was the same thing?" Arthur was incredulous.

"Yeah. What did he say this time?"

"I don't know," Arthur admitted. "I wasn't really listening. And anyway, I told you it was rubbish."

Gwaine just gave him a look. "Someone tells you the future," he said scornfully. "And you think it's rubbish?"

"Told me the… oh! So that's the… ," Arthur worked his way through everything and looked at his servant. "He can see the future."

They both stared at Merlin. Who blinked.

"You two… know I can hear you right?" he said eventually.

"What did you see?" Arthur demanded, ignoring his sarcasm.

"Oh he never remembers a vision," Gwaine dropped in, trying to sound knowledgeable.

"Actually," Merlin said tiredly, taking a slow breath. "I sort of do now."

"You told me you didn't!"

He shrugged. "Things change."

"So what did you see?" Arthur insisted again.

Merlin shut his eyes, sighing. "There was a voice," he said quietly.

"It was something about running," Arthur said, remembering suddenly.

Merlin nodded, and found the words imprinted on his brain as though he'd learned them by rote. "And he shall run from the seat of power," he began. "To the place of hopes and dreams. There two shall face the beast. Strength comes from light. Death from broken hearts."

There was a short silence.

"Well that's cheerful." Gwaine commented.

Merlin just shrugged. The future was the future.

"The seat of power," Arthur muttered, he was clearly trying to decipher the words. "The seat of power must be the citadel," he guessed. "Wouldn't you say?"

Merlin nodded, shifting slightly, and realising that the sharp thing his back was against was actually a table leg. It wasn't comfortable.

"So, someone has to lead this creature away from the citadel, yes? But to where? Where's this place where dreams are – what was it?"

"The place of hopes and dreams." Merlin filled in.

"The training ground?" Gwaine guessed. Arthur turned to him, curious. "Well, that's where you try out your new knights isn't it? And it's every man's dream here to become a knight – for some reason I've never quite been able to figure out."

"It's Arthur's sweet and supporting manner," the warlock slipped in with a smile.

"Shut up Merlin," Arthur said without even looking at him. He was muttering again. "The place of hopes and dreams… Gwaine you could be right. So someone has to lead the demon from the citadel to the training ground. And then what?"

"Then we fight him," Merlin said, with a determination he didn't feel. "You and me, together."

"Yes, but it doesn't say how. Just something about and broken hearts," Arthur protested. "Aren't visions of the future supposed to tell you, oh, I don't know, what's going to happen in the future or something!"

"I'm not a crystal ball, Arthur!" Merlin said, exacerbated. "You get what you get."

"Broken hearts," Arthur whispered. He was clearly thinking hard, his face scrunched up in concentration.

Gwaine rolled his eyes. "Well if the two of you can stop muttering and being prophetic for a minute or two, Arthur I did actually come here to tell you that a council meeting has been called."

That broke Arthur's train of thought. "What? Who by?"

Gwaine shrugged. "All of us. We've no idea what's happening and we were hoping you'd have some sort of a plan to stop the apocalypse. You know, being our King and all."

Arthur said: "What, right now?"

"They're waiting."

"Alright then," Arthur got to his feet, and leaned down to grab Merlin's arm. "Come on," he said, pulling determinedly.

"Hey!" Merlin protested, as Gwaine took his other arm and the two yanked him upright. "What are you doing! I'm tired!"

"No time for sleep," Arthur said. "We've got a council meeting to go to."

"What, both of us?"

"Yes," Arthur said resolutely. "Both of us."

TBC