998 NE, Autumn

The third time it happened he was with the campaign against Illian. Rumours of a False Dragon near the Borderlands had sparked the conflict anew, Tear and Illian at each other's throats. Shipments of grain had gone missing and Illian was all too visibly to blame.

Merlin had spent the first few days weaving in amongst the tents and soldiers, trying to get his chores done while avoiding poorly hidden stakes and ropes ready to trip the unwary. He sometimes saw Morgana Sedai about the tents, her blue shawl marking her out. She was here with some vague mention of interesting herbs on the Plains. Aes Sedai were only tolerated in Tear if they did no channelling, and those originally from Tear were tolerated least of all. Morgana was taking a chance being about the tents; even Aes Sedai were vulnerable to a knife in the dark or arrow from afar. Only being Arthur's foster sister was offering her a larger measure of tolerance.

Merlin pushed back the tent flaps, juggling a new flask of wine and a loaf. He pulled them closed behind him, securing it shut.

"Finally, Merlin, the wine." Arthur gestured for it impatiently, in a rough mood. High Lord Uther still hadn't given him full command, and Arthur had to follow the orders from Lord Vamures, years his elder but with no sense of the battlefield. They had marched over the Plains of Maredo towards Illian with little forward scouting, Lord Vamures confident that the 'thieving bastards would not spare a man to watch an empty plain'.

While Vamures spoke of honour and teaching thieves a lesson, that only honourless pigs would sneak up in the night, every sub commander did their best to safeguard their men. Their coats buttoned up in the heat, they marched along at a pressing pace.

"The High Lords of Tear are mad," said Arthur, flinging his coat off. "Putting Lord Vamures in this command! What were they thinking? My father could have swayed them to favour another, surely. This choice, it is madness."

Merlin picked up the garments. "He is a man of experience."

"Commanding the Defenders of the Stone, Merlin," said Arthur. "The Stone, should the Dragon Reborn come to claim Callandor. None have in the past thousand years, and Tear stands strong. The Defenders stand against the man proclaiming to be the Dragon in Saldaea, this Mazrim Taim, as they should. He's not the man for this, in battle against Illian."

Tear and Illian had fought for as long as Merlin could remember. He grew up with memories of High Lord Uther Pendragon setting off to another battle with Illian, and as Arthur grew older, he wo uld go along with his father, commanding his men more and more until he had a small battalion beneath him. There had been raids against Illian pirates, defending the border lines and the edge of the Plain of Maredo, which provided a buffer between the two lands. Arthur had a reputation as a strategist amongst his men. Sometimes they came back blooded, but never defeated.

"When you do well here, Sire, they will see your worth, no? Or you could join the Companions in Illian; they take men from any country. You may even make Captain-General there!" said Merlin, placing a goblet of wine on the table before Arthur.

"I do not appreciate your speaking treason," said Arthur stiffly.

Merlin smiled at him and carefully placed a hand on his shoulder. Sometimes Arthur would push him away, unwilling to take comfort in his presence, but this time Arthur grabbed at his breeches and pulled him closer. Merlin ran a hand up Arthur's shirt, feeling his smooth skin, then Arthur kissed him, hard at first, and then gentling as if Merlin's hands on his sides were stroking the anger out of him.

Arthur turned him back towards the pallet and slowly, kissing all the while, made their way there. Arthur pushed him back on it, the pallet's hardness barely softened by the blankets.

"Take off your clothes," he said, stroking himself inside his laced breeches.

Merlin struggled out of his shirt, nearly trapping a hand in a twisted sleeve.

"Merlin, you clumsy oaf," said Arthur, and helped untangle him. Arthur pushed Merlin down into the pallet with his body, pressing their cocks together. Merlin gasped and thrust up at him, then reached for his laces to free himself. Arthur had his hands there already, unlacing while he kissed him deeply. He slid down Merlin's body, taking the breeches with him, and Merlin's cock pulled free.

Merlin drifted sleepily a little while later, holding onto the edge of the pallet. Their sweat-slicked skin pressed up against each other and Arthur pushed him the rest of the way off. "You're a furnace, Merlin; go to your own pallet."

Merlin got up and looked down at Arthur grumpily, rubbing at his hip. Arthur leaned back and looked him over with slitted, sated eyes, and opened his mouth.

"My Lord!" They had only a moment's warning before Lance came through the tent flaps. He took one look at them, surprise flashing over his face, then turned to face the tent walls. "Lord Arthur, the Illianers are attacking! High Lord Vamures is gathering the cavalry for a charge against them. They have already broken through the infantry on the outer camp," he said, and Arthur rolled off the pallet, cursing.

Merlin grabbed clothes, throwing Arthur's at him and hastily donning his own. He lifted Arthur's armour and did his best to fasten it on him; Arthur was wrestling with it himself. "That's good enough," he said before the last was on, and thrust out of the tent. Merlin began to scramble after him, but his way was barred by Lance.

"This fight is no place for manservants," he said, and pushed him back further into the tent. "Be ready for when Lord Arthur returns from the fight."

Merlin waited a short while, listening to the clash and cries outside the felt walls. His hands shook as he packed things away, trying to push the sounds aside and ignore that Arthur's armour wasn't at its best. He could no longer stay within, and went through the tent flaps.

It was a riotous chaos. He could see High Lord Vamures with a spear through him off in the distance, and he stumbled over to him to see if he was still alive. His eyes were glazed over, body twisted unnaturally. Merlin pulled at the spear. It was wrong to see the High Lord like that. With one last tug he pulled it free and held it, the metal end red, its shaft slippery with blood.

Merlin narrowly avoided being speared by soldiers. They stepped on fallen bodies and fell over, he tripped and missed being run through, something caught their attention to his left and went past him, leaving him untouched. The spear grew warmer in his hand when he stabbed an Illianer by accident, a moue of surprise on the man's mouth as he dropped the axe he'd held. Merlin turned away from him with a shudder and saw Arthur.

He was fighting, sword moving in a graceful, deadly dance against the Illian forces, one after the other. His clothing marked him for a commander, and the soldiers were aiming for him in the melee. Merlin felt sick at the arrows in Arthur's arm, in his leg, at the paleness of his face as he continued to hammer against each opponent.

He had barely time to notice before he had to fight again himself. His luck was uncanny; his opponent was clumsy on his feet, tripped, impaling himself on a fallen man's sword.

When Merlin turned back to Arthur he saw him fall. His heart squeezed with terror and he hastily flung himself towards Arthur. He saw Morgana out of the corner of his eye; she was throwing bolts of fire around herself, at nearby men, and soldiers, who shrank away seeing the One Power at work. She got to Arthur just as Merlin did, and did something with the air around them; men were trying to get to them, but they hit a barrier and slid off.

Morgana placed a palm on Arthur's forehead, frowning in concentration.

"Can you heal him, Morgana?" asked Merlin, hope fluttering in his chest. "Morgana Sedai?"

"No," she said angrily, pulling back and looking about. "He's beyond my talent at Healing; he has too many wounds. I cannot heal only one, and to Heal them all would kill him from shock. Gaius is needed for this."

He looked around at the men still fighting beyond the clear barrier. Finding Gaius would take too long. The men of Tear were losing and he was going to die on the battlefield. Merlin wished fiercely that Vamures had died days ago. If he'd known it would come to this he would have thrust a dagger into Lord Vamures' heart himself. He pulled off his scarf, wadding it up, and knelt, pressing it against Arthur's side, and touched his face with the other hand. A despair fell on him. He was losing Arthur, and there was nothing he could do.

Merlin bent down further, remembering them only an hour ago, curled up against each other on the rough pallet. It was hard to see Arthur's pale face, the same the which had moved above him not long earlier. He pressed a kiss on his lips, a farewell, grief filling him. His skin prickled, a roaring feeling, and when it dissipated he could feel Arthur's wounds, all of them, and the felt the weakness of him.

He pulled away, falling over backwards in his haste, staring at Arthur. He could still feel him there, even though he wasn't touching him any longer. He had the feeling that even if he was a thousand miles away, he would still know where Arthur was, could point to where he was, anywhere in the land.

"What is it?" Morgana asked, coming closer, putting a hand on Arthur's forehead again. "What is this? What did you do? He is still weak, but I could"

Merlin felt Arthur's pain, and the twitching of Arthur's body through the Healing, and felt a corresponding weakness in himself. Merlin was overwhelmed with relief and terror; Arthur was no longer dying, but how did he know this?

Morgana was staring at him, eyes hard. "You can channel." She didn't ask. She knew. "How long have you known this? How did you know how to do this?"

"No!" Merlin backed away further. "I can't channel, I walk in the Light!"

Merlin stood up and backed up further, a barrier of air against his back. It enveloped him and he couldn't move.

"You will be taken to the White Tower and gentled, Merlin," said Morgana Sedai, regal in her shawl, the White Tower behind her every word. "I will make certain you live after; I will not forget your ... worth to Arthur."

Merlin struggled against the bonds holding him, and then suddenly they were gone. Morgana fell to the ground. He turned and ran. He could channel. He could channel. His mouth was dust and ashes. He could never return. The awareness of Arthur grew a little thinner, but he knew they'd always be able to find him through it. Still he ran, past Illianers and Tairens alike, seeing nothing before him.