A/N: firstly, thank you so much for all your reviews, follows and favourites. It means a lot to me and it's really inspiring.

Secondly, this was written and re-written a lot of times. This took a lot of work and compromise, which is why it is so late. I don't know how good it will be. I'm am not at all sure about this. But here it is anyway, part two of kitkat's prompt. Enjoy :)

Title: Accidents Happen

Author: FlYiNgPiGlEtS

Summary: prompt from kitkat – Merlin is accidently injured during training. Arthur comes to terms with what he's done.

Ratings: T

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, the knights and Gaius.

Pairings: sort of Gwen/Arthur, though this is during their 'break up' period, and mentions of Gwen/Lancelot.

Spoilers: up to 4x09 (set directly after 'Lancelot du Lac')

Warnings: some blood and injuries, as well as possible OOC-ness (which is partly my fault… though certain fictional characters who like to accessorize with enchanted bracelets and go around kissing dead knights may also be to blame – sorry Gwen)

Disclaimer: unfortunately, I don't own Merlin; it belongs to the BBC and Shine.

V: Accidents Happen: Part II

It was raining when Merlin first woke up.

Outside, night was fast approaching, but a gathering of melancholy grey clouds already darkened the sky. A few wax candles cast a warm, welcome glow over Gaius' quarters. It was comfortable, safe, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up underneath the many blankets someone had covered him in and return to his rest, but the constant pounding of the heavy rain only served to sharpen the pain in his head. He thought perhaps his skull was cracking, breaking into lots of little pieces that dug at his skin. The thumping feeling that spread across his forehead was the worst, the pressure of it forcing him in and out of lucidity for a while as he tried to work out why he felt so terrible.

Lightening flashed somewhere in the distance and startled him out of half-consciousness, strange recognition flooding through his weak body as his eyes adjusted to his familiar surroundings. A disfigured memory was trying to worm its way out of the crevices of his mind, where he had subconsciously stored it, begging him to reach for it.

Arthur's sword. It flashed above him – then came crashing down onto his head.

Oh.

"Merlin?"

After blinking the remnants of sleep from his eyes, Merlin could see six people hovering over him. He frowned, but the stretching of his facial muscles only made his headache worse. He closed his eyes and sunk back into the pillows with a small, frustrated sigh. It was far less stimulating to pretend he had lost consciousness again.

Apparently no one else though it was a good idea because before he really could fall into the liberating land of sleep someone was squeezing his shoulder and another calling his name.

"Gaius said we should give him the potion when he wakes up." Whoever was nearest to his head was speaking far too loudly for his liking. Merlin guessed the voice belonged to Leon, poised and focused as always, but he didn't trust himself when he was in such a state.

"Did he wake up?" That was Elyan.

"Yes." Percival – never one to milk his words.

"Are you sure?"

"He opened his eyes."

"Gaius said he's already done that twice today."

The voices blended together as Merlin tried to work out why he had seen six people when he could only hear three. He must have drifted out of consciousness again because his memory seemed to skip ahead a few minutes. The knights were still bickering, but about something else entirely now.

"I'm not telling him."

"Why does it have to be me?"

"You're second in command."

"Percival can do it."

"No."

"Maybe we should just get Arthur to do it."

"He's busy."

"One excuse of many, Leon. You know he can't face what he did."

This went on for a ridiculous amount of time, in which Merlin must have zoned out of awareness and into oblivion, not really paying much attention to what they were saying but wishing he could understand it. The whole castle seemed to shudder at each loud grumble of thunder. Lightening always seemed to follow, applauding its predecessor before illuminating the sky with fantastic flashes of silver. Merlin didn't know how to tell them apart sometimes, when his grip on reality slipped ever so slightly, but it was much easier to tell the crashes from the crackles than the knights from each other. He learned to focus on the gentle lullaby of the rain instead, soothing his flurried thoughts, until a particularly loud bang from inside Gaius' chambers shocked him awake once more.

"Is he awake yet?" He knew the owner of that voice. It was Arthur, in all his pratish glory, trying – and failing, Merlin smugly added – to mask any hint of concern that might slip into his demand.

"We don't know." Now he was more alert, he could also distinguish that voice as Elyan's.

"You don't know?" Merlin could just imagine the way Arthur was looking at the three – was there three of them? – knights, with the condescending furrow of his brown and pout of his lips that made most people feel like illiterate idiots. Thankfully, Merlin wasn't most people.

"Well, he opened his eyes for a little while, but nothing else."

"Nothing?" Arthur questioned, fighting a loosing battle to keep his voice from shaking slightly as he spoke.

"No, sire."

The sigh Arthur let out was both frustrated and sorrowful. "Make sure I'm informed of any change."

"Yes, sire."

Merlin heard Arthur's boots scuffing against the floor as he turned around, but before any more doors were slammed the last person he expected to speak up did.

"What are you going to say to him?" Percival asked. There was a hidden challenge in the question, a subtle anger. It surprised Merlin to hear him speak in such a way.

"I'll tell him whatever he needs to know," Arthur replied. "Is that all?"

"No," Percival continued. "When are you going to let Gwaine out of the cells?"

Why was Gwaine in the cells? He wished he could open his eyes and speak, ask questions and get plausible answers, but his body disobeyed his mind. It was like he was trapped, a blind and mute spectator to their talks.

"When he stops singing about how I will go to hell," came the short, irate answer. Then the door shut with a bang that felt as though it was splitting his skill.

Merlin's aching brain tried to make sense of all this new information – Percival was angry with Arthur, Arthur had Gwaine locked up in the cells, Gwaine was singing about Arthur going to hell – but nothing fitted together. He knew Arthur had hit him in training, but the rest of it just didn't work, didn't slot into whatever sequence he tried to put it in. He needed to get up, but his limbs wouldn't listen.

This time confusion lulled him into unconsciousness.

Merlin drifted for a while. At first, it was dark still; then light came, the sun bright and bold as it peeked momentarily through the cover of dark clouds that scattered the sky. Darkness followed again sometime after that, but it was the hushed, incomplete kind – not quite late enough to shadow the land, but enough for Gaius to have lit a couple of candles.

During his brief stints of confused consciousness, someone forced him to drink water, although he wasn't entirely sure that was all it was. Someone else tried to get him to eat, but he turned it down. His stomach lurched as though it would empty if there was actually anything in it.

This time, however, he found he was left alone. Whoever else was in the room didn't seem to realize he had woken. It was still raining when he was finally lucid enough to open his eyes fully. A sapphire dusk had fallen over Camelot and the room was comfortably dark when he searched it from his position on the patient bed. He couldn't tell how long he had been asleep for.

"… Still in the cells," someone was saying. Leon, perhaps? Yes, it was Leon. "It's cold and it's wet. Arthur won't let anyone down there to even speak with him, so he had no idea how Merlin is. He'll go crazy; and if he doesn't loose his mind, he'll get ill."

"Have you tried speaking to Arthur?" Gaius asked – he would recognize the wise voice of his mentor anywhere.

"We all have. He won't listen." It was quiet for a moment. The knight seemed to be waiting for something. "I don't think he's making his own decisions."

The soft grounding of a pestle against a mortar stopped. "What do you mean?"

"Lord Agravaine. He…" Merlin heard Leon shuffle. "Arthur only listens to him."

"And you think that he shouldn't?"

Silence. Then Leon's deep, uncertain breathing resumed. "I don't know."

No words were exchanged for a while after that. It gave Merlin a chance to piece together this conversation with the last he had heard – it sounded like Agravaine was the one behind Gwaine's imprisonment, at least indirectly. Arthur might be calling the shots, but he was a puppet on Agravaine's strings.

Gaius broke the silence. "Is food being taken to Gwaine?"

"Yes."

"Well, you could always ask a servant to tell him about Merlin's condition."

Merlin forced his heavy eyes open. It felt like someone was chiseling his skull, a constant, unrelenting pounding against his forehead. Grimacing, he shuffled slightly in the patient bed he was lying in so he could see where the voices were coming from. It took him a while to focus and even longer to realized there was only two of them, not four. He had been seeing double – that explained the unequal voice-to-knight ratio the last time he was conscious.

Gaius was mixing some kind of potion at his desk, while Leon stood near the steps to Merlin's small room with crossed arms and a concerned look to mirror his tense stance. Upon hearing Merlin's drowsy shifting, their heads snapped around to where he lay. Gaius put the pestle on his desk and moved quickly towards Merlin with the same urgency as Leon.

"Merlin," Gaius said, voice full of relief. "How do you feel?"

They waited in anxious anticipation as Merlin fumbled for words. His brain was giving orders again, but his body disobeyed. A cough scratched his dried throat.

"My… my head," he managed to mumble.

"Leon, hand me that vial," Gaius said. "The one with the green potion inside, please."

Leon grabbed the vial Gaius had pointed out and handed it to the old man, a look of disturbed distaste on his face as he watched the physician examine the liquid before helping his ward sit up. He then placed the concoction in Merlin's hand. For a while, Merlin simply stared at the oddly-colored potion – it was a mixture between boogey and bug green, with a few random red seeds floating on the top, and Leon had decided that he never wanted to so much as smell it – and then at Gaius inquisitively.

"For the pain," Gaius explained.

Merlin drowned it down and quickly regretted it, spluttering on the fowl, acidic taste of the disgusting liquid. Leon smiled sympathetically and handed him a cup of water. Merlin used it to wash away the almost-as-hideous-as-the-initial-try aftertaste and cool the aching in his parched throat before falling back down on the pillows. The pain in his head was already dulling slightly and his arm was now only mildly uncomfortable.

"Where's Arthur?" Merlin asked quietly.

"In his chambers."

"I need to talk to him." Merlin tried to use his uninjured arm to sit up, but the world whirled dangerously around him. It dipped and twisted like the bed was spiraling in disorganized circles, his stomach swirling with each imagined motion until he had no choice but to lie back down.

Leon was looking at Gaius worriedly. "I… I'll fetch him for you."

The door closed a moment later, leaving Gaius and Merlin to talk more freely.

Merlin closed his eyes against the nauseating spinning. "There was no spell, was there?"

"Spell?"

"Arthur wasn't enchanted when he did this."

Gaius was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, "No."

"I need to talk to him." Merlin's eyes opened with slightly more vigor this time.

When he tried to get up again, Gaius put a hand against his shoulder and forced him back down onto the bed. "Leon has gone to inform him that you are awake."

"But I…" Merlin frowned dizzily. "I… I need to go to… he needs…"

"You will do no such thing," Gaius insisted. "Now lie back. You shouldn't be moving around yet."

"Arthur…"

"Will come shortly."

Merlin accepted this answer and stopped struggling. For a while he lay still, breathing deeply in the silence of the room, before asking, "How long has it been?"

"Two days."

"How long has it been since Arthur put Gwaine in the cells?"

For a while, Gaius said nothing. He studied his ward with worry, considering his words carefully. Merlin, for the time being, seemed content with simply lying in the bed and doing nothing but staring up at the ceiling as though he didn't even expect an answer.

Or perhaps he was preparing himself for what Gaius would reveal, putting up barricades in his mind against whatever hideous tumble of emotions would come with the awful answer. Merlin didn't want to be angry with Arthur – at least not because of what he had done to him, but to have Gwaine put in the cells during the worst storm since Merlin's arrival in Camelot was a whole other issue. He wanted to know why. What had Gwaine done to deserve the treatment Arthur reserved for his enemies, for those who opposed or endangered him? Surely, whatever Gwaine had done, he didn't deserve to be left in the dark, damp, dismal cells with nothing but moody guards and hellish songs to keep him company.

How far had Arthur's trust in Agravaine gone?

But what if it wasn't Agravaine, a pessimistic voice whispered in the back of Merlin's muddled mind. What if Arthur had been pushed and pulled, twisted and turned so much by betrayal and hurt that he had turned into the man Merlin always feared he would become – his father.

No. He wouldn't jump to such conclusions, not before Gaius told him the truth.

"Gwaine was furious with Arthur for what he done to you," Gaius finally said. "They fought, and Arthur had him put in the cells."

"He's been in there since?"

"Yes."

Merlin pushed at the invisible barriers keeping him down on the bed. His bones creaked and his muscles stretched, appreciative of the movement, of the freedom. Hissing against the pain in his arm, Merlin swung his legs over the side of the bed and had almost summoned enough strength to push himself of the bed when Gaius was gripping his shoulder.

"Merlin," the old man said warningly. "Lie down."

"What's taking him so long?" Merlin demanded.

The door flew open before Gaius could reply. Four knights and their king tumbled through the doorway, Gwaine and Arthur both scrambling to get inside first. Well, that answered his question.

"Arthur," Agravaine was saying. He sounded so utterly convincing Arthur found himself compelled to listen. "You are doing the right thing."

Arthur didn't look away from the window. Droplets of rain danced down the glass, their movements sharp and sudden one moment then drowsy and delayed the next. The storm had already drenched the courtyard bellow, soaking over the cobbled stones and forming puddles that seemed to double in size every time he looked away to watch those who dared go out in this abysmal weather. They ran with their hoods up, though they were already soaked through by the time they came into Arthur's line of vision. He wondered what they were doing, why they bothered going outside when the storm was still raging so mightily. Arthur concluded that they all had important errands to run. The rain was cold and he thought he could see some passer-byers shivering; if they weren't doing something urgent, they were mad.

He soon found his mind wondering to the knight he currently held prisoner. There was a slight chill in the air that would only multiply in the dark, closed-off cells. If the courtyard was flooded, some of that water must have dribbled into the cells too, which was probably making Gwaine's stay thoroughly unpleasant. He would be cold. Hungry, too. And angry, not to mention worried – worried because Agravaine insisted he was a threat, that no one should visit him, so he had no idea how Merlin was. If it were Arthur who had been locked up by his own king and kept in the dark over the condition of his best friend, he would have gone crazy by now.

It was these thoughts that drove Arthur to question his uncle again, only to have Agravaine convince him otherwise.

"Arthur?" Agravaine questioned when Arthur had been silent for far longer than usual, wearing that guilty, contemplating look that always seemed to thwart his and Morgana's plans.

Arthur turned away from the window. "Is he really that much of a threat?"

"He threatened the welfare of his king," Agravaine replied. "And would not hesitate to do so again. It is only wise that you keep him detained until a suitable punishment is arranged."

"Punishment?"

Agravaine chuckled in disbelief. "Surely you will not allow his actions to go unpunished."

"He's been in the cells for two days, uncle," Arthur said.

"You must send a message to the people that you will not tolerate disobedience."

"Must I not be merciful too?"

Arthur nearly missed the flash of annoyance in Agravaine's eyes. Almost. "Guinevere's betrayal has portrayed you as weak, Arthur; if you do not prove to them that you are still the strong and reliable king that they want - that they need - then I fear what will become of the kingdom. You must regain their trust."

Trust. Arthur hated that word. Where had it ever gotten him in the past?

"You have made mistakes, yes, but they can be righted. Sir Gwaine will remain in the cells until you have found a replacement for Merlin, and things will soon be return to normal," Agravaine continued with a smile Arthur wasn't sure he found reassuring. "I would hate for you to loose your peoples' devotion because of foolish errors."

His uncle made it sound so simple. All he had to do was regain his peoples' trust, ensure they still believed in him. Arthur needed to show them that he was strong and reliable and in control. That he was still a good king, and a good man.

Only he didn't believe it himself. After Guinevere's betrayal, his confidence had shattered right alongside his heart. He didn't know who to trust, where to turn, and Agravaine was all he had left of his mother. He could rely on Agravaine, couldn't he? Agravaine wouldn't betray him.

But to believe in Agravaine was to believe in holding his friends captive in cold, damp cells; to believe that firing Merlin was the only way to deal with what had happened on the training field, that diverting the blame from himself was the only reasonable thing to do. Because if he didn't do it then his people would loose their trust, and that couldn't happen – the kingdom would crumble, everything his father worked so hard for would be lost.

He didn't know what to do anymore. Frenzied emotions collided manically in his aching chest, forming automated responses that were so easily controlled by others. Since Guinevere's betrayal, his life had turned into a nightmare that he feared - but also hoped, in case it wasn't real, in case he would wake up tomorrow and everything would be normal once more - his muddled mind had fabricated, his worst fears woven together to make something so wrong and foreign to him that he was no longer sure who he was or what he was doing. Arthur lost himself after he lost Guinevere. And now the one friend he had left probably hated him too. Who could blame him, really?

Arthur needed direction. Why did he get the feeling Agravaine could no longer give him that? That his true advisor, true friend, was the injured manservant he had spent the last three hours before this unofficial meeting watching in case he awakened while Gaius was busy, praying he would open his eyes and say something wise that would make everything better?

He would much rather be at Merlin's bedside than here. Leon would be around if Merlin needed anything and Gaius had returned from his appointment with one of the lords when he Arthur left, but he wanted to be there just in case.

Agravaine was probably still talking, but Arthur had stopped listening a long time ago. He knew exactly where he needed to be and what he needed to do. Barging past his uncle with the same determination as the people he had seen running across the courtyard, he paced to the door and was about to open it when Sir Leon came barreling inside.

Arthur didn't know where his heart was – either his throat or his boots. That look on Leon's face could be good and bad, up or down. "Is he awake?"

Leon nodded and smiled slightly, though he seemed tense. "He's asking for you."

Merlin wanted to see him. Merlin was asking for him.

"Arthur," Agravaine said. Damn it, Arthur thought; he had almost forgotten about his uncle. "We have important matters to discuss."

"And I have important matters to see to," Arthur replied.

"You would ignore the needs of your kingdom for a mere servant?"

"You're wrong about him, uncle. He is much more than a mere servant to me, and I won't loose him, no matter what you believe. And... and I won't loose my peoples' trust if I show mercy," Arthur told him, then turned to Leon. "Leon, I… I need you to go to the cells and release Gwaine. Bring him to Gaius quarters; I wish to speak with him and I'm sure he will want to see Merlin."

Leon nodded, his grin widening. "Of course, sire."

The knight left in a happy hurry.

"Arthur," Agravaine spoke with more force now. Anger and impatience seeped into his voice. "You are making the wrong decisions."

"I won't fire him, uncle." A small smile crossed Arthur's lips – the first in a long, long time. "He's my friend. And, right now, he needs me."

And with that, Arthur left to see his friend; because if there was anything he was sure of it was that he needed Merlin as much as Merlin needed him.

Gwaine couldn't remember the last time he was this angry. He wanted to hit something. No, scratch that; he wanted to murder someone. And that someone just happened to be Arthur Pendragon. So what if he was the king? That didn't give him the right to mistreat Merlin. Treason be damned; Arthur was going to pay for what he'd done.

Ever after two long, dreary days in the cells he was still livid. If he'd been put in here to calm down, that plan had backfired epically. The more he sat around staring at his own shadow, the more he wanted to beat the stupidity straight out of Arthur.

By the time Percival and Elyan came to break him out at the end of the second day, he was practically bending the cell bars in an attempt to get out and maim the nearest person. The mixture of dank conditions (even by his standards), moldy food and having to pee in front of the two most annoying guards in employment nearly sent him crazy. Arthur was going to be sorry he ever hurt his friend.

As soon as Elyan had opened the cell door, he was scampering towards the staircase that lead out and up to Arthur. Before he could get anywhere near it, though, Percival had grabbed his collar like he was some kind of disobedient child and tugged him backwards with little difficulty.

"Gwaine." Percival's voice was calm, collected, not at all phased by Gwaine's desperate attempts to get past him. "You're not going to see Arthur."

"You just try and stop me!" Gwaine snapped, wriggling in his fellow knight's grip. Percival already was trying to stop him – and succeeding, he hated to add.

"Merlin is awake," Elyan said.

Gwaine struggling stopped instantly. Satisfied that the knight wouldn't try anything else for the time being, Percival let him go with a slight shove.

"Merlin?" Gwaine questioned worriedly. "Is he all right?"

Arthur had ordered Gwaine have no visitors, which meant he had no idea how Merlin was. For all he knew, he could be dead. Arthur had let him sit in that dingy cell and imagine all the horrible possibilities for days. If he thought Gwaine was going to overlook that, he was so, so wrong.

Elyan nodded slightly. "He had a nasty concussion and a broken arm, but he'll make a full recovery."

Gwaine let out the breath it felt like he had been holding since Merlin fell. "I need to see him."

Percival and Elyan exchanged worried looks.

"What?" Gwaine asked, eyes narrowing.

"Arthur doesn't know we've let you out," Elyan explained hesitantly.

"You mean to say you broke me out? Against the king's orders?"

"Yes," Percival replied.

A brilliant smile curled Gwaine's lips. "You are true friends. Now, let's get this breakout truly underway. After you, Percy."

"First, you must swear to us that you will not attack Arthur again," Percival said, extending his arm to block Gwaine's path.

"You know I don't make promises I can't keep."

"We don't want to see you banished again," Elyan reasoned.

"I won't allow him to get away with what he's done!" Gwaine exclaimed.

Elyan flinched. "You know Arthur didn't mean to hurt Merlin."

"Just like he didn't mean to lock me in a cell for two days?"

"I'm angry too." Percival spoke evenly, astoundingly sensible for someone so frustrated and, worse still, disappointed – disappointed in the man he had pledged his allegiance to, whose kingdom he swore to protect with his life. "But lashing out will not make anyone fell any better. If anything, it will only make things worse. Once you have seen Merlin, then you can speak with Arthur."

Gwaine considered this for a while. Then, with a quick sigh, he patted Percival on the shoulder and made for the stairs. "All right. Fine. I'll behave. Now come on."

As they made their way up the stairs, Elyan explained how they had broken Gwaine out of the cells without alerting Arthur to their plans – it had taken some interesting, if slightly disturbing bribes and a few convenient distractions from the rodent residents of the castle, but they had pulled it off with little difficulty.

Soon, the conversation had returned to Merlin. Gwaine wanted to know if Arthur had spoken with him yet. Percival had hesitantly told him that no, he hadn't, but Leon would make sure he did. Leon hadn't known of their plans to free Gwaine, though Elyan had told him they were sneaking in to visit him. It was Leon who told them that Merlin had woken and had been on his way to tell Arthur.

They didn't know Arthur was currently on his way to Gaius' chambers too.

Their luck continued when they reached the corridors. The patrolling guards didn't give them a second glance and the one knight they ran into was easily convinced that Arthur had warranted Gwaine's release. Soon, they had reached the stairs leading up to one last corridor and then Gaius' quarters. They climbed quickly. It was easy and a little too uncomplicated.

That's why Percival wasn't all that surprised when they were faced with a very real, very royal problem: Arthur.

"What are you doing here?" Gwaine snarled.

"I'm here to see Merlin," Arthur replied. He didn't seem particularly angry that Gwaine wasn't in the cells. "What are you doing here? Where's Leon?"

As if summoned by Arthur, Leon appeared in the corridor. "Sire, Gwaine isn't-oh." Leon frowned at Gwaine. "You're here."

"Of course I'm here," Gwaine snapped. "I needed to see Merlin."

"I need to speak with him alone," Arthur said.

Gwaine crossed his arms over his chest. "No."

Arthur didn't say anything else; he was at the door in a second and preparing to open it, not wanting to cause anymore conflict, not when Merlin needed him, was asking for him. He knew that stance - Gwaine was going to get angry and he was going to argue. But before he could get inside, Gwaine was pushing him out of the way. They both lost their balance and tumbled inside, stumbling over the flagstones as they struggled to regain their balance. When they did find their feet, they were looking directly at the one man they both wanted to see: Merlin.

The room seemed to tense once the Arthur and knights had regained their footing. Gwaine crossed his arms menacingly over his chest again. Percival was watching him with concern, as if waiting for him to attack. Elyan was more focused on Merlin, looking gladder to see him awake than he was worried about the impending confrontation. Leon was the only one who concentrated on Arthur the same way Merlin did, watching the way the king's stance changed from driven to thoroughly lost in the blink of an eye.

Arthur stood there looking very much alone. A sudden look of uncertainty enveloped his features, the one that he turned to Agravaine with – he didn't particularly know what he was doing and Merlin could see the internal battle in his blue eyes. It was the least confident and most conflicted Merlin had ever seen Arthur. He couldn't recall the last time the king's emotions had been so muddled yet unusually out there.

"Merlin, mate," Gwaine finally said. "You all right?"

"Fine," Merlin replied.

"Good." Gwaine smiled. Then launched himself at Arthur.

Gwaine threw Arthur against the wall with a feral grunt, balling his fists around the red fabric of the king's shirt and pinning him to the stone. There was something manic about the way Gwaine glared at Arthur, like a madman with nothing to lose.

"You put me in the cells," Gwaine hissed through bared teeth.

Arthur felt angry too. He'd let Gwaine out. What more did the man want? "You threatened the life of your king."

"Sire." Leon moved forward nervously, unsure of what to do.

"Stay out of this," Arthur ordered.

"You hurt Merlin!" Gwaine shouted as if he had heard neither of them, drawing one of his fisted hands back as if to strike

"Gwaine," a small, but by no means weak, voice came from somewhere behind them. Merlin had managed to stand and was walking to them with the wobbling legs of a newborn fowl, though the determination of the mother forcing it to walk. "Stop."

Gwaine's knuckles were white. "He hurt you!"

"I know," Merlin said calmly.

Gwaine's hands begun to shake. He looked venerable, scared. "He put me in a cell for two days. I didn't even know if you were alive!"

Arthur tried to raise his hands into a surrender. "I'm sor-"

"How would you like it?" Gwaine growled, regaining some of his previous certainty. "How would you like it if you had to spend days alone in the cell of your own damn castle? How would you like it if you spent days not knowing if your best friend was all right, if the king you had sworn loyalty killed him or not? How would you like it?"

"Do you think I don't know how it feels?" Arthur countered heatedly.

"Then why did you do it?"

"I don't know!" Arthur cried, but when he spoke next, how words were softer, full of dejection; "I don't know anymore."

Hollow silence followed the broken confession. The only sound was Gwaine's ragged breathing as he stared at Arthur, a look of tortured indecision contorting his features into a mask of forlorn and pain. Arthur looked him straight in the eye, his own emotions laid bare – the loss, the betrayal, the insecurity; it was there for all to see.

Gwaine took a shaking step backwards, towards where Merlin now stood. Arthur remained where he was, back to the wall, and the only movements he made were the heavy rise and fall of his chest. He looked almost startled by what he had revealed, fearful of what the knights would think. He looked ashamed and venerable, young but already tested by life.

Then, slowly, Arthur moved towards the stone stairs to his left. He lowered himself onto the fourth step, legs balancing on the third, and pressed his elbows to knees and fingers to the bridge of his nose. His shoulders rose and fell with labored breaths, tense with trapped emotions.

"I'm sorry," Gwaine said eventually, earnest, even if he sounded slightly reluctant. "Not for punching you, you deserved that. But… I am sorry for what I said about Guinevere."

Arthur's shoulders fell and he raised his head. "I'm the one who should apologize. I…" He shook his head, expression pained. "Since Gwe-since she left, I'm… angry. I don't know what to do – and it feels like everything I do do is wrong. Like locking you in the cells or…" Arthur looked at Merlin and motioned vaguely in his direction, as if to indicate what he had done. "I trusted her, just like I trusted everyone else. And she betrayed me, like everyone else."

The only sound was Arthur moving on the steps.

"I know that's no excuse," Arthur continued. "What I've done… I don't know what to say except that I'm sorry. To all of you." His eyes moved to each knight, then to the floor again. "I only hope that, in time, you can forgive me."

"Sire." Percival stepped forward so that he was standing nearer to his king and next to Leon, broad shoulders raised in what Arthur was shocked to recognize as pride. "Arthur. We will not betray you."

Leon bowed his head in agreement. "I will always been loyal to you. You have made mistakes, that I cannot deny, but I believe you will make them right.

Elyan moved to stand by Percival and Leon's side. "I am loyal to you also. And I understand, more than anyone, what it is like to miss her."

Arthur bowed his head. "I'm sorry."

"You can apologize for as long as you want." Gwaine's turn. "Really, I'm not going to stop you."

Percival and Elyan both turned to look at him.

"But," Gwaine added. "It might take… longer, but I can forgive you. I won't forget, Arthur, but I will forgive. And so long as Merlin is loyal to you, I am too."

Arthur nodded, looking up. "Thank you, all of you."

Gwaine looked over his shoulder at Merlin, who was observing the scene with a glad smile, and then back to Arthur. "I think you two have some matters to discuss. I'll be in the tavern if anyone needs me. First rounds on you, Percy."

"If I remember correctly, its Elyan's round," Percival replied with a chuckle.

Elyan smirked deviously. "We'll see about that."

"I better accompany you," Leon announced. "In case you get into trouble again."

Gwaine rolled his eyes, but he thumped Leon on the shoulder with a large grin. He nodded to Merlin, who smiled in gratitude and happiness and nodded back, then turned to leave. Similar exchanges followed between Merlin and the other knights, before they left for the tavern together.

"Sire." Gaius rose from his seat across the room. "I must check on Sir Ector."

"Of course," Arthur said from his seat on the steps.

Gaius bowed slightly. "I will leave you to talk."

The door closed, leaving the warlock and his king to their matters.

Confidence. Arthur was becoming less familiar with its modest presence, but he recognized it now as it swept through his chest. His knights had pledged their loyalty to him despite all he had done, and he vowed that they wouldn't regret it. With their confidence in him, Arthur found his own returning to him along with a feeling of worth, of reason and, above all, a feeling of family. They were brothers in all but blood, friends above all else, and he was privileged to have them at his side.

A newfound courage came with this new conviction. He could and would do this. Looking up, he prepared to tell Merlin just how sorry he was when…

Merlin swayed as if the ground was moving beneath him, a hazy look of pain covering his pale face. Arthur was up in an instance, taking Merlin's uninjured arm and leading him quickly but carefully towards the bed. Gently, he pushed the servant onto the bed and rested a hand on his right shoulder as he flinched in time to Merlin's pained, uneven breaths. For a while, they stayed that way, a thousand unspoken comforts translated into the small, simple gesture of Arthur's hand on Merlin's shoulder. For a while, they didn't need to say anything.

"Have you eaten?" Arthur asked. Merlin shook his head. "I'll get you something."

"No, Arthur-" Merlin protested weakly, but the king was already prancing around the room in search of something edible. He watched in alarm as Arthur examined frog innards Gaius had stored in a jar as if he was actually considering feeding them to Merlin. "Those are frog intestines."

Arthur grinned wickedly. "I know."

"Inedible frog intestines," Merlin emphasized.

"Payback, for that rat stew you gave me."

"You liked it!"

Arthur rolled his eyes dramatically, but had moved away from Gaius' collection of animal appendages to search one of the cupboards that did store actual food. He pulled a loaf of bread from inside with an enthusiastic "Ah ha!" and placed it on a metal plate. With the same caring caution, he took Merlin's arm again and kept him on his feet until they reached the table. Sitting opposite each other, Merlin picked at the bread while Arthur plucked at all the words he had meant to say before. Looking at the pain Merlin was in – the pain he had caused him – made it so much harder to face what he had done.

"Merlin," he begun quietly, earlier jokes forgotten. "I'm sorry."

Merlin smiled that small, patient smile, filled with subtle sadness and unwavering devotion, the one that made Arthur wonder how someone so clumsy, so downright foolish could be so wise sometimes. "It's all right. I forgive you."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why?" Arthur's stool skidded across the floor as he stood with desperate haste. Merlin doubted he even realized he was pacing, hands moving animatedly as he spoke. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. What I did to you was inexcusable. It never should have happened; I never should have gone that far. I hurt you, Merlin. What if you hadn't woken up? What if…"

"Arthur," Merlin said. "Arthur, I'm all right. And I forgive you, whether you think you deserve it or not."

Arthur fell back onto the stool looking younger, more venerable. "The knights forgave me too."

"I know."

"After everything I've done, all the mistakes I've made, they forgave me. You forgave me."

Merlin smiled. "I'll always forgive you, Arthur. I told you I'm happy to be your servant, until the day I die; I intend to keep that promise."

The king shook his head. "I don't understand."

"I think you do."

Two sets of blue eyes met. "What?"

"I'm your friend, Arthur; you know that."

That sat in silence for a while. Arthur took his time processing what Merlin had just told him, analyzing the words carefully. There was no betrayal there, no deception hidden in Merlin's kind eyes. Merlin was right; he had known. He had known all along.

"And I yours," Arthur said slowly, as if scared by the words, but there was something liberating about telling Merlin the truth. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," Merlin insisted. "I promise you, Arthur, I will be at your side until the day I die."

"I appreciate that."

The peace that followed was calmly companionable. They didn't need to fill it, but something was niggling away at Arthur's mind, something he wasn't sure he wanted to say out loud until he did.

"I don't think I should be taking advice from Agravaine anymore," Arthur admitted, running a hand over his stubble-dotted jaw. "I need to start making my own decisions."

"You need to trust yourself," Merlin said. "Arthur, the knights believe in you, in the Camelot you strive to build – that is why they remain so loyal to you."

"But my people-"

"Feel the same way. Whatever Agravaine might have told you about them loosing their faith in you is wrong. You are a great king, Arthur, and they believe and trust in you. Now you must do the same."

"How?"

"I can't tell you that," Merlin answered honestly. "It's for you to find, but I know you can do it."

Arthur was quiet for a moment. Then, "Merlin?"

"Yeah?"

The king made sure he was looking his friend straight in the eye when he said, "Thank you."

Merlin smiled at him, and he smiled back. Arthur had made mistakes, but he had also made them right. It was going to get better. Whatever happened, it would get better, and he would feel better. He knew what he had to do know, understood what direction he needed to take. It was all suddenly so clear, so uncomplicated. If he ever needed an advisor, he knew Merlin would be there.

And Merlin would always be there, no matter what.

The End

Alright, I don't know about this part. I don't know if it fits together. At first, I intended to have all the knights visit Merlin separately, but that was even longer than it is now. There was also a sword fight between Arthur and Gwaine, but then I realised that it was a bit over the top to have Gwaine attempt treason. So that bit was cut. Still, I don't know if I like this version. The fight was fun to write in the other version - maybe I'll use it another time. Let me know what you thought and anymore prompts would be greatly appreciated :)