A Criminal's Burial

Chapter 17

Gasping for air, Merlin startled awake. It took him a moment to realize that he was in his bed, and even then, he still felt panicked. He was sweating profusely, and his heart was still pounding in his ears. Another bad dream.

Though his room was cast in complete darkness, images of the battlefield that day still flashed behind his eyelids. Too scared to sit up, Merlin tried to breathe through the waves of dread washing over him. After several hitched and disjointed breaths, Merlin finally was able to settle into breathing steadily. The sweat on his body rapidly cooled in the chilly winter air, and Merlin suddenly found himself shivering, goosebumps rippling across his skin.

Shakily, Merlin pulled himself upright and sat on the edge of his bed, body still wracked with trepidation. After rubbing his face, he reached out towards his nightstand, where a cup of water was likely sitting for him. As he grabbed the cup, Merlin tried to control the tremor in his hand as he lifted the cup to his lips to take a deep drink.

Returning the hand with the cup to his lap, Merlin cradled the cup in both hands and stared into the darkness of his room. He let himself detach from his still-trembling body, and he was only awakened by the first glimpse of daylight peeking behind his closed curtains.

Overcome by the smell of stale sweat, Merlin stood on coltish legs and staggered towards the washbasin in the corner of his room. Peeling his clinging shirt off his body, Merlin systematically ran the damp cloth across his body, rewetting and wringing it out without much thought. Though his scars still pulled tightly as he moved, Merlin no longer had to wear bandages to protect his wounds.

Merlin got dressed in clean clothes and sat in the chair near his window. Staring outside, he watched as Camelot rose with the sun. The higher the sun ascended along the horizon, the more people began to trickle out of their homes and start their days, some reporting to work, others setting up their stalls at the market. It wouldn't be long before people began spilling out with their baskets to buy their necessities.

A light knock sounded on his door, and Merlin glanced over as Gaius pushed open the door. Gaius's eyes started at Merlin's tossed bed and ended at the chair by the window, a common spot to find his ward early in the mornings. "Couldn't sleep?" Gaius asked, staring at the deep bags under Merlin's eyes.

"No," Merlin replied, looking at the floor. He was not particularly in the mood for Gaius to fuss over him.

"You know, it's been a few weeks. You could try—"

"No," Merlin interrupted, shaking his head. He did not want to take something to help him sleep. It wasn't particularly effective at keeping him asleep, and Merlin did not like how drowsy it still made him feel. Though Gaius had lightened up on barring Merlin from drinking while Gwaine and Percival came to play cards with him, Merlin had no desire to drink for similar reasons.

Sighing, the physician said, "Well, I just wanted to let you know that I'm heading to the market to buy some supplies. Gwen said she would pop by later this morning."

"Okay," Merlin said to the floor.

Gaius shook his head. "I'll check on you when I get back and give you some herbs to grind."

"Okay," Merlin replied with slightly more enthusiasm in his voice. He was thankful that Gaius was actually willing to give him something to do to stave off his intrusive thoughts.

Without saying another word, Gaius departed, the door closing behind him.

Merlin returned to looking out the window, watching people go about their lives, people who very well might not be alive today had he not done what he did. Though he found some comfort in seeing people live their carefree lives, he still felt haunted by his own actions. The images hardly left his mind. It did not take much to trigger the memories, either, the most ridiculous of which included watching himself tear a loaf of bread in half.

His memories waking up in the burial pit became interwoven with his actions on the battlefield that day. He saw their dead eyes, their rotting skin, and their horrific wounds in his imagination of the men he buried that day. He especially felt bad for the ones who had not immediately died, and he felt their fear, surrounded by the dead and unable to get out like he had. Every time he thought of the hundreds he had killed, Merlin could not help but think about how many families he had broken in the span of minutes. These thoughts only served to aggravate his immense guilt over the situation.

In the fleeting moments Merlin managed to justify what he had done, he would usually remember his time in Lord Staunton's lands, each tug of a scar reminding himself of the week of hell he endured. While the warlock had been heavily concussed and drugged during his stay, Merlin found himself recalling moments in flashes, if not visually, viscerally. What he could remember was burned in his mind.

He could still remember Frederick's pallid face, eyes empty and throat brutally slashed ear-to-ear, his stained Pendragon red cloak wrapped around his body. Every time he saw Arthur or one of the knights wearing their cloaks, Merlin would remember that face. Frederick was just a boy. Fresh-faced, barely able to grow a beard, the new knight was on one of his very first quests. It hurt, knowing that Frederick, a man he had considered a friend, likely endured the same torture he did before his promising life was cut short. It also hurt, knowing that Frederick likely died because of Merlin's own actions.

Merlin had supplied them with the information they wanted; they had no need for a new knight, who probably did not know enough information to betray Camelot even if he wanted to. While Merlin knew that it wasn't actually his fault, he still felt like it was his fault. Frederick was probably alone, disoriented, cold, and scared, just as Merlin was. Only Frederick did not have the opportunity to live with the consequences of his captivity. He felt guilty for being the one to survive, but, as much as it ashamed him, Merlin did not always feel like the lucky one.

Whenever Merlin woke up hyperventilating, he would see the face of the guard who strangled him looming over him. Merlin could still feel the sharp kick to his head and his side. Though he could already feel himself fading, he could still hear the crack of his ribs under the second blow. Then, a weight bore down on his chest, pressure on his broken ribs alone leaving his vision spotting. He remembered how helpless he felt, increasingly unable to catch his breath, and how long it took before he succumbed to the attack. Merlin was certain he had died that day.

Another light knock sounded on his door, and Merlin snapped his attention towards the door. "Merlin, it's Gwen. Can I come in?" Gwen asked from the other side of the door.

"Come in," Merlin answered, feeling uncertain in his own voice. At the start of his house arrest, Gwen fretted over him, but once she realized Merlin was irritated by the attention, she let up, leaving the fretting to Gaius. He liked seeing Gwen; she made him feel normal, if only for the span of time she sat with him. After a few deep conversations about his magic and several admonishments about him never asking for help, they fell back into their companionable discussions, usually about all of the castle gossip he had missed in all these weeks.

The guard outside opened the door for her, and Gwen walked in, a basket brimming with clothing in one arm and a plate full of food in the other. "Morning, Merlin," she greeted, setting the basket of clothing on Merlin's bed before she closed the span between them.

"Morning, Gwen," Merlin replied with a small smile.

As she handed him the plate, she said, "Eggs and ham." With a bit of a glare and the slightest of finger wags, she insisted, "And actually eat it, Merlin."

Merlin looked down at the plate and laughed nervously. The eggs were scrambled, and Gwen had already cut the ham into bite-sized pieces, leaving Merlin little reason to refrain from eating. Briefly pushing the eggs around his plate, Merlin stabbed a piece of pork and made a show of eating it.

"Good," Gwen said as she sat on the edge of Merlin's bed and pulled a needle and some thread from her basket. She eyed him until he took another bite, and only glanced down to thread her needle once he did. "I found out what happened with Lady Joanna," Gwen began with a smile, knowing that would pique Merlin's interest.

"Oh?" Merlin's fork clattered on the plate.

Pointing at the plate with her threaded needle, Gwen gave Merlin another look until he picked the fork up again.

Though he wasn't particularly hungry and the mere thought of eating the entire plate of food made his stomach roil, Merlin scooped up some eggs, slightly amused by Gwen's blackmail.

Gwen nodded as she watched Merlin take a few more bites, and she picked a torn shirt from her basket to mend. Starting at the edge of the tear, Gwen began, "So, it turns out that she ran off to Mercia."

"With Sir Cassian?" Merlin guessed, covering his mouth full of eggs with his hand. Lady Joanna's father did not approve of the match because Sir Cassian was one of Arthur's newer knights, who did not come from a noble family.

"No"—Gwen's expression widened and a grin cut straight across her face—"With her maidservant, Fiona."

Merlin sputtered, "What?" Gwen gave him the look again, and Merlin obediently ate a few more pieces of ham.

"They always were particularly close, but I never suspected. None of us did," Gwen said, referring to the other servants.

"What about Sir Cassian? Weren't they professing their love to one another in the halls that one time?" Merlin asked, enthralled.

"They were, but according to Sir Cassian, he was just helping her delay meeting the match her father had chosen for her, Lord Balgruuf," Gwen elaborated, face souring at the mention of him.

Merlin ate a couple more pieces of ham. "Isn't he like eighty?"

"And a pervert!" Gwen added, putting the shirt down in her lap so she could continue to speak with her hands, "At a feast, he once asked Beatrice if she could handle other things as well as she handled his cup!"

"Oh no," Merlin replied, wide eyed. "Isn't Beatrice fifteen?"

"She was twelve at the time. Absolutely mortified, cried the second she got back to the kitchen. We sent Hilde in afterwards, and he spent the rest of the night asking her to refill his cup so he could watch her bend over in front of him."

"Ew," Merlin began, feeling even less hungry than he was before. "Should have sent good ol' Leonard in," Merlin suggested, referring to the oldest male servant in Camelot. He was portly in stature and was nearly completely bald, save the wispy white hairs that hung along the back of his head.

Gwen shook her head. "He wasn't working that night, but I don't think that would have stopped him. He once made a pass at Paul before he died."

"No," Merlin said in complete disbelief. Merlin thought he was up on Camelot's gossip, but he had never heard about Lord Balgruuf's proclivities. "Why didn't I know about him?"

Gwen waved her hand dismissively. "I think you were off doing something with Arthur, and the time before that was before you came to Camelot."

"It seems like Sir Cassian was doing a public service then," Merlin observed and pushed his eggs around on his plate.

"He really was," Gwen agreed. "But her father is absolutely furious—he demanded that Arthur send men to go get her back!"

Merlin laughed. He would have to ask Arthur how that conversation went. "What did he say?"

Gwen smiled and rolled her lips in amusement. "That's just the thing, Arthur didn't say anything. Not at first. He just laughed at him." Merlin laughed harder, and Gwen continued, "Arthur said it took a moment before Lord Leopold realized that he would, in fact, not be sending men after her. As he started storming out, Arthur said that he told him to be happy that his daughter was happy. But he is still incredibly unhappy about it, and he says that he's going after her himself."

"Isn't he afraid of horses?" Merlin supplied, recalling a time he and Arthur had ridden back to the stables and encountered Lord Leopold. He gave them a hilariously wide berth as they passed.

"Absolutely terrified. The stable boys say that he is clearly weighing his anger with his daughter against his fear of horses. He's apparently been going there every day, trying to work up the nerve, but he has left every time," Gwen laughed, thinking the only reason Lady Joanna got away was because she did not share her father's inherent phobia of horses.

"I wonder if he will ever work up the nerve," Merlin wondered, glancing at his plate. He had eaten about half of its contents, leagues better than he usually managed.

Gwen shook her head. "I really don't think so—oh, but that's not all!"

Setting his plate on the table, Merlin looked at Gwen for permission, and she seemed to approve of his effort. "How is there more?" Merlin asked.

Gwen laughed. "Lord Cassian. Guess who he is having an affair with."

Merlin laughed, not Lord Cassian, too. "What's her name, that new girl in the kitchen. He's always really nice to her."

Shaking her head, Gwen answered, "Alice? No, but close, sort of. It's the baker, Alexander."

"No," Merlin replied, scandalized. "Isn't he married?"

Gwen rapidly nodded. "He is, to Genevieve, the maidservant for Lady Cecilia. Or I guess, I should say he was married to her. Yesterday, after she found out, she started throwing all of his stuff out of their house into the streets—it was quite the event."

"That's terrible for her, but wow," Merlin said, speechless. Affairs were nothing new in the court, but rarely were they this elaborate.

"Allegedly, they, uh," Gwen started, unsure how crassly she was willing to put the next part, "did not have much going on in the bedroom, and according to the other servants, she wasn't too surprised, after the anger passed, of course."

Merlin chuckled. "So how did Sir Cassian and Lady Joanna get involved in the first place?"

"Apparently, Sir Cassian's affair with Alexander has been going on for quite some time. Genevieve and Fiona were friends, and Genevieve started getting suspicious about Lord Cassian and her husband. Fiona confronted Lord Cassian privately, and he spilled the beans immediately. He begged her to not tell Genevieve, saying that Alexander was just waiting for the right moment to tell her that he wanted to separate. So Fiona told him if she helped her with Lady Joanna, she wouldn't tell a soul."

"I always thought their public displays of love seemed…dramatic," Merlin admitted.

"Right? We all thought it was odd, but none of us caught onto what was really happening."

Merlin laughed, and Gwen smiled at the sight. Getting a genuine happy expression on Merlin's face these days was hard, and she was relieved to see the side of Merlin that was not-so-secretly a tantalized, gossiping old woman.

Glancing at the forlorn clothing in the basket beside her, Gwen grabbed one of Arthur's holey socks, which held a spare needle that was already threaded, and handed it to Merlin. The warlock laughed; he never was going to be able to escape Arthur's socks.

Though he was slow, his hands still shaky and unpracticed, Merlin worked on mending the sock manually.

"Did you ever just…magic this stuff done?" Gwen asked.

Merlin looked up and laughed. "I think you already know the answer to that question."

"Naughty," Gwen chided with a grin.

The two continued mending amidst friendly conversation, and Gwen couldn't help but steal glances at Merlin smiling. Though Gwen had fixed the initial shirt and a pair of pants that had a hole in the inseam in the amount of time it took Merlin to complete the single sock, Merlin was still proud of his work. He held up the sock with a grin and handed it back to Gwen, who promptly handed him another sock and some more thread.

Merlin chuckled and readily accepted it. "You know, this is probably the most honest work I've done mending in ages," Merlin admitted with a soft laugh.

Gwen smiled and watched Merlin attempt to thread his needle with his shaking hands. After about a minute of struggling, Merlin set the thread back down on his pants. As Gwen was about to offer her services, unwilling to let such a minor pitfall derail the pleasant mood they had cultivated, she saw the thread levitate and thread itself through the eye of the needle. She could not see Merlin's eyes, but she could see his faint smile. "Naughty," Gwen teased, and Merlin's smile widened.

The two chatted until Merlin finally finished the second sock, which was right around the time Gwen finished the remainder of the basket's contents. It was about mid-morning, and Merlin could no longer stifle his yawns. Glancing at Gwen with a smile, Merlin stood up and handed her the second sock. Gwen accepted it and looked up at her friend, feeling relieved to see his smile actually reach his eyes, the faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Placing the sock in the basket, Gwen stood from her place on Merlin's bed. "Get some sleep, Merlin," she said, patting him on the shoulder with her free hand.

Merlin nodded, suddenly feeling absolutely exhausted. As Gwen grabbed the plate of ham and eggs, Merlin watched her glance down at the contents before heading towards the door. He knew she was worried about him—he knew everyone was worried about him—and Merlin felt a pang of worry that he had disappointed her.

Gwen, seeing his expression faulter, said, "Good job today, Merlin."

Looking down, Merlin opened the door for her to pass through. Before she crossed the threshold, he looked up and replied, "Thanks, Gwen."

"Anytime, Merlin," she said in farewell.

When the guard closed the door behind her, Merlin changed into clean nightclothes and sank back into his bed, pulling the covers over his chest. It didn't take him long to slip into slumber, too exhausted to dream.


When Merlin awoke, it was late afternoon, the winter sun already setting along the horizon. He knew that Gaius would probably like to know that he was awake, but Merlin didn't particularly feel like getting up. Though he loved the old physician, Merlin was growing increasingly irritated by Gaius's incessant concern. It was so difficult for him to feel a semblance of normalcy when he was constantly being handled with kid gloves.

Stretching in his bed, Merlin stared at the ceiling, trying to recall if anyone was planning on visiting tonight. He was usually welcome to the distraction, just as Gwen had been this morning, but it sometimes felt exhausting, constantly pretending that he was in good spirits. He knew Gwaine and Percival were both busy training the new recruits that Camelot had obtained from its outskirts. His new guard friend, Aldwin, had the night off. That just left Arthur.

Arthur was also always worried about his wellbeing, and while he found it easier to talk about other subjects with Arthur than it was with Gaius, he found that Arthur was constantly checking on him. In the previous few weeks, it felt like Arthur never gave him any personal space. He was constantly poking, prodding, and inspecting him to assuage his concerns, sometimes seemingly at random in the middle of an unrelated conversation. Merlin gave up protesting as long as Arthur did not change the subject or verbalize his worry, a sentiment that still largely made Merlin uncomfortable.

Arthur knew that Merlin had difficulty sleeping, and he would often stay up with him late into the night, talking about everything and nothing. He knew that Arthur was exhausted, dark bags had long formed under his eyes, and there was a slowness in his movement and speech. Between humoring him and managing the kingdom, which was in the thick of change, Arthur had to be tired. Yet without complaint, Arthur would often lie cramped with him in his small bed until Merlin fell asleep.

Obviously, the king could not spend the night every night, but he usually popped in at the very least to say goodnight, regardless of whether or not Merlin was awake to hear it. While he was always disappointed to see Arthur leave on those nights, he was glad to see that Arthur was at least attempting to take care of himself, too. Merlin could not begin to thank Arthur enough for the reprieve his presence gave him, but he knew that Arthur wasn't checking in with him solely for Merlin's own wellbeing. Some part of him was still clearly worried that he was going to lose Merlin again, just like he was worried the day that Arthur had placed him on house arrest.

The morning Arthur caught Merlin slipping back into his room following the speech, Merlin was initially thankful that Arthur was willing to table the whole Dragoon thing for another conversation. What he was not expecting was for the king to dive straight into an enraged lecture about Merlin having "absolutely no regard for his life and health."

Arthur helped him get undressed, primarily as a means to thoroughly inspect Merlin's spotting bandages, and berated the warlock for his stubbornness and seeming inability to take care of himself. Merlin immediately resented that statement; he had taken care of himself by himself for years, not to mention taking care of others—especially Arthur—alone for years.

When he attempted to voice his disagreement, the king shut down even a breath of objection as he continued to scold him. Arthur was angry, angrier than Merlin had even seen him. While Merlin could not recall precisely what Arthur said in those moments, he could still feel the intensity of the emotion behind those words.

Somewhat forcibly sitting Merlin on the edge of his bed, Arthur dropped to his knees to pull the boots off Merlin's feet. Merlin hissed in pain as Arthur prodded at his swollen right ankle, and Arthur cursed under his breath. The king leaned his head into the side of Merlin's bed and sighed, speaking into the mattress, "Gods, what am I supposed to do with you, Merlin?"

Silence hung in the air for a moment before Merlin muttered, "I just wanted to see the speech."

"I know," Arthur said, exacerbation clear in his tone. When Arthur looked up at Merlin, Merlin looked away, glancing towards his dresser in the opposite corner. "But the second you manage to get off death's doorstep, you keep walking right back!"

Merlin remained silent, his head hanging into his chest as he wrapped his arms protectively around himself. Though he could not see Arthur from his position, he could hear Arthur rubbing his face as he stood.

Arthur sighed and gently patted him on the shoulder. "I'm going to go get Gaius."

When the door closed behind Arthur, Merlin sat in silence for a few minutes before Gaius came up. He similarly scolded him as he rebandaged the wounds that were now spotting. Gaius helped him prop himself into a comfortable position to sleep, including elevating his re-aggravated sprained ankle, and stepped out of the room.

Merlin fell asleep to the faint sound of Gaius and Arthur talking downstairs, too tired to stay awake.

Shortly after Merlin woke up, Arthur told him that he and Gaius were confining him to quarters. Dramatic as always, the king also made a show of taking the borrowed boots with him. While Merlin was grumpy, the worried glances that slipped through Arthur's otherwise stern expression were a sobering reminder of the previous lecture. Later, when Gaius popped in to check on him, the relief in Gaius's exhausted eyes was enough to make him agree to remain in the physician's quarters—primarily in his bedroom—for the weeks that Gaius had requested.

Merlin was now on his final night of confinement, and he was both parts relieved and anxious about the conclusion of this liminal period. Now that his ankle had healed, he felt like being able to go outside and walk around in the sun and fresh air would do him a world of good. On the other hand, while the last few weeks had been far from easy, Merlin felt safe, cloistered away from society. When he left the physician's chambers tomorrow, he would be stepping into a new Camelot. The thought was as invigorating as it was terrifying.

Despite his unease, he figured anything had to be better than staying in his room, laying in his bed, and staring at the ceiling until he could fall into an uneasy sleep. While everyone made sure to stop in and spend some time with Merlin, he was still alone for a majority of the day.

Without anyone or anything to occupy his time, Merlin would often detach from the aches of his body and relive the events of the last few weeks in excruciating detail. It had gotten to the point where Merlin felt like his mind had carved out a new path in the woods, only Merlin was not sure if he knew how to get off this circuitous path and make his way home. Every time Merlin had a moment of silence, he found himself walking down that same path, passing the same landmarks and following old footprints.

To escape the rumination, Merlin tried to distract himself. At first, he voraciously read the spell tome that Gaius had given him all those years ago. It initially felt strange, doing such a thing in the open without fear of discovery. Arthur had even caught him reading the tome a few times, and he instinctively moved to hide it. Though the king merely quirked his eyebrow at the knowledge that Merlin was also harboring magical contraband, he didn't say much about it. Once Merlin was aware of this behavior, he tried to consciously mitigate it. However, the furthest he had gotten was closing the book to hide whatever page her was reading.

Even after all these weeks, Merlin found that he still had internalized something not dissimilar to shame regarding using his magic. He knew magic wasn't bad, but he still somehow felt bad practicing it around others, especially knowing a guard stood right outside his door at all times. Even doing small things in front of his friends, sometimes at their behest, made him feel exposed.

For some reason inexplicable to himself, Merlin found it easier sharing his magic with people he had not previously met, people who had no separate knowledge of the person he had pretended to be all of these years. One of the guards who rotated standing in front of his door, Aldwin, poked his head in one day, wanting to get a look at the unlikely warlock. While Aldwin had sort of known what the king's manservant looked like, he was not sure he would have been able to pick Merlin out of a crowd.

Merlin knew that when he revealed his magic on the battlefield that day, he was sacrificing the anonymity that had protected him all these years. While Merlin was relatively well-known amongst the other servants, knights, and merchants, it made him nervous to think that everyone would know who he was and what he had done, the horrible things he had done.

However, if Aldwin were any indicator of the average citizen of Camelot, they would not consider Merlin's actions to be horrible. Far from it, in fact. Aldwin was immensely grateful for Merlin's actions that day, but he had the good sense to notice that the accolades were making Merlin uncomfortable.

Instead of sending Aldwin back outside his door, Merlin invited the young guard inside, glad for the distraction. At first, Aldwin was reluctant to oblige, figuring that he would get in trouble with the king for abandoning his post. Merlin laughed and informed him that Arthur—Aldwin balked at the informality—did not care if the guard came in, so long as Merlin did not go out. After all, he, Percival, and Gwaine had already roped several guards into card games meant for four or more.

Though he wasn't entirely convinced, Aldwin entered room and dragged a chair in front of the door, a gesture Merlin found hilarious. The two got to talking, and Merlin learned that Aldwin had been one of the guards who was unfortunately paired up with one of Agravaine's embeds. He considered himself lucky to have noticed his partner's attack in time to get out of the situation unscathed.

Before meeting Aldwin, Merlin did not know much about Agravaine's arm of the attack, spare the few vague details he managed to pry from Percival. He found out that it didn't take too long for the guards to figure out that there was a coordinated attack from within, but they felt like they were operating blind until Percival and one of the older guards spread the word that it was Agravaine's doing. As far as Aldwin was aware, it took about half an hour for everyone to learn that information, at which point they were able to narrow their search criteria. Before then, each of the guards felt paranoid, unsure who would attack next. They were genuinely afraid that any one of their friends could be the next traitor, and many of the guards were initially reluctant to join a search party. Aldwin attributes a few deaths to this mistrust, knowing that a few guards who ventured off alone never came back.

Merlin could only assume this outcome was also part of Morgana and Agravaine's plan. When he asked about the horn to the south, Aldwin explained that they just thought it was in response to their current situation. The guards on the ground that day had no idea that a literal army was marching towards them in the south, not that they expected they would have been able to do much had they responded.

Listening to Aldwin speak, Merlin realized just how scared the guards were, how worried they were about not being able to go home to their families that night. Though it was some solace that Aldwin was able to go back to his wife and children that night because of his actions, he was still horrified to think about how many men were unable to do the same for that very reason.

When the young guard saw Merlin's face sour, Aldwin asked, "You want to know something funny, though?"

"What?"

"My kids think you're cool," Aldwin said, smiling at the memory. "They keep making up these crazy, fantastical tales about you. I think last night it was something about you fighting off a sea witch? Or a dragon? I can't remember."

Merlin laughed at the implication. Kids usually only found him funny at best, but only when he was in the stocks.

"No, seriously! I told them that I got to go be one of your guards today, and they thought it was the coolest thing. I asked them if they thought I was cool, and my youngest said, 'No, you're just Daddy.' She looked so serious when she said it, too. It was brutal," Aldwin explained with a laugh.

To improve Aldwin's "coolness" with his children, Merlin had tried to teach him magic over the course of the last few weeks. Merlin had poured over the easier spells in the tome, learning new parlor tricks and discovering new applications for his magic that he had never considered, and selected a few for Aldwin to practice. Late last week, they both conceded that Aldwin was a lost cause in the magic department.

Merlin, however, was not sure if that meant Aldwin had absolutely no inclination to magic or if he was simply a bad teacher. Merlin had learned many new spells from the tome, but he had little difficulty mastering them. After the first few spells, Merlin realized that he did not even have to speak the spells aloud or internally; he just had to will the outcome into being. Magic had always been instinctual for Merlin, but he now felt like he had removed a dam between himself and his magic. It finally felt like he had reached his true magical potential, and he felt more like himself in that regard alone.

Merlin no longer had difficulty with spells that used to trouble him, such as reverting back after turning into Dragoon, but his healing magic left much to be desired. Merlin could fairly reliably stave off infections on simple wounds or reset bones—something he had practiced on willing participants who visited the physician's quarters—but his efforts in actually healing wounds were suggestions more than anything. Gaius swore it made a marginal difference in the healing rate, but he was not sure if it was possible—even for the likes of Merlin—to entirely heal a wound. After all, even Kilgharrah was only able to save him from the serket's poison, not the wound itself.

When Merlin had exhausted the spells in the tome and had no patients to help, Merlin begged Gaius for something—anything—to do. The physician begrudgingly gave Merlin some herbs to prepare and grind every time he returned from the market. Though his hands felt uncoordinated and unresponsive, Merlin relished the opportunity to do something with his hands.

He had been worrying about the muscle loss that he had sustained in Lord Staunton's dungeon, and he knew these weeks of bedrest would not help in that regard. Merlin had a mirror in his room, but he could not bear to look in it. Paired with the fact that his old clothing hung off him like a sack, his knobby fingers and thin wrists told him enough about how he probably looked. Merlin already felt like a monster—the last thing he needed was to see precisely how ghoulish he looked.

Despite how jarring it was for Merlin to look at his own hands, he was still having some difficulty convincing himself to eat. He knew he needed to put some weight back again, but whenever he was handed something to eat, he usually picked at it unless forced otherwise. Sometimes, he felt too nauseous to eat, but a majority of the time, he just had no interest in eating. Other times, he simply felt undeserving of the nice meals that Arthur had sent up from the kitchen, yet when Gaius would offer him a simple porridge, he usually wouldn't eat that, either.

Distractions, including food and visitors, weren't enough to keep him from descending into his routine melancholy. Though it felt like Merlin slept a majority of the day, his sleep was far from restful. For as many hours as Merlin tried to rest, he was awake and alone with his thoughts.

Merlin was thankful for the nights his friends would keep him up late, exhausting him to the point where he could fall into a dreamless sleep, but that only happened maybe two or three nights out of the week. While life seemed to stand still for Merlin, who was cooped up in his room, he was keenly aware of the fact that things were changing in Camelot.

He could only hope they were changing for the better.

A knock sounded on his door, and Merlin glanced towards the door, expecting Gaius to poke his head in. When no one entered, Merlin cleared his throat and called, "Come in!"

Aldwin poked his head inside Merlin's room, and the warlock smiled, glad for the company. "Isn't it your night off?" Merlin asked.

"I was thinking it might be a good time to pay you a visit, since I'm sure King Arthur is going to put you right back to work tomorrow," Aldwin said with a laugh. As Aldwin spoke, two short blond heads appeared from the other side of the door. First, two mops of hair, then four blue eyes peeking around the corner. The second they made eye contact with Merlin, the shorter of the two dodged back behind the door with a giggle.

Merlin laughed and agreed, "Sure."

"Good, because I'm not sure if I could have told them no at this point," Aldwin said as his two kids, whom Merlin already knew as Luke and Lydia, bounded to his bedside with the energy one would expect from a six- and four-year-old. For all their excitement, they stopped short of actually saying hello, instead staring at him with wide eyes and slack jaws.

"How did you make such cute kids?" Merlin asked with a teasing grin. He sat up a little straighter in his bed and pulled the blanket further onto his lap.

"I don't know—thank the wife for that one," Aldwin replied as he walked to stand behind his children.

Merlin turned his attention to the kids and greeted them with a smile, "Hello, Luke. Hello, Lydia."

"He already knows our names," Lydia loudly 'whispered' behind her hand to her brother.

"How does he know our names?" Luke asked back behind his hand.

Aldwin laughed and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "I already told him your names, guys." The two looked crestfallen as Aldwin added, "I don't think Merlin can do that…Wait, you can't do that, right?"

Merlin shook his head and laughed. "No, I cannot do that," Merlin confirmed, and the two children looked absolutely devastated.

"But you can do other things, right?" Luke asked, eyes hopeful. "Like that cool barrier!"

Merlin held his hand out to the children. In an instant, his eyes flashed gold and a small, blue barrier appeared around Merlin's hand.

"Woah!" they both exclaimed, hands reaching out to touch it.

While Lydia took to patting it with her hand, Luke marveled, "It's so warm!"

Merlin dissipated the barrier, and Lydia's hand smacked down onto his palm. Looking up at the warlock in shock, she saw Merlin's eyes phase back to blue from gold. "Woah, your eyes!" Lydia squealed, and within seconds, she crawled up the side of Merlin's bed and plastered her tiny hand on Merlin's cheek. "Do it again!"

"Lydia…" Aldwin chided and reached for his daughter.

"No, Daddy, see!" she insisted. Luke took a step to the side and looked at Merlin expectantly.

Merlin just chuckled and summoned the barrier in his hand once more, his eyes shifting into gold.

"See!" she shrieked. "They're so pretty!" Lydia exclaimed, removing her hand from his face. In an instant, Merlin dissolved the barrier, and his eyes returned to their usual blue.

As Aldwin pulled his daughter down from Merlin's bedside to set her back on the floor, Luke asked, "What else can you do?"

"Hmm," Merlin said, thinking. "What's your favorite animal?"

"A dragon!" Luke roared.

"No, a unicorn!" Lydia insisted.

"Okay, okay," Merlin conceded, and with a wave of his hand, Merlin had conjured a scene of a dragon, who definitely looked like Kilgharrah, flying through the sky. The image shifted to a unicorn running through the woods, and he could hear the children audibly gasp in amazement.

As the scene faded, Merlin blew across his hand, and a puff of smoke emerged, forming into a shadowy dragon. As the dragon began flying circles around the young boy, Merlin blew across his hand once more, this time creating a unicorn, which began running around Lydia.

The young girl, completely in awe, reached out to touch the unicorn. The smoke filtered around her hand, but it regained its shape after it passed.

The smoke creatures eventually faded into the air, and Merlin conjured small lights, twinkling as they descended upon the children. They both instinctively held their hands out to collect the light, and they watched in awe as the little glowing balls land in their hands before petering out in sparkles.

As the last of the lights dissipated, Merlin's eyes returned to their usual blue, and he looked at the children, who were staring at him with wide eyes.

"That was so cool!" Luke exclaimed, pumping his arm in the air.

Merlin stifled a yawn, and Aldwin laughed. "Come on kids, let's let Merlin get some sleep," the young guard beckoned, placing one hand on each of his children's backs.

"I don't wanna," Lydia whined.

Picking the young girl up in one arm, Aldwin held other his hand out for Luke to grab. "I'm sure we can come see Merlin again another day, right Merlin?"

Merlin smiled and nodded. "Anytime."

Lydia looked at Merlin from the other side of her father's shoulder and asked, "Any time?"

Aldwin chuckled and said, "Don't say that, Merlin. They might take you up on it."

As Luke glanced back at Merlin, Lydia made another small whine. Before turning towards the door, both children waved at him.

"Goodnight, Merlin," Aldwin said.

"Thanks, Aldwin," Merlin replied and watched as Aldwin released Luke's hand to open Merlin's door.

"Anytime," Aldwin said, making his way out the door with his children in tow.

As the door closed behind them, Merlin scooted down in his bed and laid back down, pulling his blanket up to his neck. He smiled at the ceiling, feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

Things were changing for the better.


When Merlin woke up, the morning sun was streaming through his bedroom window. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Merlin sat upright in his bed and took a deep breath, soaking in the morning. Though he felt a fluttering trepidation about leaving his room and facing a new Camelot, he knew that it was time.

Merlin cast his blanket off into a heap on the other side of his bed and turned to place his feet on the floor. As he stood, Merlin glanced out the window, relieved to see that it was a sunny day. He would finally be able to feel the warm winter sun on his skin for the first time since he left Camelot on that ill-fated quest nearly two months ago. Taking another deep breath, Merlin was also excited to smell the crisp, fresh air outside. Though he had grown accustomed to it, his room primarily smelled of various ointments with some underlying notes of stale sweat.

Merlin made his way to the water basin in the corner of his room and raked his shaggy hair back, thinking that he really ought to get it trimmed today. It was starting to get in his eyes. Dipping the washcloth in the basin, Merlin washed his face, careful around the jagged, raised scar that peeked out underneath his hairline and ran partially down his temple. Though the bruising had passed, the scar tissue was still tender to the touch.

Once satisfied, Merlin dropped the washcloth back into the basin and stripped bare. He was careful not to look down his chest, though he knew precisely what it looked like. Already fading small burn and cut scars littered his chest, and his ribs were still on the mend. They were still bruised, though those bruises were slowly fading into lighter shades of yellow. Quick to run the washcloth over his washboard ribs, Merlin reached the spot where Morgana had stabbed him. That wound had healed much better than it really should have, already beginning to disappear into a thin, white scar.

Dipping and wringing the washcloth once more, Merlin scrubbed at his back, perhaps a bit harder than he should have, given the whipping lashes that were still healing. The scars had begun mercilessly itching, and it took all of Merlin's willpower to not scratch them open just to end the sensation.

Finishing up, Merlin walked over to his dresser and smiled at what he could only assume was Arthur's peace offering. After putting on pants, Merlin donned one of his blue shirts. Pulling at his sleeves, Merlin grimaced when he realized that they weren't long enough to cover the pink scars circling his wrists.

Surprised that he was feeling self-conscious about the thought of the public seeing evidence of his captivity, Merlin tried to shake it off by grabbing a red neckerchief and tying it around his neck for the first time in weeks. Feeling a bit constricted, Merlin pulled it down and fussed with it to make it looser. Still not content with how the fabric hung around his throat, Merlin decided to forgo the article entirely.

With a sigh, Merlin placed the neckerchief back in its drawer and closed it. His hand lingered on the handle for a moment before he moved to his wardrobe to find his coat, only to remember that he had lost that, too. Settling for his old, thin cloak, Merlin draped it over his thin shoulders and loosely tied it high on his chest.

Grabbing a pair of socks and his new boots, Merlin sat on the edge of his bed to put them on. He knew exactly where he was going to go first.


Merlin had decided to take the long way to Arthur's chambers to walk outside for a few minutes. By the time he actually arrived, Merlin was already feeling shaken by the interactions he was met with en route.

While no one so much as heckled him, he felt like everyone's eyes were on him as he passed. Merlin was not sure how many times someone had stopped to thank him, or worse, called him a hero. Merlin thanked them and tried to tactfully excuse himself, hoping that he was able to conceal just how unsettled he was by the unsolicited praise.

Heart racing, anxiety roiling in his stomach, Merlin opened the door to Arthur's chambers with a shaking hand. Quickly slipping inside, Merlin closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, trying to quell the panic that was constricting his chest. Relieved that Arthur was either out or simply had not heard him, Merlin took a minute to settle down. When the worst of the physical symptoms passed, Merlin finally felt brave enough to step into Arthur's chambers.

As he walked back towards Arthur's bedroom, he remembered stumbling in over a month ago, and he was suddenly washed with the same mix of fear, hope, and relief that he had felt that night. Swallowing thickly, Merlin made his way into Arthur's bedroom, eyes frantically scanning the room for the king.

Arthur was sitting at his desk, brow furrowed as he intently read one of the many letters that was strewn across it. Though Merlin was relieved at the sight, he still felt restless. Looking around the room for something to do, Merlin settled on Arthur's unmade bed on the other side of the room.

By the time that Arthur noticed the noise and looked up, Merlin was smoothing the covers back over his bed, just as he had a thousand times over the years. "What are you doing?" Arthur asked.

Without looking up, Merlin said, "Cleaning."

End of Chapter 17