Hi! First things first, a brief apology- I actually finished writing this chapter a few weeks back, but struggled to find time to get it all typed up and ready to post. Still, here's hoping at all worked out in the end, as it gave me extra time to tweak a few bits.

Thank you all so much for the feedback regarding my OCs last chapter. The general consensus seems to be that they're quite popular, as long as I only bring in new ones when they really are needed. As such, I thought I'd give a quick heads up- there are a few new OCs popping up in the next couple of chapters, but as far as I can tell they'll all be fairly minor ones who are likely to be largely contained in just this section.

Without further ado...

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin

Chapter 34

Arthur had half expected to find his father half-dead, and perhaps even injured almost beyond recognition. The Morgana he had met today had seemed to truly loath the man, and he wouldn't have put it past such a madwoman to take her vengeance out on Uther through torture- especially after what Michael had hinted at regarding the King's likely condition. So he was surprised, to say the least, to find himself in front of a seemingly unharmed Uther Pendragon- his only wounds being the familiar sight of raw, shallow cuts caused by the manacles which encircled his wrists.

Standing protectively in front of where Uther dangled, unconscious, from the wall were two terrified-looking guards, their spears shaking slightly in otherwise firm grips as they prepared themselves to fight whatever enemy was appearing before them. Upon seeing that it was the Prince, however, the spears were slowly lowered, shock replacing fear as they wondered what exactly to make of the method of his arrival.

Before either of them had had quite enough time to process this turn of events, however, Arthur had stepped forward. Taking a brief moment to memorise their faces, he offered the pair a short nod.

"Good work, gentlemen. You can relax now."

As he stepped past them, the taller of the pair addressed him hesitantly, gesturing as he did towards the King's shackles.

"We couldn't get him down, sire. And there doesn't even appear to be a keyhole to pick."

"Couldn't wake him up either, sire," the shorter, elder of the two piped up. "I don't know what exactly those witches did to him, but he won't stir at all."

Fear rising once again at the guards' worry-filled observations, Arthur reached out to gently shake his father's shoulder, checking as he did so for any signs of injury he might have missed. With no response forthcoming, he turned towards the room's final occupant.

"Merlin?"

The Warlock came forward (noticing, but obviously choosing to ignore, the way the younger guard stepped back slightly warily at the action), his own brow creased in concern.

"There are many ways to twist magic for use in torture, and I'm certain that Morgause was well versed in more than a couple of them. Until he wakes up and tells us, there's no way to know with complete certainty what they did. But I can try to get rid of any lasting effects." With that said, he placed a hand on one of the manacles. "Brace yourself."

Heeding Merlin's words, Arthur changed his position so that he was holding up the Kings' weight. Then, as the manacles sprung open, he lowered his father slowly to the floor, arranging him so that he was lying on his back.

Unwilling to part when his father was in such a condition, Arthur knelt at the older man's side, Merlin mirroring the Prince's actions opposite from him. He could do nothing but watch, once again unable to help, as the Warlock placed one hand on Uther's forehead, and the other on his chest. If this didn't work...

...No! Arthur forcefully shook the thought from his mind. It would work. It had to work. This was the man who, in his own way, had done his best to raise his son up to be the King their people deserved. The man who had given him his first sword, and who had comforted him as best he knew how when Arthur's favourite hound had had to be put down. He may have been harsh and difficult sometimes- may even have come across as uncaring to many- but everything the stubborn old man had done for the past twenty-four years had been done with Arthur in mind. And, even before then, what he believed to be the Kingdom's best interests at heart. Bowing his head, Arthur began to pray fervently that everything would work out. Screaming out internally, he begged any deity out there who would listen that his stubborn old fool of a father would be stubborn enough to once again emerge unscathed.

In all of this, though, only one, barely even audible, word made it past his lips.

"Please..."

...

It can't have been more than five minutes later (though it felt like an eternity) when something finally changed. Only instead of the change coming from Uther, as he had expected, Arthur was startled to see Merlin's hand begin to shake violently where it rested on the King's chest. Raising his head in shock, the Prince realised with horror that it wasn't only his friend's hand which was shaking. Tremors were running throughout the entirety of the Warlock's body at an alarming speed. His eyes were wide open and unseeing, while his jaw was clenched tightly in what Arthur recognised as a reaction to what was probably extreme pain- the action probably done deliberately in an effort to prevent himself from biting through his own tongue.

Acting automatically, Arthur reached out his hand, intending to attempt to hold the younger man still. But he was stopped short by a sudden, firm grip on his arm. Intending to yank his arm away, the Blond turned to snap at whoever was daring to hold him back from helping his friend. But the words faded in an instant when his eyes met the solemn gaze of the older guard.

"Best not to touch him, sire," the man said grimly. "I've seen similar fits before, and it's far better to just let 'em run their course."

Despite the sharp reply rising in his throat, something in the man's eyes stopped him short. There was a pain there- old, but still fresh- and it was enough to quell any thoughts of arguments blossoming in the Prince's mind.

Instead, Arthur turned back, his hand unknowingly tightening it's grip on his father's shoulder as he found himself once again powerless to assist in his friend's battle.

And still the shuddering continued. The veins in Merlin's neck and forehead were beginning to stand out in stark relief from his usually pale skin, now reddening in his efforts to both keep his jaw shut tight, and his hands firm in their respective positions. Then the seizures began to grow more violent, becoming faster and faster until the young man before them was just shy of virtually vibrating.

And then... they stopped. With no indication whatsoever of slowing down, the shaking suddenly came to an abrupt halt, and Merlin knelt before them, stock still and panting hard, his still-wide eyes transformed into that fabulous shade of gold which Arthur had come to know so well.

A moment of deathly silence passed, and Arthur was about to call Merlin's name when a shocked gasp from the other guard drew his attention. Following the man's gaze, he felt his own eyes widen upon seeing the small, black spheres which were forming in the air above each of Merlin's hands. The spheres slowly grew in size, expanding until each one was the approximate thickness of one of the Prince's thumbs, before suddenly launching themselves sideways and rolling to a stop on the floor a short distance away. The taller guard was just reaching down to pick one up when a breathless voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Don't touch it!" The Warlock may have been out of breath, but the authority behind that statement was impossible to ignore, and the guard drew back as though burned. Hastily untying his neckerchief, Merlin moved around, using the material to pick up the balls and wrap them in a tightly-sealed bundle. "These contain the spells which were used on Uther. Touch them, and you'll go through the same pain." He shuddered momentarily, and Arthur's eyes widened as he realised with horror that that was exactly was Merlin had just done. "Believe me, you don't want that."

Knowing that the Warlock wouldn't want to talk about what he had just experienced right at this moment, Arthur forced himself to push the issue to the back of his mind, and instead settled for eyeing the small package with a new-found wariness as Merlin placed it firmly in one of his pockets and (he suspected, at least) sealed it in there with a quick spell. No doubt the Warlock would find somewhere to safely store the spheres later, to prevent them from ending up in the wrong hands.

Suddenly, a stirring from the floor drew the immediate attention of the entire room, just in time to see the King's eyes blink slowly open.

"Father?"

"Arthur?" Uther blinked hazy eyes, his features scrunched up slightly in evident confusion. Then, in an instant, the haziness vanished, replaced by a dawning clarity. Snapping abruptly upright, he grabbed hold of one of his son's shoulders- whether in concern, or simply to steady himself Arthur had no idea- and fixed him firmly in the eye. "What are you doing here? Where's Morgana? Morgause?"

Reacting to the demanding tone in the King's voice, Arthur found himself automatically slipping into the professional calmness expected of the Kingdom's first Knight.

"Morgause is dead, sire, and Morgana gone. She fled together with another sorcerer shortly after Morgause was killed."

"Killed?" It seemed to take a moment for the full meaning of the word to sink in, though once it had, the corners of Uther's mouth twitched upwards slightly in what appeared to be pride. "You killed her?"

Arthur shook his head. "Not I, father. She was killed by the same man who succeeded in releasing the kingdom from those cursed enchantments."

Whilst processing this new information, Uther rose slowly to his feet, mirrored and supported by Arthur, until the two stood face-to-face.

"Then I must thank this 'man' you speak of," he proclaimed at last. "Where is he?"

This was it. Gulping down his nerves as best he could, Arthur allowed his gaze to drift over to where Merlin stood some distance apart, having backed away to give the two of them some space. He knew the exact moment when his father's eyes had found the Warlock too, as the King suddenly tensed where he stood.

"What is he doing here?!"

...

No-one could accuse the Knights of Camelot of not acting quickly in a crisis. Within less than fifteen minutes, the training fields were filled with whole crowds of expectant faces, all waiting impatiently for Kolby to deliver the Prince's instructions for them.

As for Kolby himself, standing before this mass of men- most of whom were older than himself- and trying desperately to cling to the confidence he had felt such a short time before, he found himself rather at a loss as to how to start. The assignments themselves would be easy enough to issue if he followed along the lines of standard protocol, but he had absolutely no idea as to how he was going to convince a group of Knights who had sworn to uphold King Uther's laws to go completely against what was easily one of their monarch's strictest decrees. Who was he to be attempting to persuade them that magic- a force rallied against for more than twenty years now- could actually be used in their favour?

Reaching the decision than he was just going to have to overcome that wall when he came to it, he took a deep breath, attempting to calm his frantically-beating heart. And, when he finally spoke, he was proud of how his voice remained strong and firm, betraying not a hint of his inner turmoil.

"Thank you all for responding so quickly." He paused, fixing as many men in the eye as possible. "I am sure you are all curious as to how exactly it was possible that we have been freed from the enchantments Morgana and Morgause used to bind and control our souls. And, under Prince Arthur's orders, I shall inform you all of what I know of the matter shortly."

Deciding it would be best to build up to the most controversial issue rather than diving right in, Kolby mentally ran through what he knew in terms of the Knights' strengths.

"But first," he continued, "your assignments. Squads four, seven and nine- you will be riding out to the outlying towns and villages. Squad four to the east, squad nine to the north, and seven are to cover those in the southern and western directions. Your instructions are to assure the safety and peace of mind of the citizens living in those areas, as well as to reveal to them what you can of the information I will shortly be unveiling. Are there any questions?"

Although he could detect some confusion over his continued delay in relating the full facts, no queries were issued, and so Kolby quickly moved on.

"Squads one, five and six are to ride out immediately to ensure that the borders are secure. I will entrust it to your squad leaders to decide who will travel to the outposts and who is to patrol, as I am in no doubt that they are far more aware of your strengths than I am.

"All other squads are to remain in the city. Eight and two, your duties are much the same as those travelling to the villages. Squad ten are to take on the city's defences- make sure they are secure, and have men posted at every entrance. We cannot let ourselves appear weak. Squad three are to locate the council members and ask them to gather- there is a lot which needs to be discussed.

"Is everyone clear?"

Looking around at the wave of nodding, and listening to the brief affirmatives from the squad leaders (or lieutenants, in the case of Mordon and Leon's squads), Kolby allowed a small seed of hope to take root in his chest. However things turned out from now on, he was glad to discover that he was able to issue orders like this without too much trouble.

But now came the difficult part.

Still with now idea of what he was going to say, or of how his words were going to be anything other than badly received, he decided that quite possibly the only thing he could do was just to start talking and hope that everything turned out for the best. Besides, he had been hesitating for long enough already. If he took any longer, people were only going to get more anxious.

"I do not know," he began at last, clutching the coin Arthur had entrusted to him tightly in his fist, "by exactly what miracle this occurred. But when, while still under the spell which bound us, myself and a handful of other Knights followed Morgana and Morgause to root out what they believed to be a band of traitors, we found ourselves instead confronted by a small team of people who had been seemingly unaffected by the enchantment- a team led by the Prince himself. And thus, I was a witness to the events which followed. And, as such, though some may choose not to believe me, I can verify them to be true.

"Prince Arthur wishes it to be known that, though he had sanctioned it, it was not he alone who released us. His orders are to let it be known that none of us could have possibly been freed, were it not for the use... of magic."

As he had expected, the field broke out into pandemonium.

However, even though he had been trying to prepare himself for this all throughout his speech, nothing could have quite readied him for the sheer magnitude of the onslaught of voices with which he was now confronted. Fighting desperately against his growing urge to simply shrink away, Kolby forced himself to stand tall and still, praying desperately all the while that things would die down quickly.

Suddenly, the commanding voice of Sir Borin, leader of the first squad, rang out across the field.

"Enough!"

The crowd silenced almost immediately, and the older Knight stepped forward, evidently having elected himself as the groups' spokesperson. Kolby was more than grateful for the action, as he doubted anyone present would dare to interrupt the man who ranked highest amongst them all. Although the knowledge of that rank was hardly effective in making the situation any less daunting for him.

Borin fixed him with a stern gaze.

"You are asking us- Knights under the rule of King Uther himself- to commit treason against our liege-lord, and inform his citizens that the magic which is known as a blight upon this Kingdom- nay, the very Earth itself!- is actually a force for good?!"

Kolby shook his head. "The Prince is well aware that such an action is completely infeasible. He asks only that, if questioned, we let it be known that magic played an important role in our release."

The distinction was, he believed, enough that the men were safe of being fully accused of treason, but it was a grey enough area that he could easily understand the firm reluctance still obviously present in almost every face.

Borin's expression tightened slightly, obviously not yet satisfied.

"You know as well as I do, Sir Kolby, that the King will not see it that way. And the people of this Kingdom have suffered greatly because of magic. Yourself included, if I recall correctly. I'd have thought that you, of all people, would know better than most here the pain it is capable of wreaking. So how is it that you stand there now, condoning it's use?"

Kolby froze, memories of that cursed day bombarding his mind, and he had to fight hard to bite back a surge of bitter anger as he realised that this- this!- was the reason the Prince had selected him for this God-forsaken role.

Unprepared for the sudden reference to what had quite easily been the worst time of his entire life, it took several moments for him to be able to calm down and think clearly enough to offer a rebuttal.

"You're right," he forced out at last, fixing Borin with a haunted glare, before deliberately allowing his gaze to wander along the many faces staring back at him. "I do know. I know exactly how much magic is capable of destroying. I know perfectly well how much the families of those it takes from us are forced to endure- the hell that it makes them experience.

"But I also know that other families can suffer just as much- families whose loved ones are taken from them not by magic, but by swords and other mortal means. Yet do we ourselves not train every day to perfect our own sword craft? Granted that we do so in order to protect the ones we love, but when it comes down to it, every single man standing here is more than aware that a sword can only truly ever be used to harm.

"Today, before my very eyes, a sword was what very nearly caused Sir Kennard to lose his life. But," he continued, voice rising in volume so as to be heard over the sudden smattering of alarm, "he was saved. Magic did what no sword could ever do- it brought a man back from the brink of death, and actually prevented the agony which would have otherwise befallen his family.

"You ask whether I condone the use of magic," he stated, once more meeting Borin's eyes. "The truth of the matter is that I do not know. But I cannot deny what I saw today. Just as none of you can truly ignore the events of the battle half a year ago. And, while it is true that the thought of allowing magic to be used freely alarms me, I also cannot refute the Prince's reasoning for wanting it to be so.

"And so, in keeping with the orders I was given, together with the vow of honesty I made whilst swearing to the Knight's code, I plan on doing my part to let the truth of today's events be known. I know, however, that this is not a choice which can be made for you, and so I leave it up to each of you individually to decide whether or not you will do the same."

Knowing that there was nothing more he could say, Kolby turned away, feeling every eye on him as he made his way steadily towards the centre of the city, pushing thoughts of his own past to the back of his mind as he did so. He had a job to do as a member of squad two, and nothing was going to hold him back from that task.

I didn't think it was possible, but Kolby's growing on me almost as fast as Kennard did. Funnily enough though, the guards (names of Rowan and Hadrian, incidentally) are too, even if they're not around for long. Even if Hadrian is yet another one with a fair ol' clump of tragedy in his past.

As a matter of personal interest, would you mind telling me which of the following you would prefer:

1)(Sometime after finishing up this one) I write a collection of one/two shots showing the history/background of some of my OCs.

2) I answer any questions any of you lovely folk have regarding said OCs by means of pms.

3) Both of the above.

4) None of the above.

Also, I believe I have finally settled on an overall title for this series, although I probably won't reveal it for a few more chapters. If anyone has any suggestions they feel would fit... well, who knows- my mind has been known to change in the past.