A/N: Thanks everyone for the reviews, I'm very excited whenever another one appears in my mailbox!

Gwaine frowned, nonplussed. "You want to talk about Merlin?"

Leon gave Arthur an odd look. "Is there something wrong with Merlin, sire? Is he injured?"

"No, he's not, at least I hope he's not." Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly. It didn't feel right talking about Merlin behind his back, and he didn't know what he was going to say, he hadn't thought this out.

Yet he wondered if Gwen, Leon or Gwaine knew more than he did about what Merlin was doing. Had Merlin confided in one of them? Not Leon, but had he told Gwen or Gwaine, and would they tell him or continue the deception? He couldn't ask, because they wouldn't tell him, and he wondered if it had been when he became the king that he'd become less trusted. He was weary of it all.

"You hope?" Gwaine was cautious.

For a moment Arthur didn't follow, and he ran a hand through his hair as he replayed his earlier words. He caught up. "Yes, Gwaine, I hope he's okay, but I haven't seen him for a few days now."

"Gaius said you sent him on an errand." Gwaine's tone sharpened, sensing danger. The knight had mellowed a lot in the time he'd been in Camelot and usually now he was as respectful as Arthur wanted him to be, but his hackles raised at any perceived injustice, and he was still very protective of Merlin. "Where'd he go?"

Arthur shook his head. "I didn't send him anywhere, I told Gaius that so he wouldn't worry. Merlin left a note, he's ... I don't know why ... he had to go ... well, I know where he's gone but I don't understand why."

Gwaine sat up straight, his shoulders rigid. "Merlin has left?"

Arthur blinked. "No, not left. Not for good. By the note I expected him to be back by now."

Gwaine settled back into his chair and eyed him thoughtfully, his gaze flicking over Leon and Gwen too. He considered for a moment and said slowly, "What Merlin may or may not be doing is his business, Arthur. You'd best leave him be. All men have their secrets."

For some reason the knight's about-face into this suddenly calm demeanour irked Arthur. "Do you know what he's up to then?"

Gwaine put up his hand placatingly. "No, I don't. But he's my friend and I trust him. If he's disappeared for a while and didn't want to speak about it to any of us, then let him be. It's been a hard time for all of us, I can't say I've enjoyed myself much lately either, and if I could ride a horse I wouldn't mind nicking off for a while by myself too, especially since you won't let me near a tavern. One thing I know about Merlin, is he'll always do what's right, he always has his friends' best interests at heart."

Arthur opened his mouth but Gwaine was on a roll and barely paused for breath. "Now don't take this the wrong way, Arthur, but I know how upset he was that time Gaius was kidnapped, yet he wouldn't talk about it at all, but you could see it if you cared to look. And he was well able to handle things when we went to rescue him, he took charge of the mission, he would have gone with or without me. Looking back, I know now he was suspicious of Agravaine even then, yet he didn't say so directly to me. Wish he had, I would have listened. He sees more than you'd think. The quiet achiever is our Merlin, just gets the job done."

Arthur looked at him, eyebrows raised. "That's quite a speech."

"Yeah, and I could go on, I could tell you –"

Arthur cut that off quickly. "No, Gwaine, we'd be here all night."

Leon was frowning, and Arthur didn't know if it was at Gwaine's impertinence or the subject matter, but Gwen spoke first.

"Arthur." All eyes turned in her direction, and Gwen hesitated. "I'm ... loathe to admit it, but Gwaine's right."

Gwaine grunted his satisfaction and shot a smug grin at Arthur, and Arthur gave him a half-hearted glare.

Gwen ignored the byplay. "Merlin will be okay. He's capable of more than you think." She hesitated again as Arthur remained unconvinced. "Listen, all of you." She worried her lip nervously. "Gaius and Merlin didn't want to tell anyone. But I didn't agree, and I wouldn't agree that I wouldn't tell, if I thought it needed to be said. And now, I guess ... well ... Arthur, do you remember that time Merlin went missing and you'd sent out search parties?"

Arthur nodded impatiently, of course he did.

Gwen continued, "He was captured and enchanted by Morgana."

"What? Merlin was enchanted? By Morgana? She could have killed him."

"But she didn't." Gwen said patiently, reading the concern behind Arthur's outburst. "She didn't. She put some sort of snake in the back of his neck. He was enchanted to kill you."

Leon gave a muffled exclamation but Arthur's attention stayed focussed on Gwen. "And you kept this from me?" He was hurt, but he wouldn't show it.

"We didn't really think he'd harm you, Arthur."

"It's not that." And it wasn't. He struggled, and the irony struck him, he wouldn't have had to explain to Merlin, Merlin would have understood. Arthur pushed aside his chair and began to pace in long, irritated strides. "It's just ..." He needed honesty from Gwen to make their relationship work, after Lancelot he could not settle for less.

He cleared his throat. "Gwen, he was captured by Morgana, and injured, yet you didn't think I should know?" He remembered what else had happened, and he added with some heat, "I punished him, he'd disappeared again, I thought he was at the tavern, or slacking off! I made him take lessons with George, and now you're telling me that it's undeserved, yet he said nothing about what happened, and you said nothing either?"

He realised he was almost shouting, and he made a concerted effort to calm himself. "This is not some trivial matter. You didn't think the safety and well-being of a friend was important enough to talk to me about?"

Gwen wasn't one for telling Arthur what he wanted to hear if it interfered with the truth. "No, Arthur, it's not that either. It's just that, well ...". She paused, then lifted her chin, glancing across at Leon and Gwaine as she did so. "Arthur at the time, you'd been impatient with him, and easily irritated. Merlin never said so, but I know him, and I know you, and I saw it. And you were like that, for weeks, longer even."

Gwaine agreed, nodding slowly, watching Arthur as he paced. "You were short with everyone, Arthur. You even managed to bruise me a few times in training sessions and we all know that's not easy." Arthur shot him an annoyed look and he shrugged, unconcerned. "It's true, you hardly ever get a strike in, admit it."

Gwen halted the argument she could see building. She stood up from the table too. "But Merlin. He's closest to you Arthur, no, it's fine, I know he is. But it upset him, the way you were with him, he never said so, but I knew it did. I tried to talk to him, tried to get him to tell you about the snake, but he insisted you were too busy and you didn't need something else to worry about, and that he was okay once he'd gotten rid of the snake. And he didn't want to tell you as he didn't know what you'd do, whether it would be to put him off as your manservant for a while, or do something risky like try and find Morgana and confront her."

"I value Merlin, Gwen," Arthur said tightly. He turned and strode over to the window, his back to the room, shoulders stiff. "He should know that. So should you."

Gwen didn't back away from the repressed anger she could hear his voice, instead she walked to his side. "I do know, Arthur, I know you. And so does Merlin." She placed a hand on his chest and smoothed down his tunic. "But you don't show it, and sometimes you need to, Merlin isn't like you."

Arthur couldn't help the eye roll but Gwen wasn't amused.

"He's very open, very caring with others Arthur, you know it. But when it comes to certain things he's very close mouthed. He didn't want you to know, I told him he was being silly but he was ashamed too, that she'd enchanted him."

"But that's ridiculous! It was Morgana, what chance did he have?"

"I know, I said the same thing. But he begged me not to say anything to you, and Gaius agreed, so I didn't, until now."

"How can your loyalty be first to him, and not to me? You should have told me. We're getting married, Gwen."

"It's not like that, Arthur! This was Merlin's secret, it was Merlin's decision, it was his choice as to whether or not he'd let anyone know. He did what he believed was right at the time. He's probably not going to be happy with me now for telling you. But now I think you should know, and I can only hope he'll understand that."

Arthur wasn't mollified. Is this really what his friend, and his soon-to-be wife thought of him? That he'd be around for the good times but if the going got rough, he'd want out? That they'd be worthless to him if they were less than perfect?

He wondered what else she kept from him, what Merlin kept from him, what else they thought wasn't worthwhile bothering him about. The lack of trust hurt, and he was almost angry enough to ask, to demand the answers, but he swallowed down his anger and tried to think objectively, because he loved her, and he wouldn't ruin what they had with careless words.

He glanced across at the two knights, Leon was very pointedly not looking in their direction, but Gwaine wasn't so particular. Arthur forced himself to put aside his hurt at Gwen's revelation, and his thoughts shifted to Merlin again. That Merlin continued to be his friend and care for him even when Arthur had treated him as less than a friend and more than a servant was a true measure of his character. Arthur had known Agravaine had come between them during the past few months, Merlin had known the truth about his uncle, but he hadn't turned away, even when Arthur had pressed him to set aside Gaius, the one man Merlin could call a father.

Arthur had been wrong, he'd been wrong for a long time, but he still had Merlin by his side, and it occurred to him that Merlin did show his trust and his faith in Arthur, because Merlin always stayed, he never failed him, no matter what the provocation. The thought humbled him.

And Arthur decided, if Merlin wanted to pretend he was simple and an idiot (and really, he was some of the time), then Arthur would go along with it. Insults and teasing were part of the foundation of their friendship, not girly hugs and meaningful conversations.

But perhaps it was time to have a meaningful conversation. Merlin was the few constants in his life that he could depend upon to be there for him. But was he there for Merlin in the same way? A king didn't have to be there for anyone, but Merlin was more than a servant, he was his best friend, yet perhaps Merlin didn't know it. Friendship had to be about equal give and take, and Arthur was guiltily aware he'd been the one taking, and Merlin giving, for far too long.

Calmer, he sighed audibly and took Gwen's hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over the palm of her hands. Mindful of the others in the room, he allowed her to see some of the vulnerability he rarely showed, and he said quietly, "I'm sorry."

She shook her head, the love and belief she felt for him reflected in her face. "I understand. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner, I should have, I was wrong. And I know you're worried about him. But he'll be okay."

He made a face. "Not that worried."

She gave him a speaking glance. It was true, he was concerned, because he couldn't lose Merlin again. Merlin should be back by now, Arthur still remembered the sick, creeping dread he'd felt when all the sweeps of the forest had failed to find him, and somehow, it made it worse now that he knew Morgana had taken him. Arthur wouldn't go through that again, he couldn't, he wouldn't.

He signalled a guard over. "Rowan, alert the gate, bring Elyan and Percival here as soon as they return from patrol." Almost from the time he'd first read Merlin's note, Arthur had been resisting the urge to send some of his knights to Ealdor to check on Merlin, but as his absence lengthened, Arthur's unease about it grew, and now he was angry with himself for waiting when Merlin's safety was at risk. He'd send Percival and Elyan with another six knights, he'd give specific instructions to the two of them about their mission, but the official reason would be to thank Ealdor and Hunith for sheltering him when they'd been fleeing the Southrons.

"Yes, sire." The guard left, and Arthur caught Gwaine's eye.

Despite this, Arthur hadn't lost his focus, he would search for the truth in his dealings with his friends, he'd demand it. And there was one part of Merlin's note that Gwaine may be able to shed some light on without the knight realising just what he was telling his king.

Arthur sat back down at the table, eyeing the knight with pointed disapproval; Gwaine was stretched out in his chair with his arms crossed behind his head, his boots resting comfortably on the edge of the table.

At Arthur's face, Gwaine shifted reluctantly and straightened, his boots on the floor again, but he still grumbled, "Hey, they're clean."

Arthur ignored the complaint. "Gwaine, tell me. How often does Merlin go to the tavern?"

Gwaine scuffed his boot against the table leg, a frown crossing his face before it disappeared as he raised his head. He said mildly, "Surely you're not worried about Merlin's drinking? Come on, Arthur, give him a break, he's your manservant but not your slave, you can't control everything he does."

"It's a simple question, Gwaine. Answer it."

The knight did a poor job of hiding his annoyance. "Right, whatever. How often does Merlin go to the tavern? Not much, and I can tell you that on good authority, since I'm at the Rising Sun every other night and I've only managed to drag Merlin with me once in the past few months. He doesn't go anywhere else, and I'm sure he never goes there unless he's with me. And before you ask - he never has more than two or three drinks, and only that many if we're there for a few hours." He scuffed his boots again. "What's this got to do with anything?"

Arthur thought of the note. The tavern thing? Perhaps everything.

Gwaine was regarding him expectantly, but Arthur had no intention of answering, and Leon shifted in his chair, uneasy at the tension in the air. "Sire ..."

Whatever Leon was going to say was lost at the knock on the door.

Arthur said shortly, "Enter," and the guard pulled open the heavy wooden doors.

It was Tristan. The man had been lost since the death of his beloved Isolde, it was thanks to Gwen that the man had not run from Camelot to deal with his loss in private. Arthur didn't know how to talk to him, Isolde had died to save him, but if Tristan resented the sacrifice she'd made for Arthur he hadn't said so.

"Tristan, what can I do for you? Will you join us?"

Tristan had an odd expression on his face, something different to the heavy grief that had been tormenting him, and he stared at Arthur for a moment then seemed to give an internal shrug like he couldn't quite work something out and didn't care enough to bother. "You have two visitors, from Ealdor. They recognised me, and asked if I could get them an audience with you." Again, that strange look, and Tristan nodded slowly, as if to himself. "They've quite a tale to tell, you'd best hear it."

They were in the council room, not the throne room where Arthur usually held court and met with the people, in light of the recent upheaval normal procedures were still in disarray. Arthur stood and walked around to the end of the table, as Tristan beckoned to someone just outside the door.

Two men entered hesitantly, and bowed with the uncertainty of those unaccustomed to courtly manners. They were both travel stained, the older man looked to be in his sixties, he was weary in posture, but his eyes were bright and keen. The younger of the two eyed the rich tapestries adorning the wall, and the ceremonial swords lining the back of the room, with unabashed wonder.

The older man wiped a grimy hand across his forehead, brushing a strand of tangled hair out of his eyes and leaving another smear of dirt on his face. He bowed again, awkwardly, as Arthur motioned for him to speak. "I'm Hob of Ealdor, yer lordship. I were Hob of Winchester until last Belantine, then I'se moved me family to Ealdor. There's better pasture for me Bess, yer see. So now I'm Hob of Ealdor. And this is Rolf, me son. Of Ealdor too. Thank ye for seeing us." He waited expectantly for Arthur's response.

Arthur didn't remember him, but he gave him a genuine smile. "Then I welcome you both to Camelot. And what brings you here, Hob of Ealdor? Have the Southrons given you any trouble?"

Hob clasped his hands together, then he noticed Gwen. For a moment he stared, then he beamed a smile at her, she returned the greeting. "Good to see you again, Hob. You too, Rolf." They exchanged small pleasantries, Gwen had spent time with Hob's wife in Ealdor, the old woman was the village's healer.

If Hob was surprised to see Gwen seated at a table behind Camelot's king with two important looking knights, he didn't show it. He nodded at her happily again, then turned to Arthur. "The Southrons, yer lordship? Well, no, not them, but yer see, the thing is, we don't know how Ealdor will go, yer Lordship. We're right worried."

Hob eyed the guards behind Arthur, and the other pair standing to attention at the door. "What I'se wanting to talk about is not for other ears, so we'd best talk to ye where none but we's can hear, yer lordship. Most important, yer see." He gave a meaningful nod in the guards' direction, and eyed Leon and Gwaine uncertainly, clearly unsure if they could be trusted with his information or not.

It wasn't Arthur's first experience with villagers who were convinced of one fallacy or another that involved secrets only they were privy to, the simplest way he'd found to deal with them was to give the petitioner at least some credit until proven otherwise, and so he motioned to the guards to go to the end of the room outside hearing distance, but for Gwen, Leon, Gwaine and Tristan to stay. "Go on then."

Hob nodded his satisfaction. "Well, yer see, we ain't been back home for days, we came to you as soon as we seen it, it was a right long walk, 'specially with those Southrons in the woods 'ere and there, we had to hide a bit. You see, it was huge, real fierce." He glanced across at his son. "Me and Rolf were right scared, weren't we, Rolf?"

Rolf nodded anxiously, the tapestries forgotten. "Yes, sire, it was a terrifying sight. And we respectfully request some help with the bodies, we're not able to bury what's left of them all, there are just too many of them for us, and we'd never get a fire hot enough to burn them all, especially so close to the trees. Maybe a dozen of your men could assist." The younger man suddenly remembered he was wearing a hat in the king's presence, and pulled it off, twisting it between his fingers as he fidgeted under Arthur's perplexed frown.

Arthur shook his head. "I'm not following you. What bodies? What is it you're asking of me?"

Hob was momentarily abashed. "Oh, sorry sire. Yer see, we was hiding in the bushes near the caves, when yer all went in them near Ealdor, when them Southrons was chasing you."

Rolf added, "We're sorry for not trying to help you, sire, but we're not warriors, and we had no weapons, we couldn't do anything."

Arthur nodded. "You need not be concerned, I didn't expect you to fight, and I regret bringing trouble to your village. But I'm still not following you. You need help with some bodies? Did an animal attack your people?"

Hob squinted at the king for a moment, frowned, then his expression cleared and he nodded eagerly. "Right you are, yer lordship. Well, yer see, what we was thinking was, it might've been that big one that attacked yer here a few years back. It got them Southrons, they were gone quick, all of them, all dead, burnt. And we're a bit worried that it might attack Ealdor next, it was right fierce. Yer can't drive off a beast like that, not with crossbows, or spears, not much point trying fire on it, is there? That's why we hoped yer'd talk to yer man about it. Make sure, you know."

"Talk to my man?" A strange sense of foreboding prickled the back of Arthur's neck.

"Yer man, you know, to fix it." He paused expectantly but Arthur was silent so he said helpfully, "We figured yer had yerself one of them special type sorcerers, them thats can make the beast do what it's told, what're them sorts of sorcerers called again, eh, Rolf?"

Rolf cleared his throat, sending Arthur a tentative glance. "Dragonlord, sire. My father means a dragonlord."

"A dragonlord," Arthur repeated blankly. He took a deep breath, he didn't like the direction this conversation was heading.

"Yeah, yer lordship. A dragonlord, that's what I means. Them's the special sorcerers. Them's what we hoped you had, and we thinks you do, we saw him, yer see. We reckon it'd be yer man 'cause he was with you at first when yer all was running from them Southrons, then you and the others went in the caves, and he waited a bit and speaked in the strange tongue, then he went in after yer, then the beast came and got rid of them Southrons for him."

Arthur gripped the side of his chair, hard. "A dragonlord." He swallowed, his throat felt tight.

His heart thumped.

One of my men.

There was an odd sound behind him, and out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Leon's pale, still face. Arthur's heart thumped again, the world was shaking, his nose prickled, and his gut was twisting in knots.

"Yessir, yer lordship, for the dragon." Hob stared at Leon for a moment but seemed relieved that his point had finally been understood. "We seen the beast with our own eyes. It came out of nowhere and killed all them Southrons that was hunting yers, must have been five score men. But just afore it did, we heard yer man speak in a strange tongue, the tall one with dark hair, it were that one. It weren't him." He pointed to Tristan, shaking his head. "It were the skinny, dark haired one."

Arthur was silent, and Hob eyed him anxiously for a moment, then offered, "It were your other man, and right eerie it were, too. He'd be a dragonlord, and he could come'n help us, make sure the beast don't attack Ealdor too. We're sorry to bother yer about it, but we wandered 'round 'ere for a bit and we can't find yer man anywhere, and yer other man didn't know where he was neither." Again he pointed at Tristan. "So he said we'd best to come right 'ere to yer to ask."

Hob took a deep breath and added more calmly, "We're right worried that it might attack, yer see, it were so close. So if yer man would talk to the dragon about not attacking Ealdor, nor eatin' our cows and pigs either, and not scaring old Bess 'cause she's right temperamental and she don't plough well when she'd be skittish, and meybe you could send some help to clean up the bodies that'd be right good of you, yer lordship."

Hob and Rolf were looking at him with a simple air of expectation, but Arthur was blind to everything but the clamouring in his mind. Icy fingers touched his spine. His heart was thumping so loudly he could hear nothing else, and he could think of nothing else, except one person, one name.

One of my men.

No.

And his mind, the rational part of him that fought for dominance, knew instantly that this was the truth. But his heart was having trouble catching up, because that would mean, had to mean ... no.

One of my men.

Tall and skinny.

Dark hair.

Arthur drew upon his lifetime at court and swallowed down his shock, it took everything he had to appear calm instead of revealing that his world had ripped apart. "I see." But he couldn't disguise the shaking in his hands, he shoved one in his pocket and gripped his sword with the other, the metal was safe, familiar, and comforting.

No, it couldn't be.

He was going to cover our tracks.

One of my men.

Tall.

Dark hair.

He must have had an odd look on his face, even Hob was concerned, and said earnestly, "You don't need worry, your lordship. We ain't told no one, me or Rolf. Didn't want to panic folk. And we wondered if the dragonlord were yer secret weapon, like yer weren't tellin' no one about him, so yer could get rid of that one that wants yer throne, the witch. That be right, meybe? We's yer loyal servants, we ain't going to say nuthin' if yer don't want us to. We came right here, we didn't tell no one. That right, eh Rolf?"

One of my men.

He was going to cover our tracks.

Arthur couldn't breathe, there was no air, something was in his throat, choking him. He backed heavily into the table and it shuddered behind him. What was wrong with his legs? Never, ever, had he felt like this. Arthur turned away and fisted his hand over his mouth, and bit down on his knuckles, hard, and pretended the prickling in his eyes wasn't tears.

One of my men.

Tall.

Dark hair.

Merlin.