Chapter 5

A/N: Low and behold, I discovered the horizontal line!

Merlin hated it when sorcerers got creative. True, it spiced his life up a bit, but, gods, did it make his job hard. When he'd been dragged away by a vengeful sorcerer in magic-immune fur, he had expected a lot of things. Being eaten alive ? Yes. Slow, painful death? That too. Waking up to find yourself a wolf, and the Alpha male of a pack? Not so much.

His appearance could have been worse though. Shiny black fur, blue eyes- his own, thank the gods!- and a strong build. Very strong build. Merlin knew he was bigger than any wolf, but not as big as the sorcerer. His senses were better- including something he called "his sixth-disaster-sense", which was somehow very connected to Arthur and made itself known whenever he got in trouble. He had first felt it in Camelot, nagging in the back if his mind, but now it was as clear as day and he imagined it sounded a bit like the Camelot warning bells in his head. He even could feel how far away Arthur was; it felt as if the invisible tie between them tugged at him or relaxed. It was a very strange feeling. In a way, the sorcerer's sacrifice to punish Merlin wasn't for naught. Feeling Arthur this strongly and knowing that he would never see Arthur again- that he was unable do a damn thing when his best friend and his home needed help- was more painful than should be possible. Being a wolf had somehow strengthened the ties between King and Warlock. It had something to do with being closer to nature, the source of magic- being wild. Merlin was fast and light-footed now, and very good at hunting. He couldn't help but be a little bit grateful that the sorcerer had somehow managed to remove his clumsiness. He would have starved otherwise. Arthur would be glad Merlin finally understood and shared his love for hunting if he came back.

When. When he came back. Because he would. Only not now. Unlike his memory and human mind, his magic hadn't snapped back after seeing Camelot's tower for the first time in gods know how long. He discovered the cave was about half a day away from Camelot when they had been desperate for food and gone hunting farther then usual.

He had led them there as Alpha, which- surprisingly- had happened without too much of a fight, contrary to what Merlin had once read in of Gaius' books. Wolves, apparently, had common sense and knew when to pick a fight, something not many of Merlin's acquaintances could say, himself included. Why that was, Merlin had no idea. Anyway, taking on someone so much bigger and stronger than you, would have never been the smart thing to do. The -blocked, dammit!- magic that one could feel in the air around him, might have also helped. Not that he could use it back then.

No, Merlin's magic dripped back into his control after his awakening. Drip by drip, day by day, Merlin slowly regained his magic. A year after "waking up", Merlin could control it as before, even though he couldn't change back. The first time he'd tried, he'd slept for a day, but there was no change. Once every week- Merlin had a surprisingly busy schedule for a wolf leader; they always ran out of food- Merlin would train to control his magic. It worked quite well, to Merlin's surprise. What surprised Merlin even more, though, was the fact that after he had become as powerful as before he was changed, the magic kept coming.

It was winter in Camelot, and -Merlin suddenly realised- a year since he'd awoken on the desperate hunt for food. It was also, Merlin thought, around his birthday, as he'd been born in winter. Just in case, he sang 'Happy Birthday' to himself every day before his daily checkup.

Merlin had developed this habit to do a daily check on Arthur quite quickly after figuring out the bond between Arthur and him, by closing off all his other senses to pour magic into his sixth one. One day, Merlin felt something strange. Something he had not yet felt: the tie loosened considerably. Arthur was coming his way. Merlin was incredibly exited: he had a chance to see Arthur. He'd do everything for just a glimpse, even though he knew it would pain him afterwards. He would go find Arthur.

Merlin nearly forgot all about his pack, but before he ran off to find Arthur he told them. He sent a rush of magic their way, a signal they knew meant Away for magic, I'll be back. His Beta, the previous Alpha, whom he called Leon for his second-in-command-skills, bumped his shoulder. Okay. Merlin left.

He found Arthur using the tie: he'd pour more magic into his bond, then ran around to see if it tensed or loosened. It was a bit exhausting, but as soon as Merlin got the hang of it, it was easy. It took a few hours, but Merlin found him. As soon as he was on the trail Arthur left behind him, Merlin released his magic on the tie. He recharged his magic by concentrating on the life around him, grounding himself, binding his very being to the earth. When he was at full capacity again- and Gods, didn't that sound disrespectful considering how magnificent it was?- Merlin let loose and then made himself invisible. Arthur was probably hunting; the gods would have such a laughing fit from the irony, they'd choke in it if Arthur shot him, thinking he was just another wolf.

When Merlin finally caught on, he did it both literally and figuratively. Arthur was sitting on a hilltop Merlin recognized as the one where they'd last seen each other. Before him stood a stone and Arthur seemed to be talking to it. Arthur is visiting my gravestone, Merlin thought horrified and a little bit giddy. Everyone wondered what would happen after they were gone, and Merlin could actually know: his best friend would still visit his gravestone, even though "it" had happened at least more than a year and a half ago ( he'd been changed in summer), the hilltop was a bit less than half a day's walk from Camelot and it was winter. A warm rush of affection went through Merlin. Oh, Arthur. You've never forgotten me. Then he thought, Hang on, it's the first time he's visited my gravestone. Why? Curious, Merlin circled the hill to see Arthur's face, crept as close as he could and entranced his hearing.

" -a great celebration. Gwaine was delighted when he heard. He' d almost stopped drinking, you know, after you… Only does it when there' s a party now, and even then he never drinks enough to get drunk. Of course, that's still an awful lot more than any other man can take without getting utterly sloshed!" Arthur chuckled and Merlin had to make an effort to not bark-laugh aloud. "I asked Gaius if he knew any magical jugglers for the feast. He said he knew a man or two who weren't all too bad with magic and trusted me enough to give me the benefit of doubt that it was not a trick. I knew there was something fishy about that Gilli-kid. He looked too much like you to be such a good swordsman. Turns out he's more alike to you than I thought. A magic ring indeed."

Merlin's heart stopped beating. Arthur knew. Of course that wasn't new- Merlin had outed himself by saying goodbye to Arthur in his mind- but this. Magic wasn't illegal. And Arthur was so casual about it all! Gaius had apparently told him all of his very heroic deeds (if he said so himself) and Arthur had accepted him and his magic. Maybe he hadn't failed his destiny, Merlin hoped. It brought him such a sense of peace, Merlin basked in it's glory. He hadn't failed. There was a long silence before Arthur began talking again, sad now.

"I wanted you to know, you know. What I wouldn't give to have you witness it." Arthur's voice sounded so wistful, it hurt. "The Falcon Feast, I called it. It's for you. From now on, on your birthday -which, although you never told me, you secretive idiot, I know is in two weeks- the Falcon Feast will be held to celebrate the lifting of the ban on magic. No-one knows yet why I'm holding it. Magic hasn't been explicitly illegal in Camelot since about a month after you" his voice broke "died but, oh, to make it official. I've been busy the last two and a half years" –How long?, Merlin screeched in his mind- " telling all our allies about it in secret. They all were so overjoyed to hear it, praising me for being such a different king from my father, so accepting...' 'Every single one of them is invited to the Falcon Feast to celebrate the official lifting of the ban, but even they don't really know why I'll lift it. Only Queen Annis and King Bayard guessed, though that doesn't surprise me in the least. They saw you in person, didn't they? You and your loyalty."

A long silence. Arthur chuckled.

" I'm going to make you nobility, you know. You'd hate it, but you were nobility already, weren't you- a Dragonlord, no less! Hunith can finally stop feeling guilty for living like a Lady in the castle, being the proud mother of 'Lord Merlin, First Advisor and High Court Sorcerer of Camelot'. Not that she wasn't proud already.'

'I know it's far too late to make a difference, but I want it this way. I can finally do what I've been wanting to do for years: two seats at my side. Your' s and Guinevere's. Gods, I miss you. I wish you could be there." Silent tears were rolling down Arthur's cheeks now. Merlin was incredibly touched. He promised Arthur silently that he would be there. Merlin would use the two weeks he had left until his birthday and the feast that was secretly in his honour - Merlin giggled in his mind and kicked himself for it- to try and absorb as much magic as he could, so he could spend a day in Camelot and the feast by Arthur's side. He would be there, he wouldn't miss it for the world.

Eventually, Arthur regained his composure. He started talking again, about the Knights and Gwen and Gaius, about Camelot. Arthur talked and Merlin listened until the sky darkened and the first snow started to fall softly. It was pretty easy to see that Arthur hadn't expected it to snow, even though Merlin had felt it coming for a while. As soon as Arthur noticed the first snowflake, he shot up and cursed colourfully. Merlin's ears would have turned pink had he been human. When Arthur quickly took his bag and started making his way back to Camelot, Merlin realised the danger Arthur was in: Camelot was too far away. Arthur had wasted too much time at the hilltop; Arthur would have to sleep in the forest. And with the unexpected snow... Arthur would freeze to death if he didn't find shelter. It didn't take Merlin long to decide what to do. It did, though, take him slightly longer to figure out a way to go about it.

Arthur stumbled over a tree root. He wasn't all there after such an emotional day for him- a day entirely dedicated to a lost old friend- and he hadn't seen the root in the faint light. It was also half-covered by the now fast-falling snow. The first snow of winter had become a first snowstorm. Add that to the facts that Camelot was too far away even in good weather conditions, it was now just past nightfall and Arthur only had his cape to cover him... He was doomed and it was all Merlin's fault. Why did he have to have a gravestone in the middle of the bloody woods? That he had ordered it himself, Arthur conveniently forgot. Instead, Arthur continued complaining to himself and walking.

Walking and walking, onwards, even though he didn't know where that was. No way to orientate yourself in a snowstorm, now is there? Arthur just followed his instinct. He felt that slight tug in the pit of his stomach that he associated with the kind of things Merlin liked to say I told you so about afterwards if he hadn't listened to him. Things concerning a stinking stepmother of a troll ( in exactly that word-order) or a pesty, gold-licking goblin. Or his lovely Guinevere. Guinevere was the only thing Merlin had the right to say I told you so about. Arthur was magnanimous like that and they did get to know each other through Merlin. Gods, he was already half-hallucinating from the cold, wasn't he, allowing a dead man- Merlin, of all people- say I told you so while he was King? He'd never hear the end of it.

Once again, Arthur tripped and this time, he fell to the ground. He was exhausted. He' d been busy arranging the Falcon Feast for weeks and the mental exhaustion of working up the courage to visit Merlin's gravestone for the first time right up until the moment he'd said 'Hello, idiot' - it had taken a lot out of him. Arthur was a warrior and could take battle after hardship after battle if it was needed. Feelings, however, were not his forte. Arthur pretended that this particular shiver was due to the cold. Not his forte at all. And now with the snow... Arthur didn't know how long he could carry on.

Then, out of nowhere, a shining blue orb appeared. It was so familiar... Where did he recognize it from? It was somewhere dark, wasn't it? No light or warmth, desperation, the impending death of both you and ... Merlin. Arthur reached for it, the little light that had saved him and Merlin and when he did, the orb floated to him. It floated right past his outstretched arm and into his chest. As soon as the orb had molten into his chest, Arthur felt what he'd only felt once before, on one of his darkest days, only so much better: love, fondness, trust, friendship, pride- Merlin. And warmth. A warmth and resolution that spread through Arthur like burning gold and Arthur thought fleetingly This is what magic must feel like. The initial torrent of gold stopped and instead, there came a gentle flow of it. Arthur dug deep and with the help of what he thought must be either magic, a ghost, a hallucination, or a bit of each, he stood up and walked on.

Not long after that, Arthur's instinct led him to a cave. He stood at the entrance, hesitating. It was not smart to enter a cave alone or unharmed, there could be bears or wolves or something. Arthur couldn't quite remember clearly, exhausted and running on his last reserves as he was. To be on the safe side Arthur's hand went to Excalibur, the sword that never left his side, as trustworthy as Merlin always had been. It wasn't really a good trade, Arthur's addled mind thought, the best sword for the best friend. When his hand lay itself upon Excalibur's handle, however, something warm touched his hand briefly. Confused, Arthur looked down. A black wolf that came up to his thigh with strangely familiar blue eyes looked up at him and, holding his gaze, shook his- its- his head. Arthur pulled his hands away from the sword. The wolf grinned. Or did wolves do that all the time? Arthur's left hand petted the wolf's head of its own accord and, again, Arthur had the feeling this had happened before somehow, in a different way. It was all very confusing. Arthur continued looking at the dark cave entrance and petting the wolf's head

The gold was starting to fade away now and Arthur shivered. As soon as he did, the wolf looked at him sharply. He nudged him towards the cave entrance and Arthur went through it. The wolf pushed Arthur towards the back of the cave and then, at the very end, turned him sharply to the right, through a tunnel and in another room. In the room, Arthur felt other presences, other wolves. He couldn't see, of course- too dark- but from the noises he could discern above the howling wind and snow outside (which was actually a lot, since they were quite a bit away from the entrance) the other wolves were standing up surprised, making threatening noises towards the intruder. The wolf- his wolf- slipped past Arthur and, without making a sound, Arthur had the feeling he'd issued an order, since all the wolves laid back down almost without a sound.

Arthur's wolf tugged him towards what he thought was maybe the middle of the room. Arthur crashed to the ground, half-frozen and exhausted. He had just enough sense to lay down his bag to use as a cushion. He shifted his cape so it could be used as a blanket. Arthur's wolf lay itself down close beside him. Arthur briefly saw two specks of gold, before he felt the golden warmth wash over him again- warming him just enough to be comfortable. Sleepily, Arthur wondered why it was so cold compared to the former warmth, until he felt another wolf shift itself against his back and share body-heat. When his wolf did the same on the other side, somehow making Arthur feel safe and protected and loved dearly, Arthur understood. The shared heat from the wolves- his wolf even somehow giving him not just heat but warmth- would get him through the night splendidly.

Sleepy, warm and strangely content Arthur threw an arm over his wolf and snuggled closer, pushing his face into the soft fur on the wolf's shoulder. If this is a hallucination to introduce me to death, Arthur thought hazily and a bit less eloquently, I might as well make myself comfortable.

Before Arthur finally fell asleep he could feel a fond whisper murmuring 'Prat...' in his mind. 'Idiot...' Arthur whispered back. He slept.

Later, Arthur would wake up to an empty cave. With a heavy heart, he would leave. His Knights would find him on his way back to Camelot, all pleasantly surprised their King had survived the night. With great haste, they would bring him back to home. None of the riders, not even Arthur, would see the wolf pack watching them ride away. None of them would notice how the leader of the pack, a black wolf, would still be standing there long after they were out of sight, whishing he could somehow explain and change and go back home with them. They would, however, hear the howl sent towards the low, white sky and Arthur would turn in his saddle, gaze at the direction the howl had come from and feel his heart break a little for the lone wolf with a pack, but without a family.