Chapter Fourteen: Eye of the Storm

Merlin had been flagging all day, but his bone-deep exhaustion only intensified once they returned to the city, giving the entire trek to the citadel a dreamlike haze. He could feel every ache reflected in each heavy footstep as they neared Gaius's chambers. He was still leaning on Arthur, who had started to favor the leg Merlin knew he'd healed earlier. Despite his injury, though, Arthur had refused to let go of him, and Merlin was grateful. He tried numbly to listen to Leon explaining the defense efforts, but his mind kept straying back to the shield.

The wards he'd cast over the city were built on a foundation of protection spells he'd been casting every week in the last month since they'd retaken Camelot from Morgana. The basic idea, so he'd read in his spellbook, was to store magic in a tangible object—in this case, the walls of Camelot. His own body would naturally replenish his magic, much like it would replenish his blood after a nasty wound, and the magic he'd left in the walls would lie there, dormant, until he activated it. In this way, he could save up an immense amount of power, enough to fuel a shield around the entire city, and use it without being weakened himself. All he'd had to do was sneak to the walls every week—twice a week if he could manage it—and infuse as much of his magic into the walls as he could manage without passing out. He'd gone at night, so that he'd be less likely to be seen, and so that he'd have an excuse if he were caught. After all, if anyone saw him stumbling incoherently and only half-conscious back to Gaius's chambers, he could simply say he was heading home from the tavern.

Building the shield left him physically and magically exhausted the next day, but Merlin thought it was worth it. After all, another couple months of casting and he'd have a passable shield; give him a year or two and he doubted anything in heaven or earth would be able to get past the shield when it was activated. Then if Morgana or an army of the dead or anything else tried to charge at Camelot, Merlin could activate the shields without draining himself, allowing him to fight the invaders off and protect the city at the same time.

However, the shield was nowhere near that point now. He had activated the shield too early. Fueled by his single-minded panic of protectArthurprotectCamelot, he'd poured his magic into it. Now instead of drawing power from layers of protective spells built over time, the wards were drawing their power directly from Merlin himself, severely weakening him. Perhaps on a good day, he might merely have felt ill at supplying so much power to such an enormous sustained spell, but after the last couple days of abuse his body and magic had taken, he was surprised he was able to conjure it at all. As it was, he could feel that the wards were spread too thin to last longer than a day. They might not even last that long if Morgana threw everything she had at it, which she undoubtedly would. But it should last the night, and hopefully it would buy enough time for Aithusa to reach Kilgharrah and for he and Arthur to rest.

And for him to figure out what to do about everyone who knew what he was now. Somewhere in the back of his mind was threaded a constant stream of panic, of his mother's voice drilling into him since before he could remember, Keep the magic secret. Keep the magic secret. Keep the magic secret.

But he could no longer sustain a sense of true panic. After all the times he had been completely terrified for Arthur's life today, he was far too drained to feel anything other than exhaustion. Besides, if he were to panic, it would be over how he planned to defeat a thousand sorcerers, including Morgana, by morning. Already he could feel hundreds prodding at the shield, like curious children poking at a tired animal's cage to get it to react.

He snapped back to reality as they reached Gaius's door, which opened at Leon's knock. Despite the late hour, Gaius was not in his nightclothes. Heavy bags dipped below his eyes, as if he hadn't slept well, or at all, in days. He looked older than Merlin had ever seen him, but when Gaius's eyes landed on his ward, years seemed to drip off at his palpable relief.

"Oh, you foolish, foolish boy," Gaius cried, snatching Merlin away from Arthur and burying him in a hug. "You came back."

"I'll always come back home," said Merlin with as much of a smile as he could manage. Dimly he could hear Arthur issuing orders to Leon—something about guarding the door and not being disturbed, under any circumstances—but he didn't care. He just wanted to close his eyes and fall asleep right there in Gaius's arms, standing up or not.

Until he smelled food. He finally broke from Gaius's hug, his mouth watering as he turned to see Arthur taking a large tray of food from an arriving servant and shutting the door.

The food was barely set on the table before both Merlin and Arthur were stuffing their faces without any thought to etiquette whatsoever.

"I take it wherever you were, you weren't fed," Gaius said with a sigh, gathering bandages and herbs from his workbench. "Do remember to chew."

Merlin and Arthur both grunted in response, but did not look up from their plates. Merlin nearly gagged on how rich the food tasted—even before he'd been starved, he didn't usually eat food meant for royalty. He should probably appreciate the fact that he was eating food meant for a king, but right now, he could have eaten weeks-old rat stew and still been happy.

"Slow down, both of you," Gaius scolded as he neared Merlin with a wet rag. Both men complied, taking huge swigs from their goblets. Merlin pushed his plate away, unable to stomach more than half its contents. Still, the food made him feel a lot more solid and coherent.

"No, get Arthur's leg first," he said as Gaius started to prod his head with the rag. "And check his head, will you?"

Arthur wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Ignore everything that idiot says and fix him."

"Thank you, sire. Merlin, hold still."

Merlin hissed as the rag touched the wound. "It's fine, Gaius, really, it's just bleeding a lot."

Gaius tugged the padding jacket off. He paled at the patchy state of Merlin's shirt and the wounds visible beneath. "Yes, perhaps that's not serious, but the rest of you…What happened? Where did you get these burns? They can't be this old; you've barely been gone a week. And what else is there?" He skirted a finger around the edge of one of the burns on Merlin's arms, making the warlock flinch away.

"Nothing. Really, I'm fine. My magic was pretty bad, but it's mostly fine now, and Kilgharrah healed—"

He cut off with a cry as Gaius, eyes bulging in fear, jabbed him in the head with the rag. "Oh dear, I'm afraid you most definitely have a concussion. He's clearly delirious, sire; the wound must be infected."

"Gaius, stop!" Arthur interrupted in alarm, "I know. About everything."

Gaius did not falter. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, sire. Once the fever sets in, patients often spout absolute nonsense."

Merlin ducked beneath the rag, fingers tenderly rubbing his head. "Gaius, he knows about me. About the magic, dragons, Emrys, everything."

Gaius blinked a moment, then sat down heavily, his hand on his chest. He looked between Merlin and Arthur. "You…you know?"

"It was a bit difficult to miss."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you," added Merlin, resting his head on the table. Something hit his forehead, and he opened his eyes to blink at a very indignant Arthur preparing to chuck another grape at him.

Gaius gawked between the two of them, speechless. "I…I don't believe it. Does anyone else…?"

"A few of the knights saw him casting a shield around the city. But I've forbidden them from saying anything. No one is going to harm him."

"I…Thank you, sire, I…I don't know what to say."

"You could tell him to stop being infuriating and wake up," Arthur suggested, and Merlin again opened his eyes as another grape hit his forehead.

"'M awake," he said, rubbing a hand up and down his face and silently cursing. Now was not the time to fall asleep.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Alright there, Merlin? "

Merlin sat up a little straighter, carefully trying to obscure his weariness. "Much better. Not all of us have king-sized stomachs."

Arthur snorted and chucked another grape at him. This time, Merlin stopped it with a flash of his eyes and a smirk. Seeing the annoyed look on Arthur's face was immensely satisfying, even though that simple bit of magic sent a powerful wave of nausea through him that nearly made him buckle.

When Gaius finally gathered some words, they came out sharply. "Those burns were from something restricting your magic, then?"

Merlin nodded wearily as Gaius seized his arm and inspected the burn closer. Merlin could see the familiar tightness in Gaius's face that the physician got whenever Merlin returned home worse for the wear. Usually such a look foretold a shouted lecture, followed by a hug. This time, Gaius did not shout, although Merlin would have preferred that to the pure worry shining from his mentor's eyes.

"You say you cast a shield? You don't mean—"

"Yeah," Merlin said, cutting him off. He had told Gaius about the shield project when he'd started it, and he was sure Gaius knew full well what activating the shield so soon was costing him. He tried to plead with his eyes not to say anything to Arthur. Arthur had enough to worry about already.

Gaius peered at him with a stern eyebrow, and Arthur looked up from his food at Merlin suspiciously. Merlin resisted the urge to lay his head on the table again. Arthur and Gaius were both going to want him to sleep, which he didn't have time for because he needed to figure out how he was going to fight a thousand sorcerers. And Arthur still needed his help; he couldn't just sleep.

"I didn't have a choice," Merlin argued. "I'm only sorry it's not going to last longer."

"You're sorry," Arthur repeated flatly. "You've kept Morgana and who knows how many sorcerers from breaking in for the rest of the night, and you're sorry?!"

"…Yeah?"

"You really are a total idiot, aren't you."

Merlin gave the slightest of shrugs. "Still putting up with you, aren't I? And I am sorry."

"No. You don't need to apologize. Far from it. I don't often say this, but…You've done a brilliant job, Merlin. Thank you."

Merlin's lips twitched. "You did a good job, too. Nice speech; surprised I didn't write it."

Arthur's voice was quiet and sincere. "You did."

Merlin swallowed hard. "…They listened to you, you know."

"Oh, sure. Before or after they tried to kill me?"

"I mean, not all of them, but…I think you got through to a lot of them. You made a lot of allies today."

"So long as they're still allies tomorrow. I'll fight them if I have to. I can't let Morgana seize control again."

"No, you can't. And you won't. You will succeed, Arthur. I know it."

Gaius looked between the two of them in amazement. "Sire, you spoke to the army outside?"

Arthur squared his shoulders. "I did. They're hardly an army; they're citizens who only want to live in peace. They deserve that as much as any other man."

Gaius's eyebrows seemed permanently attached to his hairline. "Perhaps the time of Albion is upon us after all."

"Perhaps it is," Arthur agreed thoughtfully.

Merlin couldn't stop himself from beaming. At that moment, Arthur looked every inch the king Merlin always knew he could be, speaking of the golden future he'd always longed for. Albion had never seemed so close.

"I'm just not sure how to make the rest of Camelot see that, especially with a…well, yes, an army of sorcerers camped outside. I'd like to lift the ban on magic as soon as possible, like I promised, but…"

"Deal with the impending attack first," Merlin advised him. "I want magic to be restored to the land as much as they do, believe me. But now is not the moment. If you repeal the ban now, while we're under duress, the council will think the sorcerers outside have enchanted you or something, and either they won't listen to you and we'll waste valuable time, or worse, the validity of the ruling will always be in question. Not to mention people with magic will be suspected and hated even more."

Arthur considered that for a moment. "Alright, then. How do we deal with the impending attack?"

"For starters, I've told Aithusa to send Kilgharrah—that's the Great Dragon. It'll probably be a long while before she finds him and he gets here, but that might help."

"Are you mad?" Gaius protested. "The Great Dragon this close to Camelot? People will panic."

"Yes, well, better panicked than dead."

"And what does the king have to say about all this?" Gaius whirled to Arthur.

"Good. We could use the extra defense. And perhaps that will help people realize that magic can be used for good. If we can get the knights fighting alongside it…"

Gaius blinked. "Sire, while I commend you for accepting alternative methods to defending our kingdom, how do you propose to explain why a supposedly deceased dragon is protecting the city?"

"The knights at least know Arthur's allied with a sorcerer," Merlin pointed out. At Gaius's look, he quickly added, "They don't know the sorcerer's me; they just know there is one."

"So I tell them the truth," Arthur decided. "I've allied with a sorcerer, who's also a dragonlord. And perhaps having a magical creature come to our aid will help people realize the potential good of magic. The council may be impossible to convince, but if the people's hearts are swayed…"

Merlin braced himself against the table while another wave of nausea churned through him. No. No, Arthur still needed him. He could hold on a bit longer.

Merlin continued to nod and tried to follow as Arthur kept talking, something about battle formations of knights and council meetings and legalities, but his head doggedly refused to stay up. Arthur's voice sounded far away and muffled, but every time Merlin tried to concentrate on listening, his head started to tingle with dizziness. Something touched his shoulder and shook him, called his name…Gaius?...

Merlin's vision suddenly went dark as a chill surged through him, squeezing as if a giant fist was clenched around his chest. His magic pushed behind his eyes like a dam holding back a raging river, and he heard a distant, infuriated shriek…

"Merlin? Merlin!"

Merlin opened eyes he didn't remember closing and realized he was on the floor. Gaius was kneeling beside him, hand hot against his brow. Behind Gaius, Arthur was pacing in short, jerky steps.

"Wha…?" Merlin started, trying to push himself back up.

"Don't move too quickly," urged Gaius. He turned to Arthur, who snapped to attention. "He's freezing. Get him up to his room, gently; I'll fetch more blankets." Gaius hurried over to the far side of the room as Arthur eased Merlin back to his feet and guided him towards the stairs.

"What's wrong with you?" Arthur demanded. "I thought you were better. You said you were better!"

"I am," Merlin mumbled, " 'Better' is a relative term. And I'm better than I was before…"

But that was not enough to reassure Arthur. "You should have said. I would have let you rest."

"But I've got to figure out how to fight off all those…" Merlin waved his hand listlessly. "By morning."

"I'm not expecting you to fight them all by yourself! Especially when you're like this! You're injured, and you've done more than enough; now I expect you to rest and let the knights take care of it. That's what they're for, so injured idiots like you don't get killed! I mean, what were you planning on doing if you collapsed in the middle of the fight?!"

Merlin hadn't really considered that. He'd never had the option of sitting out a magical attack. Either he dealt with it or Camelot fell. Simple as that. "Knights won't be any good against Morgana. I'm the only one who…" But thinking of Morgana made his eyes widen a fraction as he remembered. "Arthur, she's found it. Morgana, she's..."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "She what?"

Merlin could feel his knees giving beneath his weight as another howl of fury suddenly crescendoed in his head. His vision swam as invisible blows rained upon him with all the fury of a vengeful god. By the time Merlin could breathe again, he was lying on his back on his bed, and Arthur's pale, blurry face hovered over him.

"Merlin? Gaius, he's shaking…Merlin!"

Merlin hadn't understood a word that Arthur had said, but he recognized the tone of panic. His stomach roiled as he tried to sit up and summon some magic against whatever was scaring Arthur.

"No!" Gaius replaced Arthur at his side, pushed him back down to lie on his bed, and draped some blankets over him. The weight of them made Merlin feel more tired than he had ever thought possible. "No more magic, Merlin. You must sleep."

"But I've still got to…"

"You've done more than enough, my boy."

"Arthur…"

"Arthur is safe. Now sleep."

And finally, Merlin did.

When Merlin's eyes, which had been glowing nonstop since his initial collapse, finally closed, Arthur leaned against the far wall and slid down to the floor, hands clenching his hair. He'd known Merlin wasn't in the best of shape—neither of them were, after being imprisoned, then spending the day traipsing through the forest and the evening freeing dragons and facing down sorcerers, but how had he not seen that Merlin was this ill?

Better? If Merlin called staring into space and twice falling to the floor in some sort of magical fit better, what had he felt like before?

Arthur watched Gaius stroke Merlin's forehead until the warlock's tense breathing slowed and evened. When at last Merlin seemed truly asleep, Gaius turned to Arthur, bags stark beneath his eyes. "Come along, sire. Let's have a look at that leg."

Arthur wasn't sure if he had the strength to stand; all of his energy seemed to have drained with Merlin's collapse. Still, his leg was aching, and he couldn't bear to stay in Merlin's room with sure proof that he was too much of a prat to notice that Merlin had been on the verge of… whatever magical condition this was.

"He will be fine, sire," Gaius reassured him when he did not move.

Arthur pushed off the wall he was leaned against and grimaced as he placed weight on the leg. "I never want to hear the word 'fine' referring to Merlin again."

"If you like, sire."

Arthur stumbled back down the stairs, gritting his teeth against the twinging leg. Gaius kept a hand on his back, and Arthur felt a flash of irritation. He'd practically carried Merlin all the way up these stairs; he could certainly get himself down them.

Except apparently, he couldn't. His leg gave out near the bottom of the stairs and he would have fallen on his face had Gaius not seized his shirt with a surprisingly strong grip for someone of the physician's age.

Gaius settled Arthur back on the bench at the table, picked up the abandoned salves and bandages from Merlin's seat, and rolled up Arthur's tattered trouser leg. His brow furrowed as he gently probed it.

"What's wrong with him?" Arthur demanded. "He told me his magic had recovered."

"His magic is fine. It's his body that's given out, I'm afraid. It probably gave out quite a while ago."

Arthur winced as Gaius started to rub some salve on his leg. "What do you mean?"

"I've long suspected that his magic keeps him going when his body no longer can, and I'm afraid this confirms my theory."

"Then why didn't he just say something? I pushed him all day to reach Camelot by nightfall. If he was in that bad of shape, we could have rested."

"His magic is part of him, completely instinctual. He wouldn't notice his magic fueling him, just as you or I wouldn't notice our bodies digesting food."

Arthur winced as Gaius prodded a painful spot on his leg. "So what, he just…ran out?"

Gaius sighed. "Not entirely. The problem is that shield—he conjured it too early. It's a spell that's meant to grow stronger over time, with the power of several hundred castings spread out over the course of several months, so that the casters—there's meant to be at least a dozen—can provide a great deal of power without being drained. Unfortunately, Merlin has only been working on it for the past month, starting just after Morgana's last attack, and he has been working on it alone. I'm afraid with only a month's worth of spells behind it, the shield is not powerful enough to stand independently. Therefore, it must depend directly on Merlin's power to maintain itself instead. Such a large shield would take an immense amount of magic to sustain under attack."

"He said something about Morgana before he passed out…"

Gaius bowed his head gravely. "Then the shield is likely under attack from Morgana as we speak."

"But then…Is the shield holding?!"

"I believe so. That's why it's best that he sleeps for now. Instead of being diverted to keeping his body awake, his magic can now be fully focused on maintaining the shield. He should reawaken when his body recovers or when the shield falls and his magic is rediverted back to him."

Arthur pulled his leg away from Gaius and stood up. "So if I can stop Morgana, then he'll recov—" He hissed as his leg throbbed.

"Sit down!" Gaius yanked him back down onto the bench. "Don't aggravate the injury. This leg needs to be reset entirely! How have you been walking on that?"

"I don't know!" Arthur shot back, gritting his teeth as the pain radiated up through his body. "It didn't hurt this much after Merlin healed it."

Gaius looked thoughtful. "You say Merlin healed you?"

"Yes, just before we escaped. And my head."

"Did this sudden increase in pain come on just after he fell unconscious?"

Arthur blinked. "…Yeah. Are you saying…His magic was keeping me going as well?"

"Indeed, sire. His magic is now diverting from himself and from you in order to fuel the shield. It is my guess, sire, that that is also why you are feeling such exhaustion now. I told you his magic is instinctual, and Merlin's proven time and again that his first instinct is to protect you, even when he himself can't."

Arthur frowned as pieces came together in his head. "Where we were held…this man somehow made Merlin think he was me, and told him to kill the real me. And Merlin was about to, but he stopped. Said it didn't feel right."

Gaius nodded grimly. "That doesn't surprise me. He's done something similar in the past."

"What are you talking about?"

Gaius hesitated, but finally said, "Morgana was once able to capture him. She infected him with a Fomorrah, a creature that enslaves men's wills. His mind was completely consumed with the command to kill you, but in all his assassination attempts, he never used magic. Not only that, but all his attempts failed. He has no memory of the time he was under its control, but I've always suspected his magic not only refused to kill you, but actively tried to keep Merlin himself from doing so."

Arthur's throat ran dry. "He didn't tell me that."

Gaius smiled weakly. "It's not one of his finer moments. And don't take him not mentioning it as a sign of mistrust—I suspect he doesn't tell me everything either."

Something thumped outside Gaius's door. They both jumped a bit as the door crashed open.

"I said, no disturb—" Arthur cut off as soon as he saw who had entered.

"Arthur!" Guinevere cried, running towards him. She was dressed in a tunic, vest, and trousers. One of Arthur's swords was slung around her waist. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her grimy skin shone slightly with sweat.

She was the most beautiful thing Arthur had ever seen.

"Guinevere," he breathed as she reached him and pulled him into a tight hug. He looked over her shoulder to see Elyan, Percival, Gwaine, and Leon file in behind her. Leon shrugged apologetically and mouthed, She's the queen.

"I came as soon as I heard!" Gwen said breathlessly, "Elyan had trouble finding me; I've been just about everywhere at once today. Oh, you're alive! I mean, I knew you couldn't be dead, I just knew, but …are you alright?"

"Much better with you here."

"I missed you."

"And I you, more than I can say…Leon was telling me how you've managed. You've done beautifully, Guinevere. I knew I could count on you."

"I just did what was needed."

"You've been the queen the people can look up to. And I couldn't be more proud to be married to you."

Gwen beamed—it hurt how much he'd missed her smile—and kissed him.

"Yes, yes, we're pleased for you both, but where's Merlin?" Gwaine asked sharply.

Gwen broke off, eyes darting around the room before returning to her husband. "Arthur?"

"He's alright," Gaius assured them all. "Just sleeping upstairs. He'll make a full recovery with some rest—and so will you, sire."

"He's not injured, is he?" asked Gwen, her brow creasing in worry.

"He looked like he was cooked, chewed up, spit back out, and used as a training dummy," Gwaine said angrily. "And I want to know how he got that way."

"Does it have something to do with his…" asked Percival, making a vague gesture.

"Yes," Arthur said quickly, glancing at his wife.

Gwen was now looking between the knights in bewilderment. "His what?"

The other knights shifted awkwardly.

"Elyan?"

Elyan lifted his hands defensively. "Gwen, I can't say—"

"Leon?"

Leon wouldn't look her in the eye.

"Arthur?" She whirled to her husband, a warning implicit in her tone.

"He's…Merlin, he's…" Arthur trailed off. He didn't want to just spring Merlin's magic on her quite yet—And it felt wrong, talking about it without Merlin there. It was Merlin's magic, and his prerogative to explain it to her. She'd been Merlin's friend long before Arthur had loved her, and it should have been Merlin sitting here, revealing his secret, not Arthur.

But Gwen needed to know, and Merlin wasn't here to tell her. And if the infuriated look on Gwaine's face was any indication, he'd be blurting it out to everyone in a minute.

Arthur sighed and rubbed his pounding head, then took hold of both his wife's hands. "Guinevere…I need to tell you something."

A/N: Please review!