A/N: I'm not exactly sure how to safely warn you all and not give away what is about to happen, so my idea is this: for any who are particularly sensitive to really, really sad scenes and/or big losses and want to know what they're getting themselves into this chapter, I have a descriptive warning at the very end you can scroll down to. Trying to be precautionary – I feel I wouldn't do right by just glossing over details after deciding this event...and if you're still with me and reading this A/N, sorry if I've just completely freaked you out. NO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH though, I swear!

On a brighter note I want to thank everyone who has ever reviewed ever for this story - its crazy to believe RIVULET has been reviewed a hundred times, and I'm crazy grateful! Definitely the reason for this quick(er) update, not going to lie, haha.

45.

"Merlin? Merlin, wake up," a voice jolts him upward in his seat, where Merlin realizes he's been slumped for who knows how long. Blinking blearily he looks up to see Arthur's strained, exhausted face above him. The man rests a hand on Merlin's shoulder, shaking it lightly. "You should get up. No point waiting in here anymore."

Merlin takes in the room around them; it's another waiting area, not unlike where he and Morgana sat earlier that morning. But this one is larger—there are more places to sit, more space to gather and worry and pace, useless. Waiting around for news, any news, about the loved ones in mortal jeopardy behind those heavy metal doors.

It was horrifying, hearing the nurse describe to Morgana what exactly Gwen's injuries were, and then Gaius's explanation that followed according to a fireman the old man spoke with. Leon was distracting Mordred, and Arthur wasn't speaking a word, just sitting staring at the opposite wall blankly as he heard what had probably been communicated to him many times already.

Glass shards, they said. Embedded in her flesh, creating wounds that probably would have been fatal had the fire department not already been on their way. Whom she'd called, apparently, after spotting smoke curling from the panes of a top-floor window of the estate from where she'd been gardening outside.

Then there was the rest of it; brief asphyxiation, from the smoke in the room she must have gone to inspect, to try and put the flames out herself perhaps; contusions to her skull and other bruising, she must have tripped and fallen at some point. Which then explained the glass—littering the floor where she was found in a pool of her own blood, just by the shattered window.

Morgana was crying by the end of the explanation. Merlin felt nauseous, sick to his soul, even imagining that happening to Gwen. The sweet, caring, deserving person that she is. Then again, it's still hard to stop the so-clear image burning in the back of his head, like a gloating threat fulfilled: Gwen, pieces of glass embedded like crystal in her neck, eyes glassy and blood pooling crimson on the floor.

Merlin still isn't sure how exactly Mordred isn't dead and drowned; Morgana seemed so at the end of her nerves he even insisted on driving the way back, the woman in no state to fully explain where she'd found Mordred, how she thinks he escaped Uther's clutches what had really happened. All Mordred said during the ride was "Mewin," and then his favorite word "Who" again for a while.

Morgana and Mordred are gone now, it seems, as well as Gaius. Leon isn't around, though Merlin spots his jacket still draped across a chair. Out of nowhere Lance came walking in that evening, the room immediately dropping into silence as he nodded his head respectively, merely saying, "Percival let me know. Figured I'd just sit in for a while," before staying another two hours without a word and abruptly leaving. Arthur didn't spare him one look during the entirety of it.

Sefa dropped in soon before Merlin dozed off—with news that a semblance of the story is already being covered on the news, as there were still those pesky reporters milled around the gates when the emergency vehicles did arrive. She must have left, at some point.

In fact, now there's really no one here at all.

"What time is it?" Merlin mutters, returning to the present and frowning at Arthur, who shrugs.

"Late. Early. Just past two."

Merlin pops a kink out of his neck and yawns, wondering aloud, "Where did Morgan—everyone, where did they go?"

"Morgana and Mordred are with Gaius. Not back to the estate, I can assure you of that," Arthur says, in a voice that has Merlin looking up at him in surprise. His employer's face betrays the same worry and grief as his tone, mouth pressed into a thin line. He turns away from Merlin's gaze, though, as if ashamed of what Merlin can see. Adding in a whisper, face half-hidden, "Never again."

"What do you mean by that?" Merlin asks, shocked. "Not . . . sell the estate?"

Arthur barks a sound that's almost a laugh. "No," he shakes his head regretfully, looking down near their feet. "Somehow I couldn't still do that, I suppose. But I will close it down – relocate to one of our other homes, maybe one closer to my work. For the best."

Merlin watches in disbelief as the older man sighs, running a hand through his hair as he sits next to Merlin. "Thank you for trying, anyway," Arthur says, giving Merlin a tired twitch of the lips. He doesn't return the sentiment.

"You—you're giving up? Just like that?" He sits up properly, fully awake now, glaring at Arthur's surprise. "Your father . . . you're letting him win?"

"'Letting him win?'" Arthur repeats in objection, surprise flipping like a switch to indignation, and continuing loud enough to be heard through the whole room. It's lucky no one's here. "This monster attempted to murder my wife. It almost succeeded. And still I see you believing this of my father even now, then calling me a coward when I try to protect my family and friends—from whatever it is you have failed to stop!"

He stands, pointing an angry finger at Merlin. "You—perhaps you're the reason any of this is happening anyway!"

Merlin would be angry, he would be batshit raving by now, he would be storming out of the hospital with curses flying and heart hammering and without a backward glance, intent on never speaking to another Pendragon ever again.

He would be, if his eye didn't catch how Arthur Pendragon is cracking. Worry, stress and helplessness all pressing as one great load upon his back, forcing the man's soul down onto his knees. Suddenly Merlin recalls—the dark sky over the estate, Arthur standing there with two different outcomes. The first, falling to his knees. Defeated. And Merlin is wise enough to know now at least that those images the spirit gave him, days ago, were for more than show. They were a promise. "You're as much a coward as I am a murderer, Arthur."

Arthur's face, twisted in rage, loosens; he swallows slowly, looking Merlin up and down in that dissecting way of his, like the first day they met. Merlin watches him silently till the man meets his gaze once again—face strangely contemplative. "The day we met," Arthur starts, echoing Merlin' train of thought, "I thought you were a joke. You look like a joke, Merlin.

"And yet the first night you did the—well, summoning thing—I realized I might have misjudged you." He stops for a moment, cocking his head. His eyes flicker to Merlin's arm for a strange moment, before meeting his again. "And now I think I might have done so again."

"So . . . ?"

Arthur's brow furrows low over his eyes, scrutinizing Merlin for some time before he sighs. "So. Tell me then, Merlin. Why on this good earth shouldn't I, as you say, 'let him win'?"

For a moment he fears he has no way to argue, no possible defense to what he's said. But then Merlin feels the answer form out of his mind—like it was always there, just waiting to be realized. "Because what this spirit wants isn't the house," he starts, recognizing, as he speaks, the truth that's been imprinted in every word, every encounter between him and the ghost of Uther up to this point. "It's far too clear what he wants, and it isn't for you to leave."

Merlin stands, looking Arthur intently in the eye. "I don't rightly know how, but he thinks he can come back, Arthur. Take revenge however he sees fit, take over the household and company that once was truly his, take the lives of whomever he chooses. You don't have to believe it is your father, but you will have to live with the consequences. Even if no one ever sets a foot on Pendragon Estate again, he won't stop until he succeeds. Or until we stop him."

46.

It's not till morning that Merlin actually sees Gwen. She's lost a dangerous amount of blood, she's cut and bruised and contused, but she's awake. Or at least, awake as Merlin and Arthur are, who've stayed through the night. Arthur kept insisting on him leaving, crashing at Gaius's like Mordred and Morgana have—"Where do you want me to sleep there, Arthur? On his plants?" "Perhaps it'll be a spiritual experience for you, among nature and all that"—but Merlin found a comfortable bit of chair and refused to be moved, even when Leon offered a ride before leaving himself around three in the morning.

It's worth it; to get the chance to see Gwen now, though simultaneously Merlin wishes he'd never set eyes on her in such a state. Her usually exotic-toned skin looks thin and ashen, eyes sunken in around deep shadows, and hair matted in a way Merlin guesses is the result of hasty washing—hasty washing to get out the blood.

Arthur immediately moves to her side when they enter, clasping a small, needle-pinned hand and sitting in the chair closest to her. She smiles at him wanly as he kisses the top of it.

"Guinevere, love. I won't ask how you're feeling—but it's so good to see your eyes open," he says quietly, gruffly, and Merlin wonders if he should be in here at all. It's too private, the raw emotion so unusually on display for this Pendragon in particular.

Her smile stretches, ever-so-slightly. "You've been . . . watching over me?" she whispers, and he smiles back.

"When I could. They wouldn't allow me in for a while, and then only for a few hours at a time. Something about keeping my strength up as well, though it's comical if they think I could sleep a wink right now."

She frowns. "Rest, Arthur."

"Not happening for a while," he shakes his head fondly. "But don't worry; I've got good company. Merlin, the crazy man he is, stayed the night with me. Seeing as we partly fund this hospital, I managed to pull a few strings so he can visit, as well."

Her eyes stray away from him, resting on Merlin, who feels the need to step a bit closer now that she's smiling up at him. "Hey, Gwen. As cheery as ever, I see," he teases, and she rolls her eyes.

"What's the damage?" she eventually asks, looking back at Arthur, who merely shrugs.

"You fell, you got cut up a bit. The smoke from the fire got at your lungs. But you'll be completely fine, Gwen, the doctors are sure of it. Just relax."

She nods, though her face grows concerned in the same moment. "I . . . fell?"

Arthur nods, and she looks down at herself, taking in the pulled-up covers and the bandages on her arms, on her neck, down her hospital gown. Then suddenly Gwen's brown eyes grow shiny, teeth biting harshly on her lip as tears pool at the corner of her eyes. She looks . . . scared.

"Guinevere, it's alright, you're going to be fine," Arthur starts crooning, petting back the frizz falling into her face, but she shakes her head.

"Nurse. Nurse, I need . . . " she says, louder, and her voice comes out raspy and strained. Arthur's eyes widen, though quickly he nods and hits the button calling for assistance. Meanwhile he picks back up on the assurances, assuring Gwen, "There's nothing wrong Gwen, I swear, it's all fine . . ."

When the nurse arrives she immediately begin checking Gwen's vitals; looking over the monitor and other screens, checking at anything on her clipboard whilst simultaneously inquiring, "Are you feeling light-headed, ma'am? Has there been any sharp sudden pains you've experienced? Or perhaps nausea? It's common that—"

"Did I lose it?" Gwen interrupts, voice still harsh and strained. But her eyes are trained on the other woman, steady and clear. Still afraid. "Please just tell me now." Her free hand clutches at the sheets over her abdomen, voice growing desperate as she repeats, "Did. I. Lose. It. Did I? Is it gone?"

"Ma'am, you're fully intact, you haven't lost anything, there's nothing . . ." the woman says, frowning in confusion, and Merlin and Arthur are on the same page.

Gwen takes a shaky, frustrated breath and says, "Did I lose the baby?"

When the nurse's eyes widen, face whitening in understanding and sadness after she's flipped to a paper on her clipboard; it's enough of an answer. Gwen stares up at her for a moment longer before her face breaks, crumbling into sorrow and pain as she closes her eyes. As Merlin and Arthur both watch, frozen and dumbfounded, she takes in a shaky breath.

Before letting out a large, gasping sob.

"No, No, oh please, God, No, No," she sobs out, head tilted back in anguish, limbs twisting under the sheets while the monitor picks up its pace; Arthur is staring at her in blank incomprehension as her hand tears away from his, her vocal pleas breaking into plain sobs, shuddering through her whole body, and the monitor keeps speeding up—

"Please, ma'am, it's alright, everything will be fine, you're going to be fine," the nurse echoes Arthur in a distressed tone, putting a hand on her shoulder before glancing at the monitor worriedly.

"Does—does she mean—" Arthur chokes out, and the nurse jumps before staring at him and Merlin like she'd forgotten they are there.

The woman doesn't answer. Instead she presses the assistance button again, this time speaking into the microphone, "Code Blue, Doctors' assistance required, erratic heartbeat, Code Blue," before rushing over to the IV Gwen is connected to, messing with it as she orders, "Both of you need to go, right this instant. Leave, now."

Merlin immediately grabs at Arthur' arm—it's going to be a struggle getting this man out of the room, he knows already—and Arthur wrenches back, standing up and knocking over the chair. Gwen, still twisting and sobbing in anguish, and probably from the pain the action causes, takes no notice as Arthur pushes Merlin away, shouting, "LIKE HELL am I leaving!"

But then the backup arrives. In a matter of ten seconds Arthur is wrestled out the door, and whatever the nurse switched into the IV bag subdues Gwen, who looks at the edge of sleep by the time Merlin helps man-haul Arthur into the hallway, the door closed as they are led through the hospital unit and out into the elevator.

Then the doctor arrives in the waiting room the second they do, full of explanations about a miscarriage from the fall, how Gwen had been probably about three months pregnant, how they have been waiting till she was awake to share the bad news with both of them. 'To face it together.'

Arthur is back to his former strategy of staring at the wall behind the doctor, so stiff you'd think him a statue if it wasn't for how his hands at his sides are shaking. Eventually the doctor leaves, after realizing he's not going to get even a 'yes' or 'no' from Arthur. Then, once they're alone again, the two of them, Merlin thinks for a moment he should say something. Perhaps about how he's sorry, he's so sorry. The words feel stale and overused in his mouth, regardless of their truth.

"I should be with her," Arthur says abruptly, head snapping toward Merlin. His voice is angry, but his face . . . well, in short, the man looks wrecked.

Merlin takes a few steps closer, wondering how to console him. "I had no idea—" he starts, but Arthur cuts him off.

"Neither did I," he snaps, still angry, "I had no idea. I had no idea that she could even—that it was possible for us to—" Arthur's voice breaks at the end and his mouth clamps shut, jaw clenching.

"You mean you thought you . . . couldn't?" Merlin asks hesitantly, and Arthur swallows once before nodding. "Then isn't this—?"

"She kept it from me!" Arthur interrupts with a swipe of his hand, and his anger gives way to grief. "Three months . . ."

He sits heavily in a nearby chair, head bowed. Merlin stands useless in front of him, no idea how to take in this turn of events. "I'm so sorry, Arthur," he falls back to, "if there is anything I can do—"

"Yes." Arthur looks up, eyes red-rimmed and angry again. "Yes. I think there is something."

Suddenly he stands and makes a beeline for the door, briskly grabbing Merlin by the arm and pulling him along. Merlin halts a bit in shock, at the pace of this man's changing emotion more than anything, where once he condemned his employer as snobbish, aloof, unfeeling even.

Now Arthur is all fire and ice as he stops only to look Merlin in the eye. "You were right, Merlin. It's time to fight, now—anything else can wait. As it's been so eloquently put before: I will recompense."

A/N: WARNING: I consider it character death, since this little person was in my head the whole time I've been writing, but as far as plot goes I'd say minor. Gwen finds out she's miscarried this chapter, and neither her nor Arthur take it well at all. Definitely felt the need to give you a head's up, if you wanted.