Chapter Seven

Arthur groaned his way back to consciousness.

His head throbbed sickeningly and the light that assaulted his eyes when he blinked did not help in the slightest. He winced, reluctantly rocking up into a sitting position so he could better cradle his head in his hands, and waited for the wave of dizziness to recede.

When he finally opened his eyes properly he could only stare in shock at the sight that greeted him.

He was sitting right in the middle of a massive crater. It was a rough circle about a mile wide, completely void of anything – trees, vegetation, rocks, and animals; everything was gone, as though a giant spoon had reached down out of the sky and just scooped out a chunk of the land. The forest continued on as normal from the edge of the crater, though, and Arthur thought he could even see three of Camelot's horses tied where he and Gwaine had left them to investigate further on foot…

"Gwaine!" he exclaimed, suddenly remembering his companion. He heard an answering groan from behind him and spun. The knight lay face down in the dirt a few feet away and was in the process of pushing himself upright.

"What happened?" he mumbled groggily.

Arthur frowned, unsure. They had snuck up on a strange little hovel that was embedded in and partially disguised by rock, searching for Morgana and-

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled, leaping to his feet and looking around frantically. He remembered bursting through the door, thinking himself to be prepared for whatever he would find inside. But the Merlin he had sent off on a vacation two months ago was a very different person to the pale, skeletal creature who was chained cruelly to the ceiling and stood on legs that trembled with exhaustion.

The physical condition of his friend was devastating, but by far the worst was his eyes. They had once twinkled with joy and mischief and a love for life. After the Lamia incident, those blue eyes had become dulled and haunted, but the spark was still there if you looked hard enough. In the two months since he had gone missing though… in the two months Merlin had spent as Morgana's captive having god knows what done to him, the spark had gone out. His eyes, windows to the soul, looked defeated. Broken. Lifeless. For a moment Arthur had feared that his best friend didn't even recognise him.

But something of the old Merlin must have survived, because as soon as Morgana had threatened Arthur's life Merlin was doing all he could to save him. This was the first time Arthur had clearly witnessed magic being brought to bear on his behalf, and it was both incredible and frightening. For all her power, Morgana had been destroyed within seconds, and – to distract himself from the grief he should not feel for an enemy – Arthur had to wonder why Merlin had not acted earlier to save himself.

But the magic had not stopped there, and the next thing Arthur knew he was waking up in this crater.

Arthur's eyes widened as he realised – Merlin had done this. Merlin's magic had wiped out this entire section of the forest. Arthur could hardly believe that his peace-loving manservant was capable of wreaking such terrible destruction, let alone accept that he had actually done so. And yet, the evidence was all around him, stark and irrefutable. Arthur wasn't sure how he was supposed to react.

"Arthur!" Gwaine called. He had moved off a ways to search the area and was now urgently beckoning Arthur over.

As Arthur approached he noticed a strange mound in the otherwise smooth depression of the crater, but it wasn't until he was right up close that he realised it was a body half sunken into the dirt.

Not just any body. Merlin.

Anxiety flared within him. "Is he-"

"He's breathing," Gwaine reported, kneeling down to check. "And he doesn't seem to have any visible injuries aside from his wrists." He sounded puzzled by the last.

"Magic doesn't have to inflict injuries to cause someone immense pain," Arthur said darkly. It was naïve to hope that the absence of physical scars meant that Morgana had not tortured him.

"He's going to be alright, though, isn't he?" Gwaine asked, reaching out tentatively to brush back Merlin's hair-

"Don't!" Arthur caught his hand before he could make contact, shaking his head. "Bad idea. He destroyed Morgana, her hovel and this entire area; there's no telling what he will do if we wake him."

Gwaine retracted his hand, gaze flitting around the unnatural clearing as though seeing it for the first time before returning to the crumpled figure responsible. "But he didn't hurt us. He wouldn't."

"We don't know that for sure." Arthur knew his wariness was justified, but Merlin looked so small and vulnerable; he awoke every protective instinct Arthur had.

"So what do we do? We can't just leave him like this."

"I don't know." Normally Arthur would not hesitate to pick Merlin up so he could rush him to Camelot and the care of Gaius, but now that he was afraid to touch him he was at a loss. "I guess we wait and hope he will wake up on his own."

So they waited. Arthur watched the slow rise and fall of Merlin's chest, reassuring himself that Merlin was alive, they had really found him, and he would be coming home with them soon. He tried not to worry about the rest.

Gwaine grew restless, not doing a very good job of concealing his concern for his friend, and went to retrieve the horses. They ate some of the rations that had been packed in their saddle bags, and when it became clear that Merlin was not going to regain consciousness any time soon they set up camp around him. Ordinarily Arthur would have chosen a more defensible position rather than sitting out in the open, but after only just getting Merlin back he wasn't about to leave him.

Night fell and Gwaine took the first watch. Arthur didn't think he would be able to sleep, but he must have drifted off at some point because he nearly leapt out of his skin when yelling suddenly erupted all around him.

He was up with his sword drawn in an instant, only to have the weapon torn from his grip by an unseen blast of – magic.

"Merlin, calm down, it's just me!" Gwaine was shouting. "I won't hurt you!"

They stood in an unnatural whirlwind, random objects from the campsite whipping violently around them. Arthur ducked to avoid a flying saddlebag and then caught sight of the source of this chaos.

"Merlin!" he exclaimed.

Merlin spun, his fiery gaze clashing with Arthur's own. The shock of their meeting was no less the second time, and it froze the scene in a moment of stunned silence. Abruptly, the air-borne objects plummeted to the floor.

Merlin dropped back into a half-crouch, watching warily, keeping the fire between them. For a minute Arthur thought the fire light was reflecting in Merlin's eyes, but the molten gold did not flicker or fade. It was a sign of magic, Arthur realised, and he could almost feel the power emanating from him.

"What did you do?" Arthur asked Gwaine in a low voice.

"Nothing. He woke up, saw me and freaked out."

"His eyes…"

"Yeah. I thought they were only supposed to flash gold for a second after a sorcerer casts a spell, but they've been that colour this whole time."

Arthur nodded, but it wasn't just the gold that was bothering him. Merlin resembled nothing so much as a cornered animal; afraid, wild and dangerous. There was no recognition of them in his eyes.

"Merlin?" Arthur called gently. He took a hesitant step forward, but Merlin flinched and Arthur was shoved back a few paces. He swallowed nervously before continuing, "It's Arthur. There's no need to be frightened, you're safe now. Morgana is-"

The flames flared; Gwaine yelped and jumped back as sparks flew everywhere.

"-she's gone!" Arthur added hastily. "She can't ever hurt you again. It's alright!"

The fire died down, but Merlin's defensive stance did not change, as though he expected to be attacked at any moment.

Recognising that Merlin needed space, Arthur stepped backward. "I'm just going to sit down, Merlin," he narrated quietly. "Gwaine is too."

Merlin eyed them distrustfully as they lowered themselves to the ground. A pulse of magic from him skidded all the scattered weapons further back out of reach.

Arthur did his best to appear calm and relaxed, settling into a comfortable position even while his muscles remained tense. "You look tired, Merlin," he said softly. "You can sit down, if you want. We're not going to hurt you. You're safe with us."

Merlin did not move for a long time, staring at them with gold eyes, but they just sat there waiting in patient silence until he cautiously eased himself down. He was half kneeling and half crouching, obviously ready to leap up and run at the slightest provocation, but it was a small improvement at least.

"I know you are in there somewhere, Merlin," Arthur said. "Please talk to us. I miss your inane prattle."

Merlin's eyes remained unblinking. He didn't make a sound.

Arthur's chest ached at the lack of response. Merlin had been missing all this time, and now that they had him back it felt like they were too late to save him anyway. Morgana had broken him. Was there anything left of that cheerful irreverent servant, or was the Merlin they knew and loved gone forever?

"Do you even understand me?" he asked sadly. Merlin gave no sign that he did.

There was a clanking of armour as Gwaine shifted and Merlin flinched. Gwaine made a choked sound, almost a sob. "Gods, Merlin… I'm sorry. Not just for- I should have gone with you to Ealdor, but you felt that you couldn't trust me anymore and for good reason, and then Morgana took you and I couldn't find you and gods this is all my fault. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry."

"You can't blame yourself, Gwaine," Arthur said, needing to remind himself of the same. After all, he was the one who had sent Merlin off on his own in the first place, and he should have joined the searches far more often than he had, but the truly culpable party was Morgana and unfortunately no further vengeance could be exacted upon her. They just had to focus on helping Merlin… if only he would let them close enough.

"Can I tell you a story, Merlin?" Arthur asked. Gwaine raised his eyebrows and Arthur just shrugged slightly; it wasn't as though either of them had a better idea at the moment and Merlin did not seem to be objecting.

"It's about a peasant boy from a small village and a prat of a prince. One day, the prince was being unkind to his servant during target practice. The peasant boy was new in town, and he stood up to the prince without realising who he was or what the consequences could be. Oddly enough, although he wound up in prison with the firm belief that the prince of Camelot was a complete ass, that day marked the beginning of their friendship…"

Arthur told their story, hoping that Merlin would be soothed by the gentle cadence of his voice even if he did not understand the words. Merlin listened quietly, his head tilted to the side, and every so often Arthur thought that he was a flash of something in his eyes – emotion, maybe, or memory – but it was always fleeting.

"…turns out the servant was hiding a fairly big secret. It was a bit of a shock for the King when he found out that his friend had magic."

Merlin's head jerked up at that, fear and defensiveness leaping back into his posture as he half raised himself up to fight or flee. "Hey- hey, calm down," Arthur said, feeling guilty that his friend had ever had cause to fear him and hating that Merlin apparently feared him still. "You haven't heard the end of the story yet. The king was angry at first, but he realised that it is a person's actions, not their abilities, that defines whether they are good or evil. He knew that his servant was the truest, most trustworthy friend he could ever have, and he forgave him for his secrecy." Arthur broke from the role of storyteller, then, needing his friend to understand that these words were spoken in earnest. "I forgave you, Merlin. Don't you remember? I found out and it was touch and go for a while there, but we worked through it. We were okay."

Merlin relaxed slightly.

"Magic was going to be welcomed back into the kingdom, and we were going to live happily ever after. But…"

Arthur remembered that awful moment when Gwaine had told him that Morgana had taken Merlin.

"But it all went wrong," he said softly. "You went missing, and we knew Morg- we knew who had you, but we tried and we just couldn't – we couldn't find you. I'm sorry, Merlin. I'm sorry for what she put you through. But it's over now. You are safe now. You can trust us. Please trust me. You're going to be okay…"

But despite Arthur's best efforts to draw Merlin out by trying to calm him down and jog his memory, there was no visible change in his friend. His eyes still burned a molten gold, he was still wary and tense, and he still did not speak.

"Arthur…" Gwaine said in a low voice. "Maybe he is too far gone."

"No!" Arthur snapped. "I refuse to believe that! I did not come all this way to give up on him now!"

Merlin shrank back at his harsh tone, and Arthur forced himself to take a deep breath. Getting angry would not help the situation at all. "Maybe he just needs time."

Gwaine gave him a sidelong glance. "Camelot is waiting for you. I can stay here with him, if you want."

Arthur felt torn. He knew Gwaine had a point; he could not leave his kingdom without a king for an indefinite period of time, no matter how capable Agravaine may be as his stand-in. But he did not want to leave Merlin like this.

"I don't know…"

"We will be fine, Arthur. If what happened to Mor- to her is anything to go by, Merlin's magic is more than capable of keeping us safe."

There were many unanswered questions in that regard – why hadn't Merlin used his magic to escape sooner? – but perhaps talking to Gaius would bring some answers to light. And Gaius was in Camelot.

Reluctantly, Arthur made up his mind. "Okay. But I'll be back." He stood and began to gather his things, but when he reached for his sword it skidded out of his reach. He sighed. "Merlin, I will not hurt you. But if I am going to travel alone, I need to be able to defend myself."

Gwaine frowned. "I forgot about that. You're the King of Camelot and I am a knight sworn to your service. I cannot in good conscience let you go without protection."

"I'll be fine. If Merlin will let me take my sword." The weapon in question was still inching away from him, much to his annoyance.

"These woods are dangerous, and Mor- she is not your only enemy, Arthur."

"Well we don't seem to have any other choice, do we?" He made another fruitless snatch for the sword, then gave up with a frustrated huff. "I have to go."

"Be careful, King Arthur," Gwaine said seriously.

Arthur nodded. "You too." He looked to Merlin, who was watching him worriedly, something unidentifiable flickering behind his eyes. "I will see you soon, Merlin," he promised.

Feeling unsettled without his sword at his hip and his manservant at his side, Arthur mounted up and started to ride away.

"Arthur!"

His horse stopped dead as a dome of golden light shot up around them.

Arthur turned back in surprise and saw that Merlin had chased after him, a hand outstretched to control the magic, looking frantic.

"What is it, Merlin?" he asked, delighted by this first sign that Merlin recognised who he was after all. But there was no answer. "Are you afraid of being left alone? Because Gwaine is staying with you."

Merlin shook his head, his gaze intense as though he was willing Arthur to read his mind.

"You don't want me to go?" he guessed. "I'm sorry, Merlin, but I have to."

Merlin shook his head again and stepped closer, then stopped and looked up at him meaningfully.

"I don't understand."

Merlin frowned for a moment before he shifted his gaze to Arthur's horse. Almost immediately, without instruction from Arthur, the horse began trotting forward.

"Hang on!" Arthur exclaimed, pulling on the reins. They stopped, but not before Arthur noticed the way that Merlin and the golden dome had moved along with them. Arthur looked from Merlin to his mount and back again. "Did you do that?"

Merlin's face whitened.

"I'm not mad if you did," Arthur hastened to add. "But if you can communicate with a horse, why can't you talk to me? You said my name before. You can speak, so why won't you?"

Merlin opened his mouth and said, "Arthur." But the rest of the words that followed made no sense. They sounded like magical incantations, or at least like the language of the Old Religion that had not been legally spoken aloud in Camelot for over 20 years.

"I still don't know what you are trying to tell me."

Merlin's flow of strange speech ceased and a frustrated expression ghosted across his face. Eventually, he beckoned Arthur over.

Arthur dismounted, amazed that Merlin allowed him to approach. He paused when he was a few paces away, not wanting to push his luck, but Merlin closed the remaining space between them.

"Arthur," he said, looking directly into his eyes.

For some reason, Arthur could tell that he meant 'Trust me'. Not sure what exactly he was agreeing to but sure that Merlin would not harm him, Arthur nodded.

Merlin raised his hands and placed two fingers against each of Arthur's temples. Gently, Merlin's thumbs brushed over his eyelashes, encouraging him to close his eyes. He did so, and waited a few moments.

A peculiar sensation came upon him, as though a… presence… was nudging on his mind. He resisted at first, until he heard another calm yet insistent "Arthur" and realised that maybe this was Merlin's way of trying to communicate. He forced himself to relax and let it happen.

A flood of images rushed through his mind. Dark woods, bandits, soldiers, running, ambushes, fighting, Morgana, beasts, clashing swords, blood. They coalesced into something more coherent, a memory, but not his own because he could see himself fighting off two armed men at once, and a third was approaching from behind but he hadn't seen or heard him, because he was too busy, too distracted, not aware of the danger – the man raised his axe for the killing blow – a disembodied hand appeared (Arthur's? No, Merlin's hand, this was his memory) and an invisible force blasted the man backwards. Arthur's life had been saved without him even noticing.

A series of similar occurrences flashed by quickly, followed by a scene he recalled from a siege of Camelot, with the words, "I'm going to be by your side, like I always am. Protecting you."

Darkness replaced the image of Arthur's expression of mock-despair, and then he felt the presence in his mind withdrawing.

He blinked, and the Merlin with golden eyes stood before him, exuding as much, if not more, sincerity as he had on the day of the siege even if he had not said the words out loud.

Arthur understood. "You want to come with me, in case something happens. You want to be able to protect me… like you usually do." He had known prior to this, thanks to Gaius and his own deductions, but now that Arthur had seen the numerous rescues first hand he certainly had a greater appreciation for everything Merlin had done for him, even though it hurt his pride to realise how much he had unknowingly been relying on his servant's protection.

Merlin nodded, the golden dome pulsing as though for emphasis.

"Alright," Arthur said. "But you have to drop this glowing shield thing. It is rather… conspicuous, and I would prefer not to draw any unfriendly attention that could otherwise be avoided."

Merlin frowned, but obediently cancelled the spell and their surroundings became clearly visible once the dome was gone.

"Arthur, what's going on?" Gwaine asked, having been trapped outside the magical barrier and therefore not privy to their conversation (if such an odd exchange could be called that).

"Change of plans. You're both coming back with me."

"What happened?"

To be honest, Arthur was not entirely sure. But then he remembered how Merlin had reacted when Morgana had threatened his life. "I don't think Merlin likes it when I am in danger," he mused.

Gwaine nodded. "He takes his job seriously. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever known Merlin to let you go off without him." He smiled. "It seems the old Merlin is still in there after all."

They had made progress, but Arthur knew that there was still a long way to go before they would have the old Merlin back the way he had been.

"We should go."

They made ready, and just as Arthur was about to mount up again he felt a tentative tap on his shoulder. He turned and Merlin jerked away, but when Arthur made no further move he seemed to regain his nerve, creeping closer again. Slowly, he held out Arthur's sword, offering him the pommel.

"Thank you," Arthur said, and he didn't just mean for the sword; he was honoured that Merlin trusted him enough to let him have his weapon back. He took it from Merlin as gently as he could and stepped away from him to sheath it.

Merlin watched him for a few moments before the tension in his shoulders eased.

"Are you ready to go home, Merlin?"

The warlock nodded and for the first time in two months Arthur saw him smile.

ooOOoo