Chapter Eight

The journey back to Camelot passed with relatively few incidents, all things considered.

Merlin was skittish and each time leaves rustled or a twig snapped magic pulsed out from him in waves for a good fifteen minutes after. The magic didn't appear to cause any harm, or indeed do much of anything, but Merlin seemed to take assurance from it so Arthur suspecting it was acting as a scout or something similar, telling him that there were no enemies nearby. If that was the case, such magic could come in very handy during patrols; Arthur would keep it in mind and ask Merlin about it when he was feeling more like himself.

The only time Merlin really freaked out was when they passed through a particularly dark section of the forest – the dense canopy overhead blocking out almost all light – and Gwaine, the genius, managed to ride into a low hanging branch. Gwaine yelped in pain and swore loudly as the branch struck his face. A split second later the whole area was awash with bright light from a huge glowing blue orb that had been conjured above their heads and at the same time a heavy wind blasted outwards, felling every tree within a 10 feet radius. Gwaine apologised hastily and Arthur managed to settle him, but Merlin did not let the orb of light fade until the trees thinned out again.

They encountered no bandits or vicious beasts, though, and by the time darkness fell they had reached Camelot's outer walls.

With most of its citizens asleep in their beds, the city was quiet and peaceful. So it seemed to Arthur, but as they approached the gates Merlin sent out another strange pulse of magic and then recoiled as if stung. Faster than any mortal should have been able to move, he had fled back to the relative safety of the tree-line. Arthur had barely worked out where Merlin had gone when an invisible cord of power encircled his waist and yanked him to Merlin's side. Before Arthur had a chance to recover, the warlock pushed Arthur behind himself, standing between him and the city as though he were some sort of body guard and there was something within Camelot's walls that Arthur needed to be protected from.

"Merlin, we're home," Arthur said, trying not to freak out about the magical man-handling. "We're safe here."

Merlin shook his head.

"We made it back to Camelot. Everything is going to be okay now."

Merlin shook his head more adamantly, his magic pushing Arthur further back into the trees.

Arthur tried to dig his feet into the ground. "Merlin, stop!"

Merlin turned to look at him but, far from appearing apologetic, his expression was channelling a distinct "Arthur, you are not listening to me" vibe. He practically simmered with frustration and Arthur considered that going against the wishes of a powerful warlock was perhaps not his smartest move.

"What is it?"

Merlin's magic gave him another push.

"What, you want us to leave again?"

A glimmer of relief passed over Merlin's face. He nodded.

"Why?"

Merlin didn't answer.

"Merlin, this is my city. I am the King. I can't stay away indefinitely."

A pulse of magic produced an echo of the golden dome that Merlin had conjured around them earlier.

Arthur reached out to touch the gossamer shield, feeling the hum of his servant's magic beneath his fingertips. "I understand that you are trying to protect me. If you were happy for us to travel all this way, but now you want me to stay away from Camelot, I can only guess that there is a threat within the city walls. Is that what you are trying to say?"

Merlin nodded.

"What is the nature of this threat?"

Merlin just tilted his head and looked at him with glittering gold eyes.

"Tell me, Merlin. Or sign it out or – I don't know, can you show me like you did before?"

Merlin obediently stepped towards him and raised his hands. Arthur braced himself for the weird form of communication, wincing his eyes shut, but the touch Merlin's fingers to his temples never came. Arthur gave his servant a questioning look, but Merlin just shook his head, arms dropping to his sides.

Arthur tried not to let his frustration seep into his voice. "Why not?"

No explanation was forthcoming, but Arthur thought he could read fear and a hint of mistrust on Merlin's face.

"Whatever it is, I promise I'll listen to you."

Merlin shook his head again, backing away.

Arthur blew out a hard sigh. Patience had never really been one of his virtues. "This is getting us nowhere. Merlin, I'm entering the city. If there is a threat inside Camelot, I cannot abandon my people to face it alone. You don't have to come if you don't want to, but I'd like to have you by my side."

Merlin appeared upset by his decision but he offered no further protest, reluctantly allowing the faint shield to fall so Arthur could pass through. For a few awful seconds Arthur thought Merlin wasn't coming, but then he heard the soft footfalls of his servant following after him.

"Everything okay?" Gwaine asked when they reached the gates. He held out the reigns of their horses, but Arthur figured it was best not to remount. The horses were rather attuned to Merlin and his edginess was bound to wear off on them. The last thing they needed was for the horses to bolt – heaven knows how Merlin would react.

In answer to Gwaine's question Merlin shook his head tightly, frowning.

"Merlin thinks there is something dangerous inside Camelot," Arthur explained, "but he won't say what. Keep your eyes peeled."

"Yes, sire."

Merlin was strung as tight as a bowstring as they passed under the shadow of Camelot's outer wall. Arthur wished he could do something to calm him, but even a gentle squeeze of his shoulder could send him into a panic. Arthur kept telling himself that Gaius would know what to do. They just had to get Merlin to his guardian in one piece.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

Merlin jumped in alarm and his hand was up in an instant, magic ready to be released.

"It is I, your King," Arthur told the guards hurriedly, stepping into the light of their torches. "Put down your weapons."

Sword tips lowered to the ground, the guards bowed. "Sorry, sire."

Arthur cast a wary eye to Merlin and was relieved to see that he, too, had disarmed. "Do not apologise; your vigilance is to be commended. What news of the city?"

"All is well, sire."

"No unusual disturbances?"

"No, sire."

He glanced to his servant again, curious to know his response. Merlin did not seem surprised that the city was quiet, but neither did he look reassured. Perhaps his magic could sense something the guards could not detect.

"That is good to hear. Carry on."

The guards bowed respectfully and the trio passed them by.

They made it to the castle without being challenged by anyone else, though a patrol of guards did nod to them when they crossed paths. If anything, though, Merlin was more jumpy than ever. His eyes skittered everywhere, he startled at shadows and his steps slowed to a snail pace when they entered the courtyard. Arthur tried to coax him along but Merlin wasn't making it easy.

"I'll see to the horses," Gwaine said quietly.

"Thank you." Arthur's gratitude was for more than the horses; the knight's persistence in the search for Merlin and aid on the rescue mission had been invaluable in getting Merlin home. Gwaine's slight nod showed that he understood.

The night grew quieter as the sound of the horses' hooves faded into the distance. When Arthur and Merlin reached the steps that led up to the castle, Merlin stopped moving altogether. His face was drastically pale.

"You're frightened," Arthur realised sadly. "Merlin, you must know I will let no harm come to you. I promise. This is your home; you should feel safe here."

When Merlin still didn't move Arthur was forced to wonder if Merlin had ever felt safe in Camelot. From day one the threat of execution had been hanging over his head. He had been forced to live in secrecy, risking his life every time he used the magic he was born with.

"You and your magic are welcome here," Arthur said. "I swear it."

Finally, reluctantly, Merlin began to ascend the steps. There was a pained rigidity to his movements and Arthur remembered anew that he had been suffering at Morgana's hands for over two months. After spending so long chained to a ceiling, starving, and having unimaginable horrors done to him… it was a miracle he had made it this far. Arthur figured that magic was the only thing keeping him upright and he worried that when the gold faded from his eyes it would be because the last of Merlin's strength was gone.

Arthur hovered behind his servant, ready to catch him should he fall. He almost made it to the top without incident but, just as he was about to climb the final step, a figure appeared in his path.

"Sire!" Agravaine greeted him warmly. "I was informed of your arrival-"

Merlin lurched backwards with a startled cry of "Arthur!" and nearly bowled his king over in the process. Considering how thin he had become during his incarceration he had remarkable momentum. As Arthur struggled to regain their balance he almost thought that magic might be actively trying to push them down the stairs. They skidded down three steps before Arthur could right them.

"Whoa, easy, Merlin," Arthur soothed. "It's okay, it's just Uncle. You have nothing to fear from him-"

But suddenly they were airborne, hurtling backwards off the stairs. Arthur flashed back to the day he had discovered Merlin's magic – this feeling of an invisible force blasting him through the air was the same, except this time Merlin was coming with him. He had a split second to wonder if they had come all this way only to die, and then the ground was rushing up to meet them. He braced himself-

They stopped short scant inches from the ground. Arthur wondered at the strange feeling of weightlessness, but gravity swiftly returned and the impact knocked the breath out of him. Merlin was already scrambling away, back the way they had come, and he snagged Arthur's arm to drag him along.

"Sire! Are you alright?" Agravaine called, rushing down the stairs to check on him.

Merlin pulled more urgently.

"Yes, yes, I'm- Merlin, stop. It's okay."

"You could have been killed!"

"I'm fine-"

"Is that Merlin? Did he do that?"

"Yes, he- No, don't look at me like that, he didn't mean to. It was an accident, wasn't it, Merlin? Merlin- Merlin, stop, we're fine, we can trust Agravaine-"

Merlin stopped struggling. He looked up at Arthur and there was something in his eyes, almost akin to despair.

"It's okay to make mistakes," Arthur assured him gently. "I know you're scared. It's alright, Merlin, you didn't hurt me. It's going to be alright."

Merlin closed his eyes, veiling the golden orbs. He slumped to his knees and would have fallen flat on his face if Arthur hadn't caught him. He wasn't quite unconscious, but it was clear that all the fight was gone from him.

Agravaine frowned. "His magic almost killed you, Arthur-"

"Don't start with me. Merlin has been through a terrible ordeal; I must get him to Gaius immediately."

Agravaine bowed quickly. "Of course, sire, but if I may ask… where did you find the boy? The other search parties turned up nothing. Did he escape? Or was he lying by the wayside somewhere, left for dead?"

Arthur scooped Merlin into his arms, determined to carry him this time to avoid further incident. "No, we found Morgana's hut."

Agravaine froze. "Lady Morgana? Was she there?"

"Yes. But we don't need to worry about her anymore."

"Why, what happened?"

"She's dead," Arthur said shortly, not in any mood to discuss the matter further. The grief he felt for the death of his half-sister was a raw wound he was trying to ignore. It was a mess of blood and betrayal and anger and regret and he couldn't deal with it right now. "If you'll excuse me, Uncle."

"Of course," Agravaine said stiffly. He probably didn't appreciate being snubbed, but Arthur couldn't care less at the moment.

Arthur took the stairs two at a time and made it to the physician's chambers in record time.

"Gaius!"

The old man had been lying in bed but he could have only been sleeping fitfully because when Arthur burst into the room he sat bolt upright. "Sire, what-?" His eyes fell on the bundle in Arthur arms. "Merlin!" he gasped.

"He's in a bad way, Gaius-"

The old man rushed over to his ward, staring down into his face like it was his salvation. "Alive," he croaked. "You found him. He's alive."

"Yes. He is safe now."

Tears glistened in Gaius' eyes. "I do not even know the words to thank you, sire. You did not give up on him. You brought him back to me."

Arthur looked away, unable to accept his gratitude. He should have found Merlin sooner. "Maybe not all of him, Gaius. He's – he's not okay. What she did to him…"

Gaius sobered. "You must tell me everything, sire."

Arthur laid his servant out on the infirmary bed. He tried to move back but one of Merlin's hands had fisted in his shirt. Considering that not so long ago Merlin had shied away from any sort of contact, the fact that he was trying to maintain a connection with Arthur spoke volumes. Arthur pulled over a chair to ensure he could stay close. "I'm right here, Merlin," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Merlin's eyes peeked open and he looked at Arthur from beneath his lashes. There was uncertainty there, but also hope. Arthur silently vowed not to let him down. "It's okay," he repeated softly.

"You're home, Merlin," Gaius said. His voice wavered, reminding Arthur that he was not the only one who had grieved in Merlin's absence. The past two months had been rough for the old man. Arthur feared it would not get easier any time soon.

"You remember Gaius, don't you, Merlin?" Arthur prompted. He didn't know if it was too much to hope for.

Cautiously, Merlin shifted his gaze to his guardian. He didn't shy away; that was something.

Gaius, however, drew in a sharp intake of breath. "How long have his eyes been like that?"

"Since early yesterday morning," Arthur replied grimly. It was difficult to believe Merlin was truly returned to them without being able to see the familiar spark of life and light and mischief in his blue eyes.

"What happened?"

"It's a long story."

Gaius began to carefully check over his ward. "I'm listening."

As Gaius set about cleaning and bandaging the wounds around Merlin's wrists, Arthur explained about finding the magic wards and everything that had transpired after.

"Morgana is dead, then," Gaius said.

Merlin flinched at the name and a glass vial on the workbench shattered. Arthur quickly reached out to sooth him. "She can't hurt you anymore," he assured Merlin. Unable to meet Gauis' gaze, he focused on his servant as he confirmed, "She's dead."

Gaius sighed heavily. "I am sorry, sire. For all that she was an enemy of Camelot, I know she still meant a great deal to you."

"She would have continued to hurt people, had she lived. And after what she did to Merlin… I am not sure it is any less than she deserved."

"Even so."

Gauis was validating Arthur's feelings, and it eased the twisted knot inside him a little. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"Merlin has been like this since he awoke in the crater?"

"Yes. His magic has been all over the place. The only thing he responds well to is – well, me. I think he recognises me. Sometimes."

"That is not surprising, sire. His magic knows you as his soul brother; his destiny. Even if all else is lost, that bond remains forever."

"Are you saying that the only part of Merlin that has survived is his magic?"

"I do not know. It is possible that the Merlin we know and love is merely in hiding and may be drawn out with enough care and patience. But yes, for now I believe we are dealing with the part of him that is wholly Emrys."

Arthur frowned. "Emrys? I've heard that name somewhere before."

"It is the name given to Merlin by the Druids. He is spoken of in prophecy as the one who will protect and give rise to the Once and Future King." At Arthur's raised eyebrows, he elaborated, "That is you, sire."

"There are prophecies about us?"

"Yes, sire. It is foretold that together you will unite Albion."

Arthur didn't put much stock in fortune-telling, but he seized this news as cause for hope. "Merlin will be fine, then. He has to be, if there is work yet to be done."

"Nothing is set in stone," Gaius warned. "Besides, the prophecies say also that Morgana-" Another bottle shattered and Gaius quickly corrected, "that she is the darkness to his light. They do not state who will be victorious in the end."

"She's gone."

"For all intents and purposes, so is Merlin."

That is not what Arthur wanted to hear. He wanted Merlin safe and whole and calling him a dollop-head again. "There must be something you can do to help him."

The old man sighed. "Aside from the injuries to his wrists and a severe case of malnourishment, there is nothing physically wrong with him. If I am correct in thinking that Merlin's consciousness has retreated, then this is a battle for his mind and I am afraid I do not know how to draw him out. For his magic to be manifesting in this way… he is so far gone, Arthur."

"He's still in there," Arthur said stubbornly. "He talked to me, maybe not with words, but it was him. I know he's still in there."

"I hope you are right."

"Whatever it takes, Gaius. I am going to get him back."

ooOOoo

Gwaine was normally a happy drunk. He revelled in revelry and livened up any tavern he entered. Three quarts of mead and a flagon of wine should have had him telling outrageous tales, singing off key, swaggering in a poor imitation of dancing and laughing endlessly at anything and everything.

Today he couldn't seem to find anything to laugh about.

He stared blankly into the bottom of his tankard, not caring enough that it was empty to go up to the bar for a refill.

He had visited this tavern the first time he had come to Camelot, drinking himself into trouble as always. Merlin had bailed him out. He had smoothed things over with the inn keeper, lugged Gwaine home and later helped pay for the drinks bill. In his drunken state Gwaine had told him he was the best friend he'd ever had, and it was true.

Merlin had taken care of him when he was wounded, put up with him when he was drunk, commiserated with him over the loss of their fathers, and had slowly but surely drawn out the best in him. He had made him want to be a better man. Through Merlin, Gwaine had found a home and a purpose. He owed Merlin everything he had.

How poorly he had repaid him.

What the Lamia had made him do was one thing. He would carry the guilt of hurting Merlin like that to his grave, but he had been under a powerful spell. Even so, he should have tried harder to make amends. He should have found a way to regain Merlin's trust. He should have convinced Merlin to let him accompany him to Ealdor. He should have been there to protect him.

He should have found him sooner.

Gwaine slumped at the table and blew out a world-weary sigh. There was no point in drinking any more. No amount of liquor could erase the memory of finding Merlin strung up in that hut.

"Gwaine?"

Gwaine grunted an acknowledgement, not bothering to look up. He should have known that the other knights would turn up here; this was their favourite haunt and they usually shared a few drinks after their evening patrol.

"No luck?" Leon asked sympathetically. He signalled the bartender for a round of drinks and Gwaine couldn't muster up the energy to decline.

"I'm sorry, Gwaine," Elyan said. "I know how much Merlin meant to you."

Past tense. Lately everyone had been speaking about him as though he was already dead. Two months was longer than anyone could be expected to hold out, assuming that Morgana had not just killed him on the spot, and the others had lost hope.

Gwaine had refused to give up. He knew Merlin was stronger than he looked and he knew better than to bet against him.

He had never considered the possibility that Merlin might not be okay.

"We found him," he said dully.

"What? Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"Gwaine – that's great news!" Leon clapped him on the back, grinning broadly. "How could you start celebrating without us?"

Gwaine wished that they had a reason to celebrate. Maybe if they had learned that Merlin had died a quick and painless death…

Percival's brow creased. "Gwaine? Is Merlin okay?"

Wordlessly, Gwaine shook his head. Useless tears welled up in his eyes.

"He's not – Gwaine, tell us he's not dead."

"No. Death is a mercy Morgana would not grant him." He gulped down another drink, out of reflex more than anything. It did nothing to dull the pain.

"What did she do?"

Gwaine didn't know, for sure, but torture was not a strong enough word to describe what Morgana must have done to break the strongest man Gwaine had ever known. "She ruined him. He was everything that is good and right in this world, and she took all of that away."

"But you brought him home."

Gwaine shrugged. "What little is left of him."

"You make it sound like he will never get better."

Gwaine had to be realistic. Two months of torture at the hands of a sorceress was more than any man could take. "He probably won't."

"No! Gwaine, you didn't give up on him before, don't give up on him now," Leon said fiercely.

That was easy for him to say. He hadn't seen the look in Merlin's eyes when he first awoke. He had been wild, crazed, terrified.

"Why don't we all go and see him together?" Elyan suggested. "Let him know he has the support of his friends."

Gwaine shook his head. "We lost that right. If we go in there now, his magic is liable to kill us."

"So what do we do?"

"Wait," Gwaine said. He glanced at Leon. "And hope."

ooOOoo