As the morning light shone on her, the princess was wearing a headdress of sparkling stones that clinked and glinted in the sun. The procession included all five council members, five knights, and the assassin, the one that had perched on the Dragon Run's arches, waiting for Merlin to make a wrong move. He trailed absently behind them. Merlin fed Aithusa with cheers from the guards and knights. Afterward, Rual presented Merlin with an old horse; one he claimed was 'trustworthy,' enough.

Meilyr pulled alongside him. "Exciting, isn't it?"

"Yeah," said Merlin.

Meilyr looked around anxiously.

Merlin noticed. "That's all right. I have you here to keep me focused. Can't wander."

"That's the spirit." Meilyr patted Merlin's shoulder hard enough for him to swing forward.

Merlin frowned as they went through a magic veil that looked like hovering broken glass. It felt like moving underwater for a second or sticky resistance in the air had pushed him back. Cold air became warm. Merlin looked around. The light had turned a warm yellow. Hundreds of bright apples hung in a windless orchard.

Merlin followed closely as his horse moved along with the group.

They stopped, and the remaining consul – members of the magisterial royal council got off their mules.

Merlin bowed his head and stayed between the knights. They helped the princess from her perch, and she walked lonesomely into an opening between two apple trees. Merlin saw the first grave.

She put her hand on it, then followed a grooved path where few things grew. As she moved on, the caravan followed at a long distance. This went on for ages.

Merlin slipped away as she came to a bow, and the steward began reading ceremonial rites. This until she completed a circle with dozens of graves of magnificence. Old kings of many places, some still dressed in plated gold. Merlin finally saw the red cape in a grave untouched by the path.

He rushed silently between two trees and slowed at his pace.

The image of Arthur, just as Merlin remembered, appeared out of the thin mist.

Arthur was as beautiful and motionless as he'd been when Merlin left him in the water.

Merlin trembled, looking for any sign of decay, but there were none.

Merlin reached to put his hand on Arthur's forehead but drew back. Could he disturb the magic saving Arthur from nature?

A distant scream. A fog had risen over the caravan, and Rual moved through the haze with his sword drawn.

Merlin rushed at it, seeing the princess in a gap and realizing the knight had turned on her with a dazed look. She had no chance of seeing him come at her.

Merlin couldn't help the fog without notice, but pulled Meilyr's sword and hit Rual with the hilt. Then he took the princess by the hand, blinded by a blow to the side and a face of salty smoke, and ran. He lost her quickly.

Merlin heard dozens of memories of Arthur all at once. He heard memories of Arthur disappointed, every cruel statement or admonishment, every time he'd done something wrong. Merlin stumbled away from the smoke, shouting, then plunged into the dark water.

He struggled hard, unable to push himself upward. The warm daylight of Avalon turned into an empty night. Merlin reached. Water rushed into his nose and burned. He swallowed, and it closed the back of his throat. No one had seen him. The surface of the water had made no noise. Merlin knew he would drown silently.

Something touched around his shoulders and pulled hard. The surface broke. The air was so frigid it was almost painful to take a breath.

"C'mon there," he heard a voice.

Merlin croaked to clear the water and clung wildly to the rim of a shallow boat.

"Agh!" Merlin sobbed. The princess was there. She still breathed. He hoisted in, leaned over the side, and emptied his swallowed water.

"Alright?" His voice had a deep timbre, unmistakably that of a man.

Merlin shook his head. "No," he croaked. More water came out in a forceful heave. The stranger patted Merlin's back.

"It's night," observed Merlin.

He dressed in a fine cloak, some silken, heavy material with a shine. Merlin trembled as the man waved a finger, and the boat pulled forward.

Merlin drew himself cautiously closer to the princess. They were on a river; the air crisp with snowflakes that filled a dark pine forest. Magnificent black trees towered dramatically on both sides.

If the princess was being kidnapped, Merlin knew there was nothing he could do about it.

He resigned to play along and stay alive.

"Put it down," said the man. He turned his face. "There's no use."

Merlin recoiled and dropped his hand from his dagger'd side.

The boat came to a gentle stop, bobbing up and down on the water. The tall man reached close to Merlin and scooped his arm under the princess's head. He carried her off the ship and over the fresh snow.

Merlin followed, carefully avoiding a slip on the frozen shore. There was no torch, only stars and the man's outline. The sky absorbed him.

Merlin cradled his numbing arms.

A bright yellow light erupted, and a door opened. Behind it was a large fire, a kind-looking woman, and colorful, jewel-tone tapestries.

"Alright then," bowed the man. He handed the unconscious Gwendolen over to the woman at the door. He addressed Merlin now.

"You don't know much about this place, and if I can help it, I'll keep it that way. No consul of Avalon Gate can know of this place, magic or no magic, so I need to buy some assurance."

"I won't do anything," said Merlin. He didn't like it.

"That is to be seen. Brychan. I want you to know my name."

"That sounds very important," said Merlin quietly. "Why are you taking the princess?"

Brychan exchanged an eyebrow-raised look with the woman behind him. The woman in the doorway shrugged and raised her eyebrows. He turned back to Merlin. "She's my daughter; no harm will come to her."
"And me?"

"You'll live if you want."

"If I want?" repeated Merlin.

Brychan heaved a sigh. "Cross the threshold to the house, and you'll live, but you'll be privy to the household."

"Or stay in the snow if you like," said Brychan.

Merlin looked back.

The door held open for him. He stumbled stiffly forward.

The woman threw a blanket around him and ushered him up the stairs.

They brought him to a deep tub already filled with water. It was the largest he'd ever seen, deep enough to submerge him and under an opening to the sky. Snowflakes melted some five feet above the water in the steam, but the room was warm.

"Is the princess all right?" said Merlin idly, noting the room could only be heated with magic.

Sheil – the woman with a hard-lined nose who looked similarly doe-eyed to the Avalon princess, shrugged. "If she isn't, you're her only hope," she said impishly. "Don't try to escape; the night will kill you." She pumped her eyebrows and smoothly strode from the room.

She spoke from the doorway. "Wash first, then take these and come down to eat. We'll talk then."

Merlin stood beside a chair with a folded pile of clothes. They were gray and soft. The underlayer was linen. Merlin looked around, unfastened his wet boots, and pushed himself into the pool. The steam rose in his face, and the water collected in his clothes. He closed his eyes and balanced on one foot, keeping the water level at his throat. It stung, but pleasantly. He'd even kept his socks on, too frightened of intrusion to undress yet. His neckerchief was red today. I made this one of one of Arthur's old shirts, a pattern of dressing he'd kept since before he could write. Merlin felt that was about to change. Gwendolen had been kind; she'd left him alone. But his colors were under threat now that he was in this new place.

The image of Arthur's sleeping form dulled in Merlin's mind. He was safe. Arthur was safe. Merlin pulled the cloth away. It sank slowly, settling at his feet. Then he removed his socks, then his shirt. He submerged until the sting of the heat vanished, and he pulled himself comfortably to the edge.

Merlin panned attention around at the thick, flowy silver curtains, and tapestries with flower-spotted fields and unicorns.

The light didn't fill the room, but it glowed bright enough to see through the water from glass lanterns. He closed his eyes and let the hot water dull his pain. He soaked in the bath and felt the warmth as if the water could wash away the memories of what had been before.

Merlin dressed in the odd clothes and snuck back to the balcony enough to hear the man and woman below.

"So, the knight was a shade then?" said Brychan.

"I wonder if she even knew?" She sounded so much like Gwendolen, Merlin thought it was her.

"I didn't tell her the boy died. I thought she guessed. It never occurred to me anyone knew enough to fake his survival."

Brychan frowned. "Cathegenia would have lived to the assemblage if Gwendolen hadn't killed her that day. She would have become queen," said Sheil.

"And that is a world I'm glad we're not part of. But I am sorry the boy died."

"Are we taking her back, then?"

"Two weeks. I wouldn't want anyone to get any ideas," said Brychan. "She has a dragon in Avalon Gate."

"Are you worried about someone stealing it? Dragons are cunning; it should be safe," said Sheil.

Brychan grunted. "Not this one. I heard it's near mad. It can't even speak."

Merlin leaned out of sight when Gwendolen reentered. She rubbed an eye with her palm and sat beside a circular table, low to the floor.

"Come down from there," Brychan waved.

Merlin blinked. He stood rigidly. Gwendolen caught sight of him and scowled at Brychan.

Merlin looked down timidly at his clothes and made his way to the table.

Wen pulled Merlin to sit by her. "Are you okay?" she whispered.

"Yeah," Merlin lied.

They gave him broth and mead. He drank deeply, closely supervised by Gwendolen, who squeezed his shoulder until he felt calmer. He widened his eyes. They'd burdened themselves with bringing fruit, jam, and white bread.

Merlin moved into a spare room upstairs. He spent the night remembering Arthur's face, afraid he'd forgotten it.

Merlin woke to the family starting the earliest parts of the morning. He looked out a glass paned window and followed the princess into their pasture. She used magic to thaw the frozen ground and laid fistfuls of grain feed for their chickens. Merlin took the bucket only for her to preoccupy herself elsewhere and loudly kicked over a trough of grain into their pig-pen.

"Wen-dy," Merlin complained. Shut up Merlin. I should need to play helpless in my home."

Merlin scoffed and covered his eyes. "The castle is your home."

There was still leaning over when she looked up. "And I'm remarkably un-free there, aren't I?"

"Where are the jewels from your hair yesterday?"

"Who cares?"

"What happened?" Merlin swallowed and swished his hand to get more words out. "When I was gone?"

"Rual was a shade," probably sent by another kingdom. I couldn't even swear in before an attack. Now, everyone will assume I've disgraced myself by harming the sacred grove."

"But that's not your fault," said Merlin.

"Yes, it is. Chaos is a given. I must be well prepared enough to prevent it."

"Sounds … familiar," said Merlin, turning away slowly.

"You were in love with him," she said.

Merlin turned his head.

"You're in love with your fallen dread king," she clarified.