1. Fading Light

"Gaius, he's been gone for nearly three weeks!" Arthur shouted, bracing his fists against the head of the council table, having finally reached the end of his rope. "He's not out collecting herbs. He's not in Ealdor. Hell, he's not even in the tavern! So where, pray tell, is he?!"

Gaius exhaled a deep, bone-weary sigh. "Sire, I cannot tell you where he is, because I do not know where he is."

"You were the last person who spoke with him, Gaius. You must know something," Arthur pleaded.

Despite all of the efforts Arthur had put in to searching for his missing manservant―dispatching extra patrols, sending the knights out to search every town, forest, and mountain across all of Camelot, speaking with Hunith himself―he couldn't assuage the guilt which festered and roiled in his gut. Arthur had known there'd been something wrong with Merlin, long before his disappearance. He should've done something, said something!

But it was his inaction which had lead to this―Gwaine, Percival, Leon, and Elyan standing before him, with nothing to report; no sightings, no whispers, no clues about Merlin's whereabouts. Not a damn thing.

"Merlin didn't say a word to me before he left," Gaius reiterated.

Hot resentment bubbled in his chest, twisting through his heart like noxious poison.

But then, Gaius tucked a weathered hand into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. "All he left, was this."

Chest tightening with anticipation, Arthur reached for the note, unfolding it with near-trembling hands, eyes scouring the neat, slanted handwriting.

Gaius, Aithusa is in trouble. I don't know how or why, but I've got to save her. I'll return as soon as I can, I promise.

A whirlwind of emotions rippled through him―confusion, worry, fear, relief.

Confusion, because, who was Aithusa?

Worry and fear, because what the devil was Merlin thinking, conducting a rescue mission on his own?! Was that bumbling idiot trying to get himself killed?!

Relief, because Merlin had every intention of returning. Every single council member who'd been displeased with Arthur's "waste of resources" over a "mere servant" had deliberately made it a point to ask: What if Merlin had left, because he wanted to leave; because he no longer wished to reside in Camelot?

Arthur had known in his heart that that couldn't be the case. Merlin, for seven long years, had proven himself unfailingly loyal. He wouldn't just walk away from Arthur without so much as a goodbye.

And this certainly wasn't the first time Arthur had scoured the whole of Camelot for him. It likely wouldn't be the last.

"Well?! What does it say?" Gwaine demanded, when the awaiting silence dragged on into something tense and unbearable.

Without a word, Arthur handed over the note.

"Who the hell―"

"Sire!"

The doors to the council chambers had been dramatically flung open, as one of the guardsmen rushed in, nearly out of breath.

"Sire, it's Merlin! He was spotted approaching the northern gates and is now being escorted into the citadel."

Arthur didn't waste a second.

With the knights and Gaius at his back, Arthur swept out of the council chambers and through the winding corridors, until they reached the castle steps leading down to the main square.

Guinevere, who already stood at the base of the steps, turned and met his gaze with hopeful eyes.

Once he reached her side, she said in a whisper, "He's come back." It was as though she were afraid that saying the words any louder would disprove them to be true.

"He has," Arthur assured her, squeezing her hand, gaze sweeping across the courtyard as they awaited his arrival. "And I'm going to kill him."

Now that he knew that Merlin was here, knew that he was safe, a tidal wave of righteous anger swept through him. Because this was unacceptable. Merlin didn't get to disappear as he pleased, didn't get to put himself in harm's way when he could hardly pick up a sword. Not when Arthur had already lost so many people. If he were to lose Merlin as well…it was unthinkable.

"Arthur―"

Guinevere's exasperated voice cut short with a gasp, her grip tightening like a vice around his hand.

Merlin was riding on horseback at a steady walk, a bundle of blankets cradled in his arms, as he was escorted by a contingent of guardsmen. They were just now crossing the threshold of the drawbridge, into the main square.

Even from a distance, Merlin's haggard appearance was distinct. His hair stuck out on one side, leaves caught in the mess and dirt smudged clear across his cheeks. His eyes were rimmed a painful red and his shoulders folded in, like the world was too heavy around him.

The brief, scorch of anger which had consumed Arthur so wholly, was quickly doused in a shower of cold uncertainty.

Unable to keep still, Arthur released Guinevere's hand and marched across the cobblestone, vaguely aware of her and the knights at his heels. He waved the guardsmen aside once he reached Merlin.

"Arthur," Merlin greeted him grimly, swinging a leg over the saddle and carefully dropping down to his feet.

Arthur meant to reach out to him, check him for injuries, but halted in his tracks when, for the first time, he noticed that it was a small girl that was cradled in Merlin's arms.

"Merlin, who is this?"

Merlin's grip around the child tightened, as though he feared she'd be taken from him. "She's mine," he said hoarsely. "Her name is Aithusa."

A/N: Here's another plot bunny I've been wanting to write. It's set post-season four!

Let me know if you liked it, or if you'd like to read more! :3