A/N: Not as happy with this chapter, but I'm sick of reading it over again and again. Thanks for reading!

CHAPTER 8

If he hadn't been so evidently miserable, Arthur might have laughed when Merlin told him where to find the face-changing crystals. Old habits die hard, the King thought wryly to himself as he pried up a loose floorboard in Merlin's new chambers to reveal the assortment of magical items beneath. Then he spied the smudges of Merlin's blood near the wardrobe and his good humour dissipated instantly.

That strange not-sickness, Merlin's so-called 'funny feeling', had returned in full force the moment he left his friend's side. It was a nebulous sensation of urgency and dread that threatened to drown him if he stopped to consider it for too long, and made him remember a conversation from several weeks before.

"It's natural to want to live up to the example your father set at the last peace talks."

Arthur was used to Merlin's uncanny bouts of wisdom, but this still threw him. "I never even mentioned my father!"

"You didn't have to." A knowing twinkle in his eye suggested that what Merlin said next held some double meaning that Arthur was not privy to. "We're two halves of the same coin."

Two halves of the same coin. He had laughed the phrase off at the time, but now... was the reason he felt so terrible because of Merlin's current turmoil?

He pocketed one of the face-changing crystals and left Merlin's chambers, his shuttered demeanour and determined pace deterring any serving staff and knights who might want to approach him. He did have one diversion to make, however; the Council Chamber, where the three other Kings awaited him.

He greeted them brusquely. "I take it Olaf has already told you what happened?"

Alined crossed his arms with an unkingly pout. "Rubbish! I refuse to believe Lady Morgana to be an enemy. Besides which, Olaf says it was your own sorcerer who made the castle shake and tear itself apart."

"And he too who repaired it only a few moments later once the witch was gone," Olaf growled angrily. "Do not twist my words Alined. I have told you exactly what happened."

"And Olaf is an honest man, unlike you," Arthur snapped before he could stop himself. "You who got your own sorcerer, your Trickler, to enchant both Olaf's daughter and I with a love spell to bring our kingdoms to war."

"Pure fantasy!" But Alined looked uneasy. "It was the serving boy who-"

"Saved me from the enchantment, which he knew could be reversed only by a true love's kiss." Arthur nodded to Olaf. "Your daughter was not so fortunate and I am sorry for that. But Merlin was not responsible for anything other than preventing a war."

"Clearly my anger has been misdirected." Olaf cast Alined a dark glance. "I apologise sincerely, King Arthur."

"How is Lord Merlin?" Bayard piped in. "To have performed such impressive feats, all with his magic shackled..."

"It's not possible," Alined mumbled, skittish now that his secret had been revealed. "We have chains like that in Deorham. No sorcerer's magic could escape them."

Arthur went very still. "You have such chains in Deorham?"

Alined turned a fascinating shade of off-white. "Well th- that is to say... a few relics, perhaps..."

"King Alined, if I discover you have conspired with my sister-!" Arthur began angrily, but broke off when something very peculiar caught his eye.

A golden mist was seeping up into the room through the cracks of the stone floor. Alined, Bayard and Olaf turned their heads to follow Arthur's gaze, and the gathered kings looked on as gold solidified into green. Soon the bricks beneath their feet were mossy, and the rest of the room overrun with green vines and vibrant blue wildflowers.

"What was that?" Olaf was awestruck. "It was..."

"Beautiful," Bayard offered, with a beatific smile. "But why-?"

Silence. Complete and utter silence, for the three kings had just frozen in place, Bayard's mouth still open mid-sentence. Arthur, realising what this must mean, ran from the room. The corridors were carpeted with the same foliage as the Council Chamber, and the servants and guards that Arthur darted between all wore similar expressions of paralysed shock and wonderment.

In the Courtyard, overrun with magical fauna like the rest of the castle, Gaius and Guinevere were frozen near the entrance steps. On the opposite side, Aithusa's wings were open and back legs bent in preparation for flight, while Kilgharrah's front left claws extended before him as if trying to reach something.

Arthur noticed all this in his periphery only, for his attention had been immediately drawn to the only other moving figure in the square - Merlin. He was on all fours in the centre of the courtyard and his back rose and fell with deep, quaking breaths. Arthur dropped to his knees in front of his friend.

"Merlin. Merlin, I'm here. Merlin, look at me!" Merlin did as instructed and this time Arthur was prepared for his burning golden eyes. Where before one nostril had bled, now both leaked sluggish streams down the sorcerer's chalk-white face. "Stop now. Merlin, stop." Arthur took his face in both hands, leaning forward so their foreheads touched. "Stop."

One second. Two. And then the gold faded. Merlin slumped bonelessly against Arthur's chest and the King held him there, reassured by the heartbeat thumping against his.

"Two sides of the same coin," he breathed, and time resumed.

"Arthur!" It was Gwen who reached him first, Gaius close behind. "How did you get here? And Merlin... one moment he was by the dragon and then- then... what happened?"

"Morgana," Arthur said grimly. "She betrayed us, put these cuffs on him to hold his magic. Here, help me get him up."

Together the King and maidservant hauled Merlin upright, Gaius hovering anxiously nearby.

"Ss..sorry," Merlin slurred in a whisper as Gwen and Arthur took an arm each. "Could...couldn' stop it... Sorry..."

"Shut up," Arthur said in the way only he could, blunt but undeniably affectionate. "Just keep your feet moving."

They shuffled onward in a strange parody of a three-legged race to the dragons, both of whom looked uneasily at their Dragonlord. They were aware of the powerful magic that had just taken place, even if they had been frozen in time for the most of it.

"We must leave soon," Kilgharrah told Arthur gravely, as Merlin collapsed shakily against Aithusa. "I fear he would not survive another of those outbursts."

"Leave?" Gaius echoed. "But Sire... isn't it a risk to Camelot if you go?"

In the chaos and rush of the past few minutes, Arthur had almost forgotten his and Merlin's plan. He produced the crystal necklace from his pocket.

"Guinevere." He held it toward her. "There is no one I would trust my Kingdom with but you. Will you take my place?"

"M- me?" Gwen stammered, in a manner endearingly reminiscent of when she had first started work as Morgana's maidservant. "I don't know what it takes to run a kingdom!"

"It won't be for long." Arthur unsheathed his knife, using it to prick his finger. "We'll be back mid-morning tomorrow. And Gaius will be there to advise you - won't you Gaius?"

"I'll do whatever it takes to ensure that Merlin is safe."

The crystal glimmered with unearthly magic as Arthur smeared his blood across it, but the physician's eyes were on his ward, propped against Aithusa like a puppet with its strings cut. He was still conscious, but barely.

"All you must do is assure everyone the danger has passed, tell them Merlin is recovering in private, and say that you will oversee any uh-" Arthur's flickered swiftly around the overgrown courtyard. "Any of the deweeding tomorrow, once everyone has had some rest."

"They're not weeds," Merlin's mulish comment was muffled against Aithusa's scales. "They're flowers."

"You're such a girl's petticoat..."

Gwen smiled weakly at the familiar teasing. "You're certain you don't want someone else? One of the knights?"

"Guinevere." Arthur grasped her shoulder. "I wouldn't ask if it weren't of the utmost necessity. You are more than capable of this."

"Aithusa will remain here too," Kilgharrah added, the white dragon mewling at mention of her name. "She will keep watch and alert you if she spots the witch."

Gwen took a deep breath. "Alright. If it will help Merlin, of course I'll do it."

Arthur squeezed her shoulder affectionately and handed her the crystal, before assisting Merlin up to sit on Kilgharrah's back.

"Don't worry, I'll look after him," he told Gaius, who didn't look particularly reassured. "We'll be back before you know it."

He took his place behind Merlin, trying to look more confident than he felt. Any illusion of bravery was completely undermined, however, as Kilgharrah sprung from his haunches into the sky and Arthur was forced to grapple blindly around his Court Sorcerer's waist so as not to fall straight off. Where his arms wrapped round Merlin's midriff, he could feel the vibration of weak chuckles.

"Shut up, Merlin."

But Arthur couldn't deny that the feeling of Merlin's chest reverberating with laughter was a comforting one. There were some things it was worth looking a little foolish for.

His magic was restless, hissing and spitting at his wrists. It pounded through his veins, screaming out to be used, desperate to be free.

Young warlock, it is time to awake.

He opened his eyes, but everything was blurred and his magic was still screaming.

"Merlin?" Arthur's worried countenance swam into view. "Are you with me?"

"What happened?" The words dropped thick and heavy from his lips. "Where..."

Arthur pulled him up, and Merlin's magic quietened at the King's touch. "Only you could fall asleep on the back of a dragon."

With Arthur's hand now anchored on his shoulder, tense to catch the warlock should he fall, Merlin's sight sharpened. He could see the first faint rays of sunrise, Kilgharrah's enormous shadow circling above and, in the middle of the clearing where they were stood-

"The sword!"

"Always excellent at stating the obvious," Arthur drawled, but there was an edge to his teasing. "Yes it's the sword - and the stone, which you entirely neglected to mention."

Merlin's magic hummed, restless again, calling to the enchantment he had set upon Excalibur. He stumbled forward, vision tunneled to the gold hilt, and Arthur followed close behind.

"Merlin, what are you doing? That sword is stuck fast in solid stone!"

"And you're going to pull it out."

"Merlin, it's impossible."

By now Merlin had reached the stone and any energy his magic had lent him was gone; he dropped to the floor. It was up to the King now.

Arthur had had enough Merlin-related shocks to last him a lifetime. If having him pass out on the back of an airbourne dragon hadn't been enough, watching him collapse to his knees in front of an enchanted stone definitely was.

"Merlin!"

He lunged forward and caught the warlock before he struck the ground. The cuffs around his wrists were glowing fiercer than ever and Arthur recognised the signs of what was coming. He lowered his friend to the forest floor, relieved to see Merlin was at least conscious.

"How do I get the sword out?"

"I enchanted it for the true king of Camelot." The warlock's voice was disturbingly apathetic, eyes glassy and unseeing even as they filled with gold. His nose started to bleed again. "The Once and Future King."

Merlin had called him that before, told him of the prophecies. Emrys and the Once and Future King. Arthur hadn't had much time to think on it, on what it meant. Was he truly the Once and Future King of legend?

Merlin groaned, clutching at his head, and Arthur's gut twisted in response. He stood and took the hilt of the sword with both hands.

"You better be right about this."

Tentatively, he tugged. The sword didn't move. Merlin was now prone on the floor, hands digging like claws into the earth beneath them.

So Arthur pulled harder, pulled so hard he shook with the effort - and still nothing happened.

"You're destined to be Albion's greatest king." Merlin's voice was weak, but his words rang with authority. Slowly, painstakingly, he pushed himself up onto trembling legs so he could look at Arthur with eyes flaming gold. "Nothing, not even this stone, can stand in your way."

You're wrong, Arthur wanted to reply. I am not enough. I am not the man you think I am.

He knew he couldn't though - couldn't let Merlin down, not after all the warlock had sacrificed for him, not when he was using the last vestiges of energy to cheer the King on just like he always did. So he pulled at the sword again, sweat beading on his forehead - and still it didn't move.

"Have faith," Merlin said and Arthur didn't know whether to swear or laugh, because of course his bloody-idiot-clotpole-manservant-sorcerer-friend and other side to the same coin knew exactly what he had been thinking and exactly what to say to fix it.

So he smiled - thank you - and gripped the hilt again. He thought of Merlin and Guinevere and Camelot. And this time when he pulled, it was like the stone wasn't there at all. Excalibur slid free with ease and, wasting no time, Arthur used two fluid motions to strike both magic-restraining cuffs from Merlin's wrists.