Set after the story: "A fraction of the truth."

For obvious reasons, Arthur could not remember his mother's death, but her absence left a mark on his entire life."

Elanor Wright

"The Shadow of the Great King"

Whisper

I knew one thing, he had returned once again. The whole town buzzed with rumors that I didn't want to believe until I saw him with my own eyes. He looked even more unlike himself than before. His movements seemed unnatural, stiff, devoid of his former grace. His gaze was empty, emanating something ominous. He was dead. Damn it, simply dead, and dead people shouldn't stand in the courtyard of my castle baring their teeth at the living. He smiled at me, holding the horse that Guinevere rode. A hideous, terrifying smile on his still handsome face. I placed my hand on the hilt of my sword but quickly withdrew it when Gwen turned her face toward me. Her lips formed two words: "Forgive me." I had never seen her so radiant, so happy. Not even on our wedding day. In the blink of an eye, my world shattered into pieces like a clay pitcher dropped into water. Lancelot came for her through the veil of death because he loves her. He is far more deserving of her than I am, and I can't blame her for not being able to control her feelings anymore. I was never her first choice. If he had never left, I wouldn't have stood a chance against him, no matter who I am. And I still don't stand a chance against him. How can one compete with someone who has returned from beyond the grave?

Unexpectedly, Merlin came running with a bag slung over his shoulder. He stopped in front of me, partially blocking my view.

"Arthur," he gasped. He was smiling, his eyes gleaming with boyish joy. "It has been an honor to serve you, but... it makes no sense for me to stay here any longer. I will ride with them. They are my friends, and I cannot lose them. George will take care of you. Finally, you'll have a competent servant."

He laughed. The fragments of the shattered world spun around me like a swarm of wasps, painfully piercing my entire body. I stood paralyzed, unable to even blink. Gwen urged Merlin on. Lancelot was smiling.

"Well then, goodbye," said Merlin. He smoothed his neckerhief, today a shade of blue, turned around, and quickly moved in their direction. Just like that, "Goodbye." Not even a simple question about a hug. If he had just reached out his hand, I could have done something. I would have knocked him out, run after Gwen, and then taken them both to some safe place where no cursed creature could find them. If he had reached out his hand, I would have had the right to fight for them. Confronting the dead is doomed to failure from the start, but I would have tried. However, Merlin left. "It makes no sense for me to stay here any longer."

My head spun. In the next moment, I fell backward, hitting the hard cobblestones. Lancelot's voice seemed to come with the wind. His whisper pierced me more in my bones than in my ears.

"You don't deserve them, Arthur Pendragon. You should have expected them to leave. And you won't see them again."

I felt an immense weight on my chest, pressing me into the ground, into the earth beneath. I fell lower and faster. Darkness engulfed me. The rotten earth filled my eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. Only the echo of Lancelot's whisper continued to vibrate. "You don't deserve, you don't deserve, you don't deserve".

I opened my eyes. The chamber was dark and completely silent. The only sound was the gentle breath of the sleeping Guinevere beside me. I cautiously touched her soft, scattered hair on the pillow. If my hand trembled and a few tears rolled down my face, at least no one saw it. I couldn't get used to this nightmare, even though it recurred regularly. Truth be told, it was getting worse each time.

"Leave my hair alone, Elyan," muttered Gwen. "Don't even try."

I kissed her cheek. The tightness in my chest eased slightly, but it didn't dissipate completely.

"Yes, father. He's been walking around with scissors all morning, wanting to cut off my braid."

"It's me," I whispered. "I'm not going to cut your hair." She took a deep breath and moved closer.

I didn't fall asleep for the rest of the night. I held Gwen tightly, but couldn't regain complete peace of mind. I kept telling myself that she wouldn't leave. She's my wife, bound to me by the words of our vows. But Merlin... Merlin could say "Well then, goodbye" at any moment or simply walk off to the tavern without saying a word and never return.

I caught myself waiting for him with increasing impatience and growing anxiety. Gwen got up. Eventually, I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed, and still no sign of Merlin.

"I'll kill him," I said for the fifth time. Gwen snatched the shirt I had just taken out of the wardrobe, threw it over my head, and with the strength of a blacksmith's daughter, pulled my arms through the sleeves.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, a bit surprised. "What was that for!?"

"You act like you can't dress yourself, so I helped," She said with the expression on the face of an irritated cat, which with a last effort of will refrains from pawing the unbearable kid tugging it by the tail. "I know very well what you would start doing. I love you, but sometimes it's really hard to put up with you. You have two capable hands and even a brain, which should enable most people to get out of bed and get dressed."

"That's not the point. Merlin is my servant, and it's his duty to come on time," I retorted, annoyed. Gwen didn't understand that. She had no reason to fear that those she loved might not feel the same. Anxiety didn't eat away at her insides like a crow when someone dear vanished from her sight, because the presence of a kind, sincere, and honest person wasn't such a difficult thing for her to achieve. No one had been telling her from a young age that marriage was a political arrangement, that friendship was synonymous with an alliance, and that nice people simply wanted something. And you had to find out what as soon as possible because it might turn out to be more than just a position, privileges, money, or land. It might be your head impaled on a spike and, of course, your throne under their asses.

"Maybe he went to collect herbs for Gaius," suggested Gwen.

"The third time this week? I doubt it."

"Could be. Maybe there was some emergency."

We exchanged glances. Gwen played with a hairbrush in her hands for a moment. I realized I was mimicking her, twirling the royal signet on my finger. She apparently noticed too because she snorted lightly and set the brush aside.

"One thing is certain," I said. "He's not going to the tavern. I asked Gwaine about it, and nobody sees him there. I made sure of it."

Gwen sighed heavily.

"Are you planning to follow him?"

"No. Neglecting duties is not a reason to follow someone," I replied. I was surprised by the bitterness I heard in my own voice. "Gwen, he just doesn't trust me. So much that he persuaded Gaius to lie to me. It's… sad, after all these years, but he has the right to do so."

The next words sounded even more bitter, so I decided not to say anything more. A quiet voice in my head whispered with a passion worthy of a better cause, that Lancelot knew everything. He knew what lay behind the words "he's at the tavern", he knew why Merlin sometimes looked so depressed, as if some tragedy had happened, he knew the secret of those deep eyes, with an expression too wise for his age, he understood perfectly what I couldn't figure out.

"I don't think he doesn't trust you. He probably has such a character. People from Essetir are usually like an open book, but written in a complicated language."

"Maybe," I muttered. During the months spent at Hunith's, Gwen had got to know the mentality of the people of Essetir quite well, but I couldn't believe her assurance. She didn't believe it herself. It was betrayed by a brief, but clear flash of sadness in her eyes. Merlin was a book written in code.

"He'll tell you someday." She stood behind me and wrapped her arms around me. I melted into the hug, trying to dispel the anxiety. "Well, then goodbye". "You didn't deserve them".

"Maybe," I repeated. Unless he dies first - I added in my thoughts. It was very easy to die suddenly, when you had a tendency to stick your fingers between doors that you shouldn't even approach without a squad of well-trained knights. The idea of trying to follow Merlin had been haunting me for a long time, but I promised myself that I would only resort to it in an emergency, that for now I would continue the game that he and Gaius wanted to play for some reason. Even if it was painful as hell.

An hour later I stood in the door of the physician's chambers. Merlin was still not there. I let Gaius say the familiar lie. I was ready to swear that something about this situation amused him. He had such a face, as if bored at a council meeting, he remembered all the jokes he knew and tried to keep a straight face.

"Tell that lazy fool that if he's not fit for work during the evening feast, I'll fire him."

I hoped that this threat would prompt Gaius to reveal anything, but the physician was adamant. And apparently really amused.

"Yes, my lord, I'll repeat that to him."

I stifled a sigh and left. Fine, have it your way.

The day was sunny, but a strong wind was blowing, whose whistles and moans, strangely distorted by the acoustics of the castle corridors, reminded me of the conversations of ghosts. I was used to it and wouldn't have paid any attention to it, if a sudden gust hadn't moved across my neck and brought Lancelot's voice from nowhere. "You don't deserve trust," he said. I heard him clearly, as if he was standing right next to me. "I knew, I knew, I knew." It took me a good while to realise that it was just a draught and an imagination awakened by a nightmarish dream. I laughed inwardly at my own stupidity. It was probably because of Merlin, who once insisted that he heard in this howling a melody and words of a popular folk song from Essetir, about the beautiful Lily, who killed her husband with a rake and buried him under a big beech tree, and then the murdered husband rose from the grave in some suspicious, probably related to magic circumstances, sneaked into her house at night and strangled her.

I stopped and leaned back against the wall, staring at the spots of sunlight on the floor. I tried to get rid of the image of Lancelot kissing Gwen and bring up some good memory of him. I couldn't do it, even though I knew that the real Lancelot had passed through the veil and never returned to Camelot. A creature returned, a shadow that wasn't him, that made the name of a noble man almost a curse for me, a word that shouldn't be spoken aloud.

When he appeared, I didn't intend to question anything. The laws governing all this were too vague to say that his return was impossible. I was glad that he was by my side again. I felt relieved, because he shouldn't have died there. And he infected us all with decay, clouded our sight and thoughts. Whatever used his body was exceptionally nasty. I realised that only holding Gwen in my arms after we regained Camelot from Morgana's hands. The fog obscuring my mind lifted, as if some spell had been broken and what I should have seen right away emerged. Could Gwen be blamed at all? It was me who didn't notice the danger in time, who didn't ask the questions that needed to be asked. Merlin, as usual, seemed to sense something, but he didn't mention it. He only gently suggested that not everything was lost yet, that whatever it was, we would overcome it. Merlin… An open book, written in code. I could read it and understand nothing, though the words seemed familiar. Lancelot understood. Lancelot understood everything and everyone better. Lancelot… The man I should have become to be worthy of Guinevere, the crown, to be worthy of trust.

The wind howled again and Merlin's macabre song came back to me. It had to be magic. Someone brought him back on purpose, because no one can rise from the grave by themselves.

"Don't you have any royal duties that you're standing idly by the wall with a stupid expression on your face?"

The relief I felt at his sight was almost painful.

"How dare you, you complete idiot!" I shouted. More insults poured out thickly like porridge from a holey sack. Merlin looked at me with an expression that was probably sadness. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake out of him the truth about where he had been and why he had a nasty scratch on his face that wasn't there yesterday. The truth that Lancelot would surely have known. "You're not worthy," whispered the wind. In my thoughts I told it to shut up. I composed myself and walked down the corridor, growling at Merlin that I wanted to see him soon. The relief was as sudden as the previous anxiety and I would have liked to go to the training grounds or hunting, but I had too much work to do.

A few minutes later, in the audience hall, Gwen sat next to me and squeezed my hand.

"The lost one has been found," she said with a smile when she saw Merlin entering. I just nodded. I didn't want her to understand me in this matter. I have to face this demon alone.