The days that followed were some of the hardest of Merlin's long and ridiculous life, but he grinned and bore it for his friend whose eyes had become like deep wells of cold water in their sorrow.
Arthur retreated in a shell as the days grew darker in Storybrooke. Everyone noticed the subtle change, but no one dared to ask what could have happened. Until one day, when Igraine's concern had grown to roiling over.
"Have you noticed that my son...is...darker now? Like, darker than when I met him, I mean. Do you suppose...do you suppose that time away from the grave is making him...long for it?" she asked Merlin one afternoon a high tea, when they were waiting for the scouts to return.
It was a thought that had not occurred to the sorcerer. Merlin swallowed hard and sat the tea kettle down on the small table the Hatter and his daughter had set up. Everyone in town had joined the scouting party for Nimueh, and the longer she was quiet the deeper the fear grew.
"Well, it would make sense. He was, after all, dead far longer than he was alive. But do you long for the grave, Lady? Do you remember it fondly? You and he are quite alike, and both were dead far longer than you walked the earth." The words fell cold from Merlin's lips as he realized how grim they were, as his mind was wrapped in the hollow of Arthur's heart now beating in his chest. He knew the answer, but he felt it should be secret to the air that he had taken Arthur's heart into his own chest, lest Nimueh had made spies of birds and people in this forest. Even the trees could listening under the Priestess' evil power.
"Well, no. Rather, I don't ever think about it. But when I do, it feels more like a dream...and...well, I never considered how I was dead longer than I was ever alive. For me, no time truly passed. It was forever, and in the Void of forever, there is no time really. Rather, it feels like there is too much of it flowing ever where and all at once, and never ceasing. It is as if you stand in the center of the stars and they pass around you in a mad carousel of thousands of wild horses, racing but never reaching anywhere..."Igraine sipped her tea, lost in thought. Merlin stared at her in wonder.
Twigs snapped, and branches passed. Arthur came crashing through the trees, pure terror lighting up his expressions. Merlin felt his blood go cold. He had seen Arthur purely terrified many times in his life, and was one of the few who had ever come to know the reserved young king's true expressions when he had been afraid. The young Arthur was, however, far more reserved: he was not carrying Merlin's heart behind his ribs. Arthur had at last been unmasked by the choice to exchange the burden of hearts, and now he looked like he could scream, but was clenching his teeth to not do so.
"What is it, child?" Igraine leaped to her feet, spilling her tea. The others turned around.
Arthur looked past both Merlin and Igraine making immediate eye contact with Regina.
"You-you are familiar with sleeping curses and spells of illusion, perhaps even more than Merlin here, in that regard...I-I-I feel that I have been bewitched. In the woods, not far from here...I found a stone table...and my father lies upon it, cold in sleep..."Arthur looked over his shoulder, fear making his motions feral.
"Arthur..."Merlin called to him, trying to figure out exactly how to help the situation. Merlin realized from his conversation with Igraine, and right now, that Arthur had spent as much time being a fond memory as he had been a mission he had relived so many times over the ages. They were walking on new territory now, where Arthur could live and converse and that, Merlin realized, meant there was going to be times when something like this-mad fright-would come and he would not know what to do.
And in the end, it was the gracious Emma Swan who knew how to intervene.
"Hey, buddy...why don't you show us?" She had crept up behind Regina, and approached Arthur like one would a wounded lion. He turned to the sound of her voice and locked eyes with her. To the wonder of the whole group of people gathered about, it seemed as if making eye contact with her, he froze, almost hypnotized. She reached out and linked arms with him.
"Show me." Emma nodded. Arthur was suddenly immediately calm. He smiled, as he had done when he had been a prince on a hunting trip, long ago, before Albion was, when there was only Camelot and the thrush and forest calling. Merlin was moved to tears, because all along, it was this Arthur, hidden beneath the soil of death, the ashes of sacrifice, and the smog of memory, that he had so longed to see. In all ways, being one and the same life force as him, it was Emma who could bring him back to his true self in a way no one else could, even Merlin who was the other half of the coin.
"Stay near, lady, lest here is an evil spell around it. Perhaps the witch will attack us. I have no power to stop her, but I would hinder her long enough for you to act." Arthur nodded, then he looked over his shoulder and smiled at Merlin and Igraine, as if he noticed them for the first time.
"Merlin, if my mother should wish to come along, please protect her nearest. The others, I feel, have defenses to protect each other first, but my mother has only her dagger against the dark arts." Arthur nodded, and then motioned as if they should all follow him.
Surely as he said, and came creeping, in a glen of the forest hushed and still, there was a stone slab, like a grave slab it was. Uther lay upon it. He was younger, but not young, not older perhaps than he was when Merlin had first come to Camelot and first met the young prince and his father. Merlin stopped, frozen with a sudden cold wrath that quickly passed, which came from Arthur's heart, but soon melted into a sorrow that was like infinity. Merlin clutched his chest. Wrath he had expected, bearing Arthur's heart and his own soulish list of Uther's many grievances. But this sorrow , toward Uther Pendragon, Merlin could only guess came out of the depth's of the love that Uther's only son had for him.
Now that they were all here, Arthur was more assured. His face twisted, for a moment filled with the righteous indignation from Merlin's heart toward what Uther had done to magic wielders, and then, then his own sorrow, straight from his soul, poured out onto his face. He left Emma's side and went and laid a hand on his father's brow.
"He is solid, and not a specter of Nimueh's smokey deception. But he also feels cold. Not quite like death, for death is cold from the core of the Void where it was born, and I know it better than the warmth of Earth. He is cold like sleep of witchcraft. But how can it be? He is dead-or was..."Arthur trailed off.
"To be fair, you and Igraine were dead until a couple of weeks ago?" Emma shrugged. Arthur studied her, and then looked down at his sleeping cursed father.
"Well, now that we have seen him, we know that she is likely to move quickly. The Witch has intended this reunion all along." Merlin said, hoarse now with anticipation. Emma looked at him, eyes full of foreboding and swallowed. Killian, who had joined them from behind, did not like the look on her face, and pressed closer, as if he meant to signal her that she must not start planning out her sacrificial death. The hand he stretched toward her, he dropped immediately, realizing that only in private could he confront his wife about her tendency to run toward death if it meant saving the others. She was the Savior after all.
They all stood in silent dread as they looked down on Uther's sleeping form.
Regina stepped forward, and leaned on the stone.
"He looks a bit like my own father..."She noticed, the first person of the company to show some pity toward the Evil King. She swallowed then.
"Well, the usual way to wake someone out of a sleeping curse is with true love's kiss. So, I imagine, if that's what this is, and that's what it looks like but with Nimueh...uh...all the usual bets are off, huh? Anyway, I think...I think that'd be you that needs to try that..."Regina turned to Igraine and smiled. Igraine nervously approached.
"I-I...oh my...he...is...he is changed. Older...and...his countenance has fallen too...He was not so...he was not so lined with care or shrouded in shadow when I knew him." Igraine blinked back tears.
She smiled.
"He will explain everything when he wakes." She bowed forward and kissed him carefully.
To the shock of everyone, he made no stirring.