-XXX-
Arthur knew he should've taken a step back and pulled himself together. He should've approached the situation like a king, with an air of calm and some sense of control. He had an audience, after all. The audience being his wife and some of his closest friends, but still. They were his knights and his queen. He should've presented a strong front for them, as all kings must.
But this was Merlin , and he'd nearly lost him.
So instead of stepping away, he pulled the warlock closer, hugging him to his side as he rested his chin on top of the dark mop of hair. Merlin's breathing was raspy, like every breath was a feat. He continued to clutch at Arthur's breeches with a weak grip, his gaze wandering around without really seeing much of anything as he struggled back to the land of coherency. His mouth opened and closed as he searched for something to say, though all that came out was a sigh of exhaustion.
Guinevere wiped at her face with the back of her hand and sniffed, visibly centering herself after the nightmare of the last few minutes.
"I'll get him some water," she announced quietly, standing quickly from the bed to cross the room to where a pitcher of water rested on the dining table. Gwaine took a step forward, his expression wrecked and full of concern, but Arthur held up a subtle hand, stilling his movements. He pleaded with his gaze for the knight to wait a moment, and thankfully Gwaine subsided without protest, likely sensing Merlin needed a second to wake up fully before he was bombarded with attention.
"Merlin?" Arthur shifted so he could look the servant in the eye. "Are you with me?" He asked hesitantly, his voice still thick with tears.
Merlin blinked heavily, soundlessly letting go of Arthur's leg to reach for his face, tracing shaky fingers over his wet cheek with scrunched eyebrows, like he couldn't quite believe the blond was actually there.
"Arthur," he croaked with a dry throat, immediately coughing upon the attempt to speak.
Arthur shushed him, nodding gratefully to Guinevere when she returned and handed him a glass of clear water. While he carefully guided the drink to Merlin's lips, Guinevere perched on the warlock's other side, observing him worriedly.
Merlin hastily swallowed what he could, clearly dehydrated, then grabbed Arthur's wrist, pushing the glass away, which the king then handed to his wife before focusing back on his friend.
"Arthur…Morgause…not safe," Merlin forced out, inhaling deeply after each pause as his lungs worked overtime to allow him to speak. His gaze flicked around again, golden flecks appearing at the edges of his irises. Tears welled in his eyes. "The cave," he whimpered with a sudden urgency, his grip on Arthur tightening to the point of bruising. "The cave. Arthur."
Arthur rested his hand over Merlin's, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, hey, calm down. Merlin. Hey. I'm here, see? Right here. I'm safe. You saved me, remember?" He implored.
Merlin met his gaze, fear still clear in their depths, as well as sorrow. "The others…?" He trailed off, his lip wobbling as he fought off a sob.
"The Knights are safe, Merlin. As are the children. You saved all of us. You got us out," Arthur promised.
Instead of calming at the news, Merlin seemed to grow even more distraught. "I'm s-sorry. I'm sorry." He sniffled, his eyes wet and pleading. "It was a stupid risk," he berated himself, a single tear running down his cheek.
Arthur frowned in confusion. "Merlin, what are you talking about? You saved our lives."
"B-But I could've k-killed you," Merlin argued vehemently. "The spell was too dangerous. Too unpredictable." He panted for breath, dropping his hand when it required more energy than he possessed to maintain its grasp.
Arthur shook his head in exasperation. "Only you, Merlin, would find fault in saving ten people from being crushed to death," he remarked.
"I should've done better," Merlin whispered, mostly to himself. He pushed a fist into his eye, like he could force the tears back inside as he'd done with the blood. Arthur scowled, snatching his hand away before he could do any damage.
"You're a damn hero, Merlin. A self-sacrificial idiot, but a hero. You got us all out with hardly a scratch. I can't think of a better outcome than that," the king argued.
Merlin bit his lip, weighing his friend's words against his own beliefs. In the end, he was simply too tired to put up any more of a fight about it. He sagged against the pillow.
"M'glad you're okay," he mumbled, sighing out in relief. Arthur's lips quirked up at the admission, but Gwaine beat him to the punch before he could respond.
"What about the rest of us? Are we not worth the attention of the Great and Powerful Warlock?" The knight exclaimed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart in a mock-wounded fashion, falling back on humor to hide how shaken he truly felt.
Merlin startled at the voice, not having yet realized the rest of his friends were present. He swiveled his head against the pillow, an exhausted grin fighting its way onto his face.
"Gwaine," he breathed, the name full of affection. Merlin's gaze traveled over each Knight, his smile never fading. "You all made it out," he observed with awe.
Lancelot approached the bed, reaching for the servant's hand and enveloping it in his own. "We did. Thanks to you," he murmured. His eyes sparkled with pride.
The rest of the Knights came up one by one. Leon was first, and Lancelot backed up to give him space to speak freely. Merlin reached for the curly-haired man's hand without hesitation, his relief at seeing him alive and well overriding the fact that they weren't the closest of friends. Merlin might not have the same relationship with Leon as he did with Arthur or Lancelot or Gwaine, but he would gladly give his life for the knight, and he suspected Leon felt the same. After all, they'd been through much together throughout the years.
Leon accepted his hand without hesitation, going so far as to brush a hand through Merlin's hair. "You really had us all worried there for a bit," he murmured in that faux-chiding manner that made him feel like an older brother rather than a friend. Being the oldest in the group, it seemed to be his natural inclination to take responsibility for everyone. And as Merlin was the youngest, that effect was only heightened.
"I'm sorry," Merlin apologized again, gripping Leon's hand tightly.
Leon shook his head. "We're just glad you're okay, Merlin. That's all that matters," he said reassuringly.
"That was a hell of a rescue, you know," Elyan complimented, approaching from behind Leon and shaking Merlin's knee good-naturedly.
Merlin blushed, partly proud and partly anxious about having shown them the true extent of his power. "You aren't…scared? Of…of what I can do?" He asked timidly, pulling his hand away from Leon to pick at the sheets.
Arthur and the Knights exchanged unreadable looks, which made Merlin's heart rate pick up considerably. Their hesitation seemed like enough of an answer, and he shrank into the pillow.
The king noticed his movement and tightened his grip on the servant, refusing to let him put up walls. One of his hands came up to cradle Merlin's head against his chest. Merlin went along pliantly, either too tired to protest or happy to accept the offer of comfort.
"No offense, Merlin, but we could never be scared of you," Arthur told him, only slightly teasing.
"I personally thought it was badass," Gwaine piped up, Percival and Elyan nodding in agreement. "Stopping time, Merls? Do you know how useful that would be in a game of dice? We'd be rich!" He clapped his hands and rubbed them together, and Merlin huffed out a laugh, his tension fading slowly.
"I don't think I'll be stopping time again anytime soon, Gwaine," he stated with an amused smile tilting up the corners of his mouth.
"Are you okay?" Arthur questioned immediately, his gaze flitting over Merlin's form rapidly. "Is your magic…?" He trailed off, unsure exactly what to ask.
Merlin pursed his lips in thought, holding his hand up in front of his face with more effort than usual and studying his fingers, feeling the invisible strands of magic that wove between them. As he focused his power into that single point, the threads became visible to everyone in the room. Arthur tensed against him subconsciously while the others looked on with wide eyes. Merlin realized Gwen was sitting on his other side when she gasped quietly, leaning further into his space to run an experimental hand over his own.
He beamed upon seeing his friend, but she was distracted by the flow of light emitting from his hand.
"How do you do it, Merlin?" She breathed, amazed. Her dark eyes reflected the magic as she met his gaze.
He shrugged, trying to ignore the rigid muscles under his head. Arthur was still getting used to the idea of good magic. His reaction was only to be expected, and in fact was far better than Merlin would've imagined merely a few weeks ago.
"This isn't something I do. It's something I am," he responded quietly.
Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. "Kilgharrah said you were magic made flesh," he recalled, as if to support Merlin's claim.
If Merlin had the energy for it, he would've shot to his feet in surprise. "You talked to Kilgharrah?!" He squeaked, snapping his head up to look at his king. When did that…? How did that…?
"Yes, and the overgrown lizard is even more irritating than you said he was," Arthur grumbled.
Merlin's hand sparked with more magic along with his brief bout of panic, and he hurriedly shoved it back amongst the sheets, not wanting them all to see just how distressed the idea of Kilgharrah and Arthur being in the same vicinity made him. He trusted the old dragon to an extent, but he was also well aware of his short temper. And knowing Arthur, he probably said all the right things to set it off.
"W'did he want?" Merlin wondered, working to control his voice. It was getting more difficult to breathe, and he was slumping more and more into the mattress. His magic might be perfectly healthy, but his body was another story.
Arthur ducked his head, twisting the ring on his finger absentmindedly. "To save you," he murmured.
Merlin let out a breath of fond exasperation. Kilgharrah wasn't always easy to be around, but they still shared a unique bond. They were kin. They would always try to save each other.
"I should thank 'im, I s'pose," he muttered, the last of his reserves being swept away with every exhale. His eyes slipped shut without his permission, and his head lolled to rest against Arthur's chest where he was still being enveloped in a protective embrace.
"Rest, Merlin," Arthur whispered into his hair, and it was an order the warlock was all too eager to obey.
-XXX-
-XXX-
The next time Merlin woke, he was groggy and unable to place his location. He tried to sit up, but his muscles gave out almost immediately. Before he could come up with another plan, a familiar face swam hazily into view above him, and he relaxed into the sheets with a relieved sigh.
"Gaius," he greeted with barely a whisper of sound, the corner of his lips tilting up.
Gaius chuckled warmly, squeezing his forearm. "It's good to hear your voice, my boy," he said fondly. "How do you feel?"
Merlin winced, realizing that his head was pulsing with pain. He dragged a hand up to press against his temple. "Like I got trampled by a horse," he answered dryly, the last word followed by a short round of coughing.
Gaius placed a hand in the center of his chest, urging him to take deep breaths. Merlin tried his best, but it still took a full minute before his lungs were able to fill completely, and his next exhale came out as more of a whimper.
"W'happened?" He asked breathlessly, rolling his head to the side to peer up at his mentor through half-lidded eyes. He was just so exhausted.
Gaius frowned in concern. "You don't remember?"
Merlin's eyebrows drew together as he struggled to pick through his most recent memories. "I remember…the village, and…the magic. It was all wrong." He wracked his brain, tensing as he recalled the cave, and the children, and Morgause. "Morgause…s'trap." Panic gripped his limbs, and he haphazardly reached out for Gaius' robes, clutching at him desperately. "It collapsed. A-Arthur—"
The old physician patted his chest soothingly. "Arthur is just fine, Merlin. From what I hear, you pulled off quite the miraculous rescue." There was a mixture of pride and parental exasperation in his tone. "Everyone in the cave got out unscathed, save for a minor bump on Percival's head that's already healed up nicely."
Merlin huffed out a half-sob, letting go of Gaius to cover his face as all his emotions overwhelmed him. The spell he'd enacted in the cave had been more of a foolish hope and last resort than an actual plan. He hadn't been at all sure that it would work, and he'd had to brace himself for the possibility that he'd never see his king again.
Gaius gently brought his hand away from his face, not remarking on his wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. "Arthur is perfectly healthy, Merlin, I promise you," he assured him.
Merlin sniffed, trying to regain his faculties a bit, even as his vision blurred and his arm sagged in Gaius' grasp. "C-Can I see 'im?" He asked in a small voice. He wasn't quite sure how Arthur felt about him after witnessing him perform such a powerful spell. It had only been three weeks since he revealed his magic. That was hardly enough time for someone raised in Uther's Camelot to feel comfortable around sorcery. Perhaps Arthur wanted nothing to do with him now. Perhaps the cave had been the final piece of evidence that he'd needed to decide that Merlin was too much of a danger to keep around.
Gaius must've read his expression, since his eyebrow raised disapprovingly, even as his response held an air of regret. "I doubt you'll be awake much longer, my boy. Using such powerful magic took a lot out of you. Your body needs to recover," he advised.
Merlin wanted to protest, but he could feel what little energy he had flagging by the second, proving the physician correct. "How long've I been asleep?" He wondered, glancing over at the window. Bright sunlight streamed through the closed curtains, illuminating the room in a dim glow. It must've been mid-morning. The castle would be bustling with activity by now.
Gaius hesitated. "It's been a week and a half since the incident in the cave. You were in a coma up until a couple days ago, and you've been in and out of it since," he admitted.
Merlin blanched at the surprising information. It felt like just yesterday that they'd arrived in the village. If he was still this weak after a week and a half, how long would it take him to fully recover? Would he fully recover?
"W-What about Morgause?" He spluttered, wincing as a particularly harsh burst of pain lit up the nerves in his skull.
"Don't worry about Morgause," Gaius deflected, earning a weak glare from the warlock. "You just focus on getting better," he instructed.
"But—"
"There's nothing you can do about Morgause right now," Gaius interrupted swiftly, a tender edge to his words. "Rest, Merlin. Camelot is safe for now."
Merlin had no choice but to accept his current uselessness. He would just have to hope that his body healed quickly from its invisible wounds. Then he could figure out how to deal with Morgause.
Now that she had returned, he would not find peace until she was dead.
-XXX-
-XXX-
Merlin crept carefully through his house, not wanting to disturb the quiet melody floating softly to his ears. The dirt was smooth under his feet, and swirls of gold burst from under his soles with each step. He breathed in the familiar scent of home, dragging his hand lightly over the wall as he followed the sound of humming to his mother's room. When he turned the corner, pausing in the doorway, he saw her perched on her bed with her sewing tools. A large tapestry was draped over her legs, nearly finished. As usual, she was humming as she worked, and Merlin smiled as he simply leaned against the door frame and enjoyed the music. His eyes wandered around the room absentmindedly. Gentle beams of morning light filtered through the open window; he could hear the birds singing outside, a lovely harmony to his mother's song. Dust motes twirled in the air, catching in the light and adding a sense of calm stillness to the room.
The tapestry gleamed with streaks of gold that matched the magic pooling around his feet, capturing his attention. The finished red and gold threads depicted a mighty lion standing on its back legs, primed to let out a ground-shaking roar. Even as he watched, it seemed to move, the fabric shifting and shimmering with reflected light.
Merlin reached out a hand subconsciously, taking a step into the room. His mother looked up from her task, an adoring smile gracing her lips.
"It's lovely, isn't it?" She asked, running a hand along the lion's mane. Her gaze held his with a strange intensity, and he nodded in agreement. "But it's not finished yet," she told him.
Merlin's eyebrows furrowed, unsure what other elements it required to be a piece of art worthy of the greatest castle. "What else does it need?" He wondered, his voice high-pitched with youth. He realized he had to look up to meet her gaze, but in that moment it felt normal, and he ignored it to instead focus on her answer.
Her eyes twinkled knowingly. "A dragon."
Merlin jolted awake, the soft vibrations coming to an abrupt halt as the person next to him stopped humming.
"Merlin?"
He blinked slowly, adjusting to the sudden brightness assaulting his vision. A grunt escaped his lips as he tried to hide his face, but the person held a hand along his jaw to keep him from turning completely. He pouted, his lethargic gaze eventually flickering up to see who was with him.
Gwen was cradling his face with one hand, leaning over his prone form with shining eyes. She huffed out a relieved laugh as soon as he looked at her, hastily bending down to press a kiss to his hairline.
"Oh, Merlin, thank the gods!" She exclaimed in a breath. "You're always sleeping, I was so worried something was still going on. Gaius assured us that you'd be fine in time but that you needed as much rest as possible. Still, it's so hard to know how you're really feeling if you're never awake to tell us and you know I can't help but worry about you. I mean, you're my best friend! I'll always worry about you, even if you're suddenly this powerful sorcerer—I mean warlock, sorry!—that can clearly protect himself, it's just… Sometimes I still think of you as that witty, charming boy in the stocks and I forget that you can take care of yourself," she rambled.
Merlin tried and failed to understand everything she was saying, since it felt like his brain was swimming through thick mud. He slowly brought a hand up to the one she was still resting against his cheek and squeezed her fingers gently.
"Gwen," he murmured, immediately halting her train of thought. He smiled in amusement at her doe-eyed expression. "I'm okay." He wasn't, really, but he was alive. He'd take that as a win.
Gwen's shoulders slumped and she shook her head emphatically. "Don't ever scare me like that again," she choked out, the order turning into more of a plea.
"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered sincerely, hating the idea that he could ever cause his queen such pain. He dropped his gaze, blinking in surprise when he recognized the covers underneath him. He quickly raised his head again and cast a glance around the room.
"Why am I in Arthur's bed?" He blurted, eyebrows scrunching together in confusion. He had to pull in a deep breath afterward, having raised his voice in his shock, against his body's wishes.
Gwen giggled softly at his dumbfounded look. "He thought your recovery might go a bit faster if you were comfortable," she explained, then smirked conspiratorially. "Though I suspect he really just wanted an excuse to keep you close. He's been a complete mother hen about the whole thing," she commented with a snicker, waving her hand in his general direction.
"He's…" Merlin grimaced, fighting the urge to break into a coughing fit. "…not even here," he rasped, too tired to hide his disappointment.
Gwen bit her bottom lip, dragging it between her teeth as she clearly debated her response. "Yes, well… He's been dealing with the council the past couple days, but he visits in between meetings. You're usually asleep when he's here, though." She smiled half-heartedly, glancing toward the door. "It took a lot of convincing to get him to agree to leave you," she murmured.
Merlin's chest ached at the admission, and he wished more than anything he could get out of this bed and hunt down his king to assure him that everything was fine.
It wasn't until a few more seconds of silence that he processed the first part of what she'd said. "Wait, wha's goin' on…w'the council?" He questioned, closing his eyes even as he awaited her response.
His magic surged to the surface without warning, causing his eyes to snap back open as he struggled to keep it reined in. Normally he could shove his magic down with ease, but this time it fought him, roiling under his skin with every intention of bursting forth at the first opportunity. He grunted with effort and pressed a fist to his chest, as if he could hold it back physically.
He was vaguely aware that Gwen was saying something, sounding concerned, and that his eyes were shining with gold, but he ignored all of it, focusing on wrangling his wayward magic. It took every ounce of his remaining energy reserves to do so, but eventually the feeling that he would explode subsided, leaving him drained and panting harshly. He blinked away the black spots encroaching in his line of sight.
"…Merlin?" Gwen ventured, her eyes wide as she stared down at him.
"'M 'kay," he reassured her breathlessly.
She took in his pale, exhausted features and swallowed heavily before shifting down until she could lay her head on his shoulder.
"I don't think you are," she whispered with a crack in her voice, and Merlin couldn't help but silently agree.
-XXX-
-XXX-
"Stop snooping, Gwaine," Merlin muttered, blinking one eye open since his other was hidden in the pillow.
His friend jumped at being caught, automatically dropping the paper he'd just picked up off of Arthur's desk and spinning around to face him with an innocent expression.
"Merlin! You're awake!" He announced unhelpfully, and the warlock narrowed his one eye.
"Wh're y'doin' 'ere?" He asked, his words muffled. He turned his head just enough so his face was free of the pillow, rolling from his stomach to his side. Just that small movement made his joints ache.
"My turn for nurse duty," Gwaine chirped, dragging a chair from Arthur's desk to Merlin's bedside. He plopped down into it and lifted his feet to rest on the edge of the bed, crossing them leisurely.
"Don't need a nurse," Merlin argued petulantly, miffed that once again he'd woken to no Arthur, even though he was happy to see Gwaine.
The roguish knight tsked, folding his hands behind his head. "You absolutely do, mate. You're lookin' pretty rough these days," he said bluntly. Merlin scowled.
"That's what happens when you nearly die," he groused.
"Exactly. You nearly died. So bed rest and sexy nurses it is," Gwaine quipped with a grin. Merlin rolled his eyes to counter the small smile pulling at his lips.
"How long have you been here?" He wondered. Gwaine wasn't well-known for his ability to sit still for more than five minutes. He needed to be constantly entertained. Like a toddler with an alcohol addiction.
Gwaine shrugged. "I left council 'bout half an hour ago. I'm yours for the rest of the night." He winked, and Merlin noted that the sun had indeed slipped well past the horizon.
At the mention of the council, Merlin remembered what he'd asked Gwen. "Gwaine, what's going on? Why so many council meetings?" He questioned. He meant for it to sound more insistent, but his voice lacked the strength for more than a whisper.
Gwaine cringed, as if he'd said something he wasn't supposed to, and dropped his feet to the floor. "It's nothing, Merls. Really," he lied, not meeting Merlin's gaze.
"You're a terrible liar," Merlin retorted.
"I am a great liar, actually—"
"Gwaine," Merlin growled impatiently.
The knight had started to rise, presumably to dodge the conversation, but an invisible force shoved him back into his seat. He let out a surprised oomph at the action, while Merlin had frozen in disbelief, regret immediately filling him to his core.
Oh, gods. Oh, gods. Did I just use my magic against Gwaine? I wasn't even trying to do anything! He thought frantically, gripping the sheets. He'd been thinking that he wanted his friend to sit down and give him a straight answer, but he would've never dreamed of using magic to get his way. The fact that his magic had worked his subconscious will without his permission frightened him deeply, and he curled his knees to his chest.
Gwaine, completely unaware of the warlock's inner turmoil, huffed out a chuckle and tossed his hair out of his eyes. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that."
"I-I'm sorry," Merlin stammered, his eyes welling with tears.
Gwaine's eyebrows furrowed in concern when he noticed how distraught the servant had become, and he quickly switched over to the bed, sitting next to Merlin's knees.
"Hey. Merls, what's the matter?" He asked, placing a hand against Merlin's cheek and wiping away a tear with his thumb.
"M-My magic…" Merlin sniffed, hesitant to finish the sentence.
Gwaine shook his head in amusement. "I'm not afraid of your magic, Merls, and I'm not fragile. It's fine," he said reassuringly.
It wasn't fine, but Merlin wasn't sure he wanted Gwaine to know just how worried he was about it. Gwaine clearly thought he had meant to push him like that, and he wasn't inclined to dispel that notion. The last thing he needed was Arthur finding out he was having trouble controlling his magic. They had just started working towards repealing the ban. Merlin was terrified of hindering that in any way.
Merlin decided not to press the subject of the council, lest his magic try to do anything else. He was sure when Arthur finally came around that he'd be able to ask him. He probably had the most information, anyway.
"How's the village?" He asked instead, a topic he was sure the knight would have no trouble with. He was also extremely curious as to what happened after the cave.
Gwaine huffed out a laugh, scratching at his beard. "Well," he started lightly, "you kind of…fixed everything."
Merlin stared, confusion making him slow to respond. "Me? What did I do? I've been unconscious," he pointed out, baffled.
"When you zapped us to safety, we ended up back in the village. When we found you, there was this…light…coming out of you. Your magic, it was…it was healing the land," Gwaine explained, awestruck at the memory.
Merlin frowned, squeezing his eyes shut briefly as images of a wilted flower flashed through his mind, followed by tendrils of magic and bright blue petals.
"So…what? The land isn't sick anymore? The plants aren't dying?" He wondered aloud, trying to wrap his mind around it.
Gwaine grinned, slapping him lightly on the chest. "Everything's perfect, mate. The villagers were a bit gobsmacked at the show, but they were thankful for the save."
Merlin's heart sank with dread. "They all know I have magic?" So much for secrecy.
"They won't say anything, Merls, trust me," Gwaine insisted. "The princess ordered their discretion, and they were all too happy to agree. They owe you a lot."
Merlin gave a noncommittal grunt. "I would've expected them to fear me, not thank me," he said quietly.
Gwaine rolled his eyes. "Some of Camelot's citizens managed to retain their wits during Uther's reign of terror. They know good magic when they see it," he remarked.
Merlin hoped that would be the case for the rest of the kingdom as well. He had a feeling the city-dwellers would be much harder to convince than the rural folk.
Still, the thought of so many people being aware of his magic sent a rush of unease through his body. He'd always dreamed of the day he no longer had to hide, but now that it was approaching, he wasn't quite sure he liked the spotlight. It was much easier to be Arthur's secret protector when he was, in fact, a secret. If word reached Morgause that he had magic, it wouldn't be long before she connected him to Emrys. He feared what she could do with such knowledge.
"Did Morgause ever show herself after the cave?" He asked, already suspecting that she hadn't simply based on the fact that they were all still alive.
Gwaine got that look in his eyes again, like he was hiding something, but he was quick to answer. "No, she kept away. Gods know where she is now, or what she's planning," he stated grimly.
Merlin sighed, desperately hoping she stayed away until he was properly able to face her. If she attacked now, he wasn't sure how much help he'd be. Especially with his magic acting so strangely.
He internally prodded at his magic, wondering if the problem was temporary or if it would just get worse, and what he would do should the latter be the case.
-XXX-
-XXX-
The next morning, Gwaine was helping a struggling Merlin to sit up against the headboard when a harried-looking Lancelot entered the room. The knight shut the door with a yawn, then shuffled toward the bed. When he finally glanced up and noticed the servant was awake, he halted in his tracks, a relieved smile lighting up his expression.
"Merlin!" He exclaimed, rushing over to his bedside. Gwaine made sure Merlin wasn't going to tip over before stepping away and patting Lance on the shoulder.
"I'll let you take over from here, mate. Already late for patrol." He grimaced, probably thinking of the earful he would get from Leon, even though this time his being late wasn't really his fault.
Lancelot nodded and took his place at Merlin's side, waiting until the other knight left the room before speaking. "How are you feeling? You look terrible," he noted. Merlin would've been offended if his friend's concern hadn't been completely genuine.
"Been better, not gonna lie," he gritted out as he shifted a bit so his spine wasn't digging into the wood. He'd decided that lying about wasn't helping his shaky muscles recuperate, but the best he could do to remedy that for now was to sit up. Walking would most definitely be impossible on his own.
Lancelot hummed thoughtfully. "Gaius said you'd spend most of your time sleeping for the foreseeable future," he said sympathetically, knowing how much the servant hated to be idle. "Your body has been through a lot."
Merlin sighed despondently, then shook his head and forced himself to cheer up a bit. "How's Arthur?" He asked.
Lancelot snorted, his dark eyes twinkling with mirth. "I should've known he'd be your first priority." Merlin bit his lip, hoping he hadn't hurt his friend's feelings by not asking after his well-being instead. However, Lancelot understood his devotion to Arthur's protection better than most. "King Arthur is a tad on the grumpy side these days, but there are no monsters or evil sorcerers or assassins vying for his head at the moment, you'll be happy to hear," he reported lightly, then rested a hand over Merlin's, ducking his head until Merlin met his gaze. "Arthur is safe. You needn't worry, my friend. We're all looking after him," he reassured gently.
His words allowed Merlin to relax. He trusted Lance to protect Arthur in his absence, and the honorable knight was a man of his word. If he said Arthur was safe, it was the truth.
"I don't suppose you'd tell me what everyone has been hiding?" Merlin ventured, knowing it was a long shot but trying anyway.
As expected, Lancelot cleared his throat and glanced away, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "I'll, uh…let Arthur fill you in. He kind of threatened to send all of us to the dungeons if we bothered you with council matters," he mumbled.
Merlin groaned, letting his head fall back with a thump. "That clotpole!" He complained half-heartedly. "Does he really think I can't handle whatever is going on? I've probably dealt with a lot worse over the years. By myself!"
Lance lifted a shoulder helplessly. "I think he's just worried about putting too much stress on your shoulders right now, when you're still so weak," he pointed out.
"Right, because wondering what has everyone so tense isn't stressful at all," he retorted sarcastically, earning an amused chuckle from the knight.
"I'm glad you're alright, Merlin," Lancelot said quietly once his laughter had died down. "When we found you in the village…" He trailed off, frowning at the memory. "I was afraid that you had finally paid the ultimate price for our protection, for Arthur's."
Merlin squeezed his hand, his gaze soft and open. "It would've been worth it if I had," he murmured honestly. It wasn't what the knight wanted to hear, if his disapproving expression was anything to go by, but he didn't protest.
Disliking the solemn silence that had overtaken the room, Merlin straightened his shoulders with a slight cough and settled back against the headboard.
"Now, what else has been going on this past week?"
-XXX-
-XXX-
When Merlin finally woke up to find Arthur sitting at his desk, frowning down at a sheet of paper while biting the end of his quill absentmindedly, he immediately tried calling out to him. To his embarrassment, he hadn't quite woken up enough yet to form proper words, so what came out was more of a whine than anything.
Arthur's gaze snapped up as he dropped the quill, nearly knocking over the inkwell in his haste to stand. Merlin's arm flopped over the side of the bed at an awkward angle as he reached out, and Arthur quickly hurried over and scooped up his hand in his own, crouching next to the bed so that they were eye level. The king grinned with relief, Merlin's smile much more subdued but no less heartfelt.
"Arthur," he breathed, taking in his friend's appearance. He had dark shadows underneath his eyes, and his cheeks were a bit thinner than Merlin remembered, but his golden hair shined and he didn't seem to have any injuries.
"About time you stopped lazing about," Arthur teased.
"I think I've earned some time off," Merlin pointed out with a quiet chuckle, blinking away the residual sleepiness that clung to him seemingly at all hours of the day.
"Yes," Arthur allowed, his grin turning soft. "I suppose you have," he said honestly.
Merlin glanced away sheepishly. "I assume you've been helpless without me? Although I see you've managed to dress yourself, so there's a feat. Unless Gwen helped you, then it doesn't count," he remarked, trying to lighten the tension.
Arthur laughed quietly, accepting the change in topic. "George, actually. He's very helpful. It's always nice when a servant knows how to do their job." He raised an eyebrow, his twitching lips giving away his amusement.
Merlin scoffed. "George? Seriously? He's about as interesting as watching paint dry." He didn't want to admit that he was slightly jealous of the man for being able to perform his duties. Merlin wasn't exactly a fan of chores, but at least he got to spend most of his day with Arthur. And at this point, anything was better than lying in this bed doing nothing.
"I don't need my servants to be interesting, Mer lin. I need them to be competent," Arthur drawled.
"I'm plenty competent!" Merlin protested petulantly, even as he continued to hold Arthur's hand in an unrelenting grip.
"You trip over your own feet half the time," Arthur claimed.
"Maybe I wouldn't trip if you didn't have me running all over the place all day."
"That's your job, Merlin."
"I don't see any of the other servants struggling to keep up with a ridiculous workload," he grumbled.
"That's what happens when you're the personal servant to the king. You have more responsibility. It's an honor, really," Arthur told him with a slight smirk.
"Oh, my mistake, Your Royal Pratness. I guess I missed that memo," he retorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
When it was silent for a few seconds, Merlin glanced back at Arthur with furrowed brows, surprised to see his king regarding him with blatant affection, smiling gently.
"What?" Merlin asked self-consciously.
Arthur shook his head. "Nothing. Just…glad to have you back, Merlin," he murmured sincerely. "For a while there, I was afraid I might not have this again," he admitted, resting his chin on top of their clasped hands.
Merlin shifted closer, gazing intently at his king. "I'm not leaving you, Arthur. Not ever. Not even if you ordered me to," he stated seriously. He didn't care if they had a destiny or not. His life meant nothing without Arthur in it, plain and simple.
Arthur pursed his lips, tapping his fingers nervously against Merlin's hand. He briefly glanced over his shoulder, and Merlin looked on in curiosity, wondering what the man was thinking.
When Arthur met his eyes again, his expression was determined. "There's something I want to give you," he announced. "I've wanted to for a while, actually, but it never felt like the right time." He inhaled deeply as Merlin's eyebrows drew together in confusion.
"Okay…" He said uncertainly, eyes flicking over Arthur's face for any hint of what he was talking about.
The king squeezed his hand before letting go, and Merlin let it dangle, too focused on where Arthur was going to bother pulling it back to his side. Arthur returned to his desk, unlocking the bottom drawer and sliding it open. Whatever he pulled out was too small for Merlin to make out at this distance, so he waited patiently as Arthur shuffled back over to the bed and resumed his crouching position.
He lifted a small, rounded object made of sparkling silver into view between them, running a thumb over it reverently. Merlin studied the item curiously, noting in the back of his mind how beautiful it was. It was intricately detailed, with a cross in the center overlain by a flying dove. He let out a hum of appreciation, itching to run his own fingers over it.
"This sigil belonged to my mother," Arthur whispered, his tone full of love and wistfulness for a woman he never knew. Merlin's eyes widened, looking back at the sigil with new understanding. No wonder Arthur was treating it like the most valuable object in the world. The king cleared his throat and held out the sigil. "Here. I want you to have it," he said resolutely.
Merlin froze, his gaze flicking from Arthur to the sigil and back again. "Arthur…" He began, about to protest that he couldn't possibly accept something that meant so much to his friend. He knew such things were given to family or spouses, not manservants. He didn't deserve such a gift. However, Arthur took his hand and placed the sigil in his palm before he could continue, curling his fingers around the item. The king held his closed fist, shaking it slightly.
"You may not be a Pendragon or a Du Bois, but you are my brother," Arthur declared with a gentle firmness in his blue eyes. Merlin swallowed heavily, unable to look away even as tears threatened to spill from his own eyes. "I want you to have it."
Merlin nodded, his breath hitching on his next inhale. "Thank you, Arthur," he said softly, promising himself that he would cherish it just as Arthur had all these years.
Arthur smiled, reaching to ruffle his hair to break the serious atmosphere before standing to his feet. Merlin cradled the sigil to his chest protectively, looking on silently as Arthur ambled back over to his desk, tapping the sheet of paper he'd been staring so intently at earlier.
"Something's wrong, isn't it?" Merlin murmured resignedly, recognizing the troubled expression on the king's face.
Arthur didn't pretend everything was fine like the others had, a wrinkle forming between his brows as he solemnly replied, "War is brewing in Essetir. I received a letter a few days ago from a lord named Urien Machen. He has taken it upon himself to assume the throne, and he has an army at his back to support his claim."
Merlin frowned, not having expected such an answer. Essetir had been in shambles since Cenred's death, with no real ruler stepping up to take his place. Each lord had mostly taken care of their own lands, and there had been a shaky peace over the years. Whatever problems they had never tended to spill into Camelot's lands, so they were mostly ignored.
"And…?" Merlin pressed, sensing there was more to it.
Arthur sighed, collapsing into his chair and resting his head upon steepled fingers. "And… he isn't the only one vying for the throne. There is another man, Rhys, who believes he'd be better suited for kingship. His father was a lord, but he is technically a bastard, even though he was raised in his father's household as heir to his lands. Most of the nobles are backing Urien, while the common people seem to have a certain love for this Rhys," he explained.
Merlin took this all in, fiddling with the sigil contemplatively. "Does Rhys have an army?"
Arthur nodded. "Yes, an army just as strong as Urien's. I fear tensions will continue to rise until battle inevitably breaks out. I don't see either of them backing down anytime soon," he noted wryly.
Merlin could definitely see now why everyone had seemed so stressed these past few days, and why there had been so many council meetings. Essetir bordered Camelot and could pose a direct impact on her affairs. If Arthur was destined to unite the kingdoms, it would be much easier to do if Essetir's ruler agreed with his views.
"What are you going to do?" He asked quietly, not envying Arthur's position in the least. There was a reason he was made to serve. He couldn't fathom the responsibility that came with being king. Being some sort of magical messiah was hard enough.
Arthur leaned his weight forward, shaking his head. "There have been rumors that Mercia plans to send aid to Urien. If that is the case, then I'll have no choice but to interfere. I can't chance Bayard getting his hands on a puppet king," he answered grimly.
"So you'd support Rhys? Do you even know anything about him?" Merlin questioned dubiously.
Arthur shrugged noncommittally. "Any man who has the trust of the common people is worth hearing out, at least," he opined. "He sent me a letter as well—much less demanding and pompous than Urien's had been—and I think he has potential. I wouldn't make a final decision without meeting him face to face, though."
Merlin blew out a breath, raising his eyebrows. "Well, that is definitely a conundrum," he stated obviously, earning an eye roll from the king.
"Yes, one I've been dealing with while you've been getting your beauty sleep," Arthur quipped.
Merlin laughed, his eyes crinkling with undisguised mirth. His lungs protested the action, but he thought it was well worth it.
"Maybe if you hadn't stuck me in your bed, you could be getting some beauty sleep yourself," he replied cheekily. Arthur flushed, covering his embarrassment with a scoff.
"I'm the king, Merlin. I don't have time to lie about being useless. But please—" he gestured grandly toward the door—"if you're so eager to return to your own chambers, go ahead. No one's stopping you," he said, deceptively straight-faced.
Merlin pressed his lips together, eyeing the door as he shifted deeper into the soft pillows. "…Maybe tomorrow," he decided.
Arthur snorted in amusement, picking his quill back up as he returned to his work, letting the servant rest in peace for a while.
-XXX-
-XXX-
George hummed quietly to himself as he made his way down the Royal corridor, balancing a breakfast tray easily in one hand. He was in a fantastic mood, seeing as he had been the only servant lucky enough for the privilege of attending to the king, an honor which he'd boasted of incessantly since the queen had sent for him a few days prior. He'd gotten a few nasty looks from his fellow servants, which he dutifully ignored since he wasn't one to sully himself to their level. They were just jealous, after all. He could understand that well enough.
This was the first day he'd been asked to serve the king in his chambers, and he took it as a sign that King Arthur was happy with his service. No one else had been invited into his private rooms all week. Surely he'd noted George's efficiency and planned to keep him around for a while.
George approached the door to the king's chambers, straightening his spine as he rapped his knuckles thrice on the wood to announce his presence.
"Breakfast, Your Majesty!" He called out grandiosely, missing the exasperated looks the guards shared on either side of him.
The servant heard a muffled 'Enter' and immediately whisked open the door with his free hand, sweeping into the room and heading for the dining table. He paused when he noticed the king was sitting across the room at his desk, appearing to have no plans to move from his chair anytime soon. George shrugged, changing direction and heading toward him. It wasn't proper to eat in such a location, but George supposed as king he was allowed certain liberties.
"May I present your breakfast, my lord," he said primly, lowering the tray in front of the blond and whipping the napkin off his forearm in preparation to lay it across the king's lap.
King Arthur cleared his throat, waving off his efforts. "No need for that, George. Thank you for breakfast," he acknowledged politely. George stepped back with a curt nod, awaiting further orders. However, he frowned in confusion as the king gathered up the small plate of bread at one end of the tray and stood, his chair scraping along the floor gratingly. The man walked carefully to the bed, perching on the edge and resting the plate in his lap.
George blinked in surprise when he saw a familiar tuft of raven-black hair peeking out from under the covers, and a strangled noise escaped his throat. Luckily, it went unheard, since the king was too busy pulling the blankets down, smacking the young man in the bed on the cheek lightly. There was an indignant groan before cerulean eyes fluttered open to glare at the king.
"Wha' d'you want, prat?"
George let out another disgruntled noise, unable to contemplate such insolence in front of the king. Merlin was—to put it lightly—the bane of George's existence. He had no manners, no consideration for propriety. He complained about his chores and called the king disrespectful names in private and in public. He was clumsy and never on time and quite literally the worst servant George had ever seen. He was an embarrassment to the castle, and it was utterly baffling that His Majesty had kept him around for so long.
King Arthur yanked down the covers even further, nudging Merlin to sit up, which he did with utmost effort, practically heaving by the time he was leaning against the headboard.
"You need to eat something. You're already as thin as a reed," the king chastised, shoving the plate into the servant's lap before standing to return to his desk.
Merlin grumbled under his breath, but obediently raised one piece of bread to his mouth to nibble on. When his gaze lifted, he caught sight of George frozen in place, napkin draped back over the arm he had pressed along his abdomen.
"Oh. Hello, George," Merlin greeted less than enthusiastically, casting a despairing glance at the king which went unnoticed or ignored.
George dipped his head. "Good morning, Merlin," he replied stoically, able to be polite if nothing else. He was a terrific servant, after all. He wouldn't even ask what the dark-haired servant was doing in the king's bed, despite his raging curiosity. He knew Merlin had a tendency to shirk his duties, but this seemed to be taking it a bit far.
"I hear you've taken over my job for the time being," Merlin remarked, and George didn't think he imagined the snarky tone. Merlin had always been strangely possessive of his position. George still remembered the bizarre way he'd reacted when that one peasant had come along—what was his name again? Ah, yes, Cedric. Odd one, that—and he wouldn't be surprised if Merlin were similarly jealous now.
George opened his mouth to reply, but the king beat him to it, his mouth full of chicken. "Only a temporary situation. You'll be back to washing my dirty socks before you know it," he smiled sarcastically with bloated cheeks, to which George internally lamented.
Merlin grimaced. "Can't wait," he muttered, taking a larger bite of bread. Once he swallowed, he regarded George with narrowed eyes. "You don't have to stick around, you know. It's kind of creepy," he said bluntly, causing the king to sigh in exasperation.
"Merlin…" He warned.
"Just saying," Merlin said defensively.
George worked to swallow a retort. It was much harder to remain respectfully silent when Merlin was in his presence. The man brought out the worst in him, which is why he'd taken to avoiding him when possible. That and because he didn't want to be crashed into by the clumsy man, a fate which had befallen plenty of servants in the past.
"I must wait for the king to finish his meal so I can take the dishes back to the kitchen, as is my duty," he emphasized, managing to maintain his subservient demeanor as he spoke. Merlin would know all of this already if he actually cared to learn his job. The position of the king's manservant was truly wasted on him. Such a shame.
Merlin finished off the last of his bread, pointing at the plate as he fought back a smirk. "Great, so you won't mind taking this?" He asked innocently.
George squinted, seeing through the act immediately and huffing indignantly. He was under no obligation to follow any orders from another servant, especially one so infuriating as Merlin.
Then again, he couldn't exactly decline, seeing as Merlin was—for some unfathomable reason—favored by the king, and George's top priority was keeping the king happy. That being the case, he forced his legs to move forward, stopping a foot away from the cheeky servant. He held out an expectant hand, a frown etched into his features.
He wasn't sure exactly how it happened next, only that he reached forward at the same time Merlin lifted the plate with an unusually shaky grip and suddenly the plate had been knocked out of his tenuous grasp and was falling toward the floor.
George winced, automatically awaiting the loud crash as the plate broke into little pieces, but there was no such sound. Instead, Merlin's eyes flashed gold and the plate halted mid-drop.
For a moment, there was utter stillness. George stared at Merlin with eyes as wide as saucers, the startled servant returning it fearfully as his breathing sped up.
The tension was broken by the king, who groaned and dragged a hand over his face. " Mer lin!" He exclaimed, exasperated rather than angry.
"I-I didn't mean to!" Merlin stammered nervously, briefly glancing down at his hand with a troubled expression before it returned to George's ashen face. "George…" He began hesitantly, reaching out with the same hand that had dropped the plate.
The shocked servant stumbled back with an undignified squeak, turning away. He wasn't sure where he planned to go, only that he had to be somewhere else. He definitely didn't expect the king to leap out of his seat and rush to intercept him, grabbing his shoulders in a bone-crushing grip that had George coming back to reality in an instant.
"S-Sire?" He stuttered, meeting the king's intense gaze obediently even as he wanted nothing more than to run out of the room.
"Listen to me, George. Are you listening?" He questioned, shaking him a bit too roughly. George nodded vigorously with a gulp, thoroughly intimidated. "You will tell no one of this incident. No one. If I find that you've uttered a single word about Merlin having magic, I will see you executed for treason. Is that understood?" He demanded. If possible, George paled even further, the threat sending a terrified shiver down his spine. He nodded again, unable to speak. King Arthur glanced over his face scrutinizingly, judging his sincerity. Whatever he saw seemed to please him, since his fingers stopped digging so harshly into George's flesh. "You will continue your duties as my temporary manservant. For now, you are dismissed. I won't have need of you until lunch," he directed, finally letting his hands drop.
George stepped away on wobbly legs to pick up the king's empty dishes, purposefully ignoring the nearly-shattered plate that had been placed on top of the pile at some point while the king had taken most of his attention, even though he was certain Merlin had never exited the bed.
Needless to say, his mood leaving the king's chambers was not nearly as fantastic as it had been going in.
-XXX-
-XXX-
Merlin hung heavily off of Arthur's shoulder, having to lean most of his weight against the king in order to remain standing. He winced at the pull in his chest from exerting so much effort, knowing he'd get an ear-lashing from Gaius once they returned to the castle. The old physician would've never approved his little escapade into the forest to meet with Kilgharrah, which is exactly why he hadn't said anything. It had been hard enough to convince Arthur to take him to the clearing, though that had been accomplished once the king realized how much they needed the Great Dragon's help with their Morgause problem.
As soon as Merlin learned that Morgause had destroyed his wards and snuck into the vaults to steal some mysterious item, his first suggestion was to meet with the dragon. He'd been beyond furious at himself when he'd realized how easily he'd fallen into Morgause's trap. He should've known she was trying to draw him away from a Camelot. He just would've never expected her to be able to get past the wards he'd painstakingly spent weeks putting up years ago. It was obvious now why she'd needed to pull extra magic from the land; she'd needed the power boost in order to overcome his spell, his magic being far stronger than her own.
It grated on his nerves that he'd been outsmarted like he was a mere child, but he didn't have the luxury to dwell on his mistake. They still had no clue what she had taken. The inventory records were vague, at best, thanks to Uther. Many items were mislabeled or not labeled at all, and Merlin was the only one who could safely peruse the collection due to his ability to detect dark magic. Gaius had the ability to an extent, but his magic was far too weak to be sure of anything he found. Merlin being unable to walk unsupported for five minutes before he collapsed with exhaustion meant he hadn't been able to look through the vaults himself yet. Their only hope at the moment was to glean as much information from Kilgharrah as possible.
Which brought the king and warlock to their current location, both of them staring up at the starry sky as they waited for the appearance of the Great Dragon.
They didn't have to wait long.
A sharp wind buffeted their hair as Kilgharrah came in for a landing, quickly followed suit by his much smaller counterpart. Merlin grinned at the appearance of Aithusa, barely remembering to keep a grip on Arthur.
She bounded up to him, letting out a joyous squawk as she touched her nose to his chest. He automatically reached out to pet along her neck soothingly, fighting back a swell of tears. She had grown so much since he'd last seen her.
"Oh, my dear Aithusa," he murmured, resting his hand on her snout. She purred, blinking up at him with icy blue eyes full of affection.
Arthur cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Hello again, Aithusa," he greeted formally, making Merlin roll his eyes. Figures the king's night of bonding with the dragon hadn't erased his royal instincts. Luckily, Aithusa wasn't so reserved. She warbled in amusement, nipping playfully at Arthur's shirt, successfully cracking a small smile from the blond.
"It is a relief to see you well, young warlock," Kilgharrah spoke, breaking up their reunion. Aithusa moved around behind Merlin, pressing against his back to offer extra support for his weary body.
Merlin chuckled dryly. "Define well," he replied with a raised eyebrow.
"Not dead," Kilgharrah clarified, perfectly blunt as usual. Arthur let out a put-upon sigh but remained silent at his side, more than happy to allow Merlin to have control over the conversation with the enigmatic dragon.
"I hear you had something to do with that," Merlin remarked. "Thank you, old friend," he added genuinely. Kilgharrah dipped his head in acknowledgement.
"We are kin. I would not allow you to pass from this world so easily. That being said, I truly hope you do not make this a habit," he chided calmly.
"I don't intend to," Merlin assured him amusedly. There was a silent pause, which Kilgharrah was quick to fill.
"I assume you called me here for a reason, then," he sighed, settling down in the grass and crossing his front feet. "Tell me, young warlock. What seems to be the problem this time?"
Merlin bit his lip, sharing a hesitant look with Arthur before he met Kilgharrah's intense golden stare. "It's Morgause. She stole something from the vaults, but we don't know what," he explained.
The dragon huffed a bit of smoke at the mention of the sorceress. "If she went through such trouble to get into the vaults, then I fear what terrible purpose she has in mind," he said gravely. Merlin swallowed anxiously, knowing from experience that Kilgharrah's bad feelings were not to be ignored, much like his own (though Arthur had done so regularly in the past.)
"Do you think whatever she stole could harm Merlin?" Arthur questioned, speaking for the first time.
Kilgharrah considered his query. "Morgause is aware how futile any move against Camelot would be while it remains under Emrys' protection," he thought aloud.
"So that's a yes," Arthur surmised with a concerned frown.
"There are very few magicks that would stand a chance to defeat a power such as Merlin's," Kilgharrah added. "Though if anyone has the strength and determination to wield such spells, it is Morgause."
Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose as Arthur adjusted the arm the warlock had curled over his neck. "I need to search through the vaults," he said, mainly talking to himself.
Arthur still heard him, though. "Absolutely not. You're still too weak. You can barely stand. I'm not letting you anywhere near the mountain of dangerous magical objects until you're fully healed," he said with finality.
"It could be months until I'm fully healed!" Merlin protested, repeating the same words Gaius had said to him that morning. "We can't afford to wait that long!"
Arthur's face was set in stone. "I don't care. I'm not letting you risk your well-being for all of us again. Gaius and I will look through the vaults for now. If I see you anywhere near them, I'll put you back on bed rest with a guard," he threatened.
Merlin wanted to argue that he could easily overpower any guard Arthur assigned to him, but his friend still didn't know how much trouble he was having controlling his magic, and he wasn't really keen to bring up the subject. Arthur thought the incident with George was due to a slip of mind, a lack of focus, but in reality his magic had rushed out of him without any kind of warning, easily shoving past the walls he usually put up even when he was distracted. He would have to ask Kilgharrah about it the next time they were able to speak alone.
Arthur took his silence as capitulation, and turned back to Kilgharrah. "Could you keep an eye out and tell us if you catch wind of what Morgause is up to?" He asked hopefully.
Kilgharrah sniffed with disdain. "I am not your pet dog, Arthur Pendragon."
"Kilgharrah," Merlin growled as Arthur blanched at the disrespectful tone.
The Great Dragon rolled his eyes but acquiesced with only mild annoyance. "Be it as you will, King Arthur," he sighed dramatically, rising to his feet. "Farewell, young warlock," he added as an afterthought, leaping into the air shortly after.
Aithusa chirped, slinking back around to nuzzle at Merlin's stomach. He scratched under her chin, already feeling the hole behind his heart return as she prepared to depart.
"Be well, Aithusa. Listen to Kilgharrah. I promise you things will be different soon," he told her emphatically.
She tilted her head to look up at him through one twinkling eye.
"Goodbye, Father," she murmured in his mind, her voice smooth like the surface of a lake and pitched like musical bells. "And goodbye to you as well, King Arthur. Take care of him for me," she added, nudging Arthur's hand. The king raised an eyebrow, sensing she'd said something to him but unable to hear what it was. He looked at Merlin, to which the warlock mouthed, later.
Aithusa turned away from them with a flick of her tail, hurrying to follow Kilgharrah back into the shadowy sky. It wasn't until she was long out of sight that Merlin forced himself to leave the clearing, Arthur holding him close as they made their way back to the horse they'd ridden here.
"We'll figure it out, Merlin," Arthur reassured him quietly, keeping his gaze straight ahead. Merlin turned to observe his king, noting the steel in his jaw and the fire in his eyes, and he thought if anyone could see Camelot through this situation, it was Arthur.
And Merlin would be by his side every step of the way.
-XXX-