A Marriage that Started a Legend

by IJustShowedUp

Follows canon but with my own arranged marriage spin on it. What happens when Hunith makes a mistake and is forced on the run with her infant son? What happens when Camelot knights find her twenty years later? What happens when Arthur learns he's betrothed to a peasant boy? Will Merlin be able to stand among royalty? Will these two different boys survive each other? Review!

193. Chapter 195

Arthur Pendragon rode his horse steadily through the forest, trodding deeper and deeper into the darkness of the woods trying to close up on him, ignoring the occasional slap of a branch scraping alongside the helmet he wore. All ten of his men were following behind him in formation, peering out into the woods, taking note of the broken trail of branches they had been following, tracking it to wherever its nest had been set up at. Nobody dared to make a sound or say a word, many probably weren't even breathing for fear of dragging the griffins attention to them before they were ready. But despite the full moon lighting up the sky, only darkness covered them, the branches of the trees far and wide in a way that stretched over them, blocking the light from them. It made them go in blind, the blind leading the blind, so to speak, as Arthur squinted to see the next set of broken branches. At least Arthur knew they were following behind the right tracks, these branches were far too thick and far too high off of the ground to have been broken by some other creature romancing the woods, as boars and deers often did.

But the tension in the air was palpable, so thick in the air that Arthur could feel it in his throat, the silence leaving everybody on edge. Not even crickets could be heard right now, despite there being numerous around these parts. Though every now and then, there was a rustle in the bushes that had everybody going fraught with jittery energy as they raised their swords in preparation for a fight to the death, but it usually turned out to be some small woodland creature just trying to make a break in the opposite direction from where they were heading in. A squirrel or a rabbit, Arthur could only assume that meant they really were heading in the right direction, if all the animals were trying to flea before they got caught and turned into a snack. Considering the griffin had eaten chunks out of his men when it had attacked the city, Arthur could only assume a little woodland creature wouldn't be enough to fill its belly like it could a man's.

Arthur wasn't even sure the guts of ten strong and able bodied men—like their group wondering closer and closer toward its home—would be enough to keep it full. Which was why the muscles in Arthur's forearms kept going stark tight each and every time a breeze rustled the leaves above their heads, and why he had his legs practically squeezing around the back of his horse as every step drew them nearer and nearer to their ultimate demise. He got a sense that the group was being watched from the shadows, the hair on the back of his neck was starting to prickle and stand on end, but Arthur wasn't sure if he was just being paranoid. Or if the griffin had already found them first, and was now just playing with them, like a cat playing around with a mouse before going for the kill and ending its misery.

Arthur eyed their surroundings again, his hands going tight around the reins of his horse, making it neigh in response. His heart nearly lodged itself inside his throat when the sound echoed among the group, many of his men going tense as they waited to see if the noise would be enough for the griffin to come after them. Everybody paused where they were, their horses going still as they tried grabbing onto weapons Arthur already knew were useless against a beast like this one. But he did nothing to stop them, even Arthur's hand had gone down to cup around the handle of the blade strapped around his waist, more for the comfort it had always given him, rather than knowing it would be any help with their current situation. But nothing came emerging from the woods, no flashes of white in the trees, no roars loud enough to make their bones rattle, and not even the clank of hooves that did not belong to their horses met their ears. He heard nothing but the silence around them, saw nothing but the shadows of all the trees surrounding them. Arthur's jawline went tight, before he made some kind of motion with his hand above his head, his soldiers falling back into their places before they continued on down the path they were going.

They continued deeper into the forest—a good mile or so away from the gates of the city—and Arthur knew, as he loosened his grip on the reins, that he had to get some self-control. What had just happened right now was something he could NOT allow to happen again. Maybe the griffin was following them like he suspected, or maybe it wasn't at all, and Arthur had almost given the creature their exact position. He had been being reckless, not paying attention towards the needs of his horse, and it had almost cost them dearly. They all had quite a large target scrawled across their backs, and this mission wasn't the type that could afford them those kinds of mistakes. Arthur just needed to keep himself as steady as he could be in these circumstances, place his mind on something that would keep him focus on task, just like the light from a lighthouse leading lost sailors to shore. Something that would prevent him from getting lost once again, metaphorically.

His father's disappointment if he didn't succeed.

His death should be not succeed the impossible.

The lives of Camelot's People depending on him to finish this.

The lives of the men following behind him, men that he was responsible for.

Merlin…

Merlin…

Merlin…

Merlin never expected anything from him.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut for as long as he would allow, knowing that the griffin stalking them meant he couldn't afford to not be watching for its future attack, and forced the air down into his lungs as he breathed deeply. A scent in the air tickling his nose doing him no favors as he resumed watching out for the gaps in the trees, and anything that might be lying in weight between them all. He probably shouldn't be doing this, hadn't he already hurt the boy enough by now, he shouldn't be disgraced by becoming the True North inside Arthur's head. Like a compass that always pointed north, Merlin had always been what was steady in Arthur's recent life. Even with…what Arthur did to him—he's sure his knuckles were going white from the strain of not jerking on the reins of his horse—Merlin had always kept true to the path before them. Even when Arthur had never listened to him, Merlin had always known exactly what he was trying to say. Just like when he had said how bad of an idea this was, and the prince had all but spit in his face, going back completely on his promise to make it all good with Merlin again.

But Merlin was still his True North.

A Guiding Hand that he had Betrayed again and again.

A steady presence that Arthur had been planning to rape.

Despite everything Arthur had done or had nearly done to that innocent boy of his, he drew comfort knowing that Merlin was miles away from him now, out of his reach. His consort would be in his bed by now, curled up amongst his thin sheets, sleeping in peace. He just had to remember why he was doing all this right now, so he could keep going like he was. Yes, he was doing it because it was his father's command. But by doing it, by falling to the talons and fangs of this beast, it would prevent him from ever hurting Merlin again. He would never be given a chance to lay a finger on him, never be given a chance to return to his old ways, never be given a chance to dream horrible things or press kisses that were unwanted against slack lips, never be tempted into using the chains and collar on Merlin.

Arthur would rather die tonight, than chance hurting Merlin in anyway.

There was movement from the tree lines just ahead, and Arthur pulled back on his reins, making his horse come to a stop, the rest of his men following along without question. Arthur's belly with tight, squeezing with tension as he saw a dark shadow creeping between the tree lines, he wasn't imagining it this time, or allowing his own paranoia take control of him. He could see the shadow as it grew bigger as it drew nearer, as easily as he would have been able to see his own hand. There must have been a gap in the trees here, because bits of the moon was shining through, casting the small clearing they've come across in an eerie glow of light. And then it was there, the very same beast that tried to take Merlin away from him twice in one week, it's winged appendages moving to stretch as far as they could go, a short roar of clear disdain escaping from it's beaked mouth.

Arthur nearly trembled under the force of that rose, swallow hard to push all of his nerves and trepidation away from his face. He knew that this wasn't going to end well, but while that was exactly what he wanted, it didn't make this any less terrifying. His palms were sweating beneath his glove, the ring beneath it the only physical piece of Merlin he had allowed himself to bring, and he knew the rest of his armor wouldn't be enough to protect him from the near crushing blow the beast was sure to land on him. But Arthur packed all of those nerves away, into a steel box in the back of his mind as he reached down to draw out his blade. He held it up above his head, holding the handle as tightly as he was able too, to stop his men from being able to see how much he wanted to start trembling like a little girl.

He was their leader.

He was meant to be brave,

But he wasn't.

"FOR CAMELOT!"

Arthur roared his battle cry as loud as he could, reminding his men as they had also drew their swords when he did, what they were fighting for. They followed his lead, screaming his battle cry for themselves, drilling into their heads what else would be lost if they didn't succeed. And then the fight was on, the prince snapping at his horse's reins to encourage it to run at full force to the creature while his men followed. But as Arthur reached the breast, bringing his blade to the creature's wing as hard as he could and watching as the creature moved to the side with grace it shouldn't have considering it's side, an image showed in his mind's eye. An image that had his heart squeezing so tightly inside of him, it felt like he couldn't breathe for a moment.

Merlin…

Merlin, on the day they first met each other, when the other boy approached him for the first time to get him to stop throwing his daggers at that perverted ex-manservant of his. Merlin had held out his hand to Arthur, calling Arthur his 'friend' as he introduced himself. Arthur had scorned the boy, and ridiculed his Merlin just for the fun of it. God, if Arthur hadn't been an idiot, if he knew then the things he knew now, if he had only taken his head out of his arse just long enough to shake Merlin's bloody hand…things may have gone in a far different direction with them. They could have been friends! Partners, in some sense of the word. Something much more than what Arthur had forced them to become with his own ignorance, jealousy, and inability to handle his own emotions even at the best of times.

The fight barely lasted five minutes, a pitiful amount of time that would make all of the surviving warriors whither with shame and defeat.

Arthur slashed and hacked his way at the beast, never quite managing to land a proper hit against the hard shell it had for a body. He could smell the blood in the air, and feel the fire beneath his skin, the screams of his men echoing in his ears as they fell one by one under the mighty fury of the griffin. And Arthur barely had a moment to blind from one second to the next before something to the side of him hit him HARD. His helmet clanging against his skull and making it feel like little bells were ringing in his air, and for a minute, Arthur felt as if he was flying, having been flung from his horse during the attack. And the prince SCREAMED in pain as his free fall abruptly stopped, slamming into a tree hard enough that he heard something crack violently, and he wasn't sure if it came from his body or the tree itself. Arthur slid down the body of the tree, landing in a heap on the ground, vision darkening until the only thing he knew was the remaining survivors screaming for mercy.

The last thing Arthur thought…

At least he could grant Merlin his death.

X

Merlin Pendragon often tried not to think about what his role as the Consort of Camelot meant. He often failed NOT thinking about it, but there were stints of time where he tried not too. The stress and the burden that came with being a consort of Camelot, especially with being the unwanted consort for so long of his time here, was not one that he wanted to carry. It was too much for a single person to carry, the stress enough to pull a man in a thousand directions all at once until it felt like the weight was slowly killing him. But when things came to shove, when nobody else could come close to holding up the responsibility the role came with, Merlin had found himself answering it. Even Merlin himself was quite surprised by what he had told Lancelot to convince the warrior to let him come into battle with him.

HIS PEOPLE.

Merlin was troubled, riding through the dark forest on a horse he had stolen out of the stables to trot alongside Lancelot as they followed the hoof-prints in the ground. He had always been so adamant about Camelot not being his real home, had always told himself that the only roots he needed to put down were with his uncle and his friends. He had given up Camelot—and its people—as a whole when they had turned their backs on him and marked him as nothing but an outsider breaching in on their home. And yet, Merlin had just referred to the kingdom as…his. His people. His responsibility. Under his protection. The very real problems that came with being their consort.

But the little girl that had approached him just to give him a flower crown for saving her father's shop from Arthur's destruction.

And the elderly lady that had sat on the dirty ground, a survivor of the griffin pillaging a village, telling him how great he was after he bandaged up her leg that had been injured during her escape.

The serving girl Merlin had pulled from the rubble, saving her life when not one other person had known she was under there, gazing up at him even as some of the soldiers arrived to pull him away.

The servants at Lancelot's celebrations that had nearly flooded him, pressing trays of wines and bite sized foods into his face, hoping to get his attention in one capacity or the other.

The people who had been watching him from the safety of the castle walls as he grabbed person after person trapped in danger as the griffin ran amok, the way they had clumped together and whispering things like 'savior' under their breaths as if he couldn't hear them.

Each and every one of those moments had been filed away in Merlin's mind as one of the most 'awkward' moments of his life. Merlin was used to being hated among them, used to people spitting at his feet just became he had happened to be walking past them that afternoon. He was used to people laughing to his face or behind their hands, pointing at him as if he had done something funny just by walking into their line of sight. Used to the sneers as a serving girl had 'accidentally' banged into his stomach with her laundry basket, or servants not moving out of his way when they were blocking the entire hall no matter how much he said 'excuse me', acting as if they couldn't hear him. What he wasn't used to was being…revered.

Remarked.

Needed.

Not that Camelot needed him, they had done just fine all of these years before he came to this land. But it still felt as if those people, the same ones that had decided he was their 'savior', was somehow relying on him to do what trained knights weren't able to do. And that was exactly why he was out here without a proper spell under his belt, with nothing more than a dagger that he couldn't get to even twitch in his hand, much less glow with the aura of energy living in the air like it was supposed too. But…he did have Lancelot riding alongside his horse, and Merlin glanced over at the warrior, who was too busy watching over their surroundings to notice he had captured Merlin's undivided attention.

Lancelot had needed him too, once upon a time.

He had came to Camelot chasing a dream, with hardly anything more than the clothes on his back, much like Merlin. Who had been hoping for happiness and carrying nothing more than a small bag on his back when he had first came to the city gates. Lancelot hadn't been a knight then, he had only been a warrior, and Merlin had been doing him a disservice when he told the man it was 'HIM' who had turned him into a knight. No, Lancelot had always been a knight deep down inside of himself, the spirit of somebody truly honorable resting inside of his soul. Merlin had done his part, but Lancelot had been the one that had did all the work. If they were fighting any other creature, if this griffin was a beast that didn't require magic to stop, Merlin probably wouldn't even need to really be here at all. Lancelot could have taken it down without Merlin getting in his way…

But Merlin was Consort.

And he was a Sorcerer.

Merlin was starting to find it hard to put any real distinction between the two.

Each one required a certain level of responsibility.

And each one required him putting forth the necessary skills needed to master it.

Merlin didn't hear anything at first, deaf to the rising sounds of trauma, death reeking in the air, as they drew closer and closer to where the fight had been at. It was Lancelot's body going stiff that finally alerted Merlin to what the two of them had stumbled across, and Merlin whipped back around as the trees in front of them started to part. His eyes grew rounded as he whipped his head back and forth, taking in the scene of complete and utter devastation in front of him. Merlin had never seen anything like it in his life, not even when the odd bandit take on their village had left the people with injuries like the ones Merlin saw now. Blood was literally soaking into the ground, feeding the plants as rain water should have, bodies ripped from one side of the clearing until the other.

He thought he was going to throw up at first, the coppery scent of blood in the air so overpowering that it made his stomach lurch. He couldn't see the griffin, perhaps it had flown off after destroying the platoon that should've destroyed it, but there were other things that he saw. There was a body not five feet from his horse that was literally ripped in two, the man's head and chest separated from it's waist by a good foot of space, nothing but guts and intestines trying in vain to tie it back together. There were a few more body where Merlin could not see any noteworthy injuries, but neither were they moving. There was this man on the far side of the clearly that looked as if his entire face had became a carving, completely ripped to shreds and caved in until it left the remains of his brain falling into the earth. Merlin's stomach lurched once again as he half brought a hand up to his mouth in case he needed to do something before he threw up at the sight. Everywhere he looked was only another sight of death, destruction, and carnage…these guys hadn't stood a single change at actually ending the griffin.

Merlin couldn't even say for sure if they had managed to put up a fight at all, or if it had simply taken them out one by one by one.

Merlin's eyes were still darting around wildly, glancing at Lancelot with terror in his eyes. The warrior didn't seem to be fairing much better, his face colored like ash while he pressed his lips together into a tight line, probably his way of stopping himself from throwing up like Merlin had to do. But it was Merlin that spotted him first, a thatch of blond hair sticking out from the curves of a tree, half stained with blood seeping through from the scalp. It was the first thing Merlin recognized, none of the other knights were people he had known from before, and Merlin latched onto it. Sometimes, in terrible situations, there were people that latched onto things that were familiar, even when that familiarity is something that wasn't good for you. It was better to stand beside the devil you knew, rather than the devil you didn't. And Merlin was no different, scrambling to get off of his horse so quickly that his foot almost got caught in the stir-up and sent him stumbling.

Lancelot hissed his name wildly, neither of them sure whether or not the griffin was still in the area or if it had already taken off once the knights had stopped screaming. But Merlin barely heard him, the adrenaline was pumping through his body and making his head feel like it was about to burst, and he hurried his way across the yard to where Arthur's fallen body was. He didn't think to stick to the shadows, just in case the griffin really was still in the area, and decided he looked like something it could snatch into the air. His only thoughts were on getting over the long roots connected to the tree that were growing wildly out of the ground, because if Arthur was dead…if they had came too late…well, he needed to see it for himself.

Merlin made it over to the tree roots, catching sight of the rest of Arthur's limp body on the other side, but he stopped running only when he was reached the body itself. And Merlin stared, his pupils nearly blown wide, his breath starting to hitch, he vaguely heard Lancelot joining him from behind, but he could only stare at the sight before him. Arthur was so…so…so LIMP. For as long as Merlin had known Arthur, the prince had always been moving. Waving a hand when he tried to either grab at Merlin or dismiss him, glaring at Merlin with his eyes full of distrust and hatred, smirking as if he had finally gotten his way when Merlin didn't even know what game they were playing. Being weird as he made Merlin all these apologies have would've made his heart soar if he hadn't been jaded by Arthur already.

But not anymore.

If Merlin didn't know any better, he would have assumed Arthur had decided to take a nap in the middle of the battle. His face relaxed, though his neck looked as if it was twisted at an odd angle. The blond locks that Merlin had ended up loathing as much as the rest of him was starting to stain red with his blood as it seeped out through some unseen wound in his scalp. His skin color seemed to be unnaturally pale, even paler than Merlin's natural skin tone was. And the consort found it difficult to move, to face this problem head on like he should have been. But Arthur was…he was dead. Arthur was a monster and an abuser and a creep and a freak and everything else in-between, and Merlin always did say he wouldn't feel anything should the prince perish. Merlin had been right…he didn't feel anything, other than the stunned shock over what he was seeing before him. Maybe he was just in shock, and the repercussions of what this all meant would hit him later.

"…Is he dead?"

Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin when Lancelot's whispered his question from behind him, looking just as stunned by this turn of events as Merlin was feeling. They had known the battle was happening now, but somehow…it was only now they were realizing they were too late to do anything. But right, the warrior had asked Merlin a question, and Merlin needed a definite answer to give him. Maybe Merlin needed a definite answer for himself even more. Here he was, just ASSUMING Arthur was dead, when there could be a million other explanations for what happened to him. His body did seem to be the one that was the least damaged, from what he could tell…Merlin's belly twisted up with nerves as he carefully edged himself down until he could kneel beside Arthur, but the prince still carried no signs of life in him. Merlin swallowed hard…he'd been around plenty of dead bodies back when the plague had torn through the kingdom like a wildfire unable to be contained. But there was something that's so incredibly shocking about seeing somebody he knew—somebody that had spent more time tormenting him than not—just lying still like this. But Merlin…he had to know.

He had to.

Merlin carefully placed two of his fingers against Arthur's skin right beneath his jawline, the flesh was warm and clammy at the same time, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognized this as probably the first time he ever touched Arthur voluntarily. Merlin's fingers were shaking so much, and he had to take a breath in order to hold steady. There was nothing happening beneath his fingers…no pulse point or anything to indicate Arthur still had life going on somewhere inside of him. A jolt of adrenaline raced through Merlin…no! Nono and no. Arthur couldn't be dead. Uther would probably kill Merlin if he did turn out dead. And Gaius would be disappointed for Merlin failing. And Merlin…he's not ready to be Arthur's replacement for the throne. He couldn't even handle his own responsibilities have the time…thump. Thump, thump, thump, thump.

Merlin's breath caught in his throat.

X

Gaius Whytt, stood in the center of the main area of his house, the little blue gemstone shining with the strength of a thousand suns was cupped between three palms of his head. He held it up to his face, twisting it this way and that to see the way the blue light glistened whenever it caught the firelight. Gaius had never thought he would have any reason to use the power of this gem, so he had allowed it to rot in the locked area of the treasury. Where they kept the most dangerous of magical items, preventing it from being used against them by their enemies that might find it. But the entrance had been sealed off, and it would probably be many years before anybody discovered it was missing. It would never be found within Gaius' possession, of that, he was sure.

This gemstone hadn't been the only thing Gaius had taken though, this stone was part of a matched set. There were four others exactly like it, and without even one of them, the spell Gaius planned on using it for wouldn't have been able to work. He had spent his last few days, between his research about the griffin and taking care of Merlin, to prepare everything for this exact moment. For the time in which the full moon was reaching the exact center of the sky, a most powerful moment for those who used magic. The power of the moon was able to charge up even the most gentlest of spells, as long as one knew how to harness it correctly. But it was still a gamble, Gaius wasn't as powerful as he'd been in his youth, and there was still every possibility that this spell would fail anyway.

But he still had to try.

It was for Merlin's safety, after all.

And there was nothing more important to the older man.

In each corner of the house, buried within the walls and hidden behind stone, were the four identical stones. Gaius had needed to place them exactly such, if he wanted to enact a proper barrier around his property. He had wanted to do it over the whole of Camelot, to offer Merlin the maximum protection, but it would have been far too much. A spell of the magnitude would've been far too taxing, and could've possibly killed him if he tried keeping it standing for any real length of time. Gaius had needed a much smaller area, something closed in, and not big enough to drain him of his energy. His property had really been Gaius' only option, because at least he could be sure the gems weren't going to be found and the spell disrupted.

And speaking of the spell, Gaius looked down at the dagger he had sitting out on the table beside the now empty chest that had once held all five of the gem stones. It looked like any ordinary blade, but the handle had many designs on the base of it, working it's way up and down to form different swirls and many odd shapes normal people wouldn't have been able to decipher. But Gaius was able to recognize many of the markings as Druid symbols, marking this blade as a ceremonial tool, something that would only strengthen and concentrate his magic. Considering it had been many years since Gaius had trained to keep focus on his spell work, he was taking every precaution he could to give it the added boost it might need.

Gaius picked up the blade in the hand not holding the gemstone, and he spent a long second staring at how wickedly sharp the blade was. Sharp enough that it could slice through a grown man's belly as if it was warm butter, pliable and soft to its whims. Good. Gaius only intended to do this once. And then Gaius moved quick, preparing himself for the pain as he sliced open his hand with a sharp precision. The aged physical hissed beneath his breath as the blood was starting to gush forward in rivers, he wouldn't need stitches but the spell work he was doing required the blood of man. It was why Uther had never been able to figure out what it did when the Camelot Knights had first recovered it from a fallen witch's home and brought it to him. Nobody had thought to shed blood onto it, which is what Gaius did now. He squeezed the blue gemstone in hand, smearing his blood across the stone until the blue light it emitted could barely be seen through all the red. But it pulsed…the stone gave off a steady pulse he could feel through his hand, connecting itself to his blood and therefore to his life force. As long as he lived, or somebody that carried his blood like Merlin, it would continue giving them its protection.

"Bite us, godcyning. Scyld us fram þæm þe woldon us wyrðe unhold."

Gaius focused as much as he could on the little magic inside of him, having to dig deep to find the little leftover spark he had molded when he was younger, much like he had been trying to train Merlin how to do before he left. The spell tugged on the magic inside, sending a pulsing shockwave through him, almost knocking him off his feet from the sheer strength it took to draw out. His eyes started flicking between gold and blue, as if it couldn't decide whether or not the spell was worth exercising the limb Gaius had neglected for almost twenty years. But Gaius wasn't willing to lose so easily, this was the only thing that he knew of that could guarantee Merlin's protection within these walls.

"BITE US, GODCYNING. SCYLD US FRAM BAM BE WOLDEN US WYROE UNHOLD!"

Gaius nearly screamed the spell now, somehow lucky enough to not have woke Gwen sleeping peacefully upstairs. The spell itself could roughly be translated into: protect us, goddess. Shield us from those that wish to do us harm. It took every bit of strength he possessed, his energy draining from him in such quick intervals that it was his own strength of will that kept him standing. But finally, the stone gave one more mighty pulse, Gaius' eyes glowing with so much gold that it lit up the entire room with its glow. Gaius' knees were shaking, the light of the stone dying down in his hand, and he couldn't keep standing anymore. It was a rough fall, landing on his backside as his entire body spasmed as all the magic worked its way through his system. Before it faded, taking the pulsing of the blue gem with it, leaving the stone looking dull and lifeless in his clenched hand.

Gaius stared at it weakly, through beady eyes, too weak to open up his shaking hand and see the stone for himself? Had it worked? Was there now some kind of protective barrier enacted around his home, something blind to all who had not bore witness to the spell work Gaius had been weaving. Or had he failed in doing it? Was Gaius' magical simply not strong enough after all the years that had been spent with it sitting dormant inside of him? Was the ceremonial knife and the power of the full moon not strong enough to activate it? Had he been only kidding himself? Thinking he could do something as immensely powerful as this without Merlin's magic to aid the spell along. Had he…Gaius stopped all his troubling thoughts right there, as he felt a weak pulse coming from the fist sized stone in his hand. With a grunt, Gaius finally pushed himself up enough to see what was going on for himself.

Gaius was barely sitting straight before a beam of light shot out of the stone, five of them in total, nearly startling him into dropping the stone. Four of them, pale and shimmering with the same blue light of the stone, shot off in different directions, but Gaius knew each beam of light was being drawn straight to the power of the other stones, connecting and amplifying the home. And then the fifth and final light was shooting up towards the ceiling, disappearing through the wood and taking to somewhere in the night sky. And when Gaius looked to his windows, he could see a shimming light behind his shutters. He clambered to his feet, the spell having wiped him out down to his core, but he still found a way to stumble across the length of the room so he could open the windows to get a better look.

And true enough, the shimmering light had expanded to the outside, covering every square inch of his tower in a protective bubble that couldn't be peeked through by magical means. And Gaius started to laugh, unable to believe he'd been able to pull off such a complicated work of magic. And he watched as the shimmering blue light faded, leaving nobody the wiser to the bubble that was now closed around the entire property. Still grinning, Gaius closed his shutters back, feeling the brief hints of magic woven around the home, content to know it would be unnoticed by those who weren't sensitive to the magical vibes that a spell like that could give off.

Gaius had spent countless hours wondering what he was supposed to do when Arthur had first came to him all those days ago, warning him all about the dark witch he had encounter in the caves when he had ran off to save Merlin weeks ago. Warning him about how she was 'keeping watch' on him, and how insane she was, wanting to take Merlin away from them. Gaius could hardly do much if Nimueh decided to attack them herself, but at least Merlin could have a little mediocre of privacy within the walls of his own home. Whatever scrying spells Nimueh had been using to watch Merlin, something that Gaius knew her to be very capable of, wouldn't be able to breach the shell of the shield. It would be a total mental blackout for her the next time she tried. And now…all Gaius had to do was hide the fifth gemstone. Somewhere nobody would find it, where not a soul would think to look for an immensely powerful magical object…

A few minutes later, Gaius was whistling this casual tune under his breath as he carefully placed the jar of flour back on the shelf with the rest of his other cooking supplies.

X

"He's alive…Arthur's alive!"

Merlin practically shouted in surprise, his entire body jolting to attention as he felt the faint pulse beating beneath his fingers. He pressed his fingers deeper into the hollow of his neck just to make sure he wasn't imagining things, but it soon became clear that he wasn't…there was a thumping under Arthur's skin. A sign of life that Merlin hadn't detected before. And maybe Merlin was feeling a little bit insane as the moment, because he threw his head back and laughed at the sky, Lancelot exhaling a breath of relief from somewhere behind him. He just couldn't believe it…of course Arthur would be the only survivor of such an awful and brutal attack. Why wouldn't he? Out of all the men that could've got out of here alive, why wouldn't it be the man that lived to torment Merlin? The thought made him somber up as he ripped his fingers away from the blonde's neck, curling his fingers delicately against his chest as if it could protect him from whatever the stench of the prince.

But there was no time for any of Merlin's trauma to come forth, no time for him to move away from Arthur as if he was a diseased mongrel, because a terrified scream suddenly ripped through the night air, shattering the silence that they had fallen into ever since they came across the gruesome scene in the field. It had both Merlin and Lancelot jumping to their feet, just in time for the body of a knight—Merlin hadn't realized there were only nine bodies in the field till this tenth one appeared—landed on the ground a few feet away from them. Hitting the ground with such a heavy crack, that Merlin was sure it not only managed to damage the earth beneath him, but probably shattered every single bone in its body. And then the body was still, impossible still. The griffin liked playing around with its food, it should have been no surprise to know it had taken one of the men hundreds of feet into the air just to watch it fall to the ground like a meteor. But it still sent Merlin throwing himself back, nearly crashing into the warrior behind him in his haste to get away from the scene, from the blood he could see starting to pool around the fallen warrior, from the sickeningly awful crack of broken bones ringing in his ears on a never ending loop.

Lancelot righted him before he could fall on his backside, something that may have costed him dearly if he wasn't able to run at a moment's notice, but then Lancelot was gone, taking his warm presence away from Merlin's backside. He whipped around in a panic, but Lancelot was already disappearing into the line of trees where they had came from…was Lancelot leaving him? Running to get away while he still had a chance that these other men didn't? That didn't much sound like the Lancelot Merlin had came to know, not the Lancelot that wanted to risk everything just to become a man worthy of being a knight. But perhaps it was too much, surely all this blood and devastation and horror, was way too much for somebody who's never seen active combat situations like this. Merlin had never seen so much carnage before, but then…he heard it. The flapping of wings coming from somewhere above him, the only warning Merlin was going to get before that bloody griffin return to find a new snack to fill its belly or its bloodlust.

And suddenly, it didn't matter if Lancelot had all but abandoned him to what fate awaited Merlin if he stayed here, the consort was scrambling over the long roots to try and go after him. His fingernails digging into the thick roots to pull himself up and over, hoping the nearby trees would offer him a sanctuary that wouldn't be found out here in the open. But as Merlin was swinging his leg up over the largest root of the tree, and the final obstacle between him and what he perceived as safety, a thought suddenly occurred to him. And Merlin turned back around to look at the prone and immobile Arthur, lying limply against the base of the tree as if he wasn't in mortal peril. Arthur's blond hair, even with it being matted by blood, stood out like a sore thumb. And it would only take one murmured peep from the prince to catch the griffin's attention, making it take notice of the chew toy just waiting to be played with.

Every fiber in Merlin's being told him he should turn tail and run away as fast as his feet could carry him before the griffin returned, and every fiber inside of Merlin told him to leave and abandon Arthur right where he was. After all the pain Arthur had caused him, all the hurt Merlin had endured during their time together, all of the verbal snarls of disgust, and the grabbing, and the hitting even…why should Merlin stay? Merlin couldn't think of one good reason as to why he should risk his own life to save somebody as wretched as his husband was. And it wasn't as if Merlin was strong enough to drag Arthur's limp body, made heavier with the bulky metal that had apparently shielded him from most of the blows, into the trees before they were caught. Really, Merlin would have been being practical, it was better to save his life than leave the both of them for dead. And with any luck, the griffin wouldn't even notice Arthur still had his pulse beating somewhere beneath all that armor. It hadn't yet, so who's to say Arthur still didn't have a chance if he continued going undiscovered?

Nobody would fault Merlin for leaving…

He wasn't a fighter…

He wasn't a soldier…

And Arthur had put him through hell, as many had bore witness too.

But…

Wouldn't leaving make him a murderer?

Arthur still had his heartbeat, he was still alive, which meant he could be saved as well. But if Merlin left, how long would it really be before the griffin realized one of her attackers still drew breath in his body? How long would it be before it decided to stomp Arthur to death, slamming its hooves onto his body till his ribs cracked and shatter under the force, leaving Arthur to start choking on his own blood. Arthur was a fucking bastard, and Merlin knew he most definitely deserved such a gruesome and horrifying ending for the shit Merlin's had to live with. But…could Merlin live with this himself? He was already on the path to healing the scars Arthur had placed on him, would he be strong enough to live the rest of his life knowing he now had Arthur's blood staining his hands?

Had Merlin really turned into that kind of person?

Had Arthur really turned him into that kind of person?

Would Merlin ever be able to look his face in the mirror again after tonight?

Before Merlin had to make a choice, the choice was already made for him as a pair of wings flapping kicked the dirt off the ground, blowing it directly into his face, and forcing Merlin to bring his hands out in front of him to try and block as much as he could. He squinted through the gap in his arms, watching while the griffin landed on the other side of the clearing, its back already arched in a dangerous line as it hissed wildly. Eyes already focused intently on Merlin, and it caused the consort's heart to go wild in his chest as he realized he had done spent far too much time concerning himself with the moral dilemma of leaving Arthur behind. And now he was in the griffin's crosshairs…it kinda felt the way it did when somebody caught eyes with a violent viper. Hypnotizing, stunning, leaving one person terrified to look away in case that gave the beast cause to attack.

One wrong step, one wrong move…perhaps Merlin had already made that one wrong mistake by staying for Arthur's sake.

Arthur really was going to end up killing him, one way or another.

But then, as the griffin scraped its hooves against the dirt looking as if it was about two seconds from trying to ram Merlin down, another sound breached the air. The sound of a horse galloping, and Merlin whipped his head around to see Lancelot's riding into the clearing, his horse pausing along the crest of the hill overlooking them. Lancelot hadn't left him, Merlin realized as he watched the horse raise up on his back legs…Lancelot hadn't left him at all. He'd simply known the griffin would be returning, and had left to grab his horse, as well as the long lance he'd managed to dig up from somewhere, that'd been strapped to the horse's side during their journey to the woods. And seeing Lancelot up on that hill as the horse came back down on its front hooves, seeing him in all his armor and holding a lance as if he had been born holding it in his hands…it was almost magical. Like Merlin watching the pages of a story unfolding right in front of him, or watching as a legend was being written…anybody who could look at Lancelot now, and declare him not a knight, needed to have their eyes checked.

Lancelot WAS a knight.

Common born and all.

The Warrior that had saved Merlin the first time they ever met all those days ago.

"Shit."

Merlin breathed out as he watched the hooves of the horse starting to scrape across the ground, similar to how the griffin now watching them had did it only seconds before. This was really happening, the fight to the death, Lancelot vs. the griffin, magic vs…no magic. This was his cue, his reason for being here at all! Lancelot could strike the griffin as hard as he wanted to with that stick, but it was only going to splinter the wood. Merlin…he didn't know how to even do the spell yet, and the fear started to swell up inside his chest like a bubble just waiting to be popped, before Merlin furiously shoved it down as far as he was able to get it. This was WHY he was here, he couldn't let uncertainty stop him from trying, not when it was already certain that Lancelot would fail without an interference from him.

"Bregdan anweals gafeluec."

Merlin whispered the spell frantically beneath his breath, feeling his magic as it started to stir somewhere beneath his veins, calling attention to it even if it didn't do what Merlin was asking of it. But the time for practice had long since passed him by. And his magic was his, the one thing he had that Arthur could not touch, the one thing of him that remained from his days as a simple farmer in the middle of nowhere. He had changed so much since those times, but he wasn't a coward anymore. If he was strong enough to survive Arthur, then he was strong enough to put this griffin in its place. He had been reborn from the ashes of those days where pain and fear ran rampant, what was really one tiny griffin compared to the likes of Arthur Pendragon?"

"Bregdan anweald gafeluec."

Merlin said the spell a little louder, his eyes focusing firmly onto the lance that Lancelot held at his side, pointed directly for the chest of the beast. And there was a violent stirring of magic swelling up to the surface as Merlin imagined it was the lance being surrounded. The hair on Merlin's forearms were starting to stand on end, the sensitive force of nature all around him, the life force—aura—of every tree and bird and insect still in the area shifting in the air as if it was some kind of dance only they knew the steps too. And Merlin breathed, filling his lungs with the power brimming in the air like electricity waiting to snap only after the pushing of Merlin's magic became too much.

"Bregdan anweald gafeluec!"

Merlin screamed the spell as loud as he could, the sound ripping its way out of his throat as Lancelot rode past him as a steady pace. Merlin could feel as the magic inside of him went tight, like a string that would snap once it had finally been pulled free. His breath's turned ragged, he would die himself before he'd allow this griffin to claim the life of his friend. He would do whatever he had to do to make sure Lancelot walked away from the battle, because it was Merlin's responsibility. To protect. Just like he had to protect the people from the ones wishing to hurt them. Like he had to protect his friends and family, who'd given so much of themselves to protect him. Many months ago, sitting on the steps of the castle right after his first real failure back during the tourney, Gwen had been the one to tell him it was his responsibility to do something. Because he knew what Valiant was capable of, and nobody else was willing to see him for what he was. This was just like then…who else would be able to step in like he could?

"Bregdan anweald gafeluec!!!"

Merlin screamed one final time, his voice breaking through the air the same way a bell ringing would, and he finally felt something inside of him clicking in place, something that hadn't happened the last thousand times or so he tried practicing this spell. His magic crackling, his eyes blazing a golden hue that's so bright, it could've been seen even in the dark of the night, he was a bloody sorcerer! And his magic would do exactly as he commanded it to do…Lancelot was far ahead of him now, nearly the griffin that had started racing at him. And as the two of them collided, Merlin could see the wisps of blue light forming its way around Lancelot's lance, creating a blade of energy around the weapon in his hand. Merlin threw his hands up to cover his eyes as the griffin roared this mighty sound, loud enough to echo through the forest and caused several red birds that had been hiding in the tree to fly away.

And then all was silent.

Merlin stared ahead in silent awe, his eyes wide as he saw the griffin laying on it's side, flat as a board. It wasn't moving, the same stillness in its limbs that all the dead knights in the field had. And Lancelot was still standing there, on his horse with his lance in hand—the glow of energy around the weapon faded now that its work was done—staring at the still griffin with the same shock that Merlin had. But soon, shock gave away to excitement, pure elation, enough for Merlin to forget about the bodies in the field and the stench of blood and gore still in his nostrils. This was…this was…this was beautiful.

"YES!"

Merlin screamed his emotions as he brought his hands up to grab roughly on either side of his head, his hair slipping through the gaps between his fingers as he stared on. He couldn't believe it, after all this time and after everything the griffin had done in the last week or so, it was finally dead. It had gone and gotten slayed by Lancelot, because Merlin actually managed to accomplish the largest feat he had managed to date. Forget saving Camelot from a plague and forget about scoring the treaty with Bayard, this moment had to top everything else without question! If Merlin could do that spell, if he was actually capable of drawing energy from the air and turning it into a weapon…what else was he able to do? Maybe there was some hope for him after all, maybe he'd actually be able to become this great sorcerer.

Merlin finally tore his eyes away from the griffin so he could look at Lancelot, who was just now raising the metal that had been shielding his face from any possible hits, and Merlin's smile started to dim. Maybe it was because he was standing too far away, but Lancelot didn't look as excited as Merlin thought he should. Lancelot should be screaming just as loud as Merlin! Not only had he'd been the last man standing, but he had prove himself as a true knight! Exactly what he'd always wanted. So why…Merlin didn't get to dig into his questions all that long before a loud groan cut through the silent air. And Merlin turned back to look with eyes going wide…Arthur. He had forgotten all about Arthur lying in the roots of the tree, too overcome with the emotion he'd been dealing with to think about the fallen prince behind him. But now, he could see Arthur starting to move, his fingers twitching as his limbs twisted him around so he could get onto his belly, face still buried in the dirt.

Complete and utter panic stabbed Merlin straight in the heart, chasing away all his excitement in the blink of an eye. He couldn't be here, that was something Merlin knew for certain. If Arthur managed to get to his feet and notice Merlin was there, there was no telling what he would do. He could completely fly off the rails, screaming at Merlin about following him and how dangerously stupid if was—which it would've been if Merlin was normal—as if he's not the one that had always brought the most danger to Merlin. Stupid hypocrite. Or he may do something even worse, like demand answers and ask Merlin a million and one questions about what he had seen tonight, until Merlin inevitably tripped over himself and said something incriminating. Maybe this would end up being the ONE time Arthur actually got a brain, and was able to see straight through him and see what he really was.

He needed to get out of here.

Now.

Fast.

Arthur never needed to know he was here.

It was safer that way.

But…Merlin whipped his head back around to see Lancelot still watching him in the distance…what was he supposed to tell Lancelot. He couldn't just run away and not give him any kind of explanation for what he was doing or where it was he was going. Merlin didn't know WHAT he would tell him, but Merlin had to go and tell him SOMETHING. But that decision was taken out of his hands after he heard another groan from Arthur, and could see the prince starting to push off the ground and stumble to his feet. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck…Merlin glanced back and forth between Arthur and Lancelot with sheer terror on his face. Lancelot being here marked him as a warrior, but Merlin being found was only going to put him under suspicion. After all, Arthur had been there when Gaius had told Uther the creature could only be destroyed by magic. Arthur would know that something was up the second he saw Merlin and the dead griffin, might even use it as the perfect excuse to accuse Merlin of magic and have him trialed as a sorcerer. If he could stand to part from Merlin for an eternity, that possessive freak!

Merlin took off running.

He glanced over his shoulder with tension written all over his face once he got into the tree line, but most of the field was shadowed by not only the trees but the mist that had formed around the battlefield, perhaps a side effect of Merlin using the energy in the air for his own purposes. Merlin didn't know, but he did turn around and keep running further into the forest. Trying to put distance in-between him and the field, as much as he could get, the further away from this place the better. He needed it to be as if he was never here, that was the only way Merlin would continue being safe—or at least as safe as he'd ever been in Arthur's kingdom—he thought as he ducked tree branches trying to scrape at his face as he past.

"YOU DID IT, LANCELOT! YOU KILLED IT!"

Those were the last words Merlin heard from the fields, the exclamation clearly coming from Arthur, who had to have been up on his feet and saw the scene in front of him. Merlin paused by a large oak tree, hand flying to the side in order to keep his balance as he glanced back. And Merlin allowed this brief smirk to fly across his face…yes. He had gotten away, and Arthur believed Lancelot was the one to kill it. It was better this way, letting Lancelot take all of the credit for something that they had both done. Lancelot deserved this more, deserved all that something like this would do for him.

Lancelot EARNED this moment.

And now… now Merlin simply needed to find his way back home.

X

It was nearly an hour later before Merlin Pendragon kicked down the door to his uncle's chambers. Kicking down the door might have been a bit excessive on his part, but one could hardly blame him as he threw himself through the doorway and into his home. He was unsurprised to see Gaius standing in the room, no doubt having been waiting up to see whether or not Merlin would be returning in the night. It was a nice feeling, knowing that somebody was going to be worrying for his safety…it made Merlin feel wanted. And that caused this wide grin to nearly split Merlin's face into two, taking this moment now that he was safe and sound back home, to reveal in this feeling. To relax, knowing that the creature that had caused their kingdom torment and terror for a solid week straight, was no longer going to be a threat.

"I DID IT!"

The words ripped themselves out of Merlin's throat faster than he could think them the second he landed eyes on his uncle. And Merlin didn't hesitate when he threw his arms around the older man's neck, hugging him for everything he was worth. Gaius wrapped his arms around his waist as well, and Merlin could not help but sink into the warmth of his uncle as it chased away the lingering carnage and blood he had seen tonight. Men had died! Now, maybe they were good men, or maybe they were men that got their happiness from picking on people like Merlin. But either way, they were dead, and so was the griffin. No more wondering if the winged beast was going to swoop from the skies so it can snatch him up, dragging him into the air to finish what it started all those days ago in the woods. No more wondering if another village was going to be attacked and brought down to ruins because of the creature's bloodlust. Just more job that Merlin had been able to handle…hey! He really had been able to handle it, hadn't he? The griffin didn't seem so scary now, not when he could do something as powerful as bending the aura in the air to make a weapon of mass destruction!

"Ah, I knew that you'd be able to do it. I had every bit of faith in your abilities to set things to right. You clearly only needed a bit of motivation to get things started off. Now, it won't be so hard for you should you ever need to use this spell again in the future." Gaius exclaimed, finally releasing the tight grip that he'd been holding Merlin with, allowing the consort to take a step back. And Merlin nodded, still riding off the high that had came with his win, he almost couldn't wait for his next opportunity to do something. He felt good! Still able to so easily picture the blue aura encircling the lance as if it was made from a pit of fire, glowing with unkept strength and power that Merlin didn't know he had in him. "But I have to ask you, what else happened out there? We have to get your story straight lest somebody notice something out of place, were you seen? Lancelot's not with you, is he alright? And Arthur?"

Merlin's smile dimmed a little, flashes of blood and gore and body parts ripped across the field passed through his mind when Gaius started asking him these questions. But Merlin understood why they needed to be asked, he might have one the battle but nobody could know he had ended the war. They were going to need to have everything prepared, practice until Merlin could put together every detail of what he'd done tonight, any detail that didn't include pushing Lancelot to take him out…fuck! Lancelot! Merlin had almost forgotten all about him, or more-like, Merlin needed to do something about him. Any story Merlin told would be shredded to pieces since Lancelot knew he had been out there during the fight…he probably thought Merlin was a coward for running off only after the battle was already over and done with. But, Lancelot was also a good friend of his, it probably wouldn't be too hard to convince Lancelot to say that he hadn't seen Merlin at all this night. If Lancelot could keep the truth behind Merlin's marriage a secret, then surely he wouldn't speak about anything that happened tonight as well. Merlin shook his head, a thought for another time, it was.

"You don't have to worry about them. I mean, the other men that went out with Arthur didn't survive, they were already dead by the time we got there. Arthur is alright, I saw him standing up when I left so he's probably on his way back to the castle right now to tell Uther that the griffin is dead. And Lancelot will have to be coming back with him. Nobody saw me doing anything, or I'm sure there would have been a bigger reaction to what happen-" Merlin started off, telling Gaius a brief summary about everything that had transpired the night, but the consort cut himself off and started looking around the room a bit more closely than he had before. "…Is there something different in here? Were you moving furniture around or something while I was out there fighting for my life? I swear that there's something…different… in here."

Merlin was pretty sure none of the furniture had actually been moved around, though. The long tables were still sitting exactly where they had been the day Merlin had first came here, the dozens and dozens of books spread out across them were plentiful, as always, and coated in a healthy layer of dust. All of the buckets of medical supplies seemed to be where they were stored, and all the bookcases looked as if they were two seconds away from spewing more books than what was already on them. And yet, at Merlin looked around the room, he could not help but feel like something was different. Some kind of nagging in the back of his mind that told him he was missing something, but he couldn't figure out what it was for the life of him. Maybe he was only imagining it, he IS still pretty off after everything that happened tonight, so perhaps that was his explanation right there. Too much stress in one night causing him to feel what wasn't actually there.

"Er…no. I mean, why would I be decorating when I was worried about whether or not my nephew was going to return to me in one piece. That doesn't sound like the most prudent thing i could've been doing while waiting for your return, does it?" Gaius asked him, a funny little sound in his voice that caught Merlin's attention. But when Merlin did look back, he could see Gaius was looking over his form, a relief to his body that hadn't been there before, as he made sure he really had returned in one piece. Making sure Merlin hadn't lost a finger, or his toes, or perhaps even his head during his battle with a creature that would've tried doing exactly that if it had been given half a chance. Merlin smiled a little bit, it was good to be home. It really was. Where there were people that cared whether or not he got home without suffering from any severe blood los. Gaius stepped forward, though, and placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder so he could look into his eyes, "I do the ant you to know though, just how GOOD it was for you to do what you did. I know it couldn't have been easy, chasing after him or saving his life before the griffin could end it. Many others wouldn't have been able to do it, they wouldn't have been strong enough to let go long enough to do it. So, I'm proud of you, Merlin, I really am."

Gaius engulfed Merlin in another hug, pulling him tightly against his chest until Merlin's head was buried down into the curve of his neck. But, Merlin stared at the wrinkled skin of his uncle's neck, trying not to curl into himself. His uncle did sound proud of him—really proud of him, in fact—and that was everything Merlin wanted. He WANTED Gaius to be proud to call him his nephew. And he wanted Gaius to be so proud, that he would sprout that fact to random people just so he could tell them he was related to somebody like Merlin. But most of all, Merlin wanted his uncle to look at him as if he had high hopes for Merlin to accomplish, because he knew Merlin was capable of it, whether than being as the royal family was and expecting Merlin to do the impossible. But Merlin did not feel like this was something Gaius should be proud of him for. Managing to defeat the griffin, yes, but the other thing… Merlin mumbled something under his breath. Something that was too soft for Gaius to hear, and the elderly man pushed Merlin away some so they could see each other in the face. Merlin had his head down low, too shamed to look at his uncle.

"But… I didn't let things go with him." Merlin choked out, his throat starting to compress in on itself, but Gaius only tilted his head because he wasn't able to understand what Merlin was talking about. The consort took a deep breath and tried again, "You said that you were proud of me because I managed to go out there and let go of my anger to save Arthur, but I didn't! I saved him, yes, but I had a moment there where… where I had the chance to leave him for dead and save myself. And god, Uncle Gaius, I was literally going to leave him behind to die! And I didn't care! For a second, I honestly didn't care if he returned home or not. Because I am still so FURIOUS with him. After all the shit that he's put me through, just thinking his name makes my blood boil until it feels like I will see my skin melting off! I see him, and I want to take the closest object that I can get my hands on and beat his skull in until there's nothing left to crush of him! I go to bed every night wishing that I had the chance to strangle him that day, wishing that I could see the life leaving his eyes after he tried so hard to snuff out mine during all those months! And I wake up wondering whether or not he's going to get tired of this whole, I'm sorry, act he's been putting on for me and decide to attack me or something for not giving in. I keep going on and on about how much progress I'm making during my healing, but then there are moments like that, and I have to wonder… how much am I really healing? How long is it going to take before I can… really let the anger festering inside of me go. Because I don't, I don't think I can live a half-decent life as long as I have it boiling away inside of me. I might ACTUALLY do something the next time that Arthur pushes me too far, and I… I…"

Merlin shook his head rapidly, a flood of tears filling his eyes so great that he's surprised they didn't start running down his face like a waterfall. It felt as if he had just admitted some great sin, something he hadn't dared to tell any other person about, scared they might see him differently if he did. But Merlin could not help the way that he felt. He hadn't been lying. It had been there, fighting in his blood with every single pump of his heart ever since he had woken from his poisoned cup incident. Merlin had screamed and screamed and screamed his heart out that day, had ripped a new hole straight into Arthur, but it hadn't been enough for him. Merlin thought it was at the time, and for a time, things had started to feel like normal as the weeks passed without Arthur interfering in his life. But then Arthur had came back, started showing up more and more wherever Merlin didn't want him, getting weirder and weirder and weirder, and all those feelings just kept returning. Until Merlin had to wonder rather or not he had been healing AT ALL, or if he had simply been fooling himself all of this time. Tricking his brain into thinking everything was right with the world, when in reality, the shadows of his dreadful past were creeping around, just waiting to swoop in and send Merlin back to that dark place again.

"Hey now, none of that. You have absolutely nothing to be worried about, my nephew." Gaius was immediately saying once the tears started to flow, before he was pulling Merlin back into his arms. Merlin fell into them willingly, with his heart aching, and it was like he was suddenly being told it was okay to cry now that everything was over. Because that's what he did. Merlin sobbed, his heart feeling as if it was being out of his chest again, just like he did the day he had decided he wasn't going to waste a single tear more on somebody like Prince Arthur Pendragon. But that hadn't been a promise he could keep, and Merlin's heaving into his uncle's neck, crying as if the entire world was crumbling under his feet. What a bloody mess he was, he should have been celebrating, being lifted up off his own feet because of what he'd done tonight. And what was he doing instead? He was allowing his old aches, his old pains, the memories that haunted the nightmares he refused to talk about, to overwhelm him just like it used too. And his uncle, his kind uncle, was the steady force holding onto him to make sure Merlin didn't drink away, to make sure Merlin knew he'd never be alone, a lighthouse keeping him close to shore even as turbulent waves carried him further and further away from everything he found comfort in. "It's alright, boy. You cry it out, you let all of this out of you. It's the only way for you to be okay again. I'm sorry, so sorry you have to go through this, but everything will be alright. You'll see, god help me, you'll see."

Gaius continued whispering soft nothings in Merlin's ear, telling him whispered lies about everything being better, about the pain fading once enough time has passed, about how he was going to look back someday and see how strong he was to survive all of this. Things Merlin couldn't believe, but knew he'd already tricked himself into believing once before. But the grief and the pain was quite strong inside of him, wrenching him apart from the inside out, mourning what had been nothing more than an entire month worth of lies! How could he look in a mirror again? Merlin had just started getting comfortable with himself, he was starting to look in the mirror and had grown adept at pretending what he saw didn't make him sad, being that he saw nothing more than a phantom of his old self mocking him from the glass surface. But he had been content with it, because if he could fool himself into thinking he was better, then it would be only a step closer for him to be ACTUALLY better. But if Merlin could break so easily, then his month had been for nothing! What was the point in keeping to his schedule, and making sure to eat so much off his plate with each and every meal, and making sure to converse with his uncle and his friends like he used to do before he had been ruined. He might as well have thrown all his work out the window, if he was going to break down at… Merlin didn't even know why he was breaking down right now. But letting it out instead of holding it in was the only option he had. And Merlin was thankful, when he was done and could pick his head back up from his uncle's shoulder, to see Gaius wasn't looking at him with pity. Merlin HATED being pitied. But his uncle looked exceeding calm even as he used his thumbs to wipe beneath Merlin's eyes to clean away the wet he had clinging to his face and eyelashes.

"Merlin, I'm only going to say this one time and I want you to listen to it, listen to it good so I don't have to repeat myself, can you do that for me?" His uncle asked him, hands still on either side of Merlin's damp face so Merlin didn't get a chance to look away. Merlin nodded wearily, taking comfort in Gaius holding him the way that he was. Arthur would've never been so gentle with him, but then Merlin hated himself for wanting Gaius to be gentle with him. He had just taken out a griffin! He didn't need to be coddled like this, but he didn't exactly move away either. "I'm not going to tell you what you should and shouldn't feel when it comes to Arthur, that is entirely your decision. I, personally, have quite a few things I would still like to say or do to him if given a chance. But you ARE doing better. You might not see it, but I can see it, and I think that you proved tonight that you are much stronger than you thought you were, yes?"

Merlin didn't answer, though what Gaius said wasn't entirely untrue. Just how many hours had he spent stressing out in this very room before Gwen raced in here? How many hours had Merlin felt like tearing his hair out because he was unable to figure out one simple—very complicated—spell. How many times did he tell Gaius there was no chance he would be able to do it, told him that all of Camelot was going to end up dead because Merlin was a failure, told him that he was only wasting his time trying to do it instead of seeking out alternative solutions. And look at what he had managed to do, he had saved who knows how many lives now that the griffin couldn't destroy them anymore. But what did that have to do with Merlin's ever-increasing anger at Arthur?

"Every touch of anger you have because of Arthur, wanting him dead, wanting to hurt him? Every time you feel like you want to strangle him, or twist a knife into his ribcage, or knock him down a flight of stairs even, those feelings are JUSTIFIED. I might even be concerned if you didn't feel that way, because if you didn't have that fire in you, it might open you to being hurt some more if you weren't aware of what is happening right in front of you, see? But then you come in here, and tell me you 'hesitated' to leave behind the man that spent at least four months tormenting you, and expect me to scold you or something because you didn't immediately jump in after him?" Gaius shook his head with a little tutting sound, as if Merlin had been ridiculous to even suggest the older man would be ashamed of such a thing. And Merlin raised his hands to scrub a little at his face, trying to remove the leftover wetness that Gaius had missed, even as he focused intently on his uncle's wisdom. "You are not weak because you have a heart that still beats after what's been done to you. There's people out there who would have allowed your kind of trauma to change them, they've allowed their hearts to harden and close off the rest of the world because of a terrible and traumatic life. You deciding to stop instead of leaning him? That's just going to show me you still have parts of that boy that walked inside these chambers for the first time four months ago. It gives me hope that you will not have to live facing your trauma for the rest of your life. I KNOW you are strong enough to stand your ground should Arthur come sniffing around here again, just as I know you are strong enough to LIVE."

By the time Gaius was done with his epic speech, Merlin felt as if he was going to start brawling all over again. In fact, he already was. Tears streaming down his cheeks and leaving red splotchy lines in their wake after Merlin had already tried cleaning himself up. But these weren't bad tears of guilt and desperation and sorrow and fear like it had been before. Merlin felt… relief. As if Gaius had told him everything he had needed to hear. Merlin had been so bloody scared about how he had hesitated when the griffin showed back up again, terrified of the man Arthur may have turned him into, fearing what other lines he may have been willing to cross that the naive Merlin would have balked at in horror. But Gaius didn't think there was anything wrong with him. In fact, according to his uncle, he was perfectly normal! His feelings were VALID. Hesitating over what decision to make didn't make him an evil person, it made him… good? But not naive. Merlin might be good enough to save Arthur, but he wasn't naive these days. He was strong enough to look Arthur in the eyes and demand a mediocre of self-respect, strong enough to not give into the darkness whispering how much Arthur deserved being left behind, strong enough to be brave.

"And I don't want to hear about you being discouraged just because you think you should be healed all the way already." Gaius immediately turned his voice into a lecturing mode, giving Merlin the privacy to wipe his face clean again as he turned around and started straightening some books that didn't really need to be straightened. "You need to remember that you've had four months filled with trauma, I'm sure even the smaller incidents still affect you today. And if I am right, and you are able to commit yourself to living your best life despite all that's happened to you, a month isn't nearly enough time to make you feel like your progressing. But you are ON the right path. You have hobbies that aren't tying you to the crown. You have friends that are able to keep their lives with the crown separate when they visit, which I'm sure relieves the pressure that comes with the expectations of being a consort. You are eating a little bit more each and every day, and soon, I'm sure you'll even be able to finish off a whole plate in one sitting. And you haven't hurt yourself in twenty-three days, which yes, I've been keeping count. Especially since that's a particularly hard habit to break once you've started. But all of this is GOOD. Each time you wake up and face the day coming before you, is another day you are showing me how committed you are to making a change, to making yourself BETTER. And that is all I will ever ask of you, to keep trying."

Merlin blinked, his breath catching somewhere in the middle of his throat as he focused on each and every one of the points Gaius had just made. Merlin only became stressed out about his healing because he'd been wanting immediate results. He wanted to wake up in the morning and not have his first thought be whether or not Arthur was going to waltz into his life and beat him down to the ground, as he liked to do. He wanted to be able to scrape his plate clean, even look forward to seconds because it had fasted so damn good. Wanted to be so excited about his hobbies—reading medical books and brewing a few of Gaius' more simple salves—because he was able to complete the task, and not simply use the time to distract him from Arthur. But when Gaius put it like that, listing out what Merlin's been doing in the last month, it suddenly didn't feel so little. It felt like a lot. An achievement. And… Merlin brought his hand up to cup one of his wrists, the one that had the faded scars from when Merlin used to drag his nails across the flesh to rip it open just so he could watch it bleed as if he was a stuffed pig. Had it really been twenty-three days since the last time he'd done it? Had it really been twenty-three days since his nails tasted the feel of blood that he had craved like an addiction?

Somewhere in the distance, there was a bell ringing loud and sharp throughout the kingdom, alerting the entire city that something was happening. Merlin and Gaius both looked at the other with identical expressions, the conversation cut short despite releasing everything that needed to be out in the open. And they both knew clearly what the sounds of those bells meant… the watchtower had to have spotted Arthur and Lancelot making their way back into the city. Uther would no doubt be waiting for their return to the castle to hear a full report on what happened, including the deaths of the other knights. But as Merlin stood there in the dim lighting of his uncle's chambers, his stomach started twisting with nerves. Gaius had made everything feel better, but there was still just one simple question that Merlin knew was going to go unanswered for quite a while to come…

Would Merlin regret allowing Arthur to live?

X

Lancelot's stomach twisted with nerves and anxiousness as he strode through the castle, following on the heels of Arthur as if the last time he had seen the halls hadn't been when he'd been dragged through them for his crimes. There were tapestries of fierce battles that made Lancelot shrink into himself a little bit more, the way the guards escorting them to the throne room looked at him as if he smelt of soured milk, and he was sure he was making a grave mistake just by coming here. He had been all ready for Arthur to give him the tongue-lashing of a life time once the prince approached him standing over the body of the griffin, Lancelot's lance still sticking down its throat. He was ready for all manner of punishments to occur, one of them possibly being Arthur taking back his generous allowance of allowing Lancelot to leave the dungeons. But what Lancelot hadn't been expecting was to be invited back to the castle, so they could share the news of the creature's demise with the king himself.

He was sure Uther was going to take one look at him, seeing the imposter that he was underneath all the chainmail and armor, and have him sent right back to the dungeons anyway. And this time, Uther's anger would've probably been tipped over the edge, Lancelot doubted keeping quiet on who really made his fraudulent paperwork would save him from an execution this time. But Arthur had insisted he come with him, and Lancelot had already gone this far into the castle, he would look like a coward if he turned back now. But still, the warrior kept his eyes steady, looking for any threats coming his way from the men that would have once gleefully called him their comrade. And he kept his eyes open in the hopes of catching sight of Merlin, hoping he'd pop out of the woodwork to work his magic and save Lancelot from the shit show that was about to start occurring any minute now. But at the same time, Lancelot didn't want Merlin to be anywhere near here, not now, not ever.

Everything made so much sense now…

Everything he had been blind to before…

Lancelot stopped that train of thought and held his breath as two more knights appeared in front of them. He could feel his shoulders going tight beneath his armor, his muscles going rigid as if he was expecting a fight the longer the two continued to stare at him. But these knights weren't coming for him, they were guarding the grand doors that led into the throne room. Arthur continued with walking forward, this determined air surrounding him that had the two knights jumping to open the door before Arthur had to stop. Arthur strode straight into that throne room as if he was a man on a mission, but Lancelot hesitated in the doorstep, more sure than ever that he shouldn't be here. He had already been proven a fraud once, could he really step inside and do it for a second time?

"You did it, my son, you did it!"

The muscles in Lancelot's throat convulsed as he tried to swallow, watching in the background as Uther stepped forward to bring his son into a gleeful hug to celebrate their victory. Uther had clearly been waiting for Arthur's arrival, with a few more knights milling around the room now standing to attention with the prince's safe return. Lancelot's hands clenched and unclenched at his side as if he didn't know what to do with them, not sure if he should watch the reunion happening between son and father. Perhaps he should take off his gloves? It'd give him something to do with his hands, and wouldn't it be rude of him to just be wearing gloves around inside?

"It wasn't I, father. It was Lancelot."

Arthur finally spoke up when his father pulled away, and Lancelot felt himself freeze, as if he was a deer caught in the firelight belonging to a hunting party. His stomach coiled so tightly that it felt like he couldn't breathe when the king finally turned and his eyes landed on him. Uther's eyes went dark, unkept fury blazing in the depths of his eyes, as if he was still seeing Lancelot's crimes as a personal agenda against him. Lancelot wasn't a person to the king, he wasn't anything but a nuisance. A fraud. This creature masquerading as something as something he could never be. Stripping Lancelot raw, to the flesh hidden away beneath his skin.

"What's he doing here!"

Uther roared with the fury of a thousand dragon's flying overhead, and this felt like the minute Lancelot should run away. He needed to put some real distance between him and the threat standing before him, before the king went and did something drastic, like running him right through with his sword before his son had to explain why Lancelot was there. But Lancelot knew moving was nothing but a bad idea, the king wouldn't let him go if he tried to run. Probably wasn't going to let him go to begin with. How did Merlin… how could Merlin stand the close proximity he shared with the king? Lancelot KNEW things now, and it left him needing to know how Merlin could stand in the room with a man like Uther and not just… fall to pieces like Lancelot felt like doing.

"Father, I can explain!"

Arthur blurted out, hurried and quick, trying to stop the king before he had the chance to blow his top. The prince looked back towards Lancelot, wearing this troubling expression… it was as if Arthur was just now realizing how dangerous it was for Lancelot to actually be here. That it might have been better to keep Lancelot outside, somewhere far from the king's grasp, before explaining what had happened to him. Lancelot's heart had literally stalled somewhere behind his ribcage the longer Arthur stared at him, helpless, as if he didn't know if he could really protect Lancelot from his father's anger. Lancelot's jaw went tight enough that it ached, the pain pulsing fully throughout his jawline, and then he watched as Arthur's did the same. His jaw going tight with firm determination before he was turning back around to face his father. To fight his father?

For Lancelot's sake?

What?

"YOU! WAIT OUTSIDE!"

Lancelot nearly jumped a full foot into the air, his face flushing in humiliation as he took in the way the king was jabbing his long—gloved—finger toward the door. The warrior didn't hesitate to turn on his heel and hurry out the door lest Uther change his mind and decide to come after him now. He left Arthur on his own, to handle…whatever catastrophe was about to happen, taking his chance to flee. Lancelot didn't find it any easier to breathe once he was standing back in the hallways, not when he was under the careful watch of the guards who'd surely stop him if he didn't making a break for it. The same guards closed the throne room doors, muffling the sounds of argument starting to cone from the two royals. The last thing Lancelot heard…

"YOU HAD NO RIGHT, ARTHUR PENDRAGON-"