Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Six months ago

“Merlin of Eadlor. You have been found guilty of practising sorcery. Your sentence will now be read.” 

 Why the king even bothered was a mystery to the court, everyone there knew the punishment by hand, by the smell of smoke and the sound of screams in the courtyard they all had memorised. Arthur knew that the man on his knees had known that. It should not be any different for this man, even for the king’s servant, or former servant now. Arthur was about to disappoint them. 

For the entirety of his trial Merlin had kept his gaze down, only responding with silent nods or shakes of his head. He kept his hands in his lap when the trembling had caused the chains to rattle, disturbing his silence. Someone ignorant would mistake the silence for fear, but Arthur knew him better - Merlin was too brave to cower on the floor, and he was never afraid of him. Well, he knew why now, in fact he never really knew the man he had secretly called a friend, did he. 

Still, he refused to meet his master's eyes…his king's eyes. Arthur remembered this moment with crystal quality, and the questions filling his head. Was Merlin angry? Of course he was! He had been discovered, his plans to infiltrate Camelot had failed! Or was it shame? Oh, Arthur really hoped that he felt shame for his betrayal; Arthur was the one who had to clean up his mess. It was Arthur who had to stand at court over an hour assuring his advisors that they were safe and that the traitor was detained, it was him who held Gwen as she cried for the friendship she thought she had that was now dead. 

Merlin should feel the greatest shame and guilt for the mess he had caused them. Then why did his silence and stillness feel to Arthur like another knife pressed to his neck, much like the one that had been close to slicing his throat a matter of hours before this very trial.

Arthur took a deep breath as he began to read from the paper. Preparing himself for the reaction about to erupt. “For the crime of practising sorcery, the penalty is death.” He watched Merlin, waiting for any kind of reaction. He saw none.

“However. This court finds reason to amend this sentence.” 

Finally, Merlin’s head shot up. In his eyes, well it might not be hope, but it was hope. Arthur gritted his teeth as he continued. 

“Instead, you shall live out your sentence in exile. You are hereby banished from Camelot, to enter my lands again will be on pain of death.”

There it was. Arthur had been betrayed and in response he is betraying his father and his values. All for a treasonous servant. He could hear his father turning in his grave. And yet, all he heard now was chains rattling as Merlin climbed to his feet.

“No.” he said. “No, you can’t. Please Arthur, don’t send me away.” 

The king gripped his arm rest to refrain from strangling him. He had shown mercy, what more did this traitor want? “This…is your sentence.” He grinds out.

Merlin shook his head. “You don’t understand. I need to stay; I have to stay. I’m supposed to protect you. I can’t-”

Arthur hadn’t listened to the rest of the desperate man’s rambled lies. He got off his throne and approached the Merlin. He kept talking until Arthur was right in front of him, only when his forearm was in his bruising grip did Merlin finally shut up. He pulled him in to whisper words only for Merlin to hear. 

“The only reason you are not being marched to your pyre at this very moment is because I once thought that you cared for this kingdom. About her inhabitants. But clearly - I was wrong about a lot of things.”  He let go and straightened to look down on the banished man. He chose to ignore the pang of regret he felt when the solitary tear ran a clean line down Merlin’s cheek. 

“Take him back to his cell. He is to leave tomorrow morning.” 

Arthur slowly woke to the near silent sound of movement in his chambers. He had gotten very good at waking up to small sounds, the absence of loud clumsiness made the quiet seem larger. He reached across the bed to the warmth of his wife. Gwen hummed lightly in her sleep as he pulled her onto his chest, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead hoping to enjoy a few more moments in bed.  

He didn’t understand why he still had the dream. It has been six months now. Six months since Merlin had left, since he had been banished. Six months since he had revealed to have learnt magic or that he had been born with magic. And since he had used magic in front of Arthur and every member of the round table to see…to stop an outlaw in the woods and save their king's life. 

Arthur shook his head. Before he could dwell any more on this his manservant came into view at the foot of his bed. 

“Good morning, Sire.” George greeted him with a still face and hands behind his back. “I have laid out your wardrobe for the day, sharpened your sword for training later today, polished your shoes and if you and her majesty so wish it, I would be honoured to serve you both your breakfast.”

Gwen turned in Arthur’s arms; “Good morning, George.” She said sleepily as she got out of bed. Arthur smiled at how she then moved to help the servant set the table despite protest. She had now been a noble for three months and still struggled to kick the habit of helping her former colleagues. And honestly, Arthur hoped she never did, it reminded both her and him of the equality the round table stood for. 

After breakfast and getting dressed with clinical precision the royal pair moved through the hall side by side to the council chamber. When they entered, the round table was already in full attendance. Everyone stood respectively as they entered. Arthur nodded at the familiar faces. His original knights and now councillors. The seat at his right hand now taken by Gaius, he greeted him with a respectful nod. Arthur found that he rarely got anything else from him these days. Taking their seats, business continued as usual. Discussing grain numbers and reading messages from their allies. Arthur found himself looking to the side of the room and feeling confused when it was George standing by the pillar with a jug of water before reminding himself that he hadn’t been there in ages and wouldn’t be again. And besides, what Lancelot and Percival were currently talking about was far more important. 

Yes, Arthur remembered. He had sent the pair out on a patrol after reports of increased bandit activity. 

Percival stood to address the council. “The patrol sent to scout the Darkling Woods was indeed attacked by resistant outlaws, the rumours that they are rising in numbers seem to be correct.”

Arthur nodded. “The patrol, I trust since I have seen no panic from Gaius, you were able to dispatch this attack effectively.”

“Easily Sire.” Percy continued. “That however was not the problem. We were able to capture one of the bandits and he talked. He said that they were operating out of an abandoned fortress in the woods. The bandit himself was only a boy and hadn’t been to the fortress himself, or so he claimed. But he said that they had been given orders not to steal valuables from the villages, but the villagers.” 

There were multiple murmurs of ‘slavery’ and ‘filth’ around the table, Arthur had to bite his tongue not to join it. “You are sure of this?” he asked, choosing to be productive to hide his disgust. 

Lancelot nodded. “We found no real valuables among the slain, only chains and restraints. Even a caged cart further on in the forest.”

 “This is grave news indeed.”

“You said that the boy you interrogated had never been to the fortress.” Guinevere stood regally in her crimson dress. 

“No.” 

“But did he have an idea of where its location may be? There are only a handful of ruins in the Darkling Woods, it could help us narrow it down.”

“The boy is down in the dungeons awaiting sentencing. We can question him more.” 

“Did he put up a fight?” Gwen asked. 

“He is young, your majesty.” Lance said. “He didn’t resist when arrested, or when questioned. I expect he will be open to helping us.” 

“Good and when he is finished, he shall be released.”

Arthur silently enjoyed the squirming of the older knights as they looked around wondering if they would all accept the verdict of their peasant queen. But when the topic continued without comment they settled down. 

Barely two days later, Arthur was saddling up on his war horse with his knights and a small section of his army to ride out to the fortress. The captured bandit had been fed, watered and let go within a morning and a plan of attack drafted within a day. Arthur marvelled that he had built a council of trusted advisors that were so efficient and driven to helping their people, it filled him with pride every day.

As they rode out of the city and into the forest chatter and banter began. With his main circle of knights riding with him at the front the conversation quickly turned to the group's most recent tavern adventures and courting misfortune. Arthur smiled along with them, but he saw Gwaine riding at the far back of the group, his eyes on the side of the road. That had become a habit of his at late, tagging along at the back of the group. 

Arthur didn’t lie and say he didn’t know what caused this change. He had been silently surprised that Gwaine hadn’t gone with Merlin when he left. It was no secret that the two of them were close, perhaps to close for Arthur’s liking. There were times when he questioned who it was Gwaine was more loyal to, his king or his king’s manservant. Afterall, it had been Gwaine’s idea to take Merlin on that godforsaken hunt in the woods. ‘Make it a surprise, let him think that they forgot what day it was and have a small celebration in the forest on his birthday’. It was a good idea, Merlin loved being in the forest, Gwaine knew that and Arthur knew that too.

He also knew that Lancelot originally wanted to go with him after his sentencing but had chosen to stay only when Merlin himself had told him to. The memory of the two crying and hugging in his cell the night before he left was still fresh in his mind. Perhaps he had asked Gwaine the same, but Arthur hadn’t seen it. In fact, he didn’t even think he remembered if the two of them had said goodbye. All he knew was that Gwaine had changed after that. 

Although Arthur supposed that they had all changed in the absence of Merlin. Elyan was certainly more suspicious of all he came across and Percival spent more time with Lance and their current friends, clinging to what he knew. Most may say that Leon hasn’t changed at all, but Arthur knew him since they were boys and he saw how he now rarely spoke his mind in council and preferred to keep his thoughts to himself. Lancelot…well the only real thing that Arthur thought had changed about him was the way he now looked at his king. There was still the fierce respect and loyalty that he suspected would die with the knight, but an emotion he wasn’t sure of now sat in his eyes and Arthur didn’t really want to dwell on it. 

“What do you think, Gwaine?” Elyan asked, snapping the man out of his tree watching.

“What?”

“Hocking Percival up with Ana from the Rising Sun, or would Clair be better able to handle him.” 

Gwaine smiled his easy smile, a rare treat nowadays. “I don’t know. Isn’t Ana only like 5 foot tall, Percy might squash the poor dear.” 

“Hey!” 

“What about Candus from the kitchens? She’s a nice girl.” 

“And why would you know about Candus, Gwaine?” Leon asked with a teasing smile disguised as his senior knight's judgy face. 

“You wound me, Leon.” Gwaine placed his hand on his heart. 

Elyan laughed. “You know who we should hook someone up with. Gwaine, then see how long they last before they lose their mind.”

“Oh no, I don’t think I hate anyone that much.” Arthur said. That got a laugh out of them, well, everyone except Gwaine that is. He returned to his staring at nothing. 

But oh well, it was probably better. They were less than an hour away from the estimated location. It was time to focus.

Seeing them run like cowards gave him no satisfaction. However, it was a weight off his shoulders that casualties would be non-existent on both sides. The stronghold, or what it once was called, was a tall building with tumbling turrets and a crumbling courtyard that had until an hour ago housed at least a few dozen outlaws. Said outlaws were now all galloping away on horseback or just high tailing it on foot. 

“The perimeter is secure,” Gwaine reported as he jogged up to Arthur. “-we are about to enter the building.”

Arthur nodded and waved a signal to Leon. “Forward!” The first knight ordered.  

Entering the stronghold was just as uneventful. The only sound in the corridors was the tapping of their boots and the light jingle of chainmail. It didn’t take long until they found a staircase that would lead down to what Arthur assumed would be cells.

With torches in hand, they descended into the darkness to find…nothing. Nothing and nobody. What was clearly a recently renovated and fortified dungeon built to house countless prisoners was now completely empty. Arthur investigated a cell; it was plain with chained cuffs attached to the floor. He gently touched the unlocked door, and it swung open with a whining squeak. He stepped into the cold dark room, a chill running down his spine.

He knelt to the chains on the floor, picking it up slowly. 

“Leon.” Within seconds the man was at his side in the cell. “Is this what I think it is?” 

Leon sighed and nodded his head.

“Cold iron.” Arthur spoke the word like the devil's ice.

“There’s more.” Percy's voice came from down the corridor. They walked down the rows of cells and found that each one was fitted with the cuffs. Upon closer inspection they found that the material was everywhere. The bars were made of it, the keys and nails keeping the jail in place were all cold iron. 

“This is a prison built for sorcerers." Arthur said quietly. 

“All the cells have been checked.” Gwaine said. “There is no one here. Not one prisoner.”

“They obviously weren’t good at catching any sorcerers at least." Elyan joked.

“Yeah…at least.”

“Keep searching the dungeon. See if you can find anything on who these outlaws were.” 

Gwaine turned and continued down the corridor with a group of soldiers. 

“Arthur.” Lancelot stood in the stairway, his face serious. “We may have a problem.” he nodded his head gesturing for them to follow.

They followed Arthur as Lance led them into what looked like a command room. A map of the nearby villages laid out, and letters thrown about messily on tables and chairs. Lance picked up a stack of papers and handed them to Arthur.

“I was looking around and I found what appears to be contracts.”

“Contracts?” Elyan asked.

“Agreements of service. Someone paid these men to gather up sorcerers”

Arthur flicked through the papers. “Someone with enough money to provide these barbarians with the weapons, food and resources to do it. This was a fully funded operation.”

“And I for one haven’t heard of any outlaws with nearly enough wealth in order to do that.” Arthur looked up to meet his knight’s eyes.

 “If it wasn’t an outlaw then-”

Arthur was cut off with a chorus of deafening shouts. All five of the knights’ heads turn to the sound of the voices. Nanoseconds passed before the group raced out the door and down the stairs back to the dungeons. Already most of the soldiers that were down there had either raced to investigate or had turned to leave, several had retreated to corners to throw up. As they moved through into the dark basement they saw the small light of a single torch on the floor in a chamber in the back. The room was large with next to nothing in it besides crates of miscellaneous belongings; people’s gloves, water bottles and random pieces of clothing. The moment they entered the room they were accosted with the smell. Not of rot or mildew but of burning. Arthur knew that smell. Everyone in their party knew that smell. 

Arthur stopped in the threshold when he saw what was clustered in the back of the room. He froze, many of the knights turned away, unable to look at it. 

“They were good at it…” Elyan whispered in a hollow voice. 

The corpses had been piled up at the back of the room. Twisted and shrivelled and dried, charred black and barely resembled people at all. Bile rose in his throat when he realised that he couldn’t even determine the corpses' faces in this state. He had seen burnings all his life. Heard their screams writhe on for what seemed like forever before eventually giving up. But he had always left with his father after that, never stayed long enough for the flames to stop to reveal a blackened body underneath.

He was so lost he hadn’t realised that no one now stood around him. His knights had left in one direction towards someone kneeling against the dark wall around the boxes. With a dark clarity Arthur realised what that random ‘junk’ was in the crates. He didn’t know why he was surprised; it was customary to remove any objects of value off a person before their execution. Why waste the resources? 

As Arthur got closer to the person they were crowding over, he was shocked to find that it was Gwaine. The knight was shaking on the floor, holding something to his chest so close and tightly Arthur could hardly see it. When he got closer, he was even more surprised to see the tears running down the man’s face. Thick hot tears fell off his cheeks and landed on his knees below where he hugged something so close it was like he was protecting it from the world. 

“Gwaine what is it?” he asked softly. The knight didn’t reply. Just turned away from them to lean his forehead against the wall

“No.” he whispered between his breaths. “No, it…it can’t-”

“What did you find?” Arthur placed his hand on his shoulder and tried to turn Gwaine to face them. 

He froze. 

He let go of Gwaine and stumbled back. 

The room went silent as all the knights saw as well. 

They stayed that way for hours for all Arthur knew. Looking at what Gwaine held in his shaky hands. 

Finally, Arthur shook himself out and stormed up the stairs.

“Everyone!” He bellowed to the many soldiers loitering around uselessly. “There is to be a mile wide search of this area! The strong hold, the forest and the villages beyond it! I want every stone unturned and any man you find brought to me unharmed and alive!”

The men quickly got to work. Shaken by their king's harrowing presence. As they tripped over themselves to obey his orders, Arthur stood frozen in the corridor of cells. He refused to turn around back to that room of death. He wouldn’t look or even go near the poor forgotten bodies until one man was in his presence alive and well. Because he had to be, he couldn’t be in that mess of burnt flesh and blood. Merlin couldn’t have been captured or held here. It wasn’t true, he didn’t, none of those bodies could be him. But he knew that the scrap of fabric Gwaine held onto was his. He had given that neckerchief to him himself, it was a birthday present.

Chapter Text

Evening came gently to the shore of the Isle of the Blessed. The spring sun began to set along the mountain ridge causing the sky to turn red and violet later in the evening. The water rippled softly against the edge of the shore peacefully. 

Until a rock was savagely hurled onto the surface, shattering the smooth top. 

“Look how far it went!” The little girl squealed, picking up another pebble and tossing it into the water. “See! Did you see!”

“I did see.” The teen boy said as he tied a bundle of herbs together, a younger boy sitting next to him gently laid the bundles into a basket at their feet. “Careful though, any harder and you’ll throw it all the way to the island.” 

“You try.” She said, handing a pebble to the younger boy who happily got to his feet. He hefted the stone and tossed it across the lake, bouncing three times before falling into the water. 

“Wow. Will you teach me how to skip stones now?” 

Before he could respond the eldest lad stood with the basket. “Sorry, I need to get these back, and I need to get you two back in time for dinner.” 

The younger boy smiled and jogged off towards the woods. “Dad said we're going to have the fish we caught this morning.”

The eldest smiled and he took the girl’s hand as they walked up the hill to the meadow beyond the shore. “You caught a big one, didn’t you?” 

“I did!” The girl said. “I caught the biggest one. But Daegal caught a big one too.” She pointed back at the younger boy ahead of them. 

Daegal smiled through his blush. “Yeah, well not all of us have great talents like you.” 

She shook her head. “You are talented! Daddy says so. Didn’t he Mordred?” 

“He did.” the boy holding her hand said, but Daegle still didn’t smile. The girl huffed. 

“You don’t believe me.” she crossed her arms over her chest. 

“No, it’s just-”

“You’ll believe Daddy though! I’ll get him, then he can tell you.” She sprinted off her light hair flying in the wind. 

“Wait!”

“Oh, let her go.” the Mordred said, hefting the baskets. 

The two boys walked further into their camp. Well, camp was a loose word for it. This meadow on the shore of the lake had been these Druids home for over two years now. Tents that were designed for nomadic life were now built up with stone and mortar for longer use, the gardens locked into the landscape as if fusing with the earth naturally. It was an odd sight for Mordred, who had always grown up in camp after camp, always on the move and never staying for more than a few months. But after settling here there had been little need to move. Their Elders and Priests were comfortable in the magical connections to the isle and there was perfect access to food and water, but most importantly they were more than protected here.

When they reached the small healing hut, they dropped off the bags of herbs and roots with Helena. The elderly druid gave them a smile. “Thank you boys.” 

“Your welcome Helena.” Daegal said. “Is it still alright for me to come around tomorrow with Dad?”

The healer scoffed. “Your father and you both seem to forget that it was my idea for you to shadow me in the first place. I had better see you tomorrow because those herbs won’t grind themselves. One of these days you both will stop asking every time my apprentice appears to do his job.”

Daegal smiled, “See you tomorrow. Buy!” 

“Yes, yes, begone the both of you to your dinner.” 

When they made it back to their tent the smell made them pick up the pace. Their family tent now resembled a house now that it had been built up with real walls and a stone chimney coming out the top letting off the gorgeous smell of cooking meat. 

The wooden door burst open when they approached. “There you are! Go on Daddy tell him, tell ah-” 

The girl couldn't continue as she had been pulled up into the arms of the man behind her. “Calm down Aithusa, you keep yelling and you’ll wake the dead.” he spoke softly and the girl giggled. Mordred himself couldn’t help smiling at the young man leaning against the door frame. 

“What took you two so long anyway, dinners ready.” He said, a fond smile on his face.

“Sorry Merlin.” Mordred said. 

With the end of winter, it was just warm enough to eat outside without a fire, so they took their plates of steaming fish to the shore of the lake to enjoy the last of the sunset. 

Merlin sat in the grass bundled up in warm druid robes that had once felt foreign and uncomfortable. He loved sitting on the banks soaking up the natural light. He let his magic flow through the earth beneath him, over the last two years the druids had helped him become more attuned with the magic in the earth, sensing the ground shifting with the change in seasons. He felt the druids in the village go home to eat with their families, the animals in the forest scavenge for food, and he felt little four-year-old Aithusa attack her food ravenously, getting bits all over her chubby face.

“Aithusa darling east slower, you’ll choke.” Merlin pulled the girl onto his lap to wipe off her face with his sleeve. 

Aithusa hummed. “I’m hungry, besides dragons don’t need a plate at all!” 

“Well dragons aren't renowned for their manors, are they?” Daegle said with his mouth full.

“You're one to talk, and don't be mean.” Merlin scolded with no heat behind it. 

Aithusa huffed. “Dragons have great manors,” she stated proudly.

“Really, do people with good manners collect apple seeds from the rubbish.” 

“You didn’t eat them and they were for my hoard!”

“If you two are going to keep tormenting each other, then maybe I can finish your dinner.” Mordred said. 

Both children gasped and quickly went back to devouring their food. Aithusa jumped off Merlin's lap to have her plate to herself. She finished it all in moments and turned back to Merlin.

“All finished. Can I go swimming now?” 

“I don’t know, it's getting dark.”

“I’ll go to make sure she doesn't die.” Daegal got to his feet. 

“Please Daddy.” 

Merlin easily gave in to the girl's puppy eyes. “Fine.” 

“Yay!” Aithusa jumped in the air, as she did her eyes flashed a familiar golden glow. In the air her body morphed into the slick form of a young white dragon about the size of a newborn foal. 

“Race you!” Daegal shouted as he sprinted down the slope before crashing into the lake.

“How either of them enjoys that is beyond me.” Mordred said, laying back in the grass. “The water is freezing.” 

Merlin laughed as he watched the two playing around in the shallows, Aithusa jumping around as Daegle splashed water at her. 

“Emrys.” The warlock turned to see Iseldir walking towards them from the camp. The Druid chief’s face was serious but calm as usual. “A messenger arrived, he left in quite a hurry but delivered a letter. Stating that it was for Emrys.” 

Merlin and Mordred both tensed while the children kept playing. It was rare to get messages here, even more to be delivered to his Druid name. Very few people knew Emrys was here, and he liked to keep it that way.

The druid chief handed Merlin the letter who opened it quickly. “Who is it from?” Mordred asked. Merlin smiled slightly, pleasantly surprised; “It's from Alator.”

“The Catha Priest?” Iseldir asked.

“He says he wishes to meet with me. That he will arrive within two days.” 

“The bald man with the tattoos?” Daegal asked, coming back dripping wet. 

“Don’t call him that when he gets here.” Mordred said. 

Alator arrived late on a colder day where heavy mist had descended over the valley, and the sun had yet to burn away. With him a woman Merlin had never seen before. Leaving Mordred in charge of his foster siblings Merlin went to greet them on the outskirts of the camp.

The Priest dismounted his horse before helping the woman off her own. Both wore heavy clocks blocking out the heavy fog. Merlin approached them slowly to not startle them with the limited sight. 

When he was in view he smiled in greeting. “Alator, it's good to see you.”

“Emrys.” The Priest gave a low bow. 

“Great one.” The woman fell to her knees in respect.

“Please.” Merlin approached her and helped her to her feet. “None of that.” he said when she finally met his eyes. 

She smiled reverently and nodded. After this long now living with the druids you would think that Merlin would get used to the honorifics, the bowing and avoiding eye contact. But somehow it still felt wrong, the first few weeks of living among them he kept turning around to see who was behind him they were bowing at. Mordred said that he should get used to it as it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon and he should stop pouting about it. As the promise of safety that he provided in this camp spread their numbers only grew.

“This is Finna. She is a friend.” Alator said.

“It’s a pleasure.” She smiled reverently at him. 

“Like wise. Please come in.”

Down the sloap they reached the barrier wards of the camp. Merlin passed through easily and so did Alator who guided Finna in. Merlin had him to thank for the many wards that prevented the outside eye from seeing this valley with and without magic, it gave everyone in the meadow peace of mind. 

“The northern villagers made it.” Finna waved to a group of recently arrived magic users settling in near the well.

“Got here banged up and tired but in one piece.” Merlin said with a smile

“Thank the Goddess.” 

Merlin led them to the central fireplace. They sat on logs and a druid girl brought them warm cider. 

“Thank you.” Finna said as she took her mug.

“It is always good to see you, Emrys.” Alator began, “However, I’m afraid that we bring you news from the east.”

“You mean Camelot.” Merlin said simply.

Alator bowed his head slightly. “You don’t seem surprised. You have heard the rummers then.” 

“I think most people have now.” It had been the same story for months now, the son of Uther abolishing the thirty-year-old ban on magic, Camelot entering a new age of acceptance. Each and every time Merlin heard this in passing, he would turn and walk away. 

“Frankly, I rarely take gossip to heart these days.”

“As we did at first, but either way we decided to investigate ourselves.”

Merlin paused his cup halfway to his mouth. “You went to Camelot?”

“I did, a sen’night ago.” Finna said. “I am not a known sorceress and was not recognised. But when I arrived, that was unnecessary.”

Merlin could not help the spark of excitement in his chest, no matter how much he resisted. 

“Go on.”

“The king made a public announcement two years ago, removing the death penalty as punishment for magic and stating that his eventual intention to make the ban itself null and void. It appears that this has become fact several moons ago.”

“You…did you see magic being used.”

“Yes.” she said with a sparkle in her eyes. “Street performers, markets selling charms, even common use in homes. It was…extraordinary”

If he had been told that three years ago Merlin would have laughed with surprise and delight. Now a bitter lump formed in his throat, his eyes began to sting with what he demanded was not grief. 

“But while this may be good news for our kind, it will not be for one.”

Merlin looked up at Finna. “You mean Morgana.” 

She nodded. “I recently observed her ranks as well. For so long she has gained support from members of our kind who were desperate to be free, desperate enough to justify her…methods.”

Merlin shook his head. “Losing that support will not deter her.” 

“That is what we fear.” Alator said gravely.

Merlin stopped himself before his thoughts would let any tears fall. “Thank you both, for coming all this way to tell me. I don’t think I would have believed it otherwise.”

The pair quickly shared a cool look, before Alator finally started talking. “I am afraid that this was not the only reason that we came.” 

“What is it?”

“I regret that this is the way you found out, Emrys.” Finna said, “While I was in the city, I heard of a recent death and funeral of a member of court, of the court physician.”

There was silence. 

There was often silence here. 

There was always gripping and twisting silence in Merlin’s chest. 

Thank the Goddess Merlin was sitting otherwise he was sure he would have fallen. He set his cup down and leaned his forehead on his hands. “How- how did it happen?” 

Finna continued without production. “I was told Gaius had been ill for some time, in the end it was in his sleep that he did not wake. The acting physicians seemed to believe it was without pain or suffering.”

“Good…that's good.” 

Alator hung his head in respect. “I am sorry that we are bringing this news to you-” Merlin silenced him with a calm hand in the air. 

“No…I am privileged to have not heard this any later from a third or fourth party. Thank you.” 

Alator nodded. “Gaius was a good man; I know I do not have to inform you of the love he had for you.” 

Merlin had to laugh at that, he supposed that Alator would be an expert of what Gaius thought of him after seeing inside his mind. He should still be angry about that, but he couldn't bring himself to, during his banishment the Priest had proven his loyalty to him countless times.

With that they talked on the magic users both threat and foe. Recently they had been working on guiding more sorcerers towards the safety of this meadow. He also couldn't forget that Morgana was still looking for him, her secret search of Emrys hadn’t stopped since her last invasion of Camelot and he did have a good laugh when he saw her spies circle around the wards and be redirected without a fuss. But truly what really made him sleep at night was knowing that…he couldn't find them. 

“The king still searches.” Alator said softly. “He still raids and pillages.” The update was clinical but still conjured a storm to brew behind Merlin's eyes. 

“Men like that do not give up so easily.” Finna said. 

Merlin nodded. “Of course.” They continued into the evening discussing how they could improve the wards. Before long the sun had set. Merlin bid the pair goodnight and headed home.

On his way he veered off into the forest where no one could see him kneel and give a silent blessing before bending over to cry. He remembered serval weeks ago scrying his guardian, he had seen him on his work bench nursing what looked to be a simple winter cold. It had seemed minor and Merlin had not scried since.

When he got home, he was relieved that Aithusa was in bed and Helena had made dinner. 

“What time do you call this?” The stern woman said.

“Is everything alright?” Mordred asked from where he was reading. 

“Yeah, fine.” he said automatically. 

“Dad, we saved you some stew.” Daegle pointed at the pot on the fireplace. “But if you don’t want it…” 

“Oh, I want it.” 

“Oh.” The boy slouched. 

Mordred laughed. “Greedy.” 

“I’m not greedy, I'm growing. Soon I’ll be taller than you.” 

“Yeah, not going to happen, and I’m still growing”

“You're fifteen you’ll stop soon.” 

Helena huffed. “Well, if I’m no longer needed, I think that I shall be going home.” 

“Thank you Helena.” Merlin said before she could storm out.

“You better be.” she said, as she closed the door, but Merlin could hear the smile on her face. 

Mordred put his book down. “I’m going to bed.”

“You two.” Merlin gestured to Daegle. He huffed and got to his feet. 

“Fine.” 

Merlin sat at the wooden table in the middle of the cottage long after finishing his stew, staying up late was a habit he couldn’t seem to kick. Now life was certainly less frantic without the absences of endless chores or magical threats, now his days were filled with gardening, reading, teaching the younger druid children to write and telling them stories. For the first time in his life, he had time to himself, yet his nights were still often spent sitting by a candle looking off into the distance. He wasn’t looking towards the east; he told himself that quite often. 

In front of him was a simple bowl of water, watching his eyes in the refection turn gold was nothing new. But seeing the water shimmering but then fade away was…

He had to sure; he needed confirmation that this was it. He still felt the quiet yanking inside. Then a thought came to him, something he hadn’t considered in years. His eyes flashed again the water shimmered and reflected a room and two faces face he never dreamed of seeing again.

Arthur sat up in bed reading. Whenever he thought of Camelot, he wanted to be angry. He tried to force feelings of vengeance but he couldn’t, it wasn’t in him, it probably never would be. Now, looking at his friends face nothing more than dreadful nostalgia bubbled beneath his skin. Then he noticed Gwen sleeping peaceful next to him, wedding ring glowing in the candle light.

“I missed the wedding, you prat.” He whispered into the water. He was surprised to see Arthur’s head go up from his book his eyes looking around the room. Merlin touched the water surface breaking the enchantment, he couldn’t look at the face of anger on his friends’ face. He had seen enough that the day he left.

“Ahhh!” Merlin sprung to his feet. “Daddy!” The next moment he was in Aithusa’s room. She sat up in her little nest/bed, the many blankets and pillows were now slightly burned and damp. The girl sat huffing and puffing in her sobs, tears falling from her eyes and smoke coming out her nose. 

“Darling it's okay.” Merlin said as she crawled into his arms. “It was just a bad dream.”

“But it was real, it was-”

“Shh.” Merlin picked the girl up and carried her to his bed. Mordred was now up as well. Standing in his doorway looking on with worry. Daegle was still in bed in their shared room pretending to be asleep. 

Merlin lay on his bed with Aithusa on his chest. He waved his hand and a blue light hovered over his head. As soon as the room was lit up Aithusa stopped crying, instead she nuzzled into her father’s chest. 

“It wasn't real, you're safe.” Merlin said as he stroked her hair.

“It was dark, the people were mean, they-they.”

“They’re not here Thusa.” Mordred said as he crouched by the bed. “We’re not…we're safe here.”

Daegle crept into the room, his eyes slightly shy as he walked over, his own eyes red and puffy. “You're not too big to be scared, are you?” Aithusa asked, twisting Merlin's shirt in her fists. 

“No, I don’t think anyone is.” Without saying more Daegle climbed into the bed and settled next to Merlin. He pulled the blankets up and to his chin and hid his face in the pillow. 

Aithusa eventually lay her head back on Merlin’s chest and began to snore softly, Merlin was about to put her back when he saw that Mordred's eyes were also closed with his head on the blankets. Merlin smiled and with a flick of his wrist pulled the lad up on the bed on his other side, the blanket draping over all of them. 

“Dad?” Merlin turned to where Daegle's face was still in the pillow, he thought he was asleep. 

“Yes.” he whispered.

Daegle turned to look at him, his wet eyes moving to the light about their heads. “I don’t want to be scared like this forever.”

“You won’t be.” 

“I still hear it.” the boy said softly. “The dark…in the dark I hear them talking, I feel chains around my wrists and-” 

Merlin pulled the boy closer with his arm, keeping Aithusa softly asleep sandwiched between them. Daegle buried his face in Merlin’s neck, quickly soaking the fabric. “It will take time, but that place will go away. We escaped that place, and it will leave your mind in time.”

He had told them all that over and over. Part of him wishes that he would believe it himself.