Last chapter, it's a longer one.

Here there be darkness. Just so you know.

Merlin's spirit was finally free. Separating from his ruined, pale, blood soaked form. The darkness of Gaius' home was replaced by slowly building light. Torch light.

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Chapter 8

Merlin, being Merlin, did not think of Avalon. Did not think of his father, or Will, or even Freya. Merlin thought of Arthur. It wasn't his fault really, Merlin mused. He simply needed to see Arthur, to make sure he was going to be alright.

As he slowly became aware of the darkness giving way to flickering torch light, Merlin found himself behind the striding prince. They were headed, it seemed, from the throne room to the prince's chambers. Arthur'd likely been to speak to the king.

Like a reflection of a wraith, doomed to but look, Merlin watched.

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Once past the threshold, Arthur closed the door quietly and slowly, fighting an urge to slam it, wrench it open, and slam it again and again. Instead he settled for leaning against the rough wood for a moment. With his eyes closed, alone for the first time since…well…since it happened Arthur took stock of himself.

He hurt.

Arthur began to feel the pains that, unbeknownst to him, were going to leave him bed-ridden for the better part of a month. Even one such as the prince did not survive such a shock and carrying a (dead) ten-stone weight over miles without suffering injury. He'd carried Merlin at least forty furlong, to be sure.

No longer striding, Arthur made his way to the first chair he could and sat roughly down. He looked around his room as though he'd never seen it before.

Merlin's soul ached.

After a quiet moment, a servant knocked to take care of the prince's needs. With the flick of a wrist and a look that brooked no questions, Arthur shoed the not-Merlin away.

"Come on Arthur…" Merlin reasoned "you need a bath. A high fire. You need a change of clothes." To his own ears, Merlin's voice was pleading—Arthur heard nothing but his own blood pounding, pounding, in his head. "Please Arthur…please. You have got to eat. And sleep."

Arthur stared ahead. At nothing. Time passed. The sun began to fearfully creep out of hiding.

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With a great bang, the door Arthur had so quietly closed hours ago flew open. Merlin startled, while Arthur barely registered the interruption. The prince slowly lifted his eyes to the door.

Gwaine strode in to the prince's chambers. The idea of knocking never crossing his mind. He tossed Arthur's sword on the bed "Brought you this back."

To Merlin, his friend looked like a man who had run pell-mell through the forest all night. He supposed, that was probably the case.

It was no surprise that both men had been bloodied. While Arthur had been drenched, Gwaine showed but a small soak-through at his waist, where he'd held his mate for a time. Now however, Merlin noted a new spattering of blood on Gwaine. It cut a thin swath of dark dots up across Gwaine's chest.

Three errant spots graced his right cheek. Inwardly, Merlin groaned, saddened.

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Arthur.

Arthur just sat.

Looking no better to Gwaine's eyes than he had hours ago, the prince finally spoke—his voice was ice. "Did you find…her."

With a curt nod, Gwaine replied. "Aye. I did."

Gwaine casually scratched at the new blood on his tunic with one calloused thumb. "We spoke."

Merlin knew that Gwaine would have cut her down like a stalk of wheat. Growling perhaps. Speaking? Not bloody likely. It pained him to see perhaps the finest two men in all of Camelot acting out of rage. Revenge. It filled the room.

"Gwaine…" Merlin whispered "I'm so sorry."

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Arthur just nodded, his eyes narrowed. A decision made. "You spoke. I see. And this talk…this talk you two had. You had it in her village? Her home?"

Gwaine flicked his head, then shoved his tangled hair back from an exhausted but absolutely merciless face. "Aye."

Arthur spoke, his word burning Merlin's spirit "You'd know where she's from then."

Gwaine's nod was stealthy "I would."

Merlin's horror built at the unspoken threat hanging between the men. Unheard words trickled from Merlin "Please! Arthur, Gwaine! Please, you can not!"

Speaking over the soul of his beloved servant, Arthur went on. "Did you…speak" the prince's breath was coming fast, his jaw tight, voice ringing loud "…did you speak to the murdering bitch's family? Did you speak to them?"

"Not yet," The knight leaned back against Arthur's footboard, purposefully casual "figured you might want to speak with the others yourself."

Arthur breath came fast and loud as he thought and nodded, hands clenching and unclenching. The prince's voice was no longer cold, it creaked and cracked, "Family." The word hung in the air. "Merlin…." Merlin turned to Arthur at his name. "Merlin was family you know..."

Gwaine just nodded, not sure he could speak. Clearing his throat and giving a mighty sniff, Gwaine wiped his sleeve across his nose. "Tell you what princess. I've got to…" for a moment, Gwaine's features crumpled. He swallowed harshly and bit down on his lower lip. After a second he could continue "I've got to stop by Gaius' rooms. Got to…I'm to…"

To visit Merlin. To say good bye, Arthur knew he too would visit the physician's chambers again. He'd some things that needed saying himself "I understand."

Gwaine gave a grateful nod. "Yeah. But after….after that I thought I'd take a few of the others…" his eyes darted to the prince's "I'm not the only one who's busted up you know." Arthur knew. "Anyways…I thought I'd take a few of the others…"

Merlin was screaming now "No, no, Gwaine! You can't do this! I'm not worth it—I never was! Please…Gwaine!" His desperate glance went to the prince "Arthur! Please!"

Again, Merlin was powerless. The others went on. He wasn't there.

Gwaine stood, tall and dangerous. His expression was one of pure and deadly rage. Yet his tone was frightenly even. "Thought I'd take a few of the others and have a talk. You know, a real sit-down conversation. With her family. Mayhaps even the neighbours."

Merlin was beside himself! The crown prince of Camelot and a knight of the realm were planning to execute an entire family. A village!

Arthur was a man Merlin had never met. He just nodded, cold, murderous—royal assent. "Yes. Well then. If you've got that part taken care of, I will stay behind and help Gaius. With…with arrangements."

"Fine."

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In the background, unheard, Merlin stormed and screamed. The effect was less than nothing. Less than the scuttling of a cloud across the moon.

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Gwaine licked his thumb and set to rubbing a drop of blood from his stubbled cheek as he turned to go. First to Merlin. Then to the others.

"And Gwaine…"

The knight absently picked at the next spot of blood on his neck. "Sire?"

"When you speak to the family. Be sure to send my wishes."

A curt nod was all the answer he needed. Gwaine strode for the door.

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Merlin had to do something. Had to make Arthur realize that this wasn't him. Gods! In the blink of an eye, in one short night, Arthur had become his father. All Merlin had done, all he'd hoped for Arthur—it was going to be all for not.

Gwaine opened the door, was disappearing around the corner…

In his desperation Merlin felt the smallest, tiniest tingle of his instinctual magic—no spells were needed for that. Without another thought, Merlin directed it at Arthur with only a plea. A plea and his feelings "Please Arthur. Please. No."

With the twitch of one fist, Arthur stood. "Sir Gwaine."

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After a pause, Gwaine turned back, framed by the threshold. His expression had softened some. Part of the knight was readying himself to go to Gaius. Readying himself to say his farewells to the first person who really cared about him.

Arthur looked into Gwaine's eyes and saw the beginnings of what would become a new layer of permanent hurt, of darkness. "This talk you're going to have. With the family…with the locals," the prince affected a thoughtful expression "sounds like adult talk."

"Could be."

"Alright then," Arthur nodded, his mind made up "you and your men are only to speak with the adults. Not the children. Not a word, so to speak, to the young."

With a nod, Gwaine was gone.

It wasn't much—Merlin had no doubt that Gwaine and the others would slaughter a dozen, maybe two. A village. But the children, the children would be spared. Of that Merlin was grateful. In Arthur's place, Uther would never have spared the children.

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Merlin shifted to the window. The sun was rising already.

His first day dead.

How odd.

At least he was sure now of what he needed to do next; Arthur still needed him and Merlin seemed to have the ability to impact the prince in a small measure. A very small measure. But, it would have to do.

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Merlin moved towards Arthur. The prince was sitting so quiet and still he could have been a painting. Looking to Merlin as frightened and confused as a small puppy, taken from its mother, kicked by fate, and thrown cold and alone into the street.

Avalon would have to wait.

Someday—years and years down the road—an older and wiser Arthur, King Arthur, would look up from his death bed and find Merlin had been waiting for him all that time.

They'd go on together.

Until then, Merlin would just keep looking.

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The end Dear Readers! Thank you for the reviews so far, I would love to hear what you think one more time, now that we are done here.