Notes: Have another one, lovely people, and please let me know what you're thinking, if you happen to have a moment. Px

Chapter Forty-Seven

"Right," Gwaine says, attempting to smother his panic when his third attempt at calling Merlin's name fails. "Gaius, give me the book."

"It won't help," Gaius answers, his brow as furrowed as Gwaine has ever seen it. "There's nothing in there I haven't already told you. You call his name, he hears it and then follows your voice back to his body. It really is as simple as that."

"I believe you," Gwaine answers. "Except Merlin clearly isn't listening, so I'm going after him."

Despite this being a sensible, logical solution, it's met with absolute and somewhat incredulous silence.

"It's not that mad an idea," he says, maybe a little more indignant than necessary, but since he's actively trying to get Merlin back now there's no point in being quiet or calm or any of that shit. Loud and indignant is definitely in order, and maybe it'll get Merlin's attention enough to drag him back before Gwaine has to go along with his own stupid fucking idea (yeah, he gets that it's crazy, but if it's what it takes then it's what he's doing and telling Gaius he knows it's stupid is not the best way to get his help with it). "It doesn't need actual magic, does it? Just a couple of runes and a potion. All I need is you to draw the runes, pass me the bottle, and I'll be back with Merlin quicker than you can count to twenty."

"It's insane," Gaius tells him, his tone harsh enough that Gwaine can tell he's way, way off the list of Gaius' favourite people again (completely unfair, since it's not his fault he and Merlin are on the outs again, but since Gaius would probably be saying the same thing regardless it's clearly not an argument worth having). "It's completely insane, and there's no way I'm assisting with your foolishness."

"Fine. Gwen, will you help me get him back?"

Despite his very deliberate and only a bit manipulative word choice, Gwen doesn't agree instantly. Instead, she looks deeply conflicted, her brow furrowed and her fingers twisting together and apart again, crinkling and creasing the fabric of her skirts.

"Um," she starts, which sounds to Gwaine's uneasy ears like the start of a hesitant refusal.

"Please," he says, before she can get any further into a sentence that will tip him over the edge.

"Gwaine, I… I don't think-"

"I'll do it," Arthur says, standing abruptly and taking the book from the table before Gaius or Gwen can realise what he's doing. In fact, he's most of the way to Gwaine – the book tucked under one arm, the potion and the mortar of black paste in either hand – before either of them start to react.

"Sire," says Gaius, even more disapproving now. "I'm not sure you realise how foolish an idea this is. Sir Gwaine has no experience with this kind of thing, there is very little chance of anything good resulting from the attempt, and I fail to see why anyone would think adding a second disembodied person to this situation is in any way likely to improve matters."

Arthur looks at him over his shoulder – Gwaine can't see his expression, but Gaius' eyebrow is close to merging with his hairline so it's got to be something pretty impressive – for long enough that Gwaine has to use an awful lot of self-control in order not to fidget. "Noted," Arthur says eventually. "But if there's anyone stubborn enough to make this work, it's going to be him."

Gwaine grins, just for a moment, and Arthur answers it in kind, no less briefly. "Here," he says, dropping the book into Gwaine's lap (the part not already occupied by Merlin, anyway). "Hold this so I can see the pictures, then close your eyes."

Gwaine doesn't hesitate, turning the book so that it's the right way up for Arthur to read it. He adjusts his grasp on Merlin, props the book up against his chest, tilts his chin up and pretends the whole thing where Arthur is about to draw on his face isn't absolutely fucking weird.

"Arthur," Gwen says, firmly and far closer than she was before Gwaine closed his eyes. "Perhaps we ought to listen to Gaius. He does have rather more experience with such matters, and if he believes this is a poor idea… I'm not quite sure we understand the risks well enough to be taking them."

Gwaine opens his left eye a crack (the closest he can get to a glare without screwing up Arthur's handiwork). "We aren't taking any risks," he tells her and, wow, he didn't actually realise his voice could go that low and growly. "I am, and – with all due respect, Your Majesty – if you think you can stop me you can damn well think again. If you really care about my safety you'll let Arthur do this and do it now, because if you keep trying to stop him I'll find a fucking mirror and do it my fucking self."

There's a muffled thudding from the other side of the room, steady and consistent; Gwaine looks over to see Gaius is gently but insistently banging his head on the table. His expression is one of utter disbelief, like Gwaine hasn't made his feelings for Merlin absolutely apparent over the months since Morgana's failed takeover attempt, like his devotion hasn't been painfully obvious to every fucking person in the kingdom in the time since Arthur and Gwen's wedding.

Gwaine has made zero effort to hide how far he'd go for Merlin, and he's sure as shit not going to start now.

Fortunately, Arthur seems to have decided today is the day to take Gwaine's side. "It's Merlin, Gwen," he says. "It's Merlin, and he's doing this for our people. If you can honestly tell me you don't want me to do this, I won't, but it's not going to stop Gwaine, and it's going to be a lot safer if he's not doing this on his own."

There's silence, almost long enough for Gwaine to take another look around despite the brush still dabbing at his eyelids, and then Gwen sighs. "At least warn Merlin first," she says, sounding tired. "Tell him what you're planning, give him a minute to finish what he's doing, and if he still doesn't return, then you can follow him."

"Fine," Gwaine answers, then puts his mouth to Merlin's ear, his tone making sure that Merlin isn't going to confuse a lack of volume for less than absolute determination. "Merlin," he says, then repeats it just in case. "Merlin, I swear, if you don't come back right the fuck now, I'm going to fucking well follow you. Is that clear?"

He presses a kiss to Merlin's temple (rather more angry than it is affectionate, it has to be said, but it's not like he's making any effort to pretend he's not pissed off at him) and tilts his head back again. "I've warned him," he says. "Can we get on with this now?"

In answer, Arthur's hand closes on his chin again, tipping his face further back, and resumes drawing.

X

Returning to his body is a lot like the bad kind of waking up. Not the warm, comfortable kind of waking up he's just starting to get used to again, the lazy, gentle kind that comes from being wrapped up with Gwaine. It's not peaceful or safe, not easy or calm.

It's like waking up from one of those dreams about falling, so real that it chases its way into consciousness.

One moment he's fighting against the pull of Gwaine calling him back with everything he has, determined to finish his conversation with the druids first, and the next he's flying back towards the citadel, the world passing him by too swiftly for any of it to register, wind rushing past him until he lands, hard, arriving back in his body with enough force to punch the air from his lungs.

"Oh, thank the gods," Gwen says, while Merlin splutters and coughs, trying to catch his breath again. It's illogical, when his body has obviously been breathing just fine without him the whole time he was gone (it must have been, otherwise Gwaine would have had the mother of all freakouts the moment Merlin set out), but logic doesn't change the fact that he's struggling.

The chaos he comes back to doesn't help anything: Gwaine is clinging to him hard enough to leave bruises, Gaius is sat at the table having some kind of breakdown, Gwen seems more than a little flustered, and… Actually, Merlin can't tell much about how Arthur's doing, given that his torso is currently only a few inches away from Merlin's face, much too close for Merlin to be able to look up and see his expression.

"What's…" he starts, the question falling short as Arthur pulls back far enough for Merlin to see the brush in his right hand, the bowl in his left, and the look of relief on his face; Merlin twists in Gwaine's hold until he's able to look at him as well, at the hastily drawn runes on his eyelids and the tightness around his mouth that suggests either absolute fear or absolute fury, maybe both. "Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing."

"I don't know, Merlin," Gwaine answers, his voice an almost growl that effectively answers Merlin's question about his mental state. "Do you think I'm about to do exactly what I told you I was going to do? Because I can understand why that might confuse you."

Merlin flinches, in as much as that's possible while Gwaine's still holding him so tightly. "I'm sorry," he says, and he is, he absolutely, completely is. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You said you'd come back when I called you."

"I know," Merlin replies, feeling absolutely wretched about it. "I should have done. I should have realised how worried you'd be."

"Yeah, you should have."

"I know," Merlin repeats. "I'm so sorry, Gwaine."

He doesn't say anything, doesn't meet Merlin's eyes, but he doesn't loosen his grip either, which is about as much as Merlin can expect after betraying Gwaine's trust twice in as many days. Still, he can't help pushing his luck, shifting his free arm (mostly free arm, or at least more free than his other arm) until he can press his fingers to the back of Gwaine's hand. He's expecting Gwaine to let him go, maybe even to pull away entirely, but instead Gwaine just clamps his hands around Merlin's, apparently deciding to bruise that rather than Merlin's ribs.

"Not that the rest of us aren't just as angry with you as Gwaine is," Arthur says, "But did you at least find what you were looking for?"

"Um," Merlin says, mildly concerned that his fingertips are starting to tingle. "So, it's kind of a good news bad news hopefully-you're-okay-with-this news."

He pauses, then realises it's highly unlikely any of them have anything to say to this, at least not anything that won't be the kind of well-meaning platitude (oh, Merlin, he can imagine Gwen saying, of course we'll be okay with it) that may be entirely negated by what he's about to say.

"I was able to see the entirety of the curse, and I definitely know how to break it now," he says, raising his free hand slightly to quell the enthusiastic response this gets. "I know how," he continues, "But I'm nowhere near powerful enough to do it."

"I thought you were the most powerful sorcerer alive," Arthur says, before Merlin has the chance to get to the potentially reassuring part.

"Pretty sure that's why it's bad news," Gwaine mutters, earning himself a round of unimpressed looks and a gentle elbow in the ribs from Merlin.

"I understood that much, believe it or not," Arthur says. "My question is: how did Morgana manage to cast a curse too powerful for the most powerful sorcerer alive to break?"

"It wasn't that strong to begin with," Merlin explains. "A curse like this is organic, it grows – the more life it drains, the stronger it gets. If I'd realised it last year, I could have taken care of it, but… At least Morgana isn't stronger than me?"

No one looks all that reassured by this (not that it's really all that reassuring), and Merlin decides it's best to just get on with explaining the deal he's provisionally made on Arthur's behalf. "But I can break it, I just need to share power to do so, and I maybe foundagroupofdruidswhoagreedtohelpifyouannounceinfrontofeveryonethatyouwon'tkillthemforit."

His words are met by silence, but it's less the disbelief (best case scenario) or extreme displeasure (worst case scenario, if one takes displeasure to mean fury) Merlin was expecting. It's more confusion, actually, and there's a possibility rushing to get the sentence out in a single breath wasn't the most intelligible way of doing it.

"Again, please, Merlin," Gaius suggests. "Slower, if possible."

"Definitely slower," Arthur adds, just smug enough to irritate Merlin out of his anxiety over what he's about to say.

"I found a group of druids near the northern border," he says, at an admittedly more reasonable speed. "They've agreed to work with me to break the curse, on the condition that you publicly announce beforehand that there won't be any punishment for anyone who helps us."

"Out of the question," Arthur says, only moments after Merlin has finished speaking. It's such an abrupt refusal that it takes far too long for Merlin to comprehend it, and even then he can't understand why: up until now, he'd sort of thought Arthur was okay with magic, and he definitely would have thought saving Camelot ranked above any lingering unease he might have.

He's clearly not the only one, either; no sooner has Merlin started with "But-" than Gwen chimes in with a horrified "Arthur!" and Gaius a calmer, slightly perplexed "Sire?"

Gwaine, on the other hand, doesn't voice a protest, and there's motion against Merlin's shoulder that seems strangely like a nod.

"He's right," Gwaine says. "Arthur can't go around shouting that we know Morgana's cursed Camelot and then start begging for sorcerers to save him. It's weak, it's fucking hypocritical, and it tells Morgana exactly what our plan is, at which point she'll just decide to speed things up a bit."

Arthur's expression is, somewhat unexpectedly, one of respect, and his gaze lingers on Gwaine a little before he looks back at Merlin. "We can't let on that we know until you're in position to break the curse, Merlin," he says. "She'll immediately shore-up any defences she's got in place, she'll kill anyone even remotely likely to support us, and then she'll mount the kind of attack you can't protect us from while you're trying desperately to come up with another plan."

Merlin doesn't like that explanation, and he definitely doesn't like the fact that Arthur is clearly right, now that he's explained it. His previously high hopes are now somewhat subterranean, and since this was his desperate and final possibility for solving this, he honestly doesn't think today can get any worse.

"No, that won't work at all," Arthur continues, sounding deep in contemplation. "But I do have a better idea."

Oh, crap, Merlin thinks as Arthur breaks out a smile that is way too large and way, way too cheerful for this moment in time. Today just got worse.

X

"I am sorry," Merlin says much later, after they've communicated the plan to the others, after they've decided who is doing what and when they have to have done it by, after Gwaine has finally regained enough of his equilibrium to quit staring at Merlin's chest to make sure he's still breathing and his stupidly expressive face to make sure he's still in there.

Gwaine sighs, sitting on the edge of their bed to take his boots off, a little part of him wondering why he's still here, when this is the second night in a row they've gone to bed having this conversation. Of course, most of him doesn't wonder at all, because all he needs to do is think about how terrified he was earlier to remember that his life isn't worth living without Merlin in it.

"I know, love," he answers tiredly. "I know."

"I don't mean to keep messing up, with us," Merlin tells him, standing in front of Gwaine and fidgeting incessantly.

"I know," Gwaine says again, because even if there's no argument at all that anything Merlin's done is an accident, he's not doing it with the intention of fucking things up between them. Or that's true of today, anyway, and yesterday… Merlin knew what was doing was wrong, that it would hurt Gwaine, but he didn't do it to hurt him, and maybe that's a tiny difference, barely significant, but it's about all that Gwaine's got to hold on to.

Merlin offers him a very fragile smile, hands stilling momentarily, and then, "It won't happen again," he promises.

They had this conversation last night as well, and Gwaine doesn't think he's any closer to believing it now than he was then. Nor is he any more willing to argue it with him tonight, so he just continues changing for bed.

"Come here," he says when he's ready, keeping his voice soft as he pulls back the blankets and sits down again. "You need to get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a big day."

He waits, arms held out, for a fraction of a second, and then Merlin is there, curling himself into Gwaine's side. He presses his face against Gwaine's shoulder, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt, and Gwaine's hands come up automatically, cradling him close.

Gwaine lays down, pulling Merlin down with him, and then tugs the blankets up to their shoulders.

Merlin's eyes spark gold as he puts out the candles. "Thank you, Gwaine," he says, pressing the words into his chest. "For not hating me yet."

It'd be nice if you didn't make it so damn difficult, Gwaine thinks, but it is only a thought; as hard as the last couple of days have been, he still loves Merlin, still wants to be with him, and the fact that Merlin keeps coming back here means that he must too.

They can get past this. Gwaine won't have it any other way.

"Sleep, love," he murmurs, brushing a kiss to the top of Merlin's head, then settling his head back on the pillow and closing his eyes. "You'll need it."

"Yeah," Merlin agrees.

Even so, Gwaine's pretty sure it's a long time before either of them drifts off.