A/N: Hi all, thank you for all your lovely comments, I'm glad you are enjoying this. And for those of you who don't know whether Merlin will end up with Arthur or Dorian...I'm saying nothing ;) Enjoy this chapter!

"Right," he said. "Yes. Uh. See you tomorrow."

Dorian beamed at him. It was like the sun had come out. "Tomorrow," he said, and walked away.

Merlin dived into his room and shut the door behind him. Someone had lit candles and a fire and turned down his bed for him. The room glowed in the light, looking, although it was almost impossible, ten times more beautiful than it had in the daylight.

Merlin smiled to himself. "A nice day," he said dreamily, and got ready for bed.

Arthur was awoken early the next morning by someone loudly knocking on his door.

"Merlin, if that's you I'm going to skin you," he groaned into his pillow.

"Is that what Kings of Camelot usually do in the mornings?" Machen's voice replied, sounding amused.

Arthur leapt off his bed and just about stopped himself from running to the door in a very un-kingly manner. When he opened it, Machen was grinning and looking as fresh as a daisy, despite the fact that he had still been chatting with his knights when Arthur had left in the early hours of the morning.

"My apologies," the High King said. "I do not sleep for very long and often forget that others need longer."

"No, no, it's fine," Arthur said courteously, though in truth his head was as sore as a bear's.

Machen smiled more widely, the lines around his eyes crinkling, as if he could see straight through Arthur's lies. "Your Court Advisor has vanished with my Court Sorcerer," he said. "I suspect they are holed up in a library somewhere by now, surrounded by dry, dusty books. Do you feel like enacting some revenge and going for a long walk in the grounds?"

Arthur fiercely shrugged off the feeling that Merlin had abandoned him. "Give me ten minutes," he said.

The gardens were as colourful and as unusual as the rest of Denaan. There were fields and fields of beautifully cultivated flowers, each with their own theme, so one was laid out in the long colours of the rainbow and another had only white flowers in it, and then there was also fountains and orchards by the hundreds, dark thickets of woods and lovingly sculpted mazes that went on for miles. Denaan was well known for their horticulture and just when Arthur thought he couldn't see anything more splendid, something else appeared to change his mind. He had a list of suggestions as long as his arm for the Camelot gardeners.

They ended up in a large, quiet plot of land that was mostly lawn, thin twining paths and huge topiaries shaped in strange, curving designs. From this garden Arthur could see the whole palace, and the Stages that hovered eternally above the city.

He looked back at the topiaries. The designs seemed familiar to him.

Machen followed his gaze. "These are some of the magical symbols of our kingdom," he said. "You will have seen them all around the palace, painted on walls and such. See, that one is for eloquence, that one for protection, that one for force, the list goes on. They all have their own spells, their own way of being drawn. It is truly an art as well as a science."

The bitterness that Arthur had almost forgotten in his pleasant tour of the grounds came back to visit him tenfold. He turned to Machen. "I take it you don't have magic," he said.

"No," replied Machen simply.

"Then I don't understand."

"Understand what, Arthur?"

"How you can, as a King, willingly give so much control to those who hold a power you know nothing of. They have magic and you don't know a thing about it. How can you know what motivates them?"

Machen turned his head to the side and regarded Arthur for a long moment. Arthur felt, suddenly, like he was twelve years old again, sitting at his father's feet and learning how to rule from him.

"I have heard great stories about King Arthur's mercy and fairness," Machen said. "So surely you will understand what I mean when I say that I look at the person who wields the power, and not the power itself."

Arthur swallowed dryly. "Magic corrupts the person."

Machen spared him a flash of a smile. "Who told you that? From what authority?"

"It - it simply is. Magic is a power that will eventually consume the good person and leave only darkness behind."

"Really?" Machen regarded Arthur levelly. "And would you say that has happened to Merlin?"

Arthur felt his stomach drop. "That's - " he started, then stopped. Gwen's face floated into his mind unbidden, bringing with it that same stab of pain that it had for two years. "Merlin is not infallible," he said thickly.

"But he is good," replied Machen bluntly. "He is the most powerful sorcerer in the world, but he is also terribly kind. He destroys your theory on the corruption of magic with every day that he lives. You must see that."

Arthur had no words, he could not summon any, his throat had quite closed up. Machen seemed to sense this, and retreated a little. "Anyway," he said more brightly. "It is not true that I know nothing of magic. Some of these magical symbols can be invoked by someone with no magical powers, to a very small effect. No one is quite sure how it works, though Dorian believes there may be a tiny amount of latent magic in the symbols themselves."

Arthur frowned. "I am not sure I understand."

"All right, let me show you." Machen cast around the grounds. "Ah, here, the symbol of protection." He pointed at a more complicated topiary, that curled in and around itself and towered above the others. "Our most important symbol," Machen said. He turned to Arthur and drew his finger in a complicated squiggle in the air just above his heart. "Hasshan," he said.

The symbol glowed weakly in the air and then vanished, and Arthur felt his chest warm for a moment, as though someone had pressed a bottle of hot water to it. Machen smiled at him. "There you go," he said. "Now you're protected from magical attacks for…oh, maybe about twenty minutes?" His eyes crinkled in amusement.

Arthur felt too shaken to smile back. "Is a magical attack that likely?" he quavered as sardonically as possible.

Something in Machen's smile faded. Arthur felt that familiar pull of danger deep in his gut, the sort that he felt when he was on the battlefield facing the enemy, or when he was facing Morgana near Avalon, dying and defenceless. "What is it?" he insisted.

Machen glanced away from him. "It was perhaps wrong of me to accept your visit," he said. "You may not be entirely safe here. For a year now, Denaan has been plagued by attacks from a neighbouring kingdom, Pretage. One of our knights was assassinated by one of theirs just over a year ago. Deliberately. We tried to negotiate with their King, Teelin, but he would not hand over the knight at fault to us, nor punish the man. He is a blood-thirsty, war-hungry lord, and I perhaps was too angry to see clearly that starting trouble would only ever end in trouble. Now we are the victims of constant attacks and raids, and Teelin has made it clear he wants Denaan for himself."

Machen sighed and looked over at the gardens broodingly. "You ask why I gave those with magic such control in my kingdom, King Arthur," he said. "It was desperation."

Arthur's mouth felt dry. "You sound like you regret it," he said.

Machen looked back at Arthur and was suddenly present again, his smile returning. "Not at all," he said. "It has made Denaan great. But…there have been sacrifices. And we are still desperate. With great power comes great responsibility, as I am sure you know."

Arthur thought of Gwen again, of the guilt. "I know," he said.

Bells started clanging in the distance, signalling the start of sunset, and Machen clapped his hands. "Ah, of course," he said. "I have arranged for some entertainment to be performed on one of the Stages in honour of your visit. Would you attend?"

"I would be pleased to," Arthur said formally, but his mind was still on Gwen.

"…So I thought, if it were not latent magic in the person itself, perhaps the symbol was the key," Dorian was saying as he and Merlin approached the wide courtyard where the Stage on which they were going to ascend sat waiting. "People often forget but there is a power in a thing, any object, even if it can't be seen. It isn't - I mean it isn't dynamic like a living creature, a human, a plant, but it is there. So I thought, perhaps that which is dynamic could awaken that which is passive - do you understand, do you see?"

"Absolutely," Merlin said. In actuality he was so enraptured by what Dorian was saying, he could barely tear his eyes from the man's face. He'd stumbled into a few things during the day, much to his embarrassment and Dorian's amusement. Still, at least it was a nice face to look at. A bit distracting, actually, with those cheekbones and clear grey eyes.

"The Stages are great," Dorian enthused as they cut across the courtyard to where a number of officials were waiting by the Stage. He couldn't seem to stop talking, almost hadn't the entire day. He wanted to tell Merlin everything, share everything with him. It was…flattering. In his early days, Arthur had omitted to tell Merlin the most vital of plans, such as important meetings or changes in law. It had been, at the best of times, irritating, at the worst, painful.

"An idea from a colleague of mine," Dorian was saying. "She loves the dramatic arts and she'd read a book about an ancient civilisation who built great theatres out of stone in beautiful locations, so that the drama could have an eternally beautiful backdrop. So she devised the Stages. It's all held up by magic, can be lowered and lifted as high as the actors want it, even turned and moved around. Oh look, there's Machen."

Merlin glanced up and saw Machen and Arthur walking towards them. Machen was smiling all over his face, Arthur was looking his usual sulky self. "Ah, at last, Camelot's Court Advisor!" Machen said, and clasped Merlin's hand, as if he hadn't seen him in weeks. "I do hope Dorian hasn't been boring you too much!"

Merlin echoed Machen's smile. "Not at all," he said. "I think you've got the best Court Sorcerer in world. Informative, skilled and charming."

Dorian blushed right up to his hairline. Arthur looked like he had swallowed a spider. Merlin felt bizarrely gratified to see it; he'd been thinking uncharitable thoughts about Arthur all day.

"Shall we take our seats on the Stage?" Machen asked, winking at Dorian. "I think the actors are ready to perform."

"Fantastic," said Merlin, and, following Dorian, stepped up onto the Stage, which was floating a few centimetres off the floor.

He stopped when he heard a small noise behind him, and turned. Arthur had not stepped onto the Stage, and was instead eyeing it with a quickly disguised fear.

Merlin hesitated. "Come on clotpole," he said lightly. "It won't bite."

Arthur shot him a look of pure venom. "Your King will take his own sweet time, Merlin," he retorted as evenly, but Merlin heard the tremor beneath his voice. He reached out a hand to Arthur before he'd really thought about it.

"Come on," he repeated, more gently.

Arthur took his hand without a second thought, then looked like he was as surprised about it as Merlin. They stared at each other blankly.

"Right," said Arthur decisively and stepped onto the Stage, then let go of Merlin's hand like it had burned him. Merlin bit back a retort and focused on what was happening.

Behind him, more brightly clothed officials were getting onto the Stage. A small collection of wooden seats sat clustered at one end of the Stage, and Dorian and Machen were sitting at the front, waving at Arthur and Merlin to join them. Merlin found himself seated next to Arthur, with Dorian on his other side and Machen on Arthur's.

The Stage started rising in the air. Merlin glanced at Arthur but he had put on his, long ago perfected, courtier's blank expression and now looked utterly uninterested in this turn of events. Machen saw Merlin watching and gave him a wink. "The King of Camelot and I have been practising some magic today," he said.

"What?" Merlin stared at Arthur, but Arthur's expression didn't change and he didn't say anything. Oddly disappointed, Merlin slumped into his seat.

After a while of rising, they stopped in mid air. Arthur seemed to break out of his shell, suddenly exclaiming, "Look at that!" and Merlin turned to see Denaan spread out before them, a sprawl of flat land ending in mountains that were coloured purple in the dusk. The sun was a low orange ember in the sky, and the clouds were all tinted pink and yellow. Merlin felt himself smiling, and looked across to find Arthur was smiling as well, his fears forgotten in the stunning view.

Maybe it would be right after all, Merlin thought with hope. Maybe everything really would work out.

The performance was actually a series of performances by several different actors. The first was an old history of Denaan, which Merlin was sure he should pay more attention to, but his thoughts kept wandering. The next play, a comedy, kept his interest more, and soon he and Dorian were laughing hysterically, repeating bits to each other and clutching at each other helplessly.

The third play was a tragedy about a dying queen.

Merlin felt the exact moment when Arthur caught on to the theme, because he stiffened, his form suddenly rigid. Machen looked worriedly at him but didn't stop the play, which Merlin was glad about in the end, because it was as beautiful as it was heartbreaking. In the last act, where the queen sang as she died, he blinked and suddenly found there were tears on his cheeks. He wiped a tear away, half awed, half terrified, then glanced at Arthur and immediately wished he hadn't. Arthur's expression had only been that broken before when they had told him Gwen was truly dead.

Merlin wanted to take Arthur's hand, but felt paralysed by nervousness, especially after what had happened on the Stage before. He settled for gently nudging at Arthur's arm, and got a little nudge back in return.

By the time the queen had died, there were more tears on his face.

Dinner was spent with Machen constantly apologising about the theme of the play and the pain it must have made Arthur feel, and Arthur replying that it was fine in all the courteous terms he could. Merlin sat silently and picked at his dinner, only half cheered by Dorian's chattering.

After dinner, Dorian wanted to walk Merlin to his room, but, a little shy by what had happened last time and too worried about Arthur to leave him alone, he went with Arthur instead. They walked through the corridors in silence, Merlin leaving Arthur to find the way with his excellent sense of direction. He wanted to speak, but he felt like magic had swollen his tongue - there was nothing he could say.

When they got to the white door of Arthur's room, his tongue suddenly loosened again.

"You blame me for Gwen's death, don't you," he said, then was immediately horrified at himself. They had never spoken of this.

Arthur gave Merlin a quick, searching look. "Of course not," he said.

"It doesn't matter if you do," Merlin babbled. "Because you're right. I mean, I should have seen - I should have noticed and saved her, it's my fault, I'm sorry, it - "

"It's not your fault," Arthur said, suddenly wooden and barely reachable. "You couldn't have known."

"I could have tried," Merlin said wretchedly.

Arthur stared at him for a long time, as if he were trying to find words, something to say. In the end, all he said was, "I don't blame you."

Merlin hesitated, but he'd already gone this far, he might as well go a little further. "Then what is it, Arthur? Because I know there's something, there's got to be something you're angry about - "

"There isn't - "

" - To treat me like this for so long, there has to be something, what is it?"

Arthur said nothing. He looked like he wanted to run as far away from Merlin as possible. Arthur never wanted to run. He always wanted to fight. To run showed…cowardice.

Merlin took a deep breath. "Arthur," he said. "I'm asking you. What have I done?"

For a moment he got a glimpse of emotion, a glimmer of something, like he was looking through a crack in a door and saw the light beyond. Then Arthur blinked and it was gone, and all he said was, "Nothing. You've done nothing, Merlin. Good night."

He turned on his heel and went through the door, and Merlin was too troubled to call him back again.