Arthur

I stare at Merlin, confused. "Is he talking to us?" I ask Eoin, sparing a glance at the newly-healed man before returning it to Merlin. He isn't looking at either of us, but he keeps talking as if someone is answering.

"He's on the phone," Eoin explains. "A- uh- well, it lets you talk to people who aren't in the room."

"Oh." I say it as if I understand, but he doesn't look convinced. In the other room, Merlin says a string of numbers followed by words that don't make sense- names maybe- and then lowers a little rectangle I hadn't seen him hold to his ear.

Merlin notices my stare and holds up the rectangle. "If somebody else has one of these," he explains, not waiting for me to ask. "I can talk to them. It's a machine that sends signals, like a code. All I need is the right sequence of numbers, and the machine connects us so we can speak."

That description makes a little more sense, though I still can't fathom how it works. "Who were you talking to?" I ask instead.

"Lance," Merlin answers. "When I told him about my magic, he said-"

"You told him you had magic?" I cut in. "Who else knows?"

Merlin gives me a reproving look and continues. "I didn't know who else had come back, and I had to get him to believe me. I told him and Gwen about who they used to be and showed them magic to prove it. Like I did with Eoin."

"It worked for me," Eoin comments.

I try not to feel affected by a stab of petty- what, jealousy? Things are different now. Magic isn't outlawed like it was in Camelot, and Merlin's life isn't in danger because of who he is and what he can do. It makes sense that he would tell Lance and Gwen, to convince them of who they were. It isn't because he trusts them. It's because he had to.

"So you told them," I say, a little sullenly. "Then what?"

One of Merlin's eyebrows arches, and a small smile touches the corners of his mouth. I glower at him. "He mentioned a girl," he explains, sober again. "He said she had dreams of castles and magic. He wouldn't tell me her name, but he described her."

"Morgana?" I guess.

Merlin nods. "He's going to set up a meeting. Tomorrow morning, if he can. He's going to get back to me in the morning."

"So we have until then to figure out how to convince her not to follow the same path."

Eoin shifts on the couch, clearing his throat. "Look, I don't know what she did before, but she's different now. She's good. You should have heard her talking- she's kind, and brave. When we were surrounded I gave her the chance to run, and she refused until I made her go. But she came back for me. She's not who she was before."

An uncomfortable feeling swirls in my gut as I listen to the vehemence in Eoin's words. "That's how she was before," I say carefully. "Brave and honest and kind- everything you said. We grew up together. But she betrayed me and everyone she once cared for. I'm not saying it will happen again," I add when Eoin starts to argue. "But it could. We'd be stupid not to prepare for it."

"If you go in expecting it to happen you'll end up making it happen," Eoin grumbles.

I am silent; there's some truth in that. But how can we pretend not to know what we do about her? We didn't see her betrayal coming last time, but now we have some warning. We can't just ignore that.

I look up and meet Merlin's eyes, and know that he's thinking the same thing. "We have to be careful," Merlin insists, directing his words to Eoin. "But we won't act rashly. Morgana- Anna- deserves a new life, if that is what she's been given. We all have a second chance. And…" He trails off, flicking a glance through the window and then frowning at me. "We still don't know why you're back, Arthur. We may need her help."

There's not much more to say to that. I nod to Merlin to show that I agree and settle back on the couch. I'm tired, but I don't want to be the first to admit it. When I was king there were times I stayed awake for days at a time, under much more trying circumstances. Here, now, I am simply tired of being awake. There are too many thoughts and questions to consider, and I do not have the energy to deal with them.

As if reading my mind, as so often before, Merlin yawns and looks at a circle on the wall. "It's late, and we've all been through a lot today. Eoin, you're welcome to stay here if you'd like. The couch is open."

"I might take you up on that," Eoin says bleakly. "Normal fights I can handle. Magic… it'll take a little getting used to."

Merlin gives him a kind nod and beckons to me. "You can pick your room- they're mostly identical. I have some clothes here as well."

I follow him down a short hall, which ends with one door on the left and two on the right. "These are the bedrooms," Merlin explains, opening each door to show me the rooms. They do look the same, except for a slight difference in the arrangement of furniture. I pick the one closest to the main rooms and step wearily toward the bed. "Not yet," Merlin says. "I should show you the bathroom."

The "bathroom" doesn't actually have a bath- instead it's some sort of tiny room Merlin calls a shower ("A standing bath," he explains.) He tells me how to use the self-emptying chamberpot and the contraption he calls a sink, then brings me back to my new bedroom and unpacks the bag of clothes he'd had with him earlier today.

"These will do for now," he tells me, indicating a pair of long, loose-fitting pants and a shirt with half sleeves. "I picked up some other clothes for you, but I didn't think about pajamas. Maybe tomorrow we can do some shopping."

"After Morgana," I say.

Merlin lets out a breath. "Yes. After Morgana."

I want to ask what he thinks is going to happen, if he thinks this time's Morgana can be saved, if we can rewrite her destiny. I don't. If this was the old Merlin, any thoughts he had on the subject would have been babbled out the moment we entered my bed chamber. This new Merlin is more stoic, and it unnerves me. He kept the secret of his magic for so long- when I would have bet my life that he could hide nothing from me. And now there is a cowardly part of me that is afraid to ask what else he might be hiding.

"Good night, Merlin," I sigh. I will unravel his mysteries later.

"Yes, Sire," he says. In the old days he only called me Sire in front of my subjects, or when I gave him an order he didn't like. There's no trace of bitterness in his voice, however, and no hint in his expression that he's displeased. A reminder, then. I am still King, and he wants me to know that he believes it.

He sets a hand on my shoulder, briefly- the gesture of one man who understands another's pain. Then he turns to go, shutting the door behind him. I change into the clothes Merlin left, laying the rest on the floor before crawling into the oversoft mess of mattress and blankets, and fall asleep trying not to notice the absence of Gwen's warmth beside me.

Blessedly, I manage to sleep through the rest of the night, and wake to the light of the sun streaming from the window on the wall above my bed. There's a tapping at the door, and I push back the blankets to swing my feet out of bed just as Merlin opens the door. "Breakfast is ready," he says by way of greeting. His eyes sweep over me, asking silently how I slept and finding the answer in my expression. "The beds are more comfortable now," he comments.

"Yes." No bed without Gwen can be comfortable, but I keep that thought to myself.

"Your clothes are there," Merlin says, gesturing, and then retreats back into the hall and closes the door. I change as quickly as I can, but the stiff jeans don't feel right, and the shirt I choose is too tight across my shoulders. It isn't easy to squash down my frustration, but I do my best to show a neutral face when I make my exit.

Merlin is in the other room, the one with a smooth white floor and cupboards on the walls. I assume from the smells that it's some type of kitchen, and my guess is confirmed when Merlin holds up a pan of eggs and nods to a plate on the table. "Dish up," he says. "Our appointment with Lance is in an hour."

"Where's Gwaine?" I ask. I can't remember his other name, but Merlin doesn't correct me.

"He left a little while ago," he answers. "Said he had to go to work."

I nod and pick up one of the plates. We eat the simple breakfast of eggs, sausage, and half-burned bread Merlin calls "toast", and then leave our strange new quarters to make our way toward the meeting place. "Lance gave me directions to his flat," he explains as we walk. "Mor- Anna should be there already. It's not far."

"And when we get there?" I ask. "What's the plan?"

Merlin takes a few steps in silence, his eyes on the ground. "Let me do the talking. I'll try to get an idea of what she remembers, and what magic she's capable of. She may not understand much yet."

Normally I'd bristle at the order to stay back, but I have to agree with him now. This is Merlin's area of expertise. I will have to be content to observe from the background.

It doesn't take long to reach the building Merlin says belongs to Lance. I follow him to the door, where he pauses to push a small circle in the wall. It buzzes, and a moment later Lance's voice speaks from a box beneath the circle. "Hello?"

"It's Morgan," Merlin says.

"Come on up."

There's a loud click, and Merlin reaches forward to open the door. He leads the way into a short hall, then up a flight of cloth-covered steps. "Are you ready?" I ask quietly.

His answer is immediate. "Yes. I've had a long time to prepare for this."

"You knew this would happen?"

"Not exactly." Merlin pauses outside a door- though I'm how he knows this is the right one when every other door in the hall looks exactly the same. "I didn't expect anyone would be back," he clarifies. "But I've thought about what went wrong. Why Morgana went bad. I've had centuries to consider how things could have gone."

I'm not sure how to answer that. He hasn't volunteered this much information before, and I am torn between asking more and not wanting to know the answer.

He takes the decision away from me when he knocks on the door. Lance opens it, stepping back to allow us entry. "Morning," he says.

Merlin returns the greeting, but I stay silent. He doesn't yet know that I understand their speech, unless Merlin told him through his small rectangle. And in a time like this, when everything is so different, it can't hurt to be too careful.

We step into a room that looks similar to the quarters Merlin found us, though it is furnished differently. I'm expecting Morgana to be waiting within, but there's no one else there. I cast an anxious glance at Merlin, but he gives a tiny shake of his head. Don't worry. Not yet.

"Did we beat her here?" Merlin asks lightly.

Lance closes the door behind us and shakes his head. "She's here. She's in the back room. She's… nervous."

"Nervous?" Merlin echoes.

"Yes." Lance moves to stand before Merlin, between us and where Anna is waiting. "I told her about everything, and apparently she remembers you."

Something like panic shivers through me, but I force control over myself and steal another look to Merlin. "Alright," he says. He seems completely calm, and I marvel at what a leader he would have been if he had not chosen to stay my servant. "Delaying won't help. Let's meet her."

Lance's expression is grim, but he nods and turns toward the hallway. "Are you ready?" he calls. Exactly what I asked Merlin only a few moments ago.

In answer, a girl steps through a door at the end of the hall. Her long dark hair falls over her face, obscuring it as she closes the door behind her. She pauses , head down, as if composing herself. Then she looks up, and I catch my breath.

It isn't Morgana.

The girl comes forward hesitantly, her eyes darting between the three of us . Something about her seems feral. Her movements are small but efficient, and the way she carries herself reminds me of a crouching cat. It's her shoulders, I decide. They're drawn close, the way a panther hunches when it's cowering.

Or right before it leaps.

"These are the friends I told you about," Lance says. "Morgan and Arthur."

"Morgan?" she repeats. Her voice is soft, and as she speaks the name her eyes light on Merlin.

Beside me, he takes a shuddering breath. I turn, surprised; I'd been so focused on studying her that I hadn't noticed Merlin's reaction. All trace of his previous composure is gone: his face is pale, his eyes are wide, and his hands are trembling. He looks terrified.

"Merlin?" I whisper. The girl turns dark eyes on me, appraising me in silence before turning her attention back to my friend.

"Which is it?" she asks quietly. "Morgan or Merlin?"

Merlin swallows. He tries to speak and fails, and swallows again. Curiosity burns a hundred questions on my tongue, and only the redness of Merlin's eyes keeps me from demanding he answer her.

"You do know me, don't you?" she presses. Her voice is eager now, reading his reaction as if it's somehow good news. "You remember too? Nobody else remembers- not Lance, not Gwen- but you know me. You wouldn't forget me."

"Freya," Merlin croaks.

The girl lets out a breathy laugh and throws her arms around Merlin's neck. He pulls her close, crushing her to him, as if the space between them even now is too great. It's the way I would hold Gwen, if she were here.

"Freya," I echo. The name stirs my memories, and the story unfolds in my mind. On an overnight hunt, Merlin had awoken in the night with her name on his lips. It took ages to pry the information from him, and when he finally did talk he didn't tell me much. Only that he'd cared for her, and she'd died.

"I guess that means you remember her," Lance comments. "This is my sister. When we were kids she'd talk all the time about dragons and castles… that I was a knight, and magic was real. I thought it was a game. I suppose I was wrong."

No one else is listening. Freya and Merlin cling to each other, all consideration for Lance and me forgotten. "It isn't a game," I sigh, giving up my silence. If Morgana isn't here there's no need to pretend. "But this is the girl you meant? You don't know anyone named Anna?"

Lance blinks at me. "You speak English."

"Merlin cast a spell," I explain. "Do you know Anna?"

"Gwen has a friend named Anna," Lance answers.

There's a lump in my throat, so it takes me a few tries to say, "Then maybe it's time we talk to Gwen."