Title: The Process of Healing
Author: Cassis Luna
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Arthur Pendragon/Merlin

Summary: Takes the place of S4E12: The Sword in the Stone.

When Morgana attacks Camelot, Merlin is forced to save Arthur with magic in front of everyone, but is captured and taken prisoner in Helios' castle. Morgana seeks to use him as a weapon and Helios seeks to own him as a slave. While Arthur finds a way to get Merlin back, he struggles through to sort his feelings regarding Agravaine's betrayal, Merlin's magic, and Merlin's devotion with a little help from his knights.

Author's Notes: I've been off from writing for so long, but after rewatching the series and binge reading Merthur fics for WEEKS, this one just pretty much took a hold of me and wrote itself. ;; Also, I hope you all know as early as now that I am Team Hurt Merlin A Lot but Also Have Arthur Comfort Him A Lot

The next chapter should be up in a few days, either Friday night or Saturday morning! Just have to make some more edits. :) Hope you all enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The Process of Healing

The great hall of the palace of Camelot echoes with sounds of festivity as drinks are poured and metal spoons scrape against metal plates. The tables are littered with knights and maidens exchanging sweet words and coy glances, and servants run around filling one cup to another.

The night has already gone on for a while, and Merlin can see it on the red blooming high on the cheeks of those around him. Agravaine and Gaius had already retired for sleep, and others had retired in pairs for a different kind of celebration.

Merlin takes note of all of these absentmindedly as he keeps his attention mainly on his king, concern gnawing at his insides at the frequency which Arthur's eyes, in between conversations, would flick towards a couple before looking sullenly in his cup.

Shuffling closer, Merlin leans forward to ask quietly, "Are you alright?"

Arthur does not answer, but Merlin already knows. It had only been a few months since Gwen and Lancelot's banishment, and a few days since Princess Mithian's visit. While Merlin has definitely seen an improvement in Arthur's mood the past few months, he knows that the ache is still there.

"It's Gwen, isn't it?"

Arthur does not even try to deny it. "I look for her in the room, and she's not there. And then I remember why."

Merlin presses his lips to keep his I'm sorry from being said. He had already said his fair share of it, and he knows it will not bring Gwen back or help ease Arthur's pain. He steps forward to refill Arthur's cup instead.

And then the alarm bells sound.

The knights, trained as they are, are up and out of the hall in a heartbeat. Some escort the civilians to safety and others march out with their swords to seek the enemy. Arthur follows the latter, rushing forward until he is at the head of the small army, Merlin close behind.

Leon rushes beside him. "Sire, the enemy has infiltrated the palace. We estimate three hundred soldiers, and more are seen coming from the forest. Some may have come from the entrance to the tunnels."

Immediately, Merlin's mind rushes to Agravaine, but he knows Arthur will not appreciate being called on it now, especially without proof. They've certainly had that argument countless times before.

Arthur continues on. "And what of our troops?"

"Ready to be mobilized, sire."

"Move out. Drive them back on all entrances to the castle. Leon, take care of the tunnel. Elyan and Percival, the forest. I will lead the forefront and assist as soon as I can."

A chorus of "Aye, sire!" and men separate from the group to turn the corner towards the dungeons.

"Gwaine," Arthur says next, but is cut off by the man himself.

"Right behind you, princess!" Gwaine's voice is a little slurred but his grin and eyes remain sharp, and they all knew from experience that Gwaine actually fought better when slightly inebriated.

"Merlin," Arthur says, and Merlin cuts him off as well.

"Yes, yes, stay out of the way, don't trip over anything, try not to make trouble for other knights, got it, my lord." It isn't the right time for a joke, but Merlin can feel the adrenaline and panic within him making him feel just a little bit on a high, and it got Arthur to smile, even if just a little bit.

"And don't die. My sword and armor will need to be polished after this."

"Doesn't it always?" Merlin mutters.

Gwaine guffaws, and some of the other knights are grinning as well. Merlin takes a moment to appreciate and be in awe of the sheer strength of the presence of the Knights of Camelot, before they reach the courtyard and all hell breaks loose.

They are winning, Merlin can feel it. He can see it in the uncertainty in the enemies' eyes, which had appeared after Arthur and his men had seized the courtyard and the villages back. They had left Gwaine to guard the front before rounding back towards the forest to help Elyan and Percival. Merlin had helped out the wounded, dragging injured soldiers into alcoves and making numerous emergency tourniquets. From time to time, he sent rocks flying towards enemy heads, just enough to distract them mid-swing.

Now, nearing the edge of the forest, Merlin can feel the rising morale of Camelot's knights and the sudden indecision haunting the movements of their enemies. Arthur is running beside him, muscles moving with memory and hard-won experience, and with a rush of pride for his king, he knows that this will once again be Camelot's victory.

But then, a figure emerges from the forest.

It is Elyan who sees it first, and Merlin sees the horror draw on his face before he hears Elyan's shout:

"Your Majesty, stop!"

The world explodes in a ball of light and lightning.

Merlin's ears ring long and loud and painful. The first thing that he thinks is magic. Morgana. And the next, always the most important, is:

"Arthur," he gasps out from the ground, wheezing at the smoke threatening to fill his lungs. All around him, he sees bodies of men, but he's not sure if they're friend or foe or if they're alive or dead, but he's sure they're not Arthur, and where is Arthur —

"Uncle."

Merlin knows that Arthur is in pain before the smoke even clears. He knows it in Arthur's voice, knows that Arthur is probably injured, but the pain of that is nothing compared to seeing his uncle, the only family he thought he had left, standing at the right hand of Morgana. He had wanted Arthur to know the truth, but not like this. Not at the expense of having his already fragile heart broken once again into pieces.

The forest is dark, but the moon is high above and illuminates the three figures on horseback, standing at the front of the remnants of their army.

Agravaine.

Morgana.

And a hard-muscled man, a warrior with dark skin and intricate tattoos on his face and his bare arms.

Leon and his men are rushing from the side, and Leon is shouting over the noise of men still fighting each other, "Sire, Agravaine has betrayed us!"

From Agravaine's ruffled and dirty appearance, Merlin can guess that he had led the enemy in the tunnels, only to have been pushed back by Leon and his men, before escaping on his own to report back to Morgana.

"Terribly sorry it had to be like this, Arthur," Agravaine says, slightly out of breath, but a smirk is fixed firmly on his face.

And Arthur snaps out of his stupor, and while his face is still contorted in hurt and betrayal, he lets it fuel him into anger. He shouts, rushes off the ground, and charges towards his uncle, sword aiming for his chest.

Around him, Merlin can hear the fight beginning anew as soldiers from both sides pick up their own swords, but all Merlin can see is Arthur.

Arthur rushing forward and Agravaine jumping down from his horse and unsheathing his sword, and Morgana, Morgana with a wicked smile and raising her hand towards Arthur and —

"Forþ fleoge!"

All at once, Merlin is hit with the knowledge of several things: Morgana is thrown back. Arthur is safe. Arthur is alive.

And Arthur saw him doing magic.

The stunned expressions on everyone's faces are terrifying, and for a moment, the night is heavy with silence. And then, one by one, the enemies' soldiers run back, screaming "Sorcerer!" in fear, morale effectively trampled upon by the sudden knowledge that the kingdom they were fighting against also had a sorcerer on their side.

And Morgana — Morgana is laughing, loud and victorious and a little bit manic, as she urges her horse back into the forest, with the tattooed man riding beside her.

Agravaine is on the ground, alive, but with a sword in his side.

And the battle is won, but when Arthur's betrayed expression falls on him, Merlin feels like he had just lost everything.

I was right, Merlin thinks. Arthur is injured.

Merlin thinks this in the haze of panic, Arthur knows about my magic, and despair, I'll be banished from Camelot. He makes a mental list of all the scratches he can see on Arthur's person, takes note of how Arthur favors his right leg, and observes the way Arthur cradles his left arm close to his body. He resolutely, desperately, tries to ignore looking into Arthur's face, but it's impossible to get away from such a blatant and heart-wrenching expression of pain.

Around them, the knights are quiet, wary. Some have their swords halfway up, unsure if Merlin is an enemy. Something in Merlin hurts at that, to be at the end of the sword point of the knights of Camelot, but it was bound to end up this way, wasn't it? It just happened sooner than Merlin expected.

At least, Merlin thinks, the swords of Leon, Elyan, and Percival are down.

So is Arthur's, but that may only be because it is currently lodged in Agravaine's gut.

Suddenly, Arthur's knees fail him and he crumples to the ground, and despite himself, despite all the swords pointing to him, Merlin rushes forward to help him.

Nobody charges at him, but Arthur recoils.

And that hurt more than any wound a sword could make.

Arthur jerks back away from him, hissing as the movement jostles his already broken arm, but he keeps himself out of Merlin's reach. His eyes are a little wild, a little afraid, and so betrayed.

"No," he whispers, agonized. "Don't touch me, you… you sorcerer."

And he says it like an insult. Like a curse.

Eyes turning hot and damp, Merlin barely registers Gaius — when did Gaius get here — gently pulling him aside by the shoulder. He watches as Arthur lets himself relax under Gaius' touch, but not Merlin's, and he probably never will again.

From the ground, just a few feet away, Agravaine groans, pained and gurgly, and it's as if the knights have snapped out of their stupor. Some rush to the king to check on him, others haul Agravaine up, and others roam around to check on the dead and the injured.

Gwaine grabs his wrist and slowly leads him away, and the knights are confused enough that they just let them be. Soon, Gwaine's pace increases, and he pushes Merlin forward with a hand on his back, and Merlin is torn between knee-buckling relief that at least Gwaine is not disgusted by him, not disgusted by his touch, and fear that Gwaine is now duty-bound to lead him to the dungeons.

And Merlin knows he will never use magic to escape, even when it will be so easy, because he will never leave Arthur, especially when Merlin hasn't even had the chance to talk to him yet, explain himself properly, apologize, beg for forgiveness —

And Merlin realizes, in his hysteria, that this isn't the way to the dungeons at all.

In fact, it isn't even the way to the castle.

They're in the forest.

"Gwaine… Gwaine, where are…"

"To safety," Gwaine says, but it's not Gwaine's voice, and the hand on his back feels oddly smaller now, the fingers longer, and Merlin's eyes widen, and he whips around just as Morgana whispers in his ear:

"Swefe nu."

And then everything disappears into black.

"Where's Merlin?" Arthur's voice is rough, commanding, and furious.

Gaius looks up from his position by the king's knees, his raised eyebrow wary.

Arthur ignores it, squashes down the thought that of course, Gaius would have known, and of course, Gaius would have hidden it.

A young knight with a bruised cheek rushes forward. "Sire, I saw him being led out by Sir Gwaine."

Arthur's head snaps up off the ground at that. "To the castle?"

The young knight shuffles nervously. "Err, no, sire, to the… To the forest."

And despite all the pain, all the hurt, all the betrayal in this one night, Arthur feels dread. They had left Gwaine in the courtyard, in charge of protecting the front of the castle and the villages. Arthur knew that without his orders, Gwaine would never leave that courtyard even if it killed him.

He hits the ground angrily, letting all his frustration go into it. "Gwaine is in the courtyard," he breathes out, and he meets Gaius' eyes, which widen with alarm as the implication sinks in.

"Search the forest," Arthur grunts. "Pass the message to Leon. Gather all able-bodied men and search the whole forest. Find Merlin and bring him to me."

The knight is off his feet at once. "Aye, sire."

Merlin wakes up in a dungeon after all.

It is dark and damp, like he's buried deep in the earth, and there is no draft. The ground is cold underneath him, as cold as the iron cuffs keeping his wrists and ankles together.

Merlin wakes up, unsure of how long he's been asleep or if the night had already broken into day.

All he knows is that he's shackled and that there's something wrong with his magic.

He bolts up, a sudden rush of adrenaline cutting through the haze of sleep, and feels something heavy around his neck. He knows at once that it's cold iron. When he touches it, he can feel carvings of symbols on it — runes.

His stomach drops like lead.

He tries anyway. "Færblæd wawe," he whispers, calling on his magic to blow the blazing torch on the wall outside his cell, and watches in dismay as nothing happens. He couldn't even feel his magic responding. He knew it was there, simmering under his skin and in his blood, but it felt restless, like it didn't know what to do.

The dungeons echo as a metal door scrapes open, and Merlin forces himself to swallow the despair he currently feels. He refuses to let Morgana see his fear.

Morgana is smiling, wide and pleased, when she nears the bars of his cell. Behind her, the tattooed man who had been with her in Camelot is eyeing him with a similar grin.

"Well, well, Merlin, who would have known?" Morgana murmurs sweetly. "A sorcerer in Camelot, right under Arthur's nose. His faithful, bumbling servant." She spits out the last word, and Merlin feels regret at how easily Morgana's beautiful face can contort into rage.

"You had magic all this time, Merlin, and you never told me. All those times that I was suffering, and you—! You even had the gall to poison me. You betray your own kind," she hisses out through gritted teeth, looking down at him from outside his cell.

"Morgause linked the Knights of Medhir to you." Merlin grits out, even as the guilt threatens to consume him even after all these years. "She gave me no choice."

In an instant, Merlin is hauled up and off the ground by an invisible force holding him by the neck. His legs dangle just inches from the ground.

"Leave my sister out of this," Morgana says, eyes gold, voice quiet and dangerous. "It was you who offered me poison."

Despite the pressure on his neck, the burning ache in his chest, Merlin glares at her and wheezes out: "For Camelot."

He is thrown against the wall for his insolence.

"You would protect the very kingdom that would have your head and stick it on a spear as a trophy."

Merlin coughs, clutching at his neck, throat hurting with every inhale that his lungs demanded. Despite his position crumpled on the floor, he levels his glare back at Morgana. "I protect King Arthur and the kingdom that he is destined to make."

Morgana's laugh is sharp and mocking. "Do you really believe Arthur will accept you if you come running back to him?" she says, and her gleeful smile returns at Merlin's silence.

For once, Merlin keeps quiet, because no, he thinks, his heart twisting. From Arthur's reaction, Merlin doesn't believe it.

"Magic is still banned in Camelot and punishable by death," Morgana continues, because she knows it will hurt. "Arthur will have you burned at the stake. He is Uther's son."

And Merlin is not proud at how it was so easy, to hit back where it also hurts. He flashes a weak grin at Morgana. "No more than you are his daughter."

And he is slammed again on the opposite wall, and ah, something definitely broke, and there's something hot and wet sliding down the side of his face and he's not sure if it's blood or the grime of the cell.

"My lady," the tattooed man cuts in, gently. He steps into the light, and Merlin, through the black spots in his hazy vision, can see once again the swirling patterns of black ink on the bare skin of his head. His voice is deep, calm, and seductive. "Any more and he will expire of his use to us."

"I don't need his limbs to use his magic," Morgana spits out, but it is obvious after that she makes an effort to calm down. Her breathing is still heavy, but her shoulders roll down and her back is less stiff than before. "No matter, Helios. When he outlives his use to me, when Arthur is dead, you may have him."

A smile slides its way into Helios' face. He glances at Merlin, studies his crumpled form from head to toe, and holds Merlin's gaze. His smile widens. "I appreciate your generosity, my lady."

A different kind of dread settles upon Merlin then, and he knows that this man is also dangerous.

"I will never use my magic for you," Merlin grits out, and every word sends a jolt of pain through his body. A broken rib. Maybe two. And that is definitely blood running down his forehead. It's starting to obscure his vision.

Morgana chuckles at his attempts. "Oh, you won't even have to lift a finger, Merlin."

She lifts a hand towards him and murmurs, "Færblæd wawe."

And Merlin feels his magic waking, but it's wrong, and before it felt like the magic flowed in his veins, but now it feels like there's something slithering, crawling, and it's disgusting. Merlin's body jerks, and the magic rushes out of him into a breeze that blows all the torches off in the dungeons.

"Bæl on bryne," Morgana says again, but the magic isn't coming from her, the magic is coming from Merlin.

The torches all burn back into life, illuminating Morgana's look of triumph and Helios' face set with awe, greed, and unmistakable lust.

Merlin stares at the floor in shock, unseeing.

Disbelieving of the horror of the truth that Morgana has control of his magic.

Merlin is nowhere to be found.

Gwaine swears that he had been in the courtyard the whole time until Arthur had summoned him, which is unnecessary as there are a hundred other knights who can vouch as witnesses that Gwaine had indeed only been at the front of the castle. It is also unnecessary as Arthur knows, even before Leon had arrived that morning to relay that the search yielded no results, that Merlin has been taken.

A small part of him, the part that's angry and betrayed and played like a fool, entertains the notion that Merlin escaped on his own, but Arthur is surprised himself at how quickly he squashes that thought down.

It's impossible, unbelievable to think that Merlin would run off like a coward.

As unbelievable as it was that Merlin has magic?, that small part whispers tauntingly to him.

He squashes that down as well, though this time it requires a bit more conscious effort.

He snaps orders at everyone he meets: search the forest, search the castle, secure the villages, treat the injured, report on the damages, and part of it is a lack of sleep, but a bigger part of it is the result of a whirlwind of emotions from all the events that transpired last night.

Agravaine, his uncle. His only family left that he thought he could trust. Agravaine who Arthur kept close as his adviser for so long, and all this time, he had been working for Morgana, whispering secrets of the castle and of Camelot.

And Arthur, in his rage and grief, had driven the sword to his gut.

Agravaine is still alive, fighting for his life in the dungeons, and Arthur is torn between wanting him to suffer and wanting his mother's brother to live.

And then Merlin.

Stupid, idiotic Merlin, performing magic in front of everyone to save his life, hiding his magic for the past how many years they've known each other, and did Merlin betray him, too?

He thought he knew Merlin, thought that there were no secrets between them, regarded him as the one he trusted the most with in his life, and thought that the feeling was reciprocated, but… He grits his teeth at how much it hurt knowing that it apparently wasn't.

Had Arthur really known him at all? How much of it was a lie? All of it? Did Merlin think him a fool?

And now Morgana knows about Merlin's magic as well, or had she known all this time? No, she would have done something about it earlier had she known, maybe lure Merlin to her side or expose him to Arthur in the hopes of breaking their friendship.

Arthur is sure that Morgana is the one that kidnapped Merlin. And that is another problem, the worry and concern eating at him, fighting with the feelings of anger he has for Merlin's lies.

He pours his frustration on the dungeon door as he yanks it open, not caring if the noise echoed loudly all throughout. He nears Agravaine's cell just as Gaius exits it and a guard locks the door behind him.

Gaius looks older than ever, as if he had aged years in just a few hours. Arthur is suddenly guilty for the burden Gaius has had to carry since last night. The old man had stayed up all night with them, the only one to tend to the injured despite his own worries about Merlin's whereabouts. Naturally, it was also he that had tended to Agravaine.

Gaius sees him coming and waits just outside the cell. The look in his eyes and the grim set of his lips tell Arthur that Agravaine will probably not live through the day.

He doesn't know whether to mourn or rejoice that.

"Come to bid your dearest old uncle farewell?" Agravaine laughs, wet and scratchy and wheezing. He is lying down, shirtless, and bandages are wrapped around his torso, but it helps little if the amount of blood that have seeped through it is anything to go by.

"I have no more uncle," Arthur replies, suddenly numb of all past familial feelings he may have felt for his mother's brother. "Why did you do it?" he asks instead, quietly.

Agravaine's grin disappears slowly, and he relaxes on the wood panel serving as his bed. He stares at the ceiling, and he is the perfect image of a dying man, dying alone with nothing but the weight of the burdens of the decisions he had made in life. "Why did Uther do it? Trade your life for my sister's?"

His eyes flicker to Arthur. "Why did Ygraine have to give birth to you?"

And Arthur keeps his jaw locked and his mouth shut, because he had also asked himself those very same questions.

Agravaine's body convulses with forceful coughs, before he relaxes once again. When his grin returns, it is red. "My only regret is that Uther never knew that it was I who put the necklace that killed him around his neck."

Agravaine wants a reaction out of him, but Arthur had already poured all his fury into driving the sword in his gut. He feels detached, and he cannot muster the emotions he is sure he needs to feel at that new piece of information: It was not the sorcerer Dragoon the Great that murdered his father. It was Agravaine and Morgana all along.

He knows this will come to haunt him, predictably as soon as there is no more work to be done and he is alone with his thoughts in his chambers, but right now, he has been through so many revelations in just the past few hours that he can only meet his uncle's gaze with a straight face.

And suddenly, Arthur is tired. He has nothing he wants to talk about with his uncle anymore. He knows that whatever words they exchange now about what Uther did, what Agravaine did will change nothing.

He just needs to know one last thing.

He doesn't believe, not even for a minute, that Merlin has been working with them, but he needs to hear it. He needs the words spoken out loud.

"And Merlin?" he asks, all too aware of Gaius' piercing gaze on him.

Agravaine coughs yet again. More blood spills from his lips, and he is getting paler by the minute, but his grin remains.

"Merlin is a miscalculation," he murmurs. "But if Morgana has taken him, he will soon be our asset."

"I expect he only has a few more hours to live," Gaius informs him softly, when they are alone in the throne room.

Arthur nods, sharp and stiff. There is nothing he can do for Agravaine now. And there is nothing that he wants to. He sighs, and lets some the facade that goes with being king slip away.

"Thank you, Gaius, for all your efforts. He has betrayed Camelot, and for that I will never forgive him, but… for my mother, I thank you."

Gaius regards him silently, and Arthur knows that he has never been able to hide anything from the old man. A few seconds pass, before Gaius bows, slow and sure. "Ygraine would have been so proud of the man you've become, Arthur."

Arthur looks at him, pain etched across his face. "I am a weak king, Gaius. Foolish enough to be betrayed at every turn."

"You are not to be blamed for the actions of those around you and the consequences they have reaped."

An amused smile appears on Arthur's lips. "I always knew Merlin would have gotten his rare bouts of wisdom from somewhere."

Gaius returns it easily. "You flatter me, sire." And then his expression returns into something somber and serious. He looks at Arthur in the eyes when he says, "Merlin has never betrayed you, and believe me when I say that no matter what Morgana may do, he never will."

Arthur is not surprised by the sudden direction of their talk. This was, after all, the main reason why he had called Gaius alone like this. "Did you know?"

"From the day I first met him."

"And you protected him all these years?"

"And I will continue to do so until my dying breath."

And Arthur looks at this wizened old man with drooped eyes and drooped shoulders, tired and fatigued from the long hours of work, but still fighting to stand strong and tall to convey the conviction behind his words.

Arthur's heart twists just a bit, because it is also how Merlin stands and looks at him sometimes when he is trying to remind Arthur that he will one day be the greatest king Albion has ever known. "Merlin is lucky to have you."

Gaius bows yet again, a small smile on his face. "No, it is I who is lucky to have him."

And maybe it's because Arthur is tired and cracked open from all that has happened, or maybe it's because Gaius has been there with him since he was a young boy, but he lets himself be vulnerable when he allows the next words to pass his lips: "I as well."

Gaius is silent, and Arthur can see the surprise in his face.

Arthur turns back to walk towards the end of the room, where the throne stood. He gazes at it, and can imagine a visage of his father sitting on it, regal and commanding.

"I am not blind, Gaius. I am not like my father who stubbornly refused to see the good that magic offers even when it was right in front of his very eyes. I know what Merlin did, and I know that I am alive now because of him."

"All he ever did was to keep you out of harm's way, sire."

Arthur turns to look at Gaius from over his shoulder. "So it was not the first time then?"

Gaius slowly shakes his head. "No, it was not."

"Since when has this been going on?"

"Since the day Merlin first stepped foot in Camelot, he has done all he can with the gift that he has to serve you."

And suddenly all those lucky coincidences started to make sense in his head, now that he knew that they probably weren't coincidences at all, all those battles that he had no recollection of but had apparently won. It made him sick how he had been so stupid to have never noticed it before, and how Merlin had never...

His voice is just a little bit bitter when he asks, "Why did he never tell me?"

Gaius is silent again, but there is sympathy now in his eyes and something like an apology. "I believe it is better for you to ask him that, sire."

Arthur turns back to the throne, back to Gaius, and closes his eyes shut. It is with great effort that he reins his emotions back in, all the hurt and pain that threatened to spill over. When he is done, he is king again, and as king, he proclaims firmly:

"We will find him, Gaius. I will not leave him in the hands of Morgana."

And Gaius' shoulders relax, and he bows again, but lower this time and longer. There is relief in his voice when he says, "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Merlin has no way to tell how many hours he spent just staring at the dungeon floor, thinking furiously at how to remove the damned collar from his neck. He had tried scratching at the runes with a rock, but no matter how much he scratched, he still couldn't call his magic forth. When he had run himself dry of how to rid himself of the collar, he turned his attention on how to escape his shackles and the cell without magic instead, but that had somehow been even more depressing.

As the day wore on, his hunger came and passed him by, his only way to estimate how much time had passed.

Morgana is bound to release him from the cell at one point, and there will be a moment, an opportunity to escape. He holds tightly to that hope, because it is all he has left.

He doubts that Arthur will be able to find him wherever this place is. He is not even sure if Arthur will try. He swallows down the pain he feels at that, because it is dangerous to succumb to such thoughts, especially now in this situation.

The door to the dungeons open noisily, and then Merlin can hear footsteps.

Helios appears in front of his cell, flanked by two guards.

"The Lady Morgana requests your presence," Helios says, still smiling that smile that sends shivers down Merlin's spine.

"Didn't think Morgana remembered how to request. Order and threaten, more like," Merlin mutters, watching warily as one guard opens the cell door and the other steps inside to bodily haul him up.

Helios laughs, a deep, throaty sound of amusement. He turns and starts to walk towards the door, glancing behind him to meet Merlin's glare head-on.

He says, like a promise, "You intrigue me more and more, Merlin. I look forward to the time when I will finally have you to myself."

"Was he the first to flee?" Morgana asks, and she is sitting on a throne, leaning forward like an excited child.

In front of her in the middle of the chamber kneels a soldier, trembling and wide-eyed with fear. From his armor, Merlin knows that he is one of Helios', but, like Merlin, his wrists and ankles are shackled.

"Yes, my Lady," Helios replies from behind Merlin. They are on the dais, both standing beside Morgana's throne. Skirting the edges of the hall stood more soldiers, watching in trepidation and curiosity.

Despite not wanting to show any weakness, Merlin cannot help but hunch forward, the ache in his broken ribs unbearable. Nobody pays him any mind.

Helios steps forward, and his voice echoes loudly as he speaks. "Let this be a warning to all. This is war. We fight for our future, for our brothers' futures. Cowards, men who are easy to bend and break, are not welcome here."

And the man in the center of the room understands, and he shrieks, tries in vain to stand up and run away, but his shackles only let him fall to the floor in a heap, so he crawls instead, eyes darting back to look at Merlin and Morgana with terror.

"Please forgive me, my Lady, my Lord, please, spare my life, I shan't do it again, my Lord Helios —!"

And Merlin watches, with the same kind of horror, as he feels his magic coming to life again, but not at his command, not at his words, and Morgana is smiling big and wide, as she says, "Forbærne yfel."

A ring of fire traps the soldier.

Merlin feels desperation bubbling in his chest, because he knows what's going to happen next, he can predict it in the manic glint in Morgana's eyes, and it hurts, it hurts for his magic to be used in such a depraving manner, it hurts in his heart and under his skin, as if his magic doesn't want to be used, as if it's resisting, but the collar flares and burns Merlin's skin, and his magic pours forth from him without a fight.

"Fleoge."

"Tæfle."

"Wáce ierlic."

"Ic þé wiþdrífe."

And with each spell, the soldier flies from one end of the room to the other, thrown around by an unseen force. He screams and sobs and begs for his life, and Merlin shouts with him.

He tries to keep his magic down, to control it, to not let Morgana do as she wishes with it, but the collar burns, and it's suffocating, and there's this unbearable, squeezing pain in his chest every time he tries to push his magic back down. His knees buckle underneath him with the pain and the effort, but he tries, still.

He refuses to let Morgana use his magic to murder an innocent man.

He will never forgive her for it.

He doesn't know if he will ever forgive himself for it.

When Gaius leaves the throne room to finally take his much needed rest, it is Leon who takes his place.

"Sire, the villagers have all been settled back into their homes and the men have finished their work to fortify the gate to the tunnels. Our search parties report that there are no signs of Merlin or Morgana anywhere in the eastern and western forests." Leon kneels dutifully on the floor as he gives his report. "What are your next orders, Your Majesty?"

Arthur waves his hand to gesture for Leon to stand. "Call the men back. Rest and regroup. We will resume the search in two hours. I personally will lead the party in the northern forest."

Leon looks up at that, and he hesitates for just a moment. "Sir Gwaine is currently searching the northern forest. I… very much doubt he will agree to regroup. I fear that he feels guilt over what happened to Merlin."

"Alone?" Arthur asks, incredulously, but he already knows the answer. Gwaine has always been fiercely loyal to Merlin, even after he was knighted. He often teased Merlin during their patrols, but Arthur knew without a doubt that the man would go through hell and back for his manservant. More than once, Arthur had silently questioned the nature of that loyalty.

Arthur shakes his head to stop Leon from answering. "Forget I asked. Let him be. I shall join him shortly."

Again, Leon hesitates, before he seems to harden his resolve. "Forgive my impudence, sire, but…" Here, his voice softens. "You also need to rest."

Arthur's reply is swift, sharp, and gone before he can help himself. "I cannot rest and lie on my bed, knowing that Merlin is with Morgana, going through who knows what."

Leon does not back down. "It is also for Merlin that I do this, sire, when I say that I don't believe he will be very happy when he learns that you have injured yourself in battle because you have not slept."

Despite himself, Arthur can feel the edges of his lips quirk up at the thought of Merlin berating him and fussing over him yet again. "...The last time I checked, I was king and not him."

"Aye, sire," Leon says, a small grin on his lips as well.

And Arthur feels a slight relief at the easy way they are still talking about Merlin. "You accept him?"

At this, Leon sobers. He takes a breath, straightens his shoulders, and schools his features into the face expected of the commander of the Knights of Camelot. Arthur is proud.

"It is clear to us and every knight in the forest that night that Merlin stopped Morgana to save you. In doing so, we realize that he has saved all of us who are still alive as well and a lot of us feel indebted. There is no greater… loyalty than risking your life to save your king's, and that is what Merlin did when he used his magic in front of all of us."

"Do you believe that I would do anything that would risk Merlin's life?"

"No, sire," Leon says immediately, knowing what Arthur meant. He looks at him straight in the eye. "I believe that you will do what you must for the kingdom and nothing less."

And those are the words that Arthur didn't know he needed to hear until he feels his knees becoming weak under him from all the repressed emotions and fatigue gained throughout the day. He walks to the chair and lets himself sink down on it and rest. He knows Leon can see it all on his face now. "Thank you, Leon," he murmurs gratefully.

Leon bows his head in acknowledgment. "Sire, may I speak once more?"

Arthur looks at him and nods.

Leon smiles knowingly. "Merlin wouldn't know how to betray you even if he tried."

Arthur snorts at that. For the first time that day, he finds himself able to crack a smile. "He doesn't even know which boot goes on which feet."

"All those times that Merlin has traveled with us, but no harm has ever come to any of us by his hand. In fact, I can even remember a handful of times that… an enemy would conveniently trip or a branch would conveniently fall at the most opportune of moments. I…" With this, he paused, and Arthur knows that this is not Leon the Knight speaking anymore. This is Leon, the man, his oldest friend.

Merlin's friend.

"I would like to see him again and convey my gratitude."

Arthur nods and feels like something in him heals, even if just a little bit. He inhales deeply.

"Me too, Leon."

Arthur does not rest. He cannot while knowing that Merlin is still out there, and he says this to Leon who understands. He rides for the northern part of the forest, stopping only when he sees Gwaine emerge from a cave.

"He's not here, princess," Gwaine tells him in greeting, with a tired chuckle.

Arthur ties his horse to the same tree where Gwaine has tied his. He watches as the knight drops down heavily on the roots of another tree, sighing.

Gwaine is dirty, his face smudged with soil, and his leg braces covered in earth and who knows what else. Arthur can guess that this is not the first cave Gwaine has searched.

"Leon told me what happened," Gwaine said gruffly, leaning back against the trunk. "He also told me about the tattooed man Morgana was with. It took me a while, but I finally remembered the name. If I'm right, that's probably Helios. He's a Southron warlord, and his fort is half a day's ride from here. He's a renowned swordsman in the Southern Isles, Arthur."

A dark look passes over his face. "He's also known to take men and women against their will as… slaves." He says it with such disgust in his voice that Arthur knows immediately what he means. And what he implies that means for Merlin.

An already familiar spike of anger and worry for Merlin courses through Arthur. He holds himself rigid until he feels the intense emotions ebb away and his head is clear again. "And you believe that they may have taken Merlin there?"

Gwaine turns to look at him, and he looks lost, frustrated, and angry. "It's been a long time since my travels there. I am not sure of anything, but…" He runs a hand through his hair. "But I'll be damned if I don't try."

"It wasn't your fault, Gwaine."

"I know. But to have Morgana use me… Merlin trusted that. He trusted me. If only he didn't, then he wouldn't have…" He makes another sound of frustration, lightly punching the ground. He sighs loudly, tipping his head to rest it on the trunk. He watches the bright clouds through the foliage of the trees, before flicking his eyes back over to Arthur.

"Am I right in believing that you're not looking for him just to deliver him to the pyre?"

Despite it being a very valid question, Arthur cannot help his glare.

Gwaine laughs at his reaction. "Good." His voice turns pensive. "Because I might actually fight you for it. I would really rather not to, since I like serving you."

Hearing that is not a surprise. Arthur sighs, thinking with amusement that what Gwaine had just said probably dances along the line of treason but caring nothing for it. He walks forward and drops down beside him.

They both could use the rest, even if just for a few minutes.

"Did you know?" he asks, because he's still not yet done hurting over the fact that he didn't. That Merlin didn't tell him. That Merlin didn't trust him to tell him.

And Gwaine looks at him, and Arthur knows that Gwaine knows as well why he's asking.

"Don't worry your pretty little head over it, princess. I didn't know a damn thing," Gwaine says, grinning. "But I always knew there was something about him, you know? Especially when we went on that crazy quest of yours. I came back to Camelot for him."

Gwaine glances at him sideways, watching his reaction carefully at that admission, but it is nothing that Arthur hadn't already thought about.

Arthur meets his stare head-on.

Gwaine seems pleased by that and continues. "I stayed for you, when I realized that you weren't like those other arrogant royalty I've had the misfortune to meet, but… He was the one who showed me that."

And then Arthur wants to ask another question, something that he had also thought about before and feels strangely discomfited by, but he doesn't know how. He clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. "Did you and he…"

It seems Gwaine had been expecting that question, and he cackles at Arthur's discomfort. "No, it did not come to that. Anybody with eyes could see that he is completely devoted to you. I could have courted him and promised him the earth and sky, but he would always choose you."

And Arthur does not say anything after that, just feels his face get warmer, because he does not know how to react at what Gwaine is implying about Merlin's feelings for him.

And also because despite Merlin's betrayal, Merlin's lies, Merlin's… magic… Arthur knows what Gwaine said about Merlin's loyalty is true.

And it surprises him, shocks him even further into silence to know that the knowledge of Merlin having magic and Merlin being absolutely loyal to him does not contradict each other in his head, not even in the slightest.

Protecting Arthur last night at the cost of his exposure and the risk of his execution is just one proof of that.

And his face, the hurt across his face when Arthur had rejected him is another.

Arthur does not like to remember that.

"Nightfall," he says firmly instead. "Better to ride with the cover of the night. We'll take just a few men."

"Are you sure that's wise? Against Helios' army?"

"We're not out to defeat an army. Not yet. We just need to get Merlin back."

"A stealthy, rescue mission," Gwaine affirms, grinning excitedly. The fire is back in his eyes. "The king of Camelot infiltrating enemy territory with only a handful of men to rescue his manservant. Merlin will be furious with you. Count me in!"

Arthur rolls his eyes and lets out a huff of amusement. "Why is everybody concerned about whether Merlin will be pleased with my decisions? I'm the king, not him."

"Since we've found out that he's been saving your hide all this time. Also, you have to understand that the quality of our supper in patrols depend on his mood towards you, you see."

Arthur opens his mouth to protest indignantly, before thinking better of it and wisely closing it again.

He cannot argue with that.

The soldier lives.

Morgana and Helios arrive at his cell with the news that the soldier is alive, and Merlin, crumpled on the cell floor fighting to stay awake through the haze of pain, whimpers at the relief that his magic did not murder him.

"You are weak and soft, Merlin," Morgana murmurs, amusement lacing her voice.

"He was only meant to serve as an example. It would not seem well if I kill my soldiers left and right at my fancy," Helios says.

The door to the cell opens, but Merlin is too weak to even try to stand up and run. Dark spots blur the edges of his vision, and he does not fight when Helios kneels in front of him and grabs his shoulder to haul him up into a sitting position. He winces when he is pressed back against the wall.

"We will attack Camelot at dusk," Morgana tells him from the other side of the bars. "It would not do to let them regroup. I advise you to ready yourself."

"Camelot will never fall," Merlin says through gritted teeth, glaring at Morgana. He thinks of Arthur, and fervently wishes that he and Camelot are ready for another attack. "Especially against your reduced forces."

Morgana simply smirks. "We have two sorcerers on our side. All they have are broken men and a broken king still at a loss what to do with the betrayal of his uncle and his manservant. Oh, when Arthur sees you standing against him, Merlin."

"I am not on your side."

"Your magic is."

Morgana's laughter echoes throughout the dungeon and in Merlin's ears. Merlin bites his tongue in anger, because he knows that Morgana is right.

"I hope you intend to fulfill your end of the bargain once this is done?" Helios says, looking at Morgana with a smile on his lips but there is a warning in his eyes.

Morgana meets his stare levelly. "You may have what will be left of him. His magic is nothing compared to mine."

Merlin keeps his mouth shut, trying with effort to keep the words in: You have no idea, Morgana. Morgana may know that he has magic, but he is grateful that she doesn't yet know that he is Emrys. Instead, he turns his glare to Helios. "I am not a prize."

Morgana chuckles. "You hold yourself in high regard, Merlin. You are but a spoil of war."

"Now, now, my Lady. I myself hold him in high regard." Helios smirks, letting his gaze travel slowly from Merlin's eyes down his body. "When the Lady Morgana is done with you, I intend to claim all of you."

Merlin is no innocent maiden not to understand what Helios means and bile rises up his throat, but he refuses to let his disgust show on his face. He refuses to let them see that he is affected, but Helios has seen enough in his expression to grin and laugh, loud and victorious.

"Don't look so petrified, Merlin. You'll find that I take good care of what is mine."

"I am not yours."

"You will be," Helios promises, and Merlin cannot, does not expect the next thing that happens:

His neckerchief pushed up.

The collar of his thin shirt pulled aside.

And hot, filthy teeth sinking in his flesh, just under the iron collar where his neck and shoulder meet.

Merlin cannot help it then, the guttural sound of pain bursting from his lips. It is a different kind of burn from the collar's, it hurts more, and he isn't sure how much of it is from the pain making his arm and fingers numb or the revulsion he felt at Helios marking him. Like property.

He jerks violently away when he feels Helios' tongue lick at the bite, making the wound ache sharply.

Even Morgana has turned away from the scene, her lips curled in disgust.

Helios pulls back, licking the blood off his lips which are poised in a smug smile. His eyes flicker to the bite on Merlin's neck, and then to Merlin's own eyes, which are burning with hate.

"It's a promise."

It is half an hour before nightfall when Arthur and his knights are in the courtyard getting ready to ride that the alarm bells sound all over the kingdom and a fire erupts from the forest.

And from there it is like a repeat of last night, of knights suddenly being thrust into battle and confusion.

Arthur growls in frustration as he orders his horse into a gallop towards the back of the castle, expecting the rest to follow. "Percival, guard the front! Send troops to protect the villages!"

"Aye, sire!"

He had expected Morgana to attack again, but not so soon. He could only hope that she brought Merlin with him.

Merlin fights with every ounce of his being, even as he is suspended in the air by Morgana's magic. His wrists and ankles are still shackled, and they obviously are not taking the chance to give him any sort of mobility.

His magic flows from him, seeping out of him with a singular thought given to it by Morgana: Fire.

And even as the forest around him go up in flames, Merlin fights. He pushes his magic down with all the effort he can muster, and he's getting better at this, getting better at gaining control on his magic back despite the collar burning his neck, but all it takes is one distraction before the magic erupts freely again and he is back to square one.

He doesn't know if it makes a difference, because Morgana conjures fire as well on her own, aiding to the forest fire now ravaging the edge of the castle. Helios orders his men forward to spread out, and it is clear by the knights of Camelot spilling clumsily and unsurely from the castle that they have been caught unaware once again.

But despite all this, Merlin continues and perseveres desperately, because Camelot cannot fall. Arthur cannot fall.

He sobs as the flames lick closer to the castle and tries again.

If Arthur can somehow forgive him for his magic, he doubts that Arthur can forgive him for burning Camelot to the ground.

Ahead, he can hear knights shouting orders and servants screaming for help. He wonders what they'll think, to see him with Morgana, his gold eyes matching hers. What would Arthur think?

Merlin quickly stops that trail of thought. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what Arthur will think, so long as he can keep Arthur alive. He needs to control his magic.

For a few seconds, he finds he can tamp it down, before the pain in his neck becomes unbearable and he lets it out again with an agonized grunt.

And then, he hears it.

Someone calling his name.

But it's not happiness or relief he feels.

It's fear, as he watches Arthur and the rest of the knights ride towards them through the fire.

Not yet, Merlin thinks with a sob, desperately getting a hold of his magic once again.

In front of him, Morgana laughs in victory. "Dear brother, how nice of you to join us."

"Morgana, stop this at once!" Arthur commands, as the knights ride into formation, slide off their horses, and unsheathe their swords. Arthur does the same, pointing his sword at Morgana in warning. His eyes flick to the side, to Merlin shackled and suspended in mid-air, looking at him in horror.

"Arthur, get back!" Merlin yells, but his voice is rough, scratchy with the pain in his neck, and if Arthur didn't know Merlin and his stupid self-sacrificing nature, he would have barely understood it.

"It's not just me, Arthur. I've had some help," Morgana informs him sweetly.

All around them, sounds of battle erupt. Swords clank with swords, battle cries are shouted in the air, and bodies fall to the ground in dull thuds. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gwaine engaging the tattooed man, Helios, in battle.

And then Merlin's body jerks violently, his eyes turn gold, and he gasps. The fire erupts higher.

And Arthur understands.

He understands Morgana's triumphant expression, Merlin's horror, and what Morgana meant by help.

He is rushing forward before he can even think about it, intent on driving his sword through Morgana's chest. "Morgana —!"

"Forþ fleoge," Morgana says, but it is Merlin's eyes that turn gold, and then Arthur is knocked back and to the ground. His sword falls away from him.

"NO!" Merlin yells, a guttural sound of desperation.

Arthur coughs and wheezes, and fights to stand back up. "Let Merlin go," he grits out.

Morgana smiles. "Oh, I will. When he's done killing you." And with a wave of her hand, she moves Merlin forward. She smiles wider at Arthur, and Arthur is struck at how different she looks from the Morgana he once knew.

That Morgana is long gone.

"Merlin, folge min bebod."

Arthur shuts his eyes and braces himself.

Nothing happens.

"Merlin," Morgana hisses in warning, turning to him. "Folge min bebod."

Nothing happens again.

Arthur opens his eyes and looks at Merlin, whose face is pale white, eyes closed shut and body shaking with effort. Low grunts of pain spill from tightly shut lips, and for the first time, Arthur sees it.

There is something glowing underneath Merlin's neckerchief.

"Folge min bebod!" Morgana tries again, nearly shouting this time, and Merlin opens his eyes.

His eyes are gold, but nothing happens still. Arthur is still standing, and he realizes that whatever hold that Morgana has over Merlin, Merlin is fighting it.

He will not let Merlin's efforts go to waste. His eyes scan frantically throughout the ground, searching for his sword, even as he pays careful attention to where Morgana is and what she's doing.

"Do not be a fool, Merlin," she hisses, raising a hand up to levitate him higher. Some soldiers stop to look at the scene. "We could conquer all of the five kingdoms, and yet you choose to be subservient to a man that would kill you."

Arthur hurts at that, to hear it said so openly, but now is not the time for petty emotions. Where is his sword?

Merlin's eyes shoot open, and they glare at Morgana from above. His voice, when it comes out, is strained. Merlin gasps the words out more than he says it, but his resolve is there and it resounds through the night.

"My loyalty is to King Arthur of Camelot, and so it will be until my dying breath."

And Arthur doesn't know what he did to inspire such loyalty, to deserve it, but as he sees his sword, rushes to it, and picks it up on his way towards Morgana, he vows:

I will not let you die, Merlin.

Morgana's eyes narrow. "Even when it is his hand that swings the axe to your head?"

And Merlin's lips, pale and almost blue with the collar burning and constricting his neck, tilt up in a smile.

"Even then."

And the collar breaks in a burst of light, at the same time that Arthur drives the sword through Morgana's chest.

Everything is suddenly quiet after that. Merlin crumples to the ground, wheezing, turning his head to watch them.

Gwaine, gasping with effort, shoves his sword into the ground, next to Helios' unmoving body.

The enemy soldiers are shocked into stillness at seeing their two commanders fall.

Morgana's knees buckle, and she grasps Arthur's arms tightly in an effort to hold herself up. She laughs through a mouth full of blood. "Try again, Arthur," she whispers, eyes wide. "No mortal blade can kill me. I will get my rightful place on the throne."

Arthur tries to call forth all the love he feels for his sister. He can only feel sadness and pity. "Camelot will never accept a ruler with such a heart as black as yours."

Morgana smiles derisively. "It accepted Uther."

And then, in another burst of light, she is gone.

With the last of his consciousness, Merlin opens up his palm, feels his magic within him, calm, quiet, and at ease again at last. "Tídrénas."

He finally lets himself relax when he starts to feel rain fall on his face. Arthur's panicked face is the last thing he sees before he succumbs into sleep.

to be continued