Chapter 9 – "Explanations"

Merlin woke to sunlight and birdsong, muzzily thinking there should be trees above him and a gently swaying cart below, but there was only the ceiling of his room, his own bed, and a thrush on the windowsill singing him awake. He lay there blinking in temporary confusion, then he remembered pain – sharp and sudden at the pyre, low and deeply aching on the way back to the city, bright and piercing when Gwen said she'd forgiven him, and then something so horrid that it hadn't even hurt at all for a moment. Only a heartbeat, and then he'd lost all sense in the searing pain and smell of burnt flesh.

He remembered a scream clawing its way out of his throat. Had there been a rush of magic as well? His own magic, hot and surging through the ice-cold rush of the curse being driven from him. He'd used magic to force something away from him. The sword? It must have been. He abruptly sat up in panic, then had to hunch over his knees as dizziness and nausea and a sudden pounding in his head nearly overwhelmed him. He needed that sword, needed to know where it was.

"Gaius!" he croaked out, his left hand going to press against his forehead, while the other reached across to grip his arm at the resultant twinge of pain. There was a bandage there. And his shirt was missing. His memories swirled and shifted. This was familiar. The day after Morgause's failed attempt to conquer Camelot. A scrabbling bit of desperation begged for him to believe that everything since had been only a nightmare, but that was a fleeting wish. He knew well and good that it had all happened.

"Gaius!" he called again, somewhat more clearly this time, but with his voice still catching at the dryness in his throat. Surely if he'd performed magic in front of all those people, they would've noticed. So why was he here and not in the dungeons? Was Darren there instead, taking the blame for sorcery and the stolen sword? And why was Gaius not bloody answering him? Merlin could hear the grating sound of mortar and pestle, so he must be in the outer chamber. Maybe he couldn't hear a rasping voice through a closed door and over the sound of grinding herbs.

Merlin had to know now what had happened in the time since he'd lost consciousness at the smithy. He didn't want to wait on Gaius to hear his calls, so he didn't bother trying again. He pushed the blanket down – no, it was two blankets, his own and an extra – and swung his legs to the side of the bed. The movement only made his head hurt more, so he kept his hand pressed firmly to his forehead while he used the other to try and provide leverage to push up and away from the bed. His legs apparently had no intention of holding him, though, and he tumbled to the floor, landing on his front with his face turned towards his bed.

He lay there panting, vaguely hearing hurried footsteps coming towards his room, but for a moment, his concerns and questions narrowed to the presence of a bundle of fabric under his bed. He slowly reached out his right hand, fortunately the uninjured side, then shaking fingers traced the shape of what had to be a sword hilt and the flat of a blade. He had no idea how the weapon had come to be there again when he was certain the sword that had saved him was the very one he had hidden away. It could have been no other. Darren must've found it, but how had he known where to look, and how had he managed to return it? And how had a seemingly simple peasant boy known how to break such a terrible curse? Too many questions, too much confusion. He was so tired, and weak and trembling. A shiver wove its way across his shoulders, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He probably should have stayed in bed.

There was the sound of his door opening and an exclamation of "Merlin!" Gaius sounded worried. Of course he would be, finding his ward in a heap on the floor. Merlin felt a twinge of guilt at that and wearily pulled his arm out from under the bed and then underneath his chest to try and lever himself up. Then there were warm, callused hands on his shoulders, the touch oddly soothing on his bare skin. It was familiar and safe. Straightforward. No questions attached.

"Let's get you back into bed," Gaius said with a touch of exasperation in his voice amidst the obvious concern. His hands moved to Merlin's sides and tugged insistently, and Merlin couldn't help but groan at the thought of the effort that would be needed to get up off the floor. A bed and warm blankets were far preferable to bare stone, though, so he managed to push himself up onto his knees with Gaius's help and then crawl awkwardly into his bed. He tried to settle on his front side because that was easiest, but Gaius insisted that he turn and sit up with his back propped against the wall.

"This is making my head hurt, Gaius," he said plaintively, but reluctantly did as he was instructed. At least Gaius put the pillow behind his back and pulled the blankets back up over his legs and chest, leaving his arms on top. His wound was aching fiercely now from the fall to the floor and the struggle to get back into bed.

"I know, Merlin, and I'm sorry," Gaius replied as he turned to pour a cup of water from the pitcher on Merlin's desk, "but you need to drink. You lost a fair bit of blood. That's why you have a headache. Dizzy as well, I suspect?"

Merlin took the proffered cup and carefully nodded before taking a sip. The water was lukewarm, but it nevertheless felt marvelously refreshing to his dry mouth and parched throat. While he drank, Gaius pulled the desk chair over to the side of the bed and settled himself in it, leaning forwards with his elbows propped on his knees.

"You're lucky to be alive, my boy," Gaius said softly, the sincerity in his voice so deep that Merlin couldn't help but smile a little, although it was fleeting, turning into a frown as he considered which of his many questions he should ask first. Gaius saved him the trouble of deciding by going on to say, "You needn't even worry about your outburst of magic in the smithy. You flung the sword clear across the room, I expect in instinctive reaction to the pain, but I explained it away easily enough by saying it was simply a side effect of the curse being undone. No one seemed to doubt my explanation."

Merlin blinked at him a few times before he said, "You're a disturbingly good liar, Gaius." Then he cringed inwardly a bit because he himself was doing an admirable job of hiding things from Gaius. The heavy presence of the sword under his bed was ample evidence of that.

"I've had a good deal of practice," Gaius replied with a shrug. He didn't elaborate, not that Merlin expected him to, but instead sat up and leaned against the back of the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Merlin felt sure some sort of accusation or admonition was coming, that perhaps Gaius suspected who had taken the sword in the first place, but he simply peered at his ward with an inscrutable expression for a moment before he said, "It seems you had a rather unlikely guardian."

Merlin frowned for a moment before it came clear to him who Gaius was referring to. "Darren," he said, and Gaius nodded confirmation. There were so many unanswered questions about the boy, but the foremost thought in Merlin's mind was for his safety. "Did Arthur throw him into the dungeon?"

"He didn't have the chance," Gaius said matter-of-factly. "Darren disappeared and took the sword with him."

Merlin steadfastly averted his thoughts from the fact that Darren had only taken the sword to return it to the place he'd found it. "Disappeared?" Merlin asked. "You mean he escaped?"

"No," Gaius replied. "I mean he disappeared, right out of the smithy. I expect he used magic."

"Ah," Merlin said with a nod, relieved for Darren's sake. "That explains a good deal. I thought I sensed something strange about him."

"More strange than you can imagine," Gaius replied evenly. "I finally got a chance to read a history of the Knights of Medhir that Geoffrey found for me. The part I found of particular interest was the account of the first knight to fall under Harrowen's spell. He was known as the Knight of Despair because he loved Harrowen, and she used that love to ensnare him. But his true name, the name he bore when he first arrived in Camelot a lowly and destitute peasant boy, was Darren."

An icy chill ran down Merlin's back and raised gooseflesh on his arms. "You think Darren was..." He shook his head. "What, exactly?"

"Some kind of shade. A spirit embodied in the shape of his youth. It was said that Harrowen felt pity for Darren's love for her, and granted him the boon of one final chance to redeem himself before his existence was ended forever. I think he did that in saving you."

Merlin had no idea what to say to that. The thought that a dead man had returned to life solely for the purpose of keeping him alive was difficult to accept, but he couldn't deny that it all seemed to fit together. It was a bit overwhelming and entirely humbling.

There was a long moment of silence before Gaius shifted the mood towards practicality, something he did so very well. "Finish that water," he said, gesturing at the cup in Merlin's hand. Merlin absently downed the remainder, still lost in thought about the strangeness of the situation. Gaius got up and took the cup, refilled it and handed it back.

As Merlin obediently drained the cup again – he truly was extraordinarily thirsty – Gaius added, "I'll make you some soup later. And a tonic should help to strengthen you as well. But for now, drink up, and then more rest. You slept soundly the night through, but Arthur has excused you from your duties today and tomorrow. It should be enough time for you to recover reasonably well, as long as you don't overly exert yourself. The wound will take a bit longer to heal completely, but it's only a minor concern now."

Merlin nodded and handed the now empty cup back to Gaius. He lay down and pulled the blankets up to his chin, then drifted to sleep so quickly he only vaguely heard Gaius leave the room. He dreamed of smoke rising from a pyre and a boy's face filled with the wisdom and pain of years. Then the boy smiled and tears spilled down his cheeks as he closed his eyes and turned his face to the setting sun. There was a sense of freedom and rushing wind, and then the evening fell, peaceful with stars and moonlight and the rustling of leaves in a gentle breeze.

It took until the evening of the following day for Merlin to feel truly rested. He spent the time in between mostly in his bed, alternating between dozing and heavily sleeping, interspersed with Gaius bringing him soups and horrid tonics that made him want to crawl under the bed to escape the aftertaste. But the sword was there, and that would be no respite at all.

It was the smell of cooking that woke him in the fading light of approaching sunset, a rich stew this time, and his stomach rumbled in anticipation. He rose and went to dress himself, but was momentarily confused by the fact that none of his clothing was visible, either on the washing line, the floor, or the pegs on the back of the door. He was beginning to think he would have to ask Gaius where his clothes had gone when it occurred to him to check in the small cupboard across from his bed. Inside he found his shirts and jackets, washed and neatly mended, as well as his trousers, socks and assorted neckerchiefs, all clean and freshly folded in stacks. His belt was coiled and laid atop the trousers, and his boots had been well brushed and were sitting on the floor by the cupboard.

He felt a bit of warmth flush his cheeks when he considered that it must've been Guinevere who had done all of it. The thought of her tending to his clothing was somewhat embarrassing. Only he or his mother had ever done so, but he remembered what Gaius had said before about Gwen needing something to do to distract herself from Morgana's absence. He decided he'd accept the kindness this once, but he wasn't about to have Gwen acting as if she were his servant. Apart from being entirely inappropriate, there were certainly far more important things she could be doing with her time apart from washing and mending his clothing. What those things were, he wasn't entirely certain since he had little to do with the functioning of the castle apart from duties that touched on Arthur's convenience and well-being. Gwen was resilient and adaptable, though, and he was sure she would make her way, but he felt piercingly sad and guilty that she would have to do so. Maybe it wouldn't be for very long and Morgana would be quickly returned to them, but deep in his heart, he knew it wasn't likely to be so.

He dressed himself slowly, taking care to force those thoughts and feelings away from him. It would do him no good to dwell on them, or so he tried to tell himself. He needed to return to some sense of normalcy now. He'd recovered well enough from the blood loss he'd suffered, and the wound on his arm barely pained him at all now. Gaius wanted to keep the stitches in and the bandages on for a while longer. Merlin thought that was being overcautious, but considering what they'd been through over the past week or so, he was more than willing to humor his mentor.

As he walked down the stairs, Gaius glanced over at him from where he was stirring the cooking pot. He gave Merlin a nod and ladled the stew into two bowls, which he took to the table. They both sat, Gaius handed Merlin a spoon, and they began to eat in silence.

After a few moments, Gaius paused to take a drink of water, then set his cup down and said, "I repaired your spell book. Just a crack in the binding, easily fixed. I've got it hidden away in one of the cupboards. You can put it back in your room later. Somewhere safe, please. Not on the bed or the floor. It's a wonder Arthur didn't notice it when it was laying out here."

"Well, he's not much of one for books," Merlin replied absently between mouthfuls of stew. "He probably wouldn't know a magic book if it walked up to him and introduced itself."

Gaius huffed a small laugh, then said, "Best not to test him on that. He was distracted at the time. You might not be so lucky again."

"I know," Merlin replied, then set his spoon down at the recollection of how easily Arthur had seemed to accept his lies about Morgana's disappearance. He dearly wished he hadn't needed to lie at all, that he'd found some other way to avert disaster. Instead, he'd only invited a different kind of grief, his own and that of others who cared for Morgana, and no one other than Morgause knew the truth of what he'd done.

He looked down as an image came unbidden into his mind – Morgana's shocked and horrified face, her eyes filled with an expression of uncomprehending betrayal. He wasn't even sure she'd known why he'd poisoned her. She probably hadn't even been aware she was being used to maintain the spell. He'd looked for deception in her, over and over again, not wanting to accept what the dragon had implied, that she was conspiring to bring about Camelot's downfall. All he'd seen was a bewildered and frightened young woman, not the vengeful witch the dragon seemed to think she was or would yet become. She'd been Morgause's victim before she'd been his.

"Merlin?" Gaius said gently. The sound of his voice pulled Merlin away from the memory but not from the guilt. That would likely never go away completely, and it was particularly difficult to bear at the moment.

"I poisoned Morgana," he said abruptly, giving in to sudden impulse. He kept his eyes fixed on the table as he spoke, but when there was no response, he had to look up.

Gaius had his head tilted to the side and he was frowning, but then he nodded slightly and said, "The hemlock. I noticed it was missing."

"I had to," Merlin blurted out, needing desperately to explain because he wouldn't be able to bear it if not even Gaius could understand the horrible necessity. "She was the source of the sleeping spell. Morgause was using her. I didn't want to do it, Gaius. I didn't – " His voice caught in his throat and he swallowed back a sob.

"I know, Merlin," Gaius said softly as he reached over and laid his hand over Merlin's. He must have sensed his ward's need to unburden himself because he went on to say, "Why don't you tell me what happened."

Merlin clutched desperately at the opportunity. It all came spilling out, everything from when he and Arthur had returned from Idirsholas until the spell was broken. All but the bargain he'd struck with the dragon. He still shied away from that, and the deliberate omission sat heavily and nauseatingly in his stomach. He needed to tell Gaius, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do so just yet.

Gaius listened intently the entire time, a serious but otherwise unreadable expression on his face. When Merlin was done, he looked away. Merlin wasn't sure what to make of that. He'd thought that surely Gaius would understand. Maybe he'd been wrong.

In the awkward silence that followed, Merlin picked his spoon back up and began to stab desultorily at his stew. He felt strangely empty, cold and hollow inside, as if confessing his actions had left him somehow bereft. He knew he wouldn't be able to bear it if Gaius found fault with what he'd done. He couldn't even bring himself to look at his mentor, who still remained silent.

Thankfully, Gaius didn't take much longer to consider his response. "You did the right thing," he said quietly.

Merlin's gaze flicked immediately back to Gaius, whose expression was still oddly stern. It seemed at odds with the compassion of his words. Merlin shook his head slightly and said, "You don't mean that. Morgana was your friend, too. You cared about her." There were so many people who'd been harmed in the aftermath of what he'd done. He found he couldn't continue to meet Gaius's steady gaze.

"I did," Gaius replied. "But I fear that unlike you, Morgana chose not to use her gift for good."

Merlin pressed his lips firmly together. He'd been trying so hard in his mind to absolve Morgana of complicity in Morgause's plan, but Gaius's words forced him to admit that it was likely Morgana had somehow taken part in the plot, even if she hadn't been aware of the spell that Morgause had cast upon her.

"You had no choice," Gaius went on, but much as Merlin wanted to have that confirmation and absolution, his first instinct was to resist, to shake his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but lost the thought and words. He so wanted to be forgiven by someone who knew the truth and was not simply speaking out of kindness as Gwen had done.

"Would we be sitting here now," Gaius said a bit more firmly and insistently than he had been speaking, and Merlin couldn't help but respond by looking him in the eye, "if you had not made that decision?"

Merlin couldn't argue with the logic of that. So many others would have been lost if he hadn't taken the actions he had, but it still hurt. He didn't want to entirely accept that he had no other choice, no matter that he'd said it himself, thought it over and over, and heard Gaius repeat it. It would take him a while longer to believe. Maybe he never would, not completely, but he knew that he needed to move forward, that no good would come of wallowing in regret. There was work still to be done, and he knew what he had to do next. There was no sense in putting it off any longer. He gave a slight but resolute nod and rose from the table.

"Where are you going?" Gaius asked, obviously confused by the abrupt change in his ward.

Merlin almost told Gaius, but dithered once again. Gaius had lifted a bit of the burden of guilt from his shoulders. Would it be fair to ask him to bear more, to have foreknowledge of his ward's actions and thus some responsibility for them? "I'll eat that later," he said, putting the decision off yet again.

"Merlin," Gaius said, the word a question, concern and maybe a hint of warning all at the same time.

Part of Merlin was screaming for him to confess the bargain he'd made with the dragon, but all that came out of his mouth was, "There's something I have to do."

He turned swiftly and headed towards his room before Gaius could question him further. Once there, he closed the door, went to the bed and knelt to withdraw the sword from its hiding place. He looked up and down its wrapped length, and then, with the weight of the blade in his hands and the consequences of using it so real in a way they had not been before, he knew that he had to tell Gaius. He couldn't make this decision alone.

He opened the door and slowly went back down into the main chamber, carrying the sword tucked beneath his arm. Gaius watched his approach with a wary expression on his face, one that clouded a bit more when Merlin laid the bundle on the table.

"What's this?" Gaius asked, obviously perplexed.

"The sword," Merlin replied. When Gaius merely raised an eyebrow at him, he clarified, "The missing sword." When Gaius still didn't say anything or even raise or lower his eyebrow in the slightest, Merlin hesitated a moment, but then the entire truth came tumbling out. "I was the one who took it when the knights fell. I hid it under my bed. Darren must've found it and taken it from there, then returned it afterwards."

There was a long pause before Gaius's eyebrows evened and drew together. Then he said with an unexpected measure of annoyance and a trace of anger in his voice, "You should have told me."

"I know," Merlin replied sheepishly.

Gaius went on as if Merlin hadn't spoken. "I was beside myself with worry when I found out that six of the swords that could save you were melted to nothing and the seventh nowhere to be found. If you had only told me..."

Merlin didn't know quite what to say in response. All he could think of was, "I'm sorry."

Gaius fixed him with a penetrating stare that Merlin had to force himself to meet. Gaius's next question was completely unexpected, though. "Would you have even told me if Darren hadn't found the sword and brought it to the smithy?"

"I don't know," Merlin admitted slowly. In recollection, he realized his frame of mind hadn't been sound enough to think beyond the need to keep the sword hidden and in his possession. "I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."

"Merlin, why would you risk your life for such a thing?" Gaius asked. There was something odd in his voice. If pressed to name it, Merlin would have called it desperation or anguish. "You would have died without that sword."

Merlin sighed and sat down at the table. It was beyond time to lay the last bit of the truth before Gaius, although he couldn't bring himself to look his mentor in the eye while he did so. "I made a promise to the dragon, on my mother's life, that I would set him free. It was the only way he would tell me how to defeat the Knights."

"Oh, Merlin," Gaius sighed, but his tone was sad and not disapproving.

"I had to," Merlin said, his gaze flicking up briefly to see the weary and sorrowful expression on Gaius's face. "I had to," he repeated as he looked down again.

"I know," Gaius replied. "My dear boy."

Merlin felt tears begin to sting his eyes at the obvious sympathy and caring in Gaius's voice. He blinked rapidly and bit his lower lip as he drew a deep breath through his nose and gusted it out again. He didn't want pity, or any more understanding or forgiveness. He only wanted this over and done.

He laid his hand on the wrapped blade and paused for a moment before he said, "The dragon told me I would need one of these swords to break the chain that keeps him imprisoned in the cave, but..." He trailed off, his fingers worrying a bit of the blanket. "What do you think he'll do when I set him free? Do you think he'll try to take his revenge?"

"It has been said," Gaius said slowly and carefully, "that the Greater Dragons were never prone to unbridled destruction, nor were they wanton killers. There was always a purpose to their actions, even if it was not readily apparent at the time. But I could not begin to know the mind of a dragon, especially one who has been held in captivity for so long."

Merlin nodded, then sat in pained silence for a moment. In the end, this all came down to a promise he'd made to the dragon, and he had never been one to take such things lightly. Perhaps because he so often had to lie and hide the truth, when he did make a heartfelt vow, he did everything in his power to hold to his word. Now was the time to fulfill his promise. He had no further excuses to make. He had the means within his hands. If he hesitated, judged the dragon by what he might do, he would be no better than Uther in his persecution of magic users solely for their potential to do harm.

Decision made, he was left with wondering exactly how this would work. "Do you think I'll need a spell of some kind?" he asked as he looked up and tilted his head to the side.

"I cannot imagine what sort of spell would break such chains, Merlin," Gaius replied. "But your magic is not like any other. I think if your heart and mind is set to do a thing, you will find the words."

Gaius's statement was a bit overwhelming for Merlin and he didn't truly believe it, not until a short while later, when he stood and considered the massive chain tethering the dragon. He was about to ask what must be done to breach the metal when he felt a sort of humming in the sword in his hand. It was like a voice, a plaintive song, begging to be commanded. So he spoke, bid the sword to sever the chains, and with a mighty blow of heat and magic, it was done.

The dragon's roar was a raw and elemental thing that thrummed in Merlin's bones and made the magic in his blood surge. He watched the beast taking flight, powerful wings bearing him upwards from the depths and towards a freedom denied him for so long. It was a terrifying and beautiful thing to behold, and Merlin stood enraptured until the dragon disappeared from sight.

When he looked down again and lifted the blade in front of his eyes, the sword was silent in his hand, quiescent, as if it were satisfied with its work and had gone to its rest. Merlin laid it down upon the ground and left it there. When the sword was later found, it was given to the forge, where it subsided into nothing like its brothers had done before. And thus were ended the Swords of Medhir.

The End