A/N: Well, now it's done. I'm pretty surprised myself. Anyway- results. The younger plot bunnies have emerged victorious and there shall be a sequel to this in the future (hopefully not very soon because I really do have another piece I need to write first- give it another month at least).

ATTENTION: I posted two chapters today. If you have not read another new chapter in the past 24 hours please go back and read 15 before this one. Thank you :)

Arthur had allowed one day's time for nearby lords to gather for the trial, time he spent watching Merlin sleep.

The warlock had woken a few hours after their discussion, spotting Gaius' injured hand and healing it without thinking. The muddy-brown in his eyes where there should be brilliant gold unsettled the king more than the dead sleep the man had fallen into immediately afterward. Still, a surly Gaius had declared it a good sign that he had been able to use magic at all- let alone succeeding in the healing he so often failed at.

"The betony should be all but gone at this point. Now it's only a matter of building his strength back up," the physician had asserted. "Though it'll take forever if he keeps exhausting himself before I've gotten some food in him," the elder then growled under his breath.

Sirs Kerrill and Moran had faithfully assembled a small group of townsfolk and castle staff to complement the council of nobles who would sit in judgment at the trial- a practice Merlin and Guinevere had talked him into instituting. Arthur watched the two groups take their assigned positions in Faltare's great hall, waiting for the guards to arrive with Holbert. Ostley fidgeted in his place beside the council of commoners, nervous about his future and about speaking in front of so many people. The other assistant- he had never quite managed to catch his name- would have been present to testify, but it seems he'd returned home to Mercia after learning of his master's misdeeds and could not be reached in time.

When Holbert was dragged in, harried and fearful but still with a spark of defiance, Arthur knew it would be a long day.

"Merlin," he called softly, one hand on his friend's scrawny shoulder. "Time to wake up, idiot."

The warlock let out an unintelligible string of ill-tempered mumbles, stubbornly keeping his eyes closed as he replied.

"What?"

His voice was still rough, but much better than it had been. He'd slept almost uninterrupted for two days after healing his mentor and had yet to hear about the trial and verdict.

"You need to eat and drink. Gaius can't even open the window for fear you'll blow away."

The warlock's lips twitched upward and Arthur knew what was coming. "Well, we can't all have your magnificent bulk, Sire."

"I am not fat, Merlin."

"Didn't say you were," he answered lightly as Arthur propped him up and began blowing on the steaming bowl of broth. "I can feed myself, you know."

"Is that so? Well, I haven't even seen you lift your own arms since I got here."

"That's an exaggeration." Wasn't it? He actually wasn't certain about that.

The king merely snorted and passed him the spoon.
"Let's see it then."

Merlin's fingers curled stiffly around the spoon, barely closing enough to prevent it slipping right onto the floor. He concentrated, frowning intensely at the utensil as he raised his arm a few inches off the bed. Gravity seemed to be much more assertive than it normally was and his muscles visibly trembled with the effort of overcoming it.

"That's enough," Arthur sighed, reclaiming the spoon and pushing the former servant's arm down. "You'll never recover if you don't relax and allow other people to take care of you."

When Merlin opened his mouth to retort the king stuffed the first spoonful of liquid in, ignoring the younger man's glare.

"Isn't that what I tell you when-"

"Shut up Merlin." In went another mouthful.

The warlock rolled his eyes but cooperated from then on, obediently downing the whole bowl of thin soup.

"So," he began as Arthur set the dishes aside, "what happened with Holbert and Faltare?"

The king braced his palms against his knees.
"Holbert has been sent to the quarries."

"What! Arthur, I-"

"It was what the nobles and the commoners decided. Surely he can survive it for a year." Arthur himself didn't seem particularly confident in that, but continued regardless. "He seemed surprised the sentence was so light, in fact."

Merlin frowned, but seemed mollified for the moment.

"Faltare has had his rank lowered."

The warlock's eyes widened in shock. It was almost unheard of to do such a thing.

"His son will still be a count, but he is now a baron."

And that had to hurt. A baron was hardly above a knight, the most petty of landed nobility.

"There will also be a garrison set up here. Officially it is to monitor those coming through from Mercia, but the primary purpose will be to keep an eye on things here."

The monarch stood and paced to the window. "The Faltare vineyard has suffered an unfortunate fire that spread to the surrounding fields, sadly destroying all of their wine stores as well as the betony with which it is made. The casks in the castle cellar appear to have been ruined by rats. It's terrible, but it seems they will be purchasing wine from the capitol for the foreseeable future."

He came back to the cot, gesturing vaguely about the room.

"Ostley has been absolved of guilt and will continue training under Gaius while we are here. I've sent for another healer to replace that charlatan- she should arrive in a few days."

Merlin sighed. It was clear Arthur had wanted to do more, but held back to keep Faltare's people from suffering as a result of their lord's failures.

"You did well, Arthur," he stated, sincerity lighting his eyes and voice. He really was so proud of how far Arthur had come. "Thank you," for saving me; for being the king I always knew you could be.

The king smiled appreciatively, holding his friend's gaze.

"Thank you, Merlin."