If there were benefits to being a king's right-hand man in political matters, Leon had yet to find them. Thus far, his days had been full of meetings, negotiations, and endless debates that went precisely nowhere. But Arthur refused to give up on his self-appointed task, and so Leon wouldn't give up on it either, no matter how hopeless the cause seemed.

Right now, it seemed like pigs might fly before Arthur would get Uther's laws against magic repealed. They kept working on it anyway, though none of them could tell Merlin what they were doing.

"Doesn't he deserve to know?" Gaius had asked.

"He does," Arthur had replied, "But he doesn't deserve to have his heart broken again if we fail."

Leon saw the logic in that well enough, even if he didn't care for the idea of leaving Merlin in the dark.

'Well, that came out wrong.'

He winced, even though he hadn't said it aloud. Merlin in the dark… Merlin captured and tortured. Merlin burned and blinded. It was a wonder the boy hadn't gone mad. If it had been Leon enduring such horrors, he was sure he would have flung himself from Camelot's highest tower by now. But Merlin still found the courage to wake up every morning and face the day. He was made of sterner stuff than most men Leon knew.

Down the corridor, someone coughed. It wasn't out of place down there in the old parts of the castle, but it was strange. Leon followed the sound, shielding his candle from cool drafts as he walked, finally finding a door hanging open a few inches. He heard rustling inside, and pushed it all the way open. The old hinges groaned in protest.

"Who's there?" Merlin sat in the middle of the room, one hand raised. He turned his head toward the door, his glassy eyes searching but unable to find anything.

"It's Leon," the knight said softly. "Are you alright?"

Merlin chuckled bitterly. "You're asking me that?"

Leon couldn't help but laugh. "I guess that's not the smartest question I've ever asked." He stepped into the room, turning his gaze upward to where the candlelight danced across the arched ceiling and the worn carvings set into the walls. "I never expected to find you in a place like this."

"I don't even know where I am," Merlin said, a rueful smile on his lips. "I just wanted to get out and walk for a bit. I thought I knew the castle inside and out. I must have taken a wrong turn, though. So I stopped. It's quiet in here." Merlin dropped his hand onto Cabal's head, burying his shaking fingers in the dog's thick fur. "Where are we, anyway?"

"The old royal chapel," Leon said. He set his candle on the floor and sat down a pace or two from Merlin. It was dusty. He decided that, if there were more than just his small light and a sliver of moonlight coming in from a narrow window, he'd see that the ceiling was strung with cobwebs, and the carvings were softened by years of dust. "I doubt anyone's been in here since Uther had the new one built when I was boy."

"What was wrong with this one? Was it too peaceful for Uther's tastes?"

Leon chuckled. "They said Ygraine didn't like how dark it was, even on the brightest days. We're on the ground floor. There are only a few windows in here, and they're narrow. More like arrow slits, really. The stone's dark. The air doesn't move in the summer. Fill the place up with fifty or more of Camelot's finest nobles, then light a bunch of candles, and it gets so hot and stuffy it feels like you've been shut in a coffin."

"Death is cold," Merlin whispered, so quietly Leon wasn't sure he'd heard it right. The sorcerer cleared his throat and went on before Leon could ask him to repeat himself. "So the new chapel- the one that overlooks the courtyard- was built for Ygraine?"

"It was," Leon said. "Uther spared no expense." The new chapel was a masterpiece of carven stone and stained glass. The panes were a lacework of color set against their white sandstone background, and every column was inset with sconces for half a dozen or more candles each. It was a jewel in the crown of Camelot's architecture. "Ygraine never got to see it. It was finished just a few days before she died. Arthur was christened there, though. I remember that day and how bright the room was. Especially since everyone was dressed in black to mourn the queen. I can't recall if Uther was there or not."

"Probably not. He was…" Merlin trailed off, lips pursed and hands curling into fists in his lap. There was more venom in those few words than Leon had ever heard out of Merlin in the years he'd known the sorcerer. He was shaking with the effort of keeping everything bottled up.

"You can speak your mind, you know," Leon said. "God knows I have no room to judge you."

Merlin grimaced and lowered his chin to his chest, burying his fingers in Cabal's fur again. The dog whined and beat his tail against the stone floor, the sound echoing like distant drum beats in dark forests. "I've spent my entire life holding my tongue. It's not an easy habit to break."

"No, I suppose not."

Merlin's shoulders sagged and his ragged breathing slowed until Leon thought he had fallen asleep. "Was she a good woman?" he asked suddenly, his voice quiet and strained.

"Ygraine?" Leon asked. Merlin nodded. "Why do you want to know?"

"Uther spilled so much blood in her name," he whispered. "And I don't even know if she was kind and generous, or if she was spoiled and vain. He claimed that he loved her more than his own life, but… He bought Arthur's life with hers, and he blamed all of magic for it. So many of my people were slaughtered for Uther's vengeance, and I don't know what kind of person she was. What was it all for?" Merlin looked up, his blind gaze still searching through the darkness.

"She…" Leon's voice failed him. It was a deeper, farther reaching question than he had ever expected, and he didn't have the means to answer it. Perhaps no one did. But Merlin had earned even the useless answers Leon could provide. "I was very young when she died- not quite eight years old. I only saw her a few times, but I remember her laughter. When she laughed, you wanted to laugh, too, it was so contagious. My father said she was generous to a fault, and never had a harsh word for anyone. But even if she'd been an angel sent from Heaven, it wouldn't have justified the Purge."

"No," Merlin breathed. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he hastily wiped them away. Leon pretended not to notice.

"May I ask you something?" Leon said after a while.

"What?"

He chose his words carefully. "After you revealed your magic, and Arthur sent you away, why did you come back? Wouldn't you have been happier among the Druids?"

Merlin looked away from Leon, a wistful look passing across his face. "I might have been, for a time. But my place isn't among them. I was always meant to be at Arthur's side."

"And yet the people of Camelot set you apart."

"Like a leper, yes," Merlin said bitterly. "You are a Knight of Camelot. You belong to the kingdom. But I was always Arthur's. For good or for ill, until the day I die. Though what use I am now is beyond me. I'm a servant who cannot serve in a kingdom where my every breath is a crime worthy of death. I can't even find my way around my own home. What good am I?"

Perhaps he hadn't meant to reveal it, but Leon had played at politics long enough to understand the drift of Merlin's thoughts. "Have you truly wished for death, then?"

Merlin bowed his head. "I have wished for it every day since I woke up."

"Please don't." Leon surprised himself with his quick response. "You would be greatly missed. By all of us. Especially by Arthur." Not enough time had passed for him to forget the devastation on the other knights' faces the night after the battle, when they had all believed they were waiting for Merlin to die. He would never forget Arthur's despair. "He refused to leave your side, you know. Blaise told us you wouldn't live through the night, and he just… It was like his world was about to crumble around him. Arthur was steady as a rock after his father died, but when you were dying, he fell apart."

Merlin was silent for a while. He didn't look up or smile or respond to Leon at all, but the tension in his shoulders eased, and the bitter lines in his face softened.

"You are worth more to Arthur than all the gold in Camelot," Leon said, "and he would have done anything to prevent what happened to you. But he couldn't sell half of his people to the Sarrum, knowing full well what he would to do them."

"I know," Merlin said. "But…"

Leon didn't need him to finish the sentence to know what he was saying, 'But it doesn't make the pain go away. It doesn't make me any less useless.' He looked away, gazing over the stone saints and angels and the rough hewn stone that made the older parts of the castle so different from the newer areas. When he was a boy, he would run his fingers along the walls where the old walls met the new ones. After a while, he'd grown so accustomed to where the changes happened in relation to the castle's rooms, he figured he could navigate it with his eyes closed.

'I could find my way around with my eyes closed."

Leon smiled. "Can I show you something?".

"You can try," Merlin said. There was a faint spark of his old humor back in his voice. A tiny one. But it was there.

"You're going to have to get yourself up and come with me, then," Leon said as he rose and offered Merlin a hand. The sorcerer took it, though Leon did more of the work of pulling him upright, wincing at the pained grimaces that accompanied Merlin's efforts to merely stand up. "Are you ready?" Leon asked when Merlin had caught his breath.

"As I'll ever be," Merlin said, his hand light on Leon's arm. Cabal yawned and plodded along behind them.

"This is one of oldest parts of the castle," Leon said as he guided Merlin down the corridor and toward the stairway. "You can tell because of the stone. They must have been in a hurry when they built the first levels a few hundred years ago, because the walls are rough. But they're worn down in places, too. Usually it's middle of the stairs where people have gone up and down them for years and years, but the corners of the walls are worn, too. Mind your step."

They climbed the uneven old stairs slowly. Merlin had to feel his way up, finding the edge of each step with his feet and pausing halfway up to rest. Leon kept up a steady stream of one-sided conversation about the castle, the materials that went into its building, and the reasons for its layout. Why the larger windows faced gardens and courtyards, while the outer walls had tiny windows, if they were there at all. There was a method to his rambling, and by the way Merlin tilted his head toward Leon, he guessed the sorcerer was listening.

"Here we are," Leon said when they reached the top of the stairs.

"And where is here?"

"At the point where the old castle meets the new," Leon said. "And where the servants' wing branches off toward the royal wing. Between here and there you'll find the library, a few storerooms, guest chambers, and the stairs up to Gaius's rooms. And yours." He led Merlin toward a particular point in the wall, took his hand, and pressed Merlin's fingers against the stone. "Now trace your hand forward along the wall. You should feel the difference."

Merlin stepped away from Leon, fingertips trailing along the wall. He paused, flattening his palm against the stone. The brace on his arm creaked with a quiet protest. "It's newer. They were more careful when they built it. There was more time for their craft." The faintest glimmer of gold shone in his eyes, and he almost smiled. "These stones are more forgetful, too."

"I have no idea what that means," Leon said. Sometimes Merlin made perfect sense. And then there were times where his words strayed beyond any realm than Leon was comfortable with contemplating. "But if it helps you sort out which way is up, then I suppose it doesn't matter if I understand it or not."

"Perhaps not," Merlin said. He turned, put his back to the wall, and sighed. If he didn't know any better, Leon would have thought he was staring out the window, watching the clouds scuttle across the sky. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you think there's a place here for me now?"

Leon studied him for a moment. Was this doubt a new thing? Or had it been hiding under the surface all this time, only to be revealed like bone when flesh was burned away? "I think Arthur values your opinion above all others, Merlin. When he was a hot-headed brat of a prince, you were the one who pushed him along the path that made him the good man that he is now. I think you were the only one who could have done that. You said yourself that you're not really a part of the magical world, nor fully a part of this one. You walk between the worlds. It gives you a unique perspective."

"Like a voice crying out in the wilderness?" Merlin quoted, a faint smile on his lips.

"Maybe something like that," Leon laughed. "So you were paying attention all those times you had to attend Mass."

"Something had to soak in eventually," Merlin said. He pushed away from the wall and stood straight, head tilting like he was listening for things quieter and deeper than knights and servants in a castle hallway. "I think I have my bearings again. And I'm sure you have more important things to do than follow me around."

He could have said yes, he did have important things to do. He'd been in the middle of a council meeting when Geoffrey sent him after a particular book in a lower storeroom. He was attending to the kingdom's business. But none of that seemed to matter right now, because Merlin was standing tall again, and the new light in his unseeing eyes had nothing to do with magic. "It's nothing that can't wait."

Merlin didn't seem fooled, but he was willing to let it pass. "You can make us some tea, then."

"You're trusting me not to make a mess of it?" Leon asked. Merlin shrugged. "All right, then. I'll make tea." They crossed the hall to the stairs. Leon didn't guide, and Merlin didn't need to be led. They were just two friends walking side by side.