Bewilderment. Arthur knew the definition of the word, but he wasn't sure if he'd truly seen it personified more often than on the face of Merlin.

It might as well be the man's natural state. Blue eyes wide. Mouth slightly open. Hands moving, but definitely not doing anything to help the situation. Arthur had grown accustomed to this look, but at the moment he wasn't exactly asking where his socks had disappeared to. This was far more critical.

"Merlin," Arthur repeated, resisting the urge to grab the sorry excuse for a sorcerer and shake the answer out of him. "Merlin, where is Roldan?"

"I…" Merlin stammered. "I—I don't know. I haven't seen him, I just heard him call out before he… before we…"

He trailed off, his face a contortion of emotion, but Arthur was done waiting for him to get a hold of himself. He pushed past Merlin, stalking into the forest and ignoring the servant's continued blubbering.

He hadn't gone far before he heard his name being yelled from afar—Sir Gareth's frantic voice through the trees. Dread snaked through Arthur's veins, and he broke into a run, pushing through the branches in the direction of the knight's voice.

He didn't have to travel far before he found Gareth, kneeling in the brush alongside one of his other best knights, Sir Kay. For a fleeting moment, Arthur thought maybe it was Kay who was injured.

Then he saw he was cradling a body, and he knew it was Roldan before he even grew close enough to see his bald head.

A lump formed in his throat at the sight. Flashes of Roldan's young son flickered through his brain, but he pushed that away, dropping to his knees by his fallen warrior's side.

"Is he breathing?" he asked.

To his relief, Kay nodded. "Barely," he responded. "I—"

"Where's he hit?" Arthur demanded, searching Roldan's torso with a gloved hand, but there was no sign of blood. "His back? Shoulder?"

"That's the issue, sire," Kay said. "He doesn't appear to be hit. His spine… I'm no physician, but he has suffered some injuries to his lower back."

"And his head," Gareth confirmed, examining the back of Roldan's bald head with ginger fingers. "Looks like he was thrown with some force."

"Or fell from the tree, perhaps," Kay suggested, glancing up at the sprawling oak above them before turning to Arthur. "I'm not sure if we can move him."

The lump in Arthur's throat grew larger, his thoughts a darkening tangle. "We'll have to find a way," he decided. "We're still in enemy territory, and we have to get him back to Gaius."

He stood, but only to find that Merlin had followed him and had halted at a distance, watching the whole affair like a limp rag. His already pale face was ashen, eyes fixated on Roldan's unconscious form, and Arthur searched his expression carefully. A knot twisted in his stomach as he found exactly what he didn't wish to find within it.

Fear.

There were other things in Merlin's expression, of course. Worry, and maybe sorrow. But the fear was unmistakable. It was the one emotion Arthur could always identify, even in a short second, as it was the reaction he saw the most often in his enemy's faces. Spying it on Merlin now brought about a slew of questions he really didn't want to entertain.

Clenching his jaw, Arthur stepped forward and snapped his fingers—quick and loud in Merlin's face. The servant jumped, snapped out of his trance, but Arthur didn't give him a chance to recover before he gave his order. "Gather the horses, Merlin, and tell the knights to ride to the border. The three of us will have to carry Roldan to prevent further injuries."

"Right, I—of course," the servant sputtered, and then he was off, tripping over himself as he disappeared back into the trees.

Arthur watched him go with a sinking heart, finally entertaining some of the darker thoughts—darker fears—about his manservant he'd pushed to the back of his mind.

Merlin was a sorcerer. This was a fact. A fact Arthur was still processing, but a fact nonetheless.

Another fact was that when sorcerers engaged in battle... they rarely left a mark. Certainly no stab wounds.

Fallen from a tree, Kay had suggested. The more naive Arthur Pendragon from a week ago might have believed that. But, with the knowledge he possessed now, and with the very specific mission he had entrusted to Roldan…

Well, suddenly Gareth's assertion of "thrown with some force" felt all too possible, and all too real. After all, it didn't take much for sorcerers to show a display of force, and a deadly one at that.

A cold feeling began to root itself in Arthur's gut. A mixture of dread, sadness, and grief, and this was not the time or place to unravel it. Sucking in his breath, Arthur turned back to his faithful knights, refocusing his mental efforts on Roldan. They had to keep his injured back straight while they transported him the rest of the way home.

Arthur would deal with the question of Merlin when they returned to Camelot.

~O~

If there was one place in Camelot Arthur truly hated, it was the physician's quarters.

It wasn't anything against Gaius. He just had too many bad memories attached to this cluttered, odd-smelling space. Stretching back to when he was a young boy, he'd seen the life slip away from the bodies of too many men and women he loved in this very room. Time and time again he'd be in here, and he'd stare at that little wooden bed and wonder if that's where he too would breathe his last. That rickety slab of wood, which had likely been soiled with the blood of more innocents than any battlefield.

Arthur always imagined he'd die on such a battlefield. That seemed... correct, somehow. Fitting. But as he and Gareth made their way inside the room and gently laid the unconscious form of Roldan onto the dreaded cot, Arthur couldn't help but see the injured body of every dead knight he'd ever known lying there. It was only a matter of time, really, before he himself was mortally wounded by an enemy. An assassin. A king. A sorcerer. Would he be leaving behind a child of his own, like Roldan? Or would he never even make it to the point where he had an heir? After all, he knew of many princes who had suffered such a fate—Odin's son Magnus, for one, who had died at Arthur's very hand.

But he was being stupid. This was no time to think morbidly, and certainly not about his own mortality. Roldan was still breathing, and there was much to be dealt with. Twisting his mother's ring around on his finger, Arthur relished the calming cold of the metal before facing Gaius.

The physician had been informed of the situation in full by Sir Kay and was already in motion, busy checking out the state of Roldan's neck with knowledgeable hands. Arthur watched him carefully, feeling wary of the physician in a way he'd never felt about him before. As if he was no longer trustworthy.

That's because he isn't, his brain chimed in, and he didn't appreciate the reminder.

After a few minutes, Gaius stopped what he was doing and moved to his work table without a word, beginning to flip through a stack of books gathered there. Arthur followed him, resting both his hands on the table so he couldn't be ignored.

"What's your diagnosis, Gaius?" he pushed, feeling the sudden urge to do something. Anything. Any sort of action. "Please. Just tell me. Does he have any chance?"

Gaius slowed his movements, his fingers hovering over a page of one of the books. Arthur briefly noted a detailed drawing of a spinal dissection before he glanced away from it, feeling sick.

"I'll know more if he wakes, sire," Gaius answered. His voice was calm, but Arthur didn't like the word if. "He has suffered dislocations in his back and neck, with possible trauma to the head as well. If he does wake, I'm afraid it's unlikely he'll ever walk again."

His words, predictably, felt like a punch to the gut. It was the opposite of what Arthur had hoped for, but he couldn't say he wasn't expecting it. Even if Roldan survived, it was another good knight lost. And for what, exactly? What had they even accomplished?

Gaius must've spotted the look on his face because he sighed, putting on his glasses. "I will not lie to you, Arthur," he said. "It's possible he may not survive the night. His breathing is unsteady. I will work to stabilise him, but we must prepare for the worst. His family should be notified."

Arthur blinked a few times, unprepared for the tears that had risen. But he straightened and took in a big breath regardless. "Yes," he agreed. "Of course. I'll arrange it."

And with that, he turned to Merlin.

It was the first time he'd really paid the servant proper attention since they'd returned. The secret sorcerer appeared an anxious wreck, hovering near the door and just wringing his hands like the useless servant he was. Looking at him now, Arthur suddenly found it very hard to contain a rush of fury. A fury that wondered—feared—his suspicions were true and that Roldan's attacker stood before him right now. And not just any attacker. A sorcerer attacker. A former friend.

Betrayal created a weird brand of fury, and Arthur was becoming terribly accustomed to it.

"Merlin," Arthur said loudly, forcefully, and Merlin jolted like a scared fawn.

"What?"

"Can I talk to you outside for a moment?"

Merlin nodded, and Arthur stalked out. As he threw the door open, he glanced out of the corner of his eye, making sure Merlin was following him.

As he did, he caught sight of Merlin and Gaius making eye contact for a split second. A secretive gesture. A gesture that made Arthur's blood boil.

Never before was the slightly fresher air of the corridor more welcome. Arthur inhaled it in large gulps, reigning in his emotions before turning to confront Merlin. It was a real struggle to keep his face passive, and also not to seize Merlin by the collar and slam him against the wall. To demand in no uncertain terms if he'd done it—if he'd attacked Roldan. Put him on that bed, that bed of death Arthur so despised.

But he didn't. Instead, he looked Merlin in the eye and did the next best thing. Possibly an even better punishment. "Merlin," he began, selecting his words very carefully. "I know it's not a happy task, but I need you to go to Roldan's house for me. Inform his wife and son about what happened. I would go myself, but I want to stay with him for now in case he wakes."

To Arthur's no surprise, horror sparked in Merlin's eyes. Horror… and perhaps guilt? "I-I—" Merlin stuttered. "Are you sure I'm the best one to do that? I should be staying with Gaius so that I can—"

"I'll ensure Gaius has all that he needs," Arthur cut him off, grateful for his decision to hold this conversation in the corridor. That way, Gaius couldn't rush to Merlin's aid. While the servant might have wiggled out of Arthur's trap in the cave, he would not be wriggling out of this one. "I know Roldan's wife. Hannah. She's a wonderful woman, but suffers from a long term illness. She's going to need someone... gentle to break this news to her and her young son. James, I believe his name is. A non-knight would be best. I'm trusting you with this, so just do as I tell you, alright?"

He turned on his heel sharply, not giving Merlin the chance to argue—or himself a chance to betray his blossoming anger. As he re-entered the physician's quarters, he couldn't help but slam the door behind him. All he hoped was that if Merlin had done this—if he was responsible—that the grief of Hannah and James haunted him forever. That his guilt consumed him and he realised, to the full extent of his being and whatever goodness lay within it, what he'd done. What his power had done. The exact opposite of gentle.

But most of all, Arthur cursed himself for even giving Merlin the benefit of the doubt. Deep down… he had a very bad feeling Merlin had done it. He didn't want to embrace the implications, but whether accidental or intentional, that mix of grief and guilt and fear in Merlin's eyes just now felt like confirmation. It felt like one of the last nails in the coffin Arthur had been in denial existed, and it also ignited all the hurt and confusion that had been swirling inside him since the dragon incident.

In the end, it only served to transform the last few reservations he held into rage. A rage he should have felt from the beginning. But he had to be sure. Wanted to be sure, if only to be able to finally face Merlin properly and with all the facts laid out like cards on the table. Then everything could be laid bare. That's all Arthur wanted. A righteous path if there was one left to be had.

Gaius looked up from his book as Arthur returned. A look of concern crossed his face before it settled back to neutral, and this was not lost on Arthur. "Where's Merlin?" he asked, innocently enough. Too innocent.

"I've sent him to Roldan's family," Arthur said curtly, walking past Gaius and settling in the small chair by the death bed. His hands were shaking, and he buried them in his lap. "If you need anything, Gareth or Kay can get it for you."

Gaius nodded slowly. "Ah, well, as a matter of fact, I will be needing a few things," he said, and he turned to Gareth and Kay. "If one of you could fetch me some water from the well, please, and if one of you could get me some cloves from the kitchen to reduce inflammation."

Both knights bowed, obedient as ever, and together they headed out—leaving Arthur alone with Gaius and the unconscious Roldan. Which should have been a non issue, but for some reason it didn't feel that way.

A silence fell among the two of them. It occurred to Arthur that he never really stayed with any patient like this—partially because he often wanted out of these quarters as soon as humanly possible. But this time was different. If Roldan awoke, Arthur wanted to be here for every second of it. He wanted to hear every word Roldan had to say, first hand, and thus he stayed rooted in that uncomfortable little chair.

For a while, that's all he did. Just sat there, brooding on ever-darkening thoughts about Merlin, Cenred, and how this whole thing should be handled. Meanwhile, Gaius shuffled around working with vials and various ingredients Arthur only half-recognised. It shouldn't feel tense between them, but it definitely did.

After a little while of this super-charged silence, Gaius spoke. "Sire, don't you need to speak to the king to give your report?"

Something curdled within Arthur at the suggestion. Again, the naive version of him would have not questioned this reminder, but it felt like Gaius was trying to get rid of him.

No, not felt like. He was trying to get rid of him. And not too long after he'd gotten rid of both Gareth and Kay. Maybe Gaius hoped Arthur wouldn't notice that little tactic.

He would like to think that Gaius wouldn't do anything morally apprehensible. That he wouldn't do something like kill Roldan to silence him, but the thought did cross Arthur's mind. As the warrior he was, he couldn't not think it, and after all—Arthur had also thought Merlin was an innocent buffoon who couldn't lie for his life. That had been proven extremely wrong. There was no more trust to be had in this situation.

"Sir Kay can update my father," Arthur replied a bit coolly, trying very hard to keep the edge out of his voice. "I'd prefer to stay with Roldan. I sent him after the Essetir patrol on his own. It was my call that resulted in him being separated from the pack."

This was true, and Arthur's guilt was very real. Crushing, even, although he wasn't sure if it was really the Essetir patrol he regretted sending Roldan to spy on.

"I'm sure he understood you had Camelot's best interests at heart, sire," Gaius said, moving to grab yet another vial. How many did the man need? "As crown prince, you must make the tough calls."

"Yes," Arthur said flatly. "That I must."

His response, thankfully, ended the conversation. Another silence fell upon them, and Arthur was grateful for it. Technically, Gaius didn't have the authority to make him do anything he didn't wish to do and Arthur planned to sit here until Roldan opened his eyes or drew his final breath. Whichever came first.

The second round of silence didn't last much longer than the first before Sir Kay returned, a bowl of cloves in hand.

"Ah, wonderful," Gaius said, almost as if he'd forgotten he "needed" them. "You can put them over there."

Kay nodded, placing the bowl down where Gaius wanted. "I've just spoken with the king," he announced as he did so, and Arthur's head snapped up. "He has requested your presence, Gaius, to speak about Roldan's diagnosis."

Arthur watched Gaius' face closely at these words, but the physician's expression betrayed nothing. "Yes, of course," he said. "I will be with him shortly."

Kay nodded once more before turning to Arthur. "Do you require anything, sire?"

"No, Kay, thank you," Arthur said, giving the knight a weak smile. "You're dismissed. Get some rest."

Kay bowed and left, allowing Arthur to continue to observe Gaius. The physician finished whatever he was doing with the numerous vials and heaved another long sigh, meeting Arthur's gaze. "Are you planning to stay here, then?"

Arthur nodded slowly. "Yes. I'd like to be here for him."

"If he wakes, be sure to summon me right away," Gaius reminded, and there was something in his expression now. A worry that Arthur hadn't spotted before. For Roldan?

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

"Of course," Arthur answered.

The physician lingered for a moment longer, almost as if hoping Roldan would wake up just then. But he didn't, and then Gaius was gone. Finally, it was only Arthur and Roldan.

The absence of Merlin and Gaius was most welcome. It occurred to Arthur that he hadn't really been free of them since the revelations about Merlin had come to light. Their presence felt like it was choking him, and that made the quiet emptiness of the physician's quarters very welcome. For the first time since discovering Merlin's magic, Arthur felt like he could close his eyes and just breathe…and yet, it felt wrong to do so when Roldan's breaths were shaky and shallow.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, finally allowing himself to close his eyes and rest before Roldan's hand grabbed his wrist.

Arthur jumped so hard he almost fell off his chair, but opening his eyes to see Roldan's eyes open too was an amazing relief. He wasn't sure he'd even get a chance to speak to him again.

"Roldan!" he exclaimed, dropping out of his chair and almost knocking it over as he kneeled in close to the bed, his chainmail clinking. It occurred to him only then that he'd never taken it off. "Please, don't move. You're injured."

Roldan coughed, and it was a heavy, racking cough. "Yes, I'd figured that out," he rasped.

Arthur's lip quivered, and he suddenly felt more unbalanced than he'd felt in some time. A knot twisted in his stomach, and he grabbed Roldan's arm at the elbow, holding it in a motion that felt like brotherhood. Like security. "I'm glad you're awake," he expressed, forging ahead. He didn't know how much time he had before Merlin or Gaius returned, and this was exactly the type of opportunity he'd hoped for. "I want to—need to—apologise. It is my fault you're in this state. But please. I must ask. I must know. What happened to you?"

Roldan's expression hardened. He took a moment, trying to catch his breath. He sounded like he couldn't breathe properly, and in that moment, Arthur wondered if he should discard this opportunity and run for Gaius instead. He even started to, but Roldan pulled it together, drawing in large, shaky breaths.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I'm fine. But... Merlin."

A jolt went through Arthur at the mention. "Yes? What about him?"

With a squeeze, Roldan clutched Arthur's arm in return. His hold was weaker than usual, but still strong. His face was strained, the veins popping on his temples. "Sorcery," he managed. "He's a sorcerer, Arthur. I moved to take him out as soon as I saw, but he sensed me coming."

The knot in Arthur's stomach twisted further. For not the first time, a terrible wave of sadness, acceptance, and rage washed over him.

It wasn't new information, Merlin's sorcery. Certainly it was one of the only things Arthur had been thinking about, and yet finally hearing it confirmed from the mouth of another knight felt like the final nail in a coffin.

Merlin's coffin.

His lack of surprise must have been evident because Roldan frowned.

"You suspected him, didn't you?" the knight realised, his expression darkening."Of sorcery. That's why you sent me to spy on him."

Arthur nodded, admitting it finally, and he hated to feel tears welling in his eyes. "Yes. Yes, I had my suspicions. But I wished I hadn't. I shouldn't have knowingly put you in harm's way. Your son—"

"—will be fine, my lord," Roldan assured, and he gave a thin smile. "If I don't make it, or even if I do, he understands my job is to protect you and Camelot. I'm only glad I was able to assist in the capture of an enemy within our walls."

Arthur swallowed thickly, feeling a bit like a bucket of cold water had been poured over him. His guilt was fresh and raw. "Indeed, you have," he agreed. "You're positive it was Merlin who attacked you? With magic?"

Roldan began to nod, but quickly stopped, emitting a hiss of pain that made Arthur's stomach churn. "Lie still," Arthur reprimanded him, and he held the knight's arm tightly while Roldan struggled to breathe once more.

When his laboured breathing subsided, Roldan spoke again, but his voice sounded much weaker. "He didn't even look my way," he croaked. "He must have sensed me magically. I moved towards him and he threw his arm out. It was like getting hit in the chest with a powerful wind. That's the last thing I remember."

Arthur shifted on his knees, wrestling with that mental image. It was not a nice one, and he couldn't help but recall how Merlin had looked in the forest that night after the dragon. Standing there, strangely confident and foreboding. Arms raised. Is that the Merlin Roldan had encountered? A dark version of him that casted a spell without even looking? A sorcerer who robbed a man of his mobility—and perhaps even his life—without even turning his head? At least Arthur looked men in the eyes when he killed them.

He couldn't wrap his mind around it. Still couldn't reconcile the Merlin he knew with that sort of dishonour, carelessness, and abuse of power. But the facts were staring him in the face. He knew them now to be true. Things had gone on much too long, and much too far. Roldan's blood was on Merlin's hands, but in the end it was on Arthur for putting his knight in the dangerous path of a known sorcerer. A wanted sorcerer. Named Emrys. Named Merlin.

Roldan coughed violently again and Arthur flinched, squeezing the knight's arm. "Please lie still," he said again. "Thank you for telling me this. For doing your duty. Now it's time to do mine. I'll get Gaius."

He started to stand, but Roldan wheezed, clawing at Arthur's arm. "No!" he hissed. "I must inform the king. I must give him my testimony. Especially if Merlin was sent by Cenred. We must act quickly."

Panic circled in Arthur's chest. For some reason, he desperately wanted to keep his father out of this. Just for a bit longer. "No, no, you've done enough already, Roldan," he insisted. "You need rest. I will be taking care of this personally. Merlin is my manservant, and his presence in Camelot is my responsibility. Any harm he has caused is on me and me alone. Your testimony here is enough and all that is required from you. Okay? So, please. Lie still. Rest. You've done your duty in full."

Roldan's face was strained. "You're sure?"

"Yes, I am," Arthur said, and he meant it. Merlin was his problem. Always had been, always would be. His fate would be determined by Arthur alone. "Right now, my main concern is making sure you have proper care. Alright? I'm off to find Gaius."

He began to leave, but stopped midway to the door, his boots scraping to a halt on the wood floor. "Also, Roldan," he added softly. "Please don't mention anything about Merlin to Gaius. I don't want him tipping him off and causing him to flee. That's the last thing we need."

"Yes," Roldan rasped, and Arthur was relieved to hear him agree. "Yes, of cou—"

He cut off, only managing to emit half the sentence before he exploded into a terrible round of racking coughs—worse than any that had come before. Arthur's muscles seized, desperate to do something, but he was no physician.

"Lie still!" he shouted again, his voice breaking as he threw open the door. "Just… just breathe. I'll be right back."

And with that, Arthur sprinted out of the physician's quarters for the council chambers.

~O~

The next half an hour felt like a terrible blur for Arthur. A horrible, hideous, nauseating blur, and one that he had a bad feeling might come back to haunt him in a nightmare later.

It already felt like a bad dream. Rushing through the corridors, ripping open the wooden door of the physician's quarter's, skittering inside with Gaius behind him, the older man trying his best to keep up with Arthur's pace…

Only to find that Roldan was no longer breathing.

It was not the first time Arthur had been slammed with a wall of guilt. Certainly, one would imagine he'd be accustomed to the feeling by now. Knights had died on his watch many, many times. It was the nature of the world, and his role in it. But that didn't stop Arthur from analysing every possible thing he could have done to prevent it. To recognise their willingness to lay down their lives for him, but ultimately prevent it from happening.

He hadn't done that with Roldan.

No. No, he had been so busy trying to prevent Merlin's death, hadn't he? In trying not to kill one friend, he'd killed another. Killed the one that didn't deserve to die.

It sort of felt like a weight had promptly been dropped on him. He didn't even hear Gaius confirming the death. Following a grim checking of Roldan's pulse, a buzzing overtook Arthur's eardrums and he could only see Gaius' mouth moving, forming the words "I'm afraid he's gone." Another confirmation Arthur didn't need to be told to know its truth.

And that should have been the worst of it. Should have been the worst minute of Arthur's day.

But it wasn't.

What was worse was at that very moment, Merlin returned with Roldan's wife trailing behind him.

The whole horrid scenario played out in slow motion. Arthur saw the door open out of the corner of his eye. He turned on instinct, his blood running cold to witness first the entering of Merlin, and then of Hannah. Roldan's sweet and quiet wife, looking deeply worried, but not yet shattered. There was still hope shining in her gentle features—a hope that was about to be squashed forever.

But if that wasn't bad enough, Arthur then spotted the telltale blond hair of Roldan's son, James, waddling in alongside his mother and clutching at her long skirts. A child no older than nine, and suddenly, terribly, Arthur could only remember when he was that age. Walking into this very room at his father's heels. Beholding the death and pain it harboured.

If Arthur was smarter, quicker, better, he would have stopped them right then. Ushered them back outside into the corridor before they saw what lay beyond the entrance.

But today was a day of countless failures.

Hannah's shriek of grief was deafening. Her eyes had fallen upon Gaius, his fingers still conspicuously holding her husband's limp wrist, and that was confirmation enough. Hannah moved in a flurry, charging past Merlin and Arthur like a woman possessed and abandoning little James altogether. She collapsed next to that dreadful bed, sobbing, and this left Arthur facing both James and Merlin at the same time. Viewing their faces as they began to understand what had happened.

He couldn't take it. Couldn't handle staring at the both of them and watching the combination of horror and anguish overtake their expressions. It was a mirror of everything Arthur was feeling. A loss of innocence in James. A strike of guilt in Merlin.

And that was it. That was the last straw for Arthur. There had been so many straws, but this was definitely the one that broke the camel's back. His hands shaking, Arthur shoved past Merlin and dropped to his knees in front of James.

Tears were already welling in the boy's wide blue eyes. Arthur could feel some welling in his, too, but he pressed his unsteady palms to James' small shoulders.

"I am so, so sorry, James," he managed to get out. "Your father was one of the best knight's I've ever known, and I failed him today. He talked about you often. Very often. Told me how proud of you he was, and how you're going to make him so very proud in the future."

He swallowed, sucking in a large breath. "I just wanted to say that I'll be here for you," he promised, his voice cracking, and he squeezed the boy maybe a little too hard. "I'll be here for you, and your mother. I promise you that. Okay? I swear it."

And with that, Arthur straightened, no longer allowing himself to look at the boy. If he did, he would definitely cry, and he nearly punched open that stupid wooden door. "Arthur—" he heard Merlin's voice call, and that was fuel enough to make him move faster. Away from the physician's quarters. Away from its traitors, away from its broken promises, and away from its stench of death.

He didn't even remember reaching his own chambers. Slamming shut the door, collapsing in his chair. He sort of recalled it in a haze, but he was mostly grateful to be in a space of his own. To not look at anyone's face for a whole minute.

He wasn't sure how long he slouched there, just staring off into space and twisting his mother's ring on his finger until it hurt. It might have been hours. Might have been minutes. He didn't really care.

But, eventually, there was a knock on the door, and Arthur flinched at the sound.

If it was Merlin, he wasn't sure what he'd do. He wasn't sure if he could handle another encounter without losing it entirely. Some small part of him even wished it was Merlin, just so he could finally let loose. He'd showed enough restraint at this point. Far more than Merlin deserved.

He didn't answer, hoping whoever it was would go away. But after a pause with no response, there was a repeated knock.

Arthur exhaled, his breathing uneven. "Who is it?"

"Leon, sire," came the knight's voice through the door, and Arthur's shoulders relaxed. Why had he let himself get so worked up? It wasn't like Merlin ever knocked.

"Enter," he said, and his door swung open, revealing the ever-serious face of Sir Leon. The faithful sentry closed the door behind him politely—something Merlin rarely did—and he laced his hands behind his back.

"I heard about Roldan," the knight expressed solemnly, and Arthur grimaced. "I was sorry to hear of it, as are all the men. He was a good knight. One of the best."

"Yes," Arthur agreed, his voice hollow. "One of the best."

Leon gave a solemn nod, almost like a pause in respect for the dead. "I've just delivered the news to the king," he reported, and Arthur had a feeling he knew where this was going. "He is most aggrieved."

"I'm assuming he wishes to speak with me."

"Yes, he does."

Arthur nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. He gave his mother's ring another hard twist. "Tell him I'll be with him shortly."

Leon nodded once more, and he executed a deep bow before turning to leave. His chainmail clinked as he reopened the door.

He was halfway out in the corridor before Arthur stopped him. "Leon?"

The knight halted immediately, twisting back around. "Yes, m'lord?"

His words were innocent, normal, and yet something seized within Arthur. He'd imagined a moment like this for some time. Practiced it in his head, but it was suddenly all too real. Some things were just much easier to say in one's mind than out loud.

But this had to be said.

"I'd like you to do me a favour," Arthur began, forcing himself to relay the rehearsed words. He yanked his mother's ring fiercely as he did so—hard enough that the friction of the metal dragged his skin. "One I'm not sure I should carry out myself."

Leon frowned, but he nodded. Obedient as ever… just like Roldan. "And what's that, sire?"

Arthur pursed his lips. He hesitated for just another moment. One final second to run the words through his head before he said them. A command he'd harboured for some time, and a sentence he should have declared long ago.

"Leon," he said softly. "I would like you to arrest Merlin for me, please."