Hello again, my lovelies.

I adore Merlin with so many fibers of my being, but the fifth series broke my heart. It was beautiful, but it left me wanting. I still want magic free in Camelot where Arthur is alive to see it, I still want the destiny Aithusa and Kilgharrah must have seen, and I still want Merlin to finally be free of all of his secrets. Sure, these are spoilers for the ultimate ending, but if you've already gone through A Year for Secrets with me then you know how much there still is to tell.

I want you to know how much it means to me that you're still here, and that you're still dreaming with me. After all, "a dream you dream alone is only a dream, but a dream you dream together is reality." And so it is with an unmatched excitement and a bone-deep thankfulness that I finally bid you all a welcome back.

Albion's missed you.

The Skeleton's Cupboard
The Nones of September

Merlin whirled, followed the dragon's line of sight, and his world stuttered to a halt.

In pure disbelief he saw the knight hidden in the shadows of the trees, dressed in his usual chainmail but missing the telltale Camelotian red cloak. His brown hair stuck to the sweat on his cheeks and his eyes were wide with wordless shock.

Merlin felt his stomach slide into his throat, and his heart seized as if someone had reached out and grasped it in a merciless fist.

"Gwaine."

The dragon's long body stretched taut as it commanded the clearing. Its muscles rippled beneath its golden scales, and fire burned at the threshold of its fangs. This was the beast that had murdered knight and villager alike during its rampage, and now the full force of its ferocity was focused on him.

This was a creature out of legend, out of storybooks, and Gwaine was still lost somewhere between an out of body experience and the fight of his life. His gaze was locked with the snake-like, unblinking glare of the beast before him, held back by an invisible thread.

An invisible thread, and the echo of the strange words that had left the mouth of his friend—his friend, Merlin. Somehow this fact kept pulling away, only to gouge him deeper when it struck again.

"Gwaine," Merlin repeated, shifting slowly and inching his body between the dragon and the knight. Gwaine's gaze only flickered from the dragon, because that was the threat, despite whatever smaller dragon was peering at him from behind Merlin's legs. "Gwaine, he's not going to hurt you, but you need to take your hand off your sword."

All of his fighter instincts told him not to, and maybe he flinched to grip the pommel tighter, because a dark and menacing growl erupted from the dragon's throat not a moment later.

And while he may have been able to put up some sort of fight if he'd still had the element of surprise, there was no way out of this situation without being roasted alive—not if he drew his sword, at least. His breaths were shallow, and his palms felt clammy, and he slid his gaze to Merlin and begged him for proof that this was the right choice.

Merlin looked just as pale and shaky as he felt, but the man gave a slow nod, and Gwaine uncurled his fingers from the metal through sheer force of will.

Gradually Merlin said, "Kilgharrah, you need to take Aithusa, and you need to go."

After Merlin said the words, he turned and faced the dragon. It left Gwaine staring at his back, at his shoulders set straight and not humbly hunched, and a small piece of Gwaine's mind recognized this man as the shadow he had glimpsed in unanticipated moments scattered through the years.

"You trust this knight?" The dragon growled. "More than your fate now lies at his feet. The fate of my kind—"

Strange words left Merlin's mouth, and the dragon snarled but swallowed the flames. The reaction was so instant that Gwaine's mind stuttered Was that magic? But Merlin never waved his arms about, nor did anything alike any other sorcerer Gwaine had seen, and so he calmed and realized, No—it's just some other language.

The dragon stalked slowly backwards until it hovered over the small dragon. It reached out a leg to grab it. "I'll be waiting for your call," it said warningly to Merlin, then reared over them all. "And as you know, I have already done my fair share of waiting."

It flew away with great flaps of its wings, and Gwaine stared after it. It was heading south.

When his attention snapped back to Merlin, the other man was already staring at him with tortured blue eyes. His dark hair was in disarray, his clothes hung more lank than usual on his bedraggled frame, and dark bags darkened the hollows over his cheekbones.

Strangely out of place was the physician's herb bag still hanging by Merlin's hip, empty, and likely with no intentions of being filled. The thought snapped his restraint, and Gwaine began to laugh hollowly. "You've got your satchel."

Merlin's brow furrowed in confusion, but Gwaine clearly recalled the words that had accidentally slipped from Merlin's mouth months ago. "Picking herbs never stopped being your cover-up story, did it?"

"I do pick herbs most of the time," Merlin murmured.

Gwaine looked down at his boots and frowned, and after a small shake of his head picked his way forward into the clearing. This was a truth he would never have predicted, or even guessed in jest. It was so far off from his understanding of someone he considered his first mate, that he wondered if they had ever truly been friends. Had this always been a one-sided friendship?

When he stood directly before Merlin, and had the closeness to do it, he studied the man with the full force of his attention. In that sliver of time he opened himself to any possibility, and what he gained in that moment would come unbidden to his mind for years to come.

There, in Merlin's soul, hidden behind the wariness and below the careful control, was a desperation and a fear. That sight, and the unignorable history between them, moved his hands to his belt to unbuckle his sword and scabbard. They fell with a dull clunk onto the ground. "Let's talk," he said.

Merlin nodded nervously. He seemed marginally less wary now that Gwaine hadn't run screaming treason. "You'd think I would have a speech prepared but…." Merlin trailed off.

The silence stretched on, and Gwaine's eyes went from Merlin's tattered tunic, to his boots, then to the treeline and to the sky. He blinked and grimaced, "So, you're friends with dragons."

Merlin lifted a single shoulder, then let it drop heavily.

"I thought they were all dead. Knights are still telling stories of when Arthur killed that last gold one." Oh, well, that made a little more sense now at least. "Actually, It's way more reasonable that you and Princess just nicely asked it to leave." He tried to smile at his forced joke, but Merlin's face just tightened.

"Arthur doesn't know."

"Doesn't know what?" Gwaine asked faintly, because surely he wasn't going to have to choose between the man he'd sworn his life to, and the man who had convinced him that this noble was worth that.

"About anything. He doesn't know the dragons are alive, and he doesn't know about me—"

Gwaine watched Merlin as he broke off and sucked in a breath. The servant ran a hand through his messy hair and his face was full of anguish.

If this had been any other person this conversation would already be over, but that was his friend over there barely able to string a sentence together for nerves, and his abandoned sword belied the truth—Gwaine had never planned to harm him, no matter what came out of Merlin's mouth. "He doesn't know I was noble, so no surprise there."

This time, even though the smile was still strained on his face, and he had never felt so at a loss of what precisely he was to do, when he saw the tiniest flicker of hope in Merlin's eyes he knew he had done the right thing; nevermind if that thing went against whatever knight's code he'd sworn to.

Not like he'd ever cared much for the rules, anyway.

The conversation had continued in bursts, but Merlin had seemed too dazed to answer anything properly, not that Gwaine had any idea of what a reasonable line of questioning was for when you found out your friend was also chummy with flying beasts of fire and death.

Though he felt a little cowardly, he was happy to look up at the sun and remark on the time. Arthur had called a Round Table meeting that evening, which always involved an implicit invitation to Merlin, and they had better get back before they were noticeably late.

When they were a little further along on the path, and they could more easily avoid each other's gazes, Gwaine said, "So you're not worried they're, like, going to eat you one day when they're feeling peckish?"

Merlin frowned. "They're not going to eat me," he said as if the notion were absurd. Then he tacked on while muttering under his breath, "Or anyone in Camelot. I told Kilgharrah not to."

"Well they are dragons, and you're, well...I'm just saying if I were really hungry I may eat you."

"Remind me to get you an apple," Merlin said sourly. And because that was the first inkling of Merlin's usual attitude that he'd seen yet, Gwaine smiled so broad that his eyes watered. Yeah, this was all going to work out. Maybe not today, but this was proof that they had been mates, and they still would be.

Merlin rubbed at his nose a bit awkwardly and then said, "If I tell them not to, then they can't."

"What are you, King of the Dragons?" Gwaine said in slight disbelief, but really, nothing should be surprising him at this point.

Merlin winced and waved off the question. Humble and secretive to a fault, that one. "I'm just saying; they have to do what I say. I trust them and they trust me, so I rarely have to make them do anything but—"

"But you made that gold one not roast me," Gwaine muttered. "Remind me that I owe you a pint for that." They exited the forest for the road, and it curled ahead of them for the front gates of Camelot. There were many peasants on the path, heading home to their nearby villages after a day of trading within the city's walls, and Gwaine dropped his voice to avoid being overheard. "So, tell me how all that happened."

Merlin looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Gwaine waved a hand. "I'm guessing you didn't wake up one night and suddenly decide you were going to chat up some dragons."

Merlin laughed, a tad manically. "It sort of went exactly like that."

When no further cryptic response came, Gwaine asked, "Why, then? It seems like a strange hobby to pick up."

Merlin had an answer for this one, and his voice was strong. "They are wise and ancient creatures, and they understand this world in ways we cannot fathom. Kilgharrah burned Agravaine's men and helped us to escape; if it were not for him, Arthur could have died. His advice and strength are invaluable to me, and for the future of Albion."

Well, fie. "Which one was that...Kill-Gara?"

"The gold one. Aithusa is the small one. She's young, slightly over a year now."

The math snapped quickly into place. "She's the one Borden was after? You told Arthur that the egg was destroyed when the tomb collapsed." Gwaine narrowed his eyes, "We all fell asleep in our bowls. You drugged us didn't you?"

"No," Merlin panicked. "Borden did, and I didn't notice until—" he broke off when he heard Gwaine chuckle.

Wistfully, Gwaine said, "I'm finally going to hear all of your stories. You won't be able to say 'Later. One day, Gwaine, I'll tell you.'"

"I—"

"You always said that, mate." Merlin looked down, obviously feeling chastised and guilt-ridden, and Gwaine bumped him with his shoulder. "Though I suppose you had a good reason."

They entered the front gates with a nod to the guards, and they paused in the plaza when the rush of sound and the reminder of their normal duties pressed down on them. Gwaine adjusted his sword belt and squinted at the sun's height in the sky.

"Meeting's not for a bit," he said finally. "I skived off my duties to, uh, catch up with you. I've got to go check in."

Merlin nodded silently, and he watched queasily as Gwaine strode quickly away after a wave. Three times Merlin told himself Gwaine was not going off to tell the others, and even then he felt like he would lose his meager lunch when he lost sight of the knight in the crowd. Gwaine was honest. Gwaine would not have tricked him for information. Gwaine was his friend.

He turned for the path that led to the main castle, walking past the lines of pubs and eateries, skirting through Dragonsbane Square, and then up onto the widely paved road through the Upper Town. He stopped in the courtyard of the castle, and looked up at the grand stairwell. He should probably at least try and pretend to do his duties as a manservant, even if Arthur believed he was sick and in need of rest, but the idea of forcing any semblance of normalcy right now seemed impossible.

More importantly, he had to warn Gaius. Tell, not warn. Because Gwaine was going to keep the secret.

Merlin shook his head and turned from the main entrance, slipping into the shadow of the large battlements and onto the servant's staircase in the East Tower. He had expected to find Gaius still within the physician's chambers, but the elder man had been called away. Merlin looked blankly about the room, wondering if he should go in search of his guardian or wait it out here.

The itch in his side decided for him, and he replaced the empty satchel on the wall before inching up his tunic. The skin around the three tight x's Gaius had stitched over the wound on his hip had reddened, and the edges had swollen. The apple vinegar was still on the workshop table from the other night, and Merlin grabbed a new rag to douse in the acid. The smell and the sting that followed made his nose wrinkle.

He was just contemplating unwrapping his finger when Gaius returned, and the older man seemed to regain a year of his life when his eyes landed on his young charge. Unfortunately, that peace would likely not last for long.

"Gaius, something has happened, and you should probably sit down."

The physician jerked to a halt and furrowed his brows. Carefully, while his face creased with caution, he made his way to the center table and lowered himself onto the bench. "What do you have to tell me, my boy?"

Merlin took a deep breath. No other way to do this, but quick. "Gwaine saw me talking to Kilgharrah."

Gaius paled, and his hands fluttered to grip the table. Words escaped him, and he trembled.

"Don't panic," Merlin said, "Or I'll panic."

Breathlessly Gaius forced out, "What then? Has he gone to tell the King? How much does he know?"

"He only knows about the dragons, but he isn't going to tell anyone."

Gaius was concerned, and he caught on to the thinned timbre in Merlin's voice. "You don't sound convinced."

Merlin clenched his fists and focused on mentally righting himself. "I trust Gwaine. He won't tell."

A moment passed where Gaius studied Merlin's expression for any minor hesitation, but when he found none so terrible he covered his face with his hands and struggled to think past the knee-jerk fear. Eventually he pressed his palms onto the table and fixed a glare at his charge. "You can't tell him of your magic."

Merlin frowned. "Why not? Lancelot knew."

Unnecessarily vicious, Gaius responded, "He spends half his nights drunk, and who knows what he might let slip."

"You're exaggerating," Merlin rebuked, the beginnings of a scowl on his face, "and I'm more likely to make a mistake while drinking than Gwaine is. I only know his secret because he willingly told me."

"Merlin," Gaius fought back, voice strained. "I would have taken your secret to my grave, but there are ways to hurt a person until they cannot resist. Alator used such a method on me."

"Yes," Merlin muttered, "but your idea of protecting magic-users is telling them to run."

Gaius froze, and the room went utterly silent. Shock, and then deep hurt writ itself across the elder man's features.

In a rush Merlin said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." He bent to grip Gaius' wrist tightly. "I'm just tired."

There was a knock on their door, and Merlin tossed the rag of apple vinegar onto the worktable and released Gaius just as the door opened to reveal Percival bent over in the doorway. The knight's gaze swept over them both, but he kept his thoughts to himself. "Arthur's ready for the Round Table."

He wondered if he looked odd just standing in the center of the room. "We're coming," Merlin said.

Percival hovered for a moment longer, then seemed to understand they needed a moment alone and closed the door. His heavy footfalls faded down the small corridor.

"He's going to find out eventually," Merlin said, "and then he'll just be hurt."

Mutedly Gaius responded, "I promised your mother I'd take care of you, and we can't promise that when more people know."

Merlin sighed, and he offered a hand to his guardian to help him to his feet. After a beat of silence, Gaius took it. "This isn't Uther's reign any longer, Gaius. And if I have to keep fighting these battles alone, it's going to kill me."

With Guinevere on his arm, Arthur strode away from the King's Council while furiously trying to not admit to himself that he had missed Merlin winking at him from the sidelines. Their discussion had been an important one, and certainly he was lucky to have a man like Lord Savile prepared to run Camelot behind the scenes, but the lack of windows and fresh air always made the Council room a difficult one to stay in for any length of time. He was happy to stretch his legs, and to get into the more brightly lit Throne Room with the other knights.

Guinevere squeezed his bicep. "I think things are going well. Your dream is that much closer."

"I don't have dreams, Guinevere," Arthur scoffed, "those are for children. I have ambitions."

Gwen rolled her eyes, then smiled when she spied Elyan and Leon at the end of the corridor talking to one of the kitchen servants. The servant curtsied when she and Arthur approached.

"They'll be able to provide a pitcher of lemonade for us," Elyan explained.

"Oh wonderful idea," Gwen said and beamed at the elder servant. "If there is some spare food, I am quite ravenous."

The woman bowed, "I will bring some, your majesty."

As the woman left, Gwen explained, "I was in fittings for winter gowns all morning, and I never got a chance to eat."

"You've always eaten like a pig," Elyan teased, "no need to spin tales for me."

Gwen made a noise of protest, and Leon interjected, "Your majesty eats with the grace of a bird," and then smiled.

Arthur groaned, "You make me look bad when you talk like that, Leon. Besides, Merlin is the one who eats like a bird, and where has he been?"

"You gave him the day off," Gwen said with a frown.

"Yes, but then Queen Annis' letter arrived, and he should be there when we decide our travel plans," Arthur replied stubbornly.

"Percival has gone to fetch Gaius," Leon said, "and I'm sure he will bring Merlin."

"Good," Arthur said as they reached the Throne Room. Guards opened the doors for them, and as a group they walked into the vaulted chamber. Evening sunlight spilled through the stained glass windows, and the brown wood of the Round Table gleamed richly. It's eight high-backed chairs were arranged evenly around the circle.

Arthur took his usual seat, and Guinevere slipped into the chair at his left. The other knights filled in, Gwaine with a clouded expression, and Percival, with Gaius and Merlin not far behind. Merlin, though, didn't sit, instead choosing to stand behind Arthur's shoulder like a shadow, and leaving the chair at Arthur's right empty. This was the usual.

Arthur twisted round and looked at his manservant. He wondered if Merlin realized he looked only slightly warmer than a corpse. Despite that he didn't tell him to sit, because in Arthur's eyes the position had already been offered; it was up to Merlin to accept.

Though the pretense that this was Lancelot's seat may also have had something to do with the continued vacancy. "And what have you been up to? You certainly don't look like you've been sleeping."

Merlin's eyes flashed to Gwaine and then back to Arthur. He grinned lopsidedly. "I was picking herbs for Gaius." Arthur was not oblivious to Merlin and Gwaine's shared look, but that was common, as was playing drinking games and the growing habit of whiling away their on-duty hours at the tavern. If he found out Merlin hadn't actually been sick these past few days but just hungover, well, Merlin was going to die and then Arthur would blame Gwaine for his corrupting influence.

Ultimately he ignored it because he was the bigger man, and because Merlin cheekily said, "Did you call the meeting to talk about my sleep schedule?"

"Hardly," Arthur snorted. He pulled a scroll from his pocket and tossed it into the center of the table. "Queen Annis has invited us to Caerleon for Mabon's feast."

There was silence as they waited for him to continue, but Arthur refused to speak. He was a tad fearful of sounding too hopeful.

"The last time you met her we were on the verge of war," Leon said carefully, "and she had allied with Morgana."

"That's true," Arthur agreed.

"But when you won the battle of single-combat, she stayed true to her word. She seems like an honourable and strong-willed queen," Leon finished.

"Also true."

"It was your decision to kill King Caerleon," Elyan said, "and she may still want to kill you in retribution."

"If that is the case, then Guinevere must remain behind," Arthur cast his eyes to Gwen at his side. She reached over to place her hand over his. "I do want to bring her, because I have yet to meet a ruler that has not loved her."

"The only kings I've met have already been our allies," Gwen said humbly. "I'm not yet a stateswoman, at least not one that Queen Annis would respect."

"Nonsense, Guinevere."

"I don't want to leave you," she said softly, "but I will remain behind if it's for Camelot's safety."

Percival cleared his throat, "If these are peace talks, beginning them with obvious proof of suspicion may not yield the best results."

Arthur frowned, and then looked to the last three who had yet to offer an opinion. Gaius, Gwaine, and Merlin were caught up staring at each other. "Is there something you three would like to share?"

"No, nothing," Gwaine said a bit too quickly, while Gaius reached forward for the scroll. He unrolled it to read just as the kitchen servant arrived with a platter of fruit and cheeses, and a pitcher of lemonade. She handed them to Merlin and curtsied to the group before silently returning to the servant's passage.

"I didn't bring any goblets," Merlin said after he'd cocked his head and searched the recesses of the room, "so who would like me to pour this down their throat?"

Arthur made a noise of disgust. "Just go get some from the royal chambers, Merlin."

"Yes, sire," Merlin chirped, and placed the food and decanter before them. Gwen immediately popped a piece of cheese into her mouth and sighed happily.

Gaius had finished reading by then, and he said, "I do not believe she is double-crossing you, sire. I believe she wants to get the measure of you, for what purpose, I do not know. What did you say in your original message?"

"I repeated what I told her on the battlefield: It's not victory or retribution I'm after, but peace."

"Merlin will be going with you?" Gwaine interjected, and left Arthur confused.

Slowly Arthur replied, "Yes? He is the royal manservant."

"Then I say take her majesty Quinevere," Gwaine said. "I'm sure everything will turn out fine."

Arthur raised a brow, "Because Merlin will be there?"

"He's your good luck charm, isn't he?" Gwaine smirked.

Gaius very quietly put his head in his hands. Merlin returned with three goblets. "Who's the thirstiest?" He called brightly.

"That's ridiculous logic," Arthur said, "if anything, Merlin will trip and spill a pitcher of wine on Annis."

Merlin made sure one of the goblet's smacked against his ear as Merlin set them on the table. Arthur glared, and Merlin smiled innocently. "I will just stand in the corner motionlessly," Merlin said, "and I won't even snore when you start making speeches."

"My speeches," Arthur defended, "are the stuff of ages."

"Yes, with that vocabulary that's no surprise," Merlin snarked back.

"Ugh, I should have given myself more time away from you," Arthur groaned. "The point is you, Guinevere, and I are going to visit Queen Annis as soon as possible. Start packing the bags."

"Just us?" Merlin said curiously, looking out at the knights. He saw his own confusion reflected in them.

"I promised we'd visit Bayard," Arthur explained, "and we no longer have the time before the days get too short. Leon and the others will have to go to Mercia alone." He narrowed his eyes at Gwaine, "And you will act respectably as you represent Camelot."

"He's not going to be happy when he hears you blew him off for Annis," Elyan said warily.

"He's the one who owes Guinevere and I a visit, so he can't complain. Maybe it'll convince him to ride down to Camelot."

Merlin held up his hands to stop them. "Wait, I'm still stuck on the fact that just the three of us are going to Caerleon."

"Obviously, Merlin, we will be taking guards. Sir Brennis has already offered his own squad."

Merlin smiled, "So you admit you can't defend both Gwen and I?"

"Of course I can," Arthur said haughtily, "but it would look ridiculous for the king and queen of a country to be traveling alone with a single manservant."

"Whatever you say, sire," Merlin said smartly.

Arthur gestured toward the royal chambers behind the throne. "Go do something useful and take our clothes to be laundered." Merlin bowed sarcastically and turned away, walking back for the chambers. Arthur was impressed. Merlin had given as good as he got, despite his haggard appearance. "Oh, and Merlin?"

Merlin turned from where he stood on the dais.

"You look more terrible than usual, and I don't want Annis thinking I torture my servants." Merlin stared at him blankly, and Arthur leveled a finger at him. "You better be in bed by evening bell, or it's the stocks for you."

Some of the tension surrounding Merlin slipped from his posture, and his strange expression slowly morphed into his familiar shit-eating grin. "Oh, Arthur, you really do care."

Footnotes:

(1) Borden is a character from the show who puts together the pieces of the key to open Aithusa's egg's tomb.
(2) I sketched out Camelot and the castle before I knew about Pierrefonds, and based my sketches solely on images from the website. Due to this, there are areas of the city like the Plaza (a wide area just within the front gates), Dragonsbane Square (a central location with one of the main wells), and both an Upper Town and a Lower Town.
(3) In this vein, I put the royal bedchambers in the doors that can be seen behind the thrones (images on the Merlin wiki). (Medieval royal's rooms were usually in the great hall, sometimes divided only by a screen, so I messed with this a bit.)
(4) Merlin was briefly tortured in Two Can Keep A Secret (Part 1). He's missing a nail, has got a mostly healed welt along his arm and his sternum, and a deep gash in his hip. Gaius covered his finger in cotton.
(5) In Magic Incarnate (Part 1), Merlin is thrown into the past and witnesses Gaius' failed attempts to prevent Uther from slaughtering many Druids.
(6) Quinevere is a nickname we decided on together back in A Tale of Two Patrols (Part 1).

Author's Note:

I want to reiterate that this is Part 2. I also know some of you are going to glance over at Part 1 and balk '100k+ works, uh yeah, maybe later.' I understand, truly I do. I'll do my best to reintroduce plotlines and characters when they first appear in Part 2, and if I don't do well enough, there will always be footnotes. The last chapter of Part 1 will be an overview of chapters and characters; feel free to use it as a legend for quick skimming.

No long A/N this time, I just want to finally get Part 2 started. Thank you all for reading this far! Thanks to Linorien for convincing me to have a longer section in Gwaine's POV, I think that worked much better, and thanks to Jewelsmg for the excitement over Colin's new show. Go watch it, it looks so awesome! I wish I had the time!

Next time: Matchmaker's Return Policy.