READ ME: Set immediately after Emrys and Arthur's first meeting. Another Twelve Days of Christmas story.

Arthur waited on the balcony. The sun had finally given up for the day, and the moonlight hid most of the scars in his city.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I wanted to make sure the sidhe retreated properly."

Arthur spun to see Emrys leaning against the corner of the railing. The shadows wrapped around him like vines around an ancient tree.

He wondered if Emrys knew how fast his heart was beating. "Quite all right. I . . . appreciate your help today."

A bright spark of satisfaction lit the air. Emrys' smile was delighted and not quite human. "I'm always glad to be of service. Speaking of which, I noticed the hospitals are somewhat overloaded. I could put together some healing charms if you'd like."

The latest casualty reports were staggering. The attacks came too often for them to be anything but, and yet -

Nothing in this world was ever, ever free. He knew that better than most.

"I'd have to speak to the Minister of Health to get it approved," he said. "And he's unlikely to approve anything I suggest."

Emrys' eyes flashed. "I can take care of that too."

Even as insensitive to magic as Arthur was, he still felt the surge of outraged possessiveness. It curled around him, claiming him.

Mine, mine, mine.

The magic settled around him slowly then tightened when it reached the long gash on his arm that he hadn't had time to treat.

"You're hurt," Emrys said, instantly at his side. "Let me see."

Blood in the water, Arthur thought. He couldn't show weakness.

But Emrys had already pushed up his sleeve and golden magic was already crawling beneath his skin, knitting it together.

Magic and blood were never a good combination according to the lore he'd read, at least not for the owner of the blood.

Emrys frowned. "You have to tell me these things. Even minor wounds can be dangerous untreated."

Arthur couldn't imagine what investment Emrys had in his health unless -

Unless it was already too late for him. Unless without meaning to be he was already bound.

He rubbed his arm where the wound had been. "Thank you," he said quietly and managed not to choke on the words.

If he was already lost, then his people still needed help.

"I'll talk the minister into it," he said. Somehow, he would. He had to.

Emrys watched him. The magic pulled even tighter around him in protective concern. "You're tired. Let me handle him."

"It's fine," Arthur protested. "I'm fine."

But he could feel the magic working in him. Feel his eyelids drooping. He swayed against the railing.

Awake. He had to stay awake.

"I've got you," Emrys soothed. "It's going to be alright now. I'll take care of everything."

The golden magic was so full of concern and care that just for a moment, as he drifted to sleep, he let himself believe it was real. Let himself believe it was just like something else he almost remembered.

The magic spilled into his dreams.