Thank you to john'sgirlfriend2date for beta-ing! And for thinking up the summary :)

Morning light beamed in through the window, revealing dust moats trailing from the old tomes and books which covered every surface in the room except the bed and work table. The tranquility of the cozy room was broken by the mahogany door crashing open and a slim figure hurtling through. Merlin stumbled into the middle of his chambers, looking wildly about for his new cloak. Eyes the colour of a tumultuous river roved around the room, and then glared with a golden light.

"Damn," the warlock cursed under his breath, realizing through the use of his spell that the cloak he needed was not in the room. Months of planning and conniving had been leading up to this moment and the final piece that Merlin needed was the black cloak for his disguise. It was no normal cloak - the fabric was stitched with enchantments known to only a select group of sorcerers. The band of renegades opposed to the king's rule did not let many into their sect and this cloak was an initiation of a sorts. Certainly, the secret enchantments were meant to be passed on willingly but Merlin had had no time for that. His position as Emrys carried much sway and proved to be a perfect revelation to get mouths talking.

And now that Merlin had discovered their hideout, he needed that cloak to get inside. With another pointless sweep of his chambers, Merlin turned on his heel only to be stopped by a nearly inaudible giggle. The court sorcerer's expression cleared in understanding. "I should have known," Merlin sighed and turned around before calling in a louder voice. "Gwin!"

A head with a nest of wavy black hair poked out from under the four poster bed and a mischievous grin was sent his way. The boy did not learn that from his mother that was for sure. "Gwindir, did you take my cloak?" Merlin asked, doing his best to not be angry. The seconds were slipping by.

"Daddy says you're 'posed to call me Prince Gwindir," the child stated pretentiously.

Merlin drew in a calming breath. "Alright, Prince Gwindir, did you take my cloak?"

Gwin laughed in delight as he did every time Merlin bent to his will. "Nooooo," the toddler cooed and scrambled up from the floor.

Merlin strode forward and knelt in front of the boy, Gwin's smile slipping away when Merlin grabbed his shoulders. "Look, Gwin, I really need that cloak. There isn't time for games." Gwin bit his lip, now looking far away from happy. A frown settled onto his childish face, a shade lighter than his mother's. "Where is my cloak?"

Gwin huffed out a sigh, knowing to listen to Merlin when he was serious. Even his father said he had to, even though the king never listened to Merlin himself. "My room," he mumbled.

Merlin grinned and ruffled Gwin's dark locks. "Thanks, Gwin."

The toddler was shocked at the speed Merlin vaulted up and fled the room but Gwin hurriedly scurried after him. "Wait, Uncle Merlin!" Gwin yelled after him, his voice echoing through the corridor.

His uncle did better than wait- Merlin turned back and scooped Gwin into his arms before carrying on his way. Gwin looked at Merlin's face and was bothered enough to not try pulling at the warlock's dark stubble. Merlin's angular features were pinched and not at all happy like Gwin was accustomed to seeing. "Don't be sad, Uncle Merlin," Gwin said worriedly.

Grey eyes stared into the child's blue ones and Merlin gave him a smile. "I'm not sad, Gwin," Merlin told him.

"Oh," Gwin said happily, "S'not good when you're sad."

Merlin grinned at him and gave him a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for being like your mother," he laughed.

"You're welcome," the prince of Camelot said politely, remembering his manners. Even though Merlin was not talking like he normally did, Gwin was content to rest his head on Merlin's shoulder and fiddle with the man's sideburns as he was being carried. That was until Merlin reached Gwin's chambers and then the peaceful toddler in his arms became his father's son.

"You're not allowed in!" Gwin declared even as Merlin opened the door with magic. Gwindir's nurse maid was not in which meant that the woman was out looking for the toddler. The poor woman was going prematurely grey, yet still loved the boy like one of her own.

"Court sorcerer can go anywhere he wants," Merlin reminded Gwin while setting him down. The toddler was quick to grab onto Merlin's leg as the warlock stretched out his arm. To Merlin's pleasure and Gwin's disappointment, the black cloak came flying from under Gwin's bed. Under beds was the prince's favourite hiding spot.

"I for-bid you from going!" Gwin shouted at him, pulling on his trousers. The prince had taken very great care how to say 'forbid' once he learnt what it meant. To Arthur's endless amusement, Merlin was the only person Gwin used it on.

Merlin looked down and felt like the worst scum to walk the earth. He let out a helpless sigh and looked everywhere but the clinging three year old staring up at him. Merlin could have dealt with anger but Gwin looked positively depressed- his eyes glittered like Gwen's though the colour was from Arthur. "Gwin- come on."

"No!" the toddler cried. "Don't want you to go!" To Merlin's horror, tears started to leak from young Prince Gwindir's large blue eyes. The child turned his face to bury it in Merlin's leg.

"Gwin," Merlin appealed. He did his best to ignore the prince's wails and began to walk to the throne room with the toddler still attached to his leg, standing on his toes. The warlock did his best to soothe Gwin but his parents were the only ones able to calm him down when he was in this state. It was sadly a familiar sight so Merlin was not bothered by people's looks as he loped through the halls with a wailing toddler heralding his path.

Arthur was waiting for them with a resigned expression. Gwin's crying had pierced through the throne room doors so he had dismissed the two council members he had been conversing with. When Merlin strode through with Gwin attached to his leg like a leech, Arthur nearly smiled. But then he saw the dark cloak in Merlin's hands.

Arthur frowned at his three year old. "Gwin, did you steal Uncle Merlin's cloak?"

The boy was clearly taking lying tips from Merlin because he wouldn't look at Arthur. He stood off of Merlin's boot and sidled behind the warlock. Merlin sent Arthur a desperate look. "Gwindir..." the king said in a low voice.

"Yes." The prince's voice flittered out from behind Merlin.

Arthur rose out of his throne, taking heed of the look Merlin sent him. The king walked to Merlin and knelt down to regard his son. "Why?"

Big blue eyes looked up from dark lashes. "Want him to stay," Gwin mumbled. Arthur could practically hear Merlin's heart break.

Arthur sighed and took a short glance up at Merlin whose face was contorted in a wince. "He'll come back, Gwin. Why don't you go say goodbye?" Arthur proposed in a tone Gwin knew not to argue with.

The toddler's lips trembled violently and he ran around Merlin who engulfed him in a hug. Gwin's shoulders shuddered as he sobbed and Merlin held him for a short while.

"I'll be back soon," Merlin told him and ruffled the prince's hair. Arthur took that as his cue to pull Gwin away and as soon as the toddler was out of Merlin's reach the warlock met Arthur's eyes and disappeared from view.

The king sighed after Merlin left, banishing the pang of worry he always felt when his friend went on a dangerous mission. "Come on, Gwin," he said to his son.

The three year old stared petulantly at the spot from where Merlin had disappeared but grabbed the king's hand. Arthur gave it a squeeze and offered words of encouragement, leading the way out into the corridor.

"When's he coming back?" Gwin looked up and asked Arthur in a childish timbre, his eyes still red rimmed from crying. The nasal tone to his voice told Arthur the boy hadn't been faking it. Gwindir was growing quite skilled at that unfortunately.

The king looked sympathetically at his son and then gathered him into his arms. Uther would never have carried Arthur when he was younger but Arthur strived to learn from his own father's mistakes. "Soon, Gwin."

"But when?" Gwin insisted.

"Tomorrow," Arhtur said brightly.

Gwin's face immediately scrunched into a frown. Tomorrow to a three year old may as well have been forever. Arthur could not but help release a small chuckle at the expression. He looked remarkably like his mother when he was upset- grouchy blue eyes were definitely inherited from Arthur as well as his mouth but his dark hair and round face was passed down from Gwen with the exact same pout.

"Come on, why don't we go visit your mother," Arthur suggested. Gwin sniffed and nodded, seemingly in the mood to sulk. "Alright," Arthur said, drawing out the word, "Mummy will know what to do."

Lachlan was waiting for him when Merlin appeared in the cave. The younger man sighed loudly in relief. "Where were you?" he demanded, his green eyes narrowing at Merlin.

"Sorry," the warlock apologized, "I ran into a delay."

Lachlan was shorter than Merlin and had a stature like the warlock did when he was younger but the many years of being Arthur's servant bulked Merlin up so he was the larger of the two inside their meeting point. A dark cave housed the younger man, filled with furry lichen and jagged rocks. There were no comforts but soon the other sorcerer's hardship would be over and they would take out the renegades once and for all.

"A delay?" Lachlan repeated, "This is our only shot, Merlin."

"Yes," Merlin said, and threw his dark cloak over himself. "So let's not waste it."

The younger man bit his lip and nodded, drawing up the hood of his own cloak. "Orville came by this morning. Said there were five including him."

"And we will make seven," Merlin concluded with a grave expression.

"He didn't know what they were planning, but it's the main players waiting for us." Lachlan cracked his fingers and gave his head a sturdy nod. "You ready?" Merlin's lack of response made the younger man falter.

"Something isn't right," Merlin said.

"What do you mean?" Lachlan wondered.

"Where is Orville now?"

"He went back," Lachlan explained, "like you told him to."

Merlin frowned and immediately looked toward the mouth of the cave. "I told him to wait here," Merlin said to the light outside.

Lachlan's face paled beneath his hood. "You don't think-" he cut off with a gasp as darkness spread throughout the cave. Shadow bloomed from the exit, extinguishing any source of light. When Merlin casted a dazzling orb up toward the stalactites, a ring of white robed sorcerers stood around them. The warlock gritted his teeth and stood his ground while Lachlan took a panicked step toward Merlin. There were more than fifty men and women surrounding them, and Merlin felt with a certainty that this was their entire order. Only one had his hood drawn down and that was Orville, Lachlan's closest friend and fellow double agent.

"I'm sorry," he said to them, his voice cracking. "Every man has his price."

Merlin met his bright eyes and adopted an unforgiving expression. He had sold them out and Merlin, despite his power, could not fight the entire order only known as the Acolytes with just Lachlan at his side.

"Orville?" Lachlan breathed.

Merlin felt an enchantment being cast and braced himself, only to tighten his fists when both Lachlan and Orville disappeared in a gust of magic. Ah, Merlin thought, sold me out. In the back of his mind he scolded himself for not realizing. Orville had been protective of the younger man ever since Merlin had met them.

"Well hello," Merlin called jauntily to the sorcerers surrounding him. "My name's Merlin." The warlock smiled tensely and tried to sense anyway out of his predicament. Silence met his greeting and a response came when as one, the group of sorcerers stepped forward.

The warlock straightened his back and narrowed his eyes, readying himself for a bloody fight. Sixty three to one weren't so bad odds, he figured. "I'm rather flattered," Merlin said tensely, "all of you coming to kill little old me."

A harsh bark of laughter came from Merlin's right but he did not look anywhere but straight ahead. "You've caused us so much trouble, Emrys. It is time we returned the favour," said the same man who laughed.

"I don't know what you are waiting for then," Merlin stated. Before they could react, he took initiative and threw the first spell, knocking the first wave of sorcerers back. At once he was bombarded with a wave of spells, all of them meant to inflict pain. Merlin noted that none of them were meant to kill. He held out for fifteen long minutes, able to rid himself of at least ten men, when it felt like a hammer caved in the back of his skull.

Merlin cried out and fell forward, having no time to defend himself before restraining wards bound his limbs. It took all of them to hold him, Merlin desperately trying to free himself and nearly succeeding if not for one of the sorcerers hitting him across the face. Then everything went black as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Waking up was not a pleasant experience. Merlin was first aware of the pain shooting through his head which caused him to groan. "Welcome back, Emrys," a woman's voice greeted coldly.

Merlin breathed through the pain and forced himself to rise to his feet. His cloak was gone, allowing the cold air of the stone room they were in to bite through his tunic. He felt his magic being supressed, a look around the circular room telling him that the white cloaked sorcerers lining the stone walls were responsible. Merlin grimaced- this was not the first time such a spell had been used on him, but unfortunately it was not easy to throw off. He glared at the woman who spoke and she smiled cruelly at him.

"The sun is setting, and it is now time to begin," she said. Her voice was as rigid as her face, like cold iron biting into his skin.

Merlin hid his surprise. Had he been out for that long? There were no windows here, only damp stone walls which seemed to entrap the heavy shadows. "Begin what?" the warlock demanded, working harder to shake off the enchantment that bound his magic and found it to be slipping.

"Making you human," answered the man beside her. They were in the middle of a line of sorcerers and each began to link hands. Merlin had nowhere to go as they began to chant. It was not the old tongue, but the language of the Sidhe. A cold feeling delved into his bones, making him stagger back and lose his breath. Merlin was driven to his knees at the weight that slammed into him and he groaned in pain when his magic started to roil in his veins.

They were doing something to his magic, Merlin realized and then screamed when a surge of fire burnt his insides. "No," Merlin seethed, trying to guard his magic by wrapping his arms around his ribs. "No!" Merlin yelled in agony, fighting against the flames tearing through him. He felt his eyes glow with a painful heat, his magic lashing out at the sorcerers. There was a moment of respite when a few of them were struck dead but not for long. Merlin hardly felt his chest being torn open, by a spell he later realized, and not his own magic rebelling. The warlock screamed and his pain made the fortress tremble.

It was the lack of brightness that woke Gwin up. The toddler sat up in his bed, confused at what had awakened him before he noticed that some of the small orbs of silver light that Uncle Merlin had made for him were gone. They usually revolved around the chambers, like blue stars on the ceiling but half of them were missing. With a yelp, Gwin saw two of them fade before his eyes.

"Gwin?" Elizabeth called. His nursemaid came from cleaning up the antechamber. "What is wrong, child?"

Gwin ignored her, instead gazing in horror at the darkness where his lights had been. They were all gone now. But Merlin had promised him the lights would never go out. Gwin's breaths came in short pants- he knew something was wrong. Elizabeth neared his bed but cried out in surprise when the toddler shot out of it. "Gwin!"

The prince tore through the halls, knowing exactly where his father was. Sobs escaped him as he ran to the council chambers, leaving his nursemaid far behind him. Merlin had told Gwin that as long as he had those lights, his uncle would always be there to fight away the night monsters. But they were gone and that meant something bad. Something very, very bad.

"If Merlin is successful in finding their hideout, we will need to mobilize our forces right away," Sir Gareth stated. A heated argument was taking place over ambushing the sorcerers at once or waiting to strengthen their forces.

"We do not yet know how many there are," Guinevere pointed out, "sending word to our outposts will serve no purpose yet."

"Didn't Merlin say there were around fifty?" Percival asked gently. The large knight was standing up, leaning his hands on the edge of the round table.

They all sat close together, as there were only the king and queen with Sirs Percival, Leon, and Gareth.

"That was before he left," Leon said, "what we need to discuss is our course of action when the time comes. Now, Merlin and Gilli have been training some knights to use magic, but…"

A loud groan rose over Leon's words and everyone looked up at the sound the doors opening. Before they were fully open, a small figure squeezed through. Gwin's bare feet slapped against the floor as he dashed toward them and his panicked sobs grew louder as he approached. The king sighed and exchanged a look with Guinevere, getting out of his chair to comfort his son. The knights around him cleared away to make room for the prince.

"Another nightmare, Gwin?" He knelt down to his son's level and opened his arms for the boy. Gwin crashed into him and Arthur stared into his tear filled eyes. "You know your mother and I are-"

"The lights in my room are gone!" Gwin gasped.

Arthur took a moment to realize what was said before his heart plummeted. "...Merlin's lights?"

Gwindir nodded frantically. "All of them!"

The king's son did not know the magnitude of that but Arthur did and it caused him to stand up at once. Gwen hurried to them and scooped up Gwindir, sending Arthur a terrified look. Before anything was said, the door slammed open and Sir Gwaine came running breathlessly through. "Arthur, you have to come quick, it's Merlin!" he yelled.

Arthur was in motion at once, taking note of the blood on the knight's torso. "Does he live?" Arthur hissed, wary of his son. But the moment they cleared earshot, Arthur raised his voice. "Gwaine, does he live?"

The reply was lodged in Gwaine's throat and he broke into a run. "I've sent for Gaius and Alice. He's in the throne room."

"What happened?" Arthur demanded as he followed.

"I don't bloody know, Arthur," Gwaine replied, his voice hitching.

When they ran into the throne room, there were only two guards hovering over an immobile form on the floor. They immediately cleared away to give Arthur and Gwaine space, each looking relieved when they laid eyes on the king, as if he could make everything better.

"Merlin!?" Arthur called while running to his friend. The king first saw the torchlight glittering off the blood soaking Merlin's tunic and then a sliver of pale skin on his face. Dread, so cold and empty it threatened to crush him rocked through the king. He crashed to his knees beside Merlin, not even daring to touch him.

Merlin's eyes were open but Arthur knew enough from experience that he did not see. "Merlin? Merlin!"

A bubble of blood popped out of Merlin's lips, followed by a rattling gasp of air. "Ar…"

"Just hang on, Merlin, alright, just hang on," Arthur coached, glancing up at the doors for any signs of Camelot's physicians.

Merlin's hand twitched, his shaking fingers reaching upward with unconscious need and Arthur reached for it without thinking. He could tell that Merlin was too weak to hold his hand so the king held Merlin's.

A moan of pain escaped Merlin's lips and his eyes finally focused onto Arthur's. The warlock tried to speak but only low breaths made it out. A tear seeped out of Merlin's eye and trailed down his bloody and bruised cheek.

"No," Arthur whispered and then begged in a rising voice, "no Merlin. Don't you dare, don't you dare!"

"Merlin!" Gwaine growled.

But Merlin was not listening anymore, his eyes fluttered closed and the tension he held himself with relaxed. Arthur stopped breathing the same time Merlin did.

Guinevere's son slept much like her brother had. Not much had been able to get Elyan up once he had went to sleep. She did not know if that was like most children or if she just wanted to see Elyan in Gwindir. It was times like these Gwen missed Elyan most. If Merlin did not pull through, she didn't know if she would be able to recover. The pain of Elyan's loss had not ebbed, adding another would be too much. Seeing what it would do to Arthur would be bad enough.

But Gwen clamped her eyes shut and forced those thoughts away. When she opened them and looked down at Gwindir once more, she had to blink to ward away the tears that had gathered. Reflections from the fire light glittering in from the window caught on the beads of water pooled on her eyelashes, drawing her gaze to the latticed panes. The drapes were left open since it comforted Gwin to see the light of the moon and stars. Guinevere left her son for a moment to go to the window.

Her hand reached up to feel the cold glass. Outside it and down below in the courtyard, people were standing side by side. Each held candles and all of the pinpricks of light made a beautiful sight to behold, like little stars floating over the stone. The first day the people stood in tribute for the court sorcerer had made her angry. Merlin wasn't dead and it seemed an insult they would give up on him so soon. But the longer he had remained alive, the more she felt those candles gave Merlin strength. It might have been a silly thought, but it gave her strength too.

It had been five days now and all of those nights Gwindir had cried himself to sleep in his mother's arms. Arthur had barely slept at all- the king had been by Merlin's side as Gaius and Alice fought to keep Merlin alive. He was the only one besides them to see the warlock at all until yesterday when Gwen had made an alliance with Gwaine and forced their way in. She had seen Merlin injured before, a great many times, but she doubted she would ever forget seeing him like that. He was hovering on the border between life and death, looking less alive than Gwen had ever seen him. Barring the time he had been poisoned when he first became Arthur's servant.

When he pulled through, Gwen had half a mind to kiss him again.

All of a sudden her face contorted in grief and a hand covered her mouth to keep a sob locked inside. Gwen turned away from the window and closed her eyes, trying to keep herself together. But something ugly just wanted to escape so she straightened her shoulders and calmly walked for the door, glancing at the sleeping Gwindir as she passed. Once outside, she collapsed against the wall and slid down so she could sit, her breath shuddering as she exhaled. Guinevere allowed herself exactly five minutes to cry and only that. Or perhaps it was ten. But she composed herself and banished the tears, burying her sorrow.

Gwen wiped her eyes and stood up, releasing an exhausted sigh. She waited outside Gwindir's chambers, just staring at the wall opposite and did so until Elizabeth returned from her own home, where Gwen had ordered her to tend to her own life for a while. The middle aged woman greeted her with a smile which did nothing to conceal the worry in her eyes.

"Were you able to put him to bed, m'lady?" she asked.

"Yes," Gwen replied quietly.

"There is nothing like a mother's touch, I say," Elizabeth told her pleasantly, having the grace to not mention Guinevere's wet eyes.

The queen managed a smile. "Would you look after him for me? I want to go see Merlin."

"Of course," Elizabeth said, "say hello to that rascal for me." She laid a hand on Gwen's shoulder before going into the chambers.

The queen set off, her shallow heels echoing down the halls. On her way, a guard spotted her walking alone and volunteered himself to escort her. He was a chatty young man and managed to lift her spirits some by the time she arrived at the physician's chambers. David- he said his name was- then left her, content that she was now safe. Gwaine was sitting in the hall outside the chambers, kept company by Percival and Leon. The three of them looked up at her presence and made to get up before she gestured for them to stop. "Any news?" Gwen asked.

"His fever went down a bit," Percival answered, "that was about an hour ago."

"Is there anything you would have us do, my lady?" Leon wondered.

"No, that's alright." Silence spread amongst them and Gwen sent them a smile before moving to the door. The queen hesitated as her hand grasped the handle but she quickly pushed it open and proceeded inside.

The king waited in the candle light. It had been five days since Merlin was dying in his arms and now he was still fighting for his life. But he was no longer hanging by a thread, and for that Arthur was grateful. His friend was so very pale, even his lips, and the only colour to be found was the purple shadows under his eyes. Merlin's dark sideburns and stubble seemed to make the white of his skin even paler. Arthur watched the warlock for any twitch on his lax face or any strained breath making his chest shudder.

Gaius has said he'd been attacked with a very dark magic on top of all the physical trauma and blood loss he'd endured. Four broken ribs and six cracked ones, both legs practically shattered with a fractured hip. One arm had managed to escape harm but the other almost had to go. It had taken four healers and Gaius to fix everything but even so, Merlin would be in pain for a long while. The king felt sick thinking about it, and utterly useless. The only thing that brought him any satisfaction was the knowledge that all those bastards were dead. They had almost killed Merlin but in the end even not even sixty three sorcerers could bring him down and that made Arthur proud. When one of Merlin's spies had informed Arthur, the king had smiled.

He looked up as Gaius left his work table and walked to them. The old man was tired, likely sleeping as well as Arthur was but his lined face was resolute. "How is his fever?" Gaius asked, sitting on the chair across from the king with a small vial in his hands. He could have checked himself but realized long ago that Arthur needed to feel like he was doing something.

The king put a hand to Merlin's forehead and nodded. "Still warm, but better than before."

"Good," Gaius said and leaned forward. Arthur lifted Merlin's head, his hand cradling the back of the court sorcerer's neck. Gaius slowly tipped the vial against Merlin's lips, letting the liquid inside trickle in. The door opened then and Arthur looked to see Gwen stroll inside. He gave her a small smile before fixing his attention back on Merlin. No one spoke as Gaius coaxed Merlin to drink the contents, running a finger down Merlin's throat when his reflex to swallow lulled.

"How is he?" Gwen asked softly when Gaius nodded for Arthur to lower Merlin's head down to the pillow. The queen's voice was calm but Arthur picked out the desperation she attempted to hide.

Arthur let Gaius answer while he stood up and grabbed Guinevere's hand. "Much better," the physician stated, even looking somewhat relieved. "I believe he will recover."

Gwen looked unconvinced, looking at Merlin with her eyebrows stitched together. "He doesn't look better," she observed darkly and sunk into the chair Arthur had vacated. "He's so pale." Gwen kept a hold of Arthur's hand and used the other one to brush the side of Merlin's face. "And still has a fever."

"He nearly died, Gwen," Gaius said gently, "he is very lucky as it is." Arthur listened to them, not feeling the motivation to speak.

Gwen inclined her head and bit her lip, a habit Arthur thought she had shed years ago. "I know, I'm just… where's Alice?" The king squeezed Gwen's hand. She was worried yes but she knew that Gaius was too, and she would never want to make Gaius feel worse than he already did.

"Sleeping. It is the middle of the night, you know," the physician answered, mustering up a smile.

Arthur watched Gwen close her eyes in embarrassment. "Yes of course," she sighed.

"You're tired," Arthur said to her.

"So are you," Gwen said, looking up at him and then at Gaius. "We all are."

The king knew what Guinevere was going to suggest next so he shook his head. "I'm not leaving," he told her.

Before she could protest, Gaius added, "And I do not want to wake Alice."

Gwen's dark eyes glittered in the candle light. "Well one of you is going to sleep. Gwaine, Percival, and Leon are all outside waiting to see Merlin. They can stay up with him as well." Arthur slipped his hand out of Gwen's and coolly raised his chin. He regretted it the moment he balled his hands into fists but Gwen did not seem angry. "Gaius," she said to the physician. "Please, you have been up for so long now. Just take a small rest."

Arthur could see the physician gain a steely glint in his eye as a silver eyebrow rose. "She can make that an order, Gaius," Arthur commented.

Gaius sighed out a protest and gave a half-hearted nod. "Only let one of them in at a time," he said, eyeing the front door. "And tell me at once if something changes. Even if you deem it insignificant."

"We will, Gaius," Gwen told him.

The physician nodded again as if to get himself ready before he looked down at Merlin. He rested his hand on Merlin's forehead tenderly. "You idiot boy," he said so softly Arthur almost did not hear. Gaius then bid them a goodnight before walking to the back room and inching the door open quietly. When he retreated inside, Arthur went to the other chair and sat down.

He and Gwen sat in silence as they watched Merlin. Over an hour went by and then Arthur noticed Gwen's head bob up and down as she tried to fight sleep. She noticed when he looked at her and smiled tiredly. "Will you be alright?" she asked him.

"Yeah," Arthur answered with a fond smile. "You should go to sleep. You will need at least some energy to handle Gwindir tomorrow."

She rose out of her chair, gracefully despite her exhaustion. "If Gaius says it's alright, I was thinking of bringing him by tomorrow."

Arthur contained a wince as he got up to say goodbye to his wife. He was spending as much time as he could with Merlin, but Arthur was still a king and a father. In addition to tending to matters of state, Arthur had done his best to console Gwin but the boy was too upset to listen. Guinevere was taking care of him though and let Arthur tend to Merlin.

"I love you, Guinevere," he said earnestly as he approached her, his eyes looking deeply into her own.

Gwen smiled. "And I love you," she said and gave him a kiss.

Together, they glanced down at Merlin and Arthur wished that he would get up and complain. "Oh get a room will you!" Arthur imagined he would say.

Gwen pulled away and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before she departed the chambers. Arthur sighed and reclaimed a seat, wanting to go with Gwen but needing to stay with Merlin. While she filled the others in outside, Arthur took the moment alone to grab the cloth he rested on the bed post and used it to wipe away the sweat glistening on Merlin's brow. Before when his fever was raging, Merlin's skin had been dry as a bone so this was a sign that Merlin really was getting better. Arthur was not ready to feel safe yet however.

Behind him, the door opened quietly and he turned to see who it was, not surprised that it was Gwaine to walk in the door. The knight walked quickly but stopped with a long inhale. He let his shoulders relax and he sat down beside the bed, reaching to pat Arthur's shoulder as he did so. Arthur put a finger to his lips to make sure Gwaine would be silent. Merlin needed to rest but the bruise like shadows under his eyes told Arthur that he wasn't getting enough.

Gwaine nodded and contented himself with staring at Merlin, awed that his friend was still alive. His dark eyes were relieved and overjoyed but shadowed with a lingering fear that the king completely understood. Arthur supposed that Gwaine would be hovering around Merlin for quite some time after he recovered. Bad luck for Merlin because Arthur intended to as well.

Restlessness stirred under his skin but it was buried too deep by his exhaustion to make an attempt at escape. The sun had risen, the warm light shined through the window and fell across the floor and onto Gaius' bed. Arthur had watched since dawn, the light stretch along Merlin's covered torso and eventually to warm his face. Merlin did not stir even though the sunlight made a trail which covered one of his eyes.

The heat of the morning was welcomed especially now that Merlin's fever was gone. The warlock's breathing had eased and Gwaine had mentioned that he seemed less pale, though Arthur thought he still seemed a sickly white.

Arthur lifted his eyes off Merlin and found Gaius where he sat at the table. "Are you certain it would be wise to allow my son to visit?" Arthur asked.

"It will not harm Merlin, he likely cannot hear anything now anyway," Gaius replied but then a frown flickered across his face. "But his state will scare Gwin so the decision is up to you, Arthur."

The king nodded, having already anticipated Gaius' answer. "I fear that keeping him in the dark will do more harm than good."

But it was too late now, as a gentle knock sounded on the door. Gwen was here with Gwindir.

"His father's son then," Gaius noted as the door opened.

Guinevere stepped regally into the room, her head held high and her back straight, a strong front for Gwin who followed behind her. He held his mother's hand, sticking close to her side and clinging onto Gwen's long skirt with his small fingers, immediately searching out Arthur with his large eyes. The king smiled but Gwin's gaze was drawn to the motionless form of Merlin sleeping on the bed. Guinevere guided him along, the boy suddenly nervous. He allowed himself to be led to Merlin, Gwen sitting on the chair opposite Arthur and holding Gwin loosely around the waist.

Arthur watched his son as he stared at Merlin, seeing the widening of his fearful eyes and the quiver in his lips.

"Uncle Merlin," Gwin whispered, "Uncle Merlin?" The child waited for any sign of movement, staring for a painfully long while before glancing up at his father for answers.

"He's sleeping, Gwin," Arthur told him gently, "he won't wake up for a bit, that's all."

A quiet sniffle escaped the three year old and he turned to Gwen for a hug. Arthur exchanged glances with Gaius as Guinevere held Gwin close. The king could see Gaius getting a cup of milk and honey for Gwin.

"He's bad sleeping, Mummy," the prince said to Gwen, his little voice muffled.

"He's just very tired, Gwin," she said.

"I'm scared," he muttered.

Gaius came over then and stopped beside Gwin. He would have knelt if he was a few years younger but his old bones could not take such strain anymore. "There is no need to be scared, child," he comforted in a warm voice. "Once Merlin wakes up, he will tell you so himself."

The prince sniffed again. "Really?"

"Of course," Gaius said, "Now have some of this, it will make you feel better."

Guinevere smiled at the physician and lifted Gwin onto her lap. Once settled the boy reached for the mug Gaius was offering. "Thank you, Gaius," he said.

Arthur smiled. It seemed like his son was becoming more like Guinevere every day, and the king could not be more proud. His gaze connected with his wife's and she smiled slightly before kissing the side of Gwindir's head.

"Lord Rede will be visiting," she said to start conversation and Arthur regarded her between frequent glances at Gwin and Merlin. "In two months time. His letter arrived this morning."

"Hmm. Is he bringing his brother?" Arthur asked disinterestedly. Neither he nor Gwen would care to converse about Lord Rede and his smarmy younger brother but the ordinary conversation might help Gwin relax. As they spoke, their son drank his milk inattentively, his attention focused on Merlin. Arthur tracked both the lowering of Gwin's shoulders and the steady rise and fall of Merlin's chest. The court sorcerer had made no indication that he realized he was not alone. Merlin's face was blank of expression, and even though he was sleeping Arthur understood Gwin's alarm. The king's friend was not a still person even in the throes of sleep; he'd mutter incomprehensibly or his lips would twitch upward as if laughing at a joke. He would toss and turn and annoy Arthur when they went on patrols because he'd hear Merlin shuffle about on his bed roll. There were times Merlin could hold a conversation while sleeping even though his words would make no sense, which was always a laugh.

The king did not realize he stopped replying to Gwen and was staring at Merlin until small hands settled on his arms. Arthur looked away to see Gwindir looking at him with concern shining in his sky blue eyes. An instinctive and fake smile found its way onto his lips but before he could speak, Gwin beat him to it.

"It's okay, father," he said, "Uncle Merlin will be better."

Arthur smiled at his little son and lifted the boy onto his lap. Gwin leant onto his chest right away and gripped Arthur's tunic. "I know, Gwin. I'm just being silly, aren't I?" the king said brightly, wrapping his arms protectively around his son. Gwindir nodded and across from Arthur, Gwen smiled.

"He'll be better in no time," he said to himself. His statement however proved to be untrue and it was to be days before Merlin would even open his eyes.

In the small hours of morning, Merlin slept on with the sun. Wavering candlelight filled the small room in the back of the physician's chambers, the one Merlin used to occupy years before. Neither Gaius nor Alice were comfortable with letting the warlock far from their eyes and wanted him to recover as smoothly as possible. He was never left alone, with Gaius doing most of the watching and Arthur a close second. But Merlin didn't know that, what he did know as his eyelashes slowly parted, was pain. It was what woke him. He could not distinguish his arms from his legs, everything hurt.

An unintentional groan left his dry lips after he tried to swallow down the needles buried in his throat. There was movement from his side, not that he could tell since his vision was blurry and dark. He heard the sound of a door opening and was vaguely surprised when someone lifted his head- Merlin knew it was Arthur even before the king's voice gently urged him to drink. The edge of a cup was placed against his lips and water glided blissfully into his throat, and his tongue dislodged itself from the roof of his mouth.

"Not so fast," Arthur said and pulled away the cup.

"Mmfffnng," Merlin replied in a strong attempt at speech. The tension formed along his neck fell away as the strength to try and hold it up faded. All he could think about was getting more water which Arthur patiently let him drink. Merlin almost choked when sleep made a grab for him but he did not want to let it take him. It didn't help when Arthur lowered the warlock's head back down to the pillow causing a wave of lethargy to push over his head. "Arrh," he protested.

"Go back to sleep, Merlin," Arthur's voice told him, with all of the patience previously displayed, which should have instantly alerted Merlin that something was wrong.

Merlin breathed through the pain boiling through his veins and felt his brow wrinkle in distress. "No," he managed to say.

"Here," an unfamiliar voice said.

"Thank you, Alice," Arthur replied but Merlin barely recognized him. The king was saying something else but his strange voice merged into buzzing, high pitched and piercing, causing him to moan. Next thing he knew he was swallowing some more water and then he could no longer fight away sleep. Even sleeping, the pain did not let go.

As the days passed, it slowly released its hold and when Merlin woke next the only thing he felt was a dull throbbing when he opened his eyes. And cold. So cold that his bones hurt and the furs blanketing him might as well have been thin sheets. The only consolation was the fire warming his side, which he thought might be far too close which expedited his way to waking. Only, there was a fog behind his eyes, like a thick cotton in his head trying to smother him back to sleep. But Merlin trudged through it and eventually came to blink at the ceiling of his chambers. Not knowing how he got there or how long he had been out, Merlin looked down at his side to investigate the warmth. Despite feeling rather horrible, a small smile lifted his lips. Gwindir was sleeping next to him, curled up and clinging loosely to Merlin's sleeve. As he looked at the toddler, a shape at the corner of his eye caused him to glance back up.

King Arthur was watching him, sitting beside Merlin's bed and alert like a taught bow string. But when Merlin's eyes met his, Arthur relaxed, his shoulders drooping but he still looked weary. "We thought we lost you, Merlin," he greeted, his tone as dark as the shadows under his eyes.

That sounded serious. Merlin blinked at his friend, noting that his beard was scruffier than normal and his eyes were red with exhaustion. As he took in a breath to speak, Merlin knew that his voice wouldn't be in prime condition. "Sorry," he offered, the apology almost wordless since it came out as a grating croak. Beside him, Gwin twitched but did not wake. "Was he worried?" Merlin asked hoarsely.

"Stop talking," Arthur reprimanded, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at Merlin like he would disappear any moment. Merlin tried to offer him a small smile which faded at Arthur's next words. "And yes, he's spent the last two weeks crying. Shut up."

Merlin's eyebrows rose toward his hairline, stunned that he would have been asleep for so long. All that lost time, just wasted away. "But-"

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur repeated with a forcefulness that made Merlin's mouth snap shut. The warlock might have been offended if Arthur didn't reach forward to grip his shoulder. "We were all worried, so do us a favour and go to back to sleep."

As if summoned by Arthur's words, Merlin's exhaustion beckoned him towards sleep. A lump then grew in his throat, which was unreasonable he thought and utterly embarrassing as his eyes started to sting. He didn't want to sleep and was desperate to remain awake, even if he felt utterly exhausted. "Can't," he croaked.

The king found him out right away, and squeezed Merlin's shoulder. "Don't make me wake Gwindir now," Arthur said, which earned a grudging chuckle from Merlin. "Look, you need to sleep and then you can get back to annoying me when you wake up."

"Promise?" Merlin conceded.

"I'll make it an order if you want," Arthur remarked.

"Ooh," Merlin laughed, "free pass."

Arthur smiled at Merlin and fell quiet, raising his eyebrows in silent encouragement. Sighing, Merlin relented any hope of rebellion and gave an apologetic smile to the king, aware of how worried Arthur must have been. Deciding that he would get answers for another time, Merlin closed his eyes but not before making sure that Gwindir's shoulders were covered by the blanket. Arthur did the same for him. With his eyes closed, he remembered that the sleeping prince beside him would appreciate a light to combat the heavy shadows in the room so Merlin summoned a small globe of light to hover in the corner of the chambers. His magic thrummed pleasantly and gave him the comfort to surrender to sleep and just as he was drifting off, he felt a weight make the side of the bed dip. Arthur must have been leaning on the bed, relieved enough to get some rest. Merlin hoped that he would remember so he could make fun of his friend. For now though, he'd fall asleep and be content that Arthur and Gwindir were here with him.

Technically Merlin was not supposed to be walking on his own yet, let alone traversing the halls. It was a good thing then that he was court sorcerer and could make people do whatever he wanted. He commandeered his solar, located in a tower specified for his use only. The walls were lined with bookshelves, spaced in between the narrow windows letting in the sun but not the cool breeze due to an enchantment. He was seated on his chair, leaning back against the fur draped frame, drumming his long fingers on the arm. There was strain along the back of his wrist, stretching to his elbow as he tapped on the wood. Merlin was quite sure the injury would come back to haunt him when he grew old. He supposed it was a small price to pay considering the depth of his injuries.

A tired sigh fled his lips upon remembering. Every night since he had remembered the fight with the Acolytes, his sleep had been haunted by the memory of it. Being betrayed by Orville, waking up in that dark fortress with hostile eyes looking down at him, and then fighting away all of the sorcerers. The drumming of his fingers on the chair became more agitated as he thought about it and his eyes became shadowed. Merlin had thought he was going to die, honestly and truly. It was a feeling he hadn't had since Morgana. The Acolytes had first tried to siphon his magic, but no one could take it away, the Sidhe or anyone else. It would work for any other warlock but not him. His magic was deeper than even theirs. That of course had not been the case when Morgana had stolen his magic from him all those years ago, but ever since realizing his true power in the crystal cave, his potential had been unleashed.

Yet they had still tried, until he started to fight back - Merlin did not leave them with a choice. Knowing he was going to be killed, he had vowed to take as many as he could with him. After him, they would have gone after Arthur and they would have killed him along with Guinevere and Gwindir. Gaius and Alice would be next.

Fear for their lives had driven Merlin to fight with everything he had, and when he had gotten a chance to breathe, he realized he was the only one alive. On his knees and nearly dead, but alive. Mounds of white cloaked figures surrounded him, past the haze of agony that had been burning in his eyes. Then his fear had been for himself and on instinct, without thinking, he expended the last of the magic he had used up in the fight to send himself to Camelot. Why he had chosen to appear in the throne room and not the physician's chambers, Merlin would never know, but he supposed he was not entirely at fault.

He had survived though, and he would live to see another sunset. Merlin missed the one outside the windows of his solar, too busy brooding and catching his breath from the walk over. He stopped tapping on the chair and raised his hand to stare at it. At the power underneath. If he could kill more than fifty sorcerers, what else was he capable of? No one and nothing could stop him and that thought was a frightening one.

Interrupting his dark thoughts, there was a formal knock on his door and the guard he had sent to the dungeons earlier called out, "The prisoner here to see you, my lord!"

Merlin breathed in and sat straighter in his chair, and said in a strong voice, "Enter."

The guard pushed the prisoner in and the slim man stumbled forward, the chains on the shackles clinking together. Merlin nodded to the guard who glared at the prisoner before shutting the door behind him. Tense silence flooded the chambers as Merlin coolly met the green eyes of Lachlan. The younger man stood awkwardly before speaking quietly. "I'm glad you are alright," he said.

"Sit down," Merlin ordered, channeling King Arthur.

Lachlan flinched but hurriedly clambered into one of the chairs at Merlin's table. "I swear, I came back for you as soon as I could. But by then you were already gone," the younger man rushed out, sitting heavily on the chair. His face was grimy and his ginger hair matted but Merlin saw past that to Lachlan's pleading expression. "I would have fought with you."

Merlin said nothing and looked down to Lachlan's shackled wrists, resting on his thighs. The iron bands were enchanted to restrict magic, causing Merlin to grimace. Gold flashed in his eyes and the locks clicked open, freeing the man's wrists. "Sorry about that," Merlin told him, nodding to the shackles. "You know how Arthur can be."

Lachlan stared at him in disbelief, not even getting the shackles off. "W-what?"

"It was not your choice to abandon me," Merlin said.

"But you almost died, I-"

"I would have released you sooner had I known," Merlin continued, "and why would you come back to Camelot in the first place if you were a traitor?" Lachlan looked away from him, lost for words. "Where is Orville now? It is him that needs to answer for his crimes."

The younger man winced. "I don't know. I had to knock him out to get away." Merlin nodded, allowing the enchantment on the windows to ebb slightly so a soft breeze could flow through the chambers. "But, Merlin, he was found out. He didn't-he didn't betray us willingly."

"He betrayed me all the same," Merlin said.

"I am sorry, Merlin, I really am," Lachlan said desperately. "Please, just tell me what I can do. Anything at all."

Merlin did not let the anger he felt touch his features. "When Orville is found, he will be executed."

"No!" Lachlan gasped, sliding out of the chair onto his knees to beg and his shackles fell to the floor heavily. "He did it for me, please, Merlin. Don't hurt him, I'll do anything. Wouldn't you do the same for Arthur? He was only trying to protect me… please."

"And that makes it alright, does it? If I had died, the Acolytes would have killed Arthur. They would have killed anyone who stood in their way."

"Take me in his place, I beg of you," Lachlan pled.

Merlin shook his head. "Leave," he said quietly, "Camelot needs protectors she can trust."

Lachlan gasped like Merlin had punched him in the gut but the warlock remained stoic, refusing to think of the friendship they had forged over the years. "You can trust me," Lachlan whispered.

"I trusted you two months ago," Merlin reminded him, "and I can never trust you while Orville is alive. Even less when he is dead."

"But I- you've taught- Camelot is my home! Where will I go?"

"I'm sorry it has to be like this," Merlin said.

The young man in front of him rose to his feet but his shoulders were slumped. "I don't want to go."

"Then make an oath," Merlin proposed without hope. "That if Orville is brought to Camelot for justice, you will let his sentence pass without interference."

Lachlan's frown became deeper and he looked far older than his twenty one years. "Let him die," he confirmed.

"Or you can leave," Merlin stated.

Silence spread between them while Lachlan's green eyes fell downward. Merlin watched as the younger man's throat bobbed up and down and waited for him to gather his courage. Then Lachlan nodded. "It's been an honour. Truly," he said in a hushed voice.

"It has," Merlin agreed and extended his arm.

They shook hands and met gazes, both of them sad to part ways. Lachlan's fingers tightened and he managed a replica of a smile. "I wish you all the luck in the world, Merlin," he bid, stepping back before Merlin could reply. Then a magical wind kicked up from under the sorcerer and within a second he was gone, leaving Merlin alone in his solar. The court sorcerer closed his eyes in grief and allowed his head to fall back against the chair. He knew Lachlan and Orville would find each other and they would make their own way just as they had done before Merlin had found them. He would let Orville go because Merlin needed to show mercy, he couldn't be responsible for another death. And indeed, he would have done exactly what Orville had if Arthur was at stake.

But they had been his friends and now he would likely never see them again. All Merlin could do was brood, since he was far too exhausted to get up and go back to his chambers. There was a bed up the stairs but that was a challenge not meant for this day. Figuring that the only thing left to do was close his eyes, Merlin did just that, feeling the tension on his brow relax. Halfway to sleeping, with a sunlit breeze wafting through the chambers, his bid at oblivion was shattered by a series of knocks banging on his door.

Merlin's eyes flew open and he groaned at the possibility of either Arthur or Gwindir barging into the chambers. They were the only ones who knocked like that. Due to the loud volume, Merlin figured it was Arthur, being proven right when the king himself walked in. His cross expression was perfectly mimicked by the toddler sitting on his shoulders, though Gwin looked rather humourous trying to be angry.

The king walked right up to him, uncomfortably close so that Merlin had to crane his neck up to look at him. "Gwindir," he invited.

Arthur's son was only too happy to oblige. "Daddy says you're 'posed stay on your bed," Gwin scolded Merlin, enunciating each word with exaggerated care. Then the toddler smiled, his task finished and he waved at Merlin exuberantly, quite happy with his newfound height.

"Daddy can't even dress himself," Merlin replied, eyeing Arthur distastefully. It was downright unfair for Gwin to do Arthur's dirty work for him.

"He can to," Gwin said brightly, loyally defending his father.

"Merlin, what in the blazes do you think you are doing?" Arthur demanded, not looking the least bit happy.

"Blazes? That's a new one," Merlin mused, enjoying the way Arthur's eyes narrowed.

The king handed him an unsavory glare before reaching up to grab Gwin and dumping him on Merlin's lap. Arthur took the seat that Lachlan previously was in and cocked his head to the side, waiting very impatiently for an answer. It was not lost on Merlin that he glanced down at Lachlan's fallen shackles. Gwin too stared up at Merlin, his pale eyes sparkling expectantly and it was to him Merlin spoke.

"I was only taking a walk, that's allowed isn't it?" Merlin wondered with a smile. Gwindir smiled back but shook his head. "No?" he asked playfully, "well why not?"

As Gwindir took in a deep breath, Arthur interrupted with an answer. "Because you are going to hurt yourself by trying to do too much," he chipped in.

"Thank you, Gaius," Merlin grumbled. "But I'm fine."

"Are you now?"

"Mummy says not to fight," Gwin called out and stretched his arm up to cover Merlin's mouth with his hand.

A trace of a smile passed over Arthur's lips but it was gone before Merlin could glare at it. "We aren't fighting, Gwindir," the king said, "now what have I told you about interrupting?"

"Not to," Gwin repeated. "But Gwaine says I can."

"Never listen to Gwaine," Arthur chided.

"But Uncle Merlin says I haf' to," Gwin said confusedly. It was Merlin's turn to smile and he did so with sly amusement.

"Don't confuse him," Arthur said, insulted on his son's behalf. In reply, Merlin made a funny face at Gwindir which made the toddler laugh. Arthur sighed loudly but leaned back in the chair, a sign that he was letting Merlin off the hook for now. "So, am I to assume that Lachlan is a freed man?"

Merlin chose to grit his teeth. "He didn't deserve to be imprisoned, Arthur."

"I am the king," Arthur said sternly.

"Yeah, you keep saying that," Merlin mentioned airily.

Gwin whined in frustration, scowling at both Arthur and Merlin. Both men were certain that Gwin could care less about the words but was familiar with the tone they were using. Similarly the pout on Gwin's face was one the men knew well, so with a glance they formed a temporary truce.

"Do you think you could mind him for a while?" the king asked. The pout on Gwin's face dropped off at once and he looked up at Merlin with a hopeful expression, one the court sorcerer could not say no to even if he had wanted.

"Yeah," Merlin answered and then to reassure Arthur, he said, "we'll manage just fine."

"Good. Thanks to you I have to inform the guards that their prisoner has been freed," Arthur stated.

Merlin scoffed. Like Arthur would be doing it personally. "You have my sincerest apologies," Merlin said sarcastically.

"Why thank you," Arthur replied in kind, rising up from the chair. "Gwin, you be good for Uncle Merlin."

"I will," the boy sang.

After smiling at his son and giving a final glance to Merlin, Arthur turned and left the chambers but could not resist a glance back. "A big worry wart your father is," Merlin told Gwin after Arthur was gone. The toddler blinked up at him, visibly trying to figure out what a worry wart was but he didn't spend too long on the mystery. He climbed down from Merlin's lap and pranced forward, whirling around and nearly losing his balance. His chubby hands gripped the table leg to stop a fall and he turned a grin on Merlin.

"Chase me, Uncle Merlin!" he called before dashing away, making for the stairs across the circular chambers.

Merlin smiled, and stopped Gwindir in his tracks with magic. The boy squealed in delight when he was lifted off the ground and made to hover back toward the table. "Sorry, Gwin," Merlin said with a sad smile. "Uncle Merlin can't run around just yet."

Gwindir did not make it easy on him. Once the boy was on his feet he stood there blinking, the smile leaving his lips. "But you're better now," he complained.

"Not all better," Merlin said gently, "now, why don't you come here, I can tell you a story."

"That's not fair," Gwin said unhappily.

"Yes I know," Merlin sighed, "but when I am better, I'll chase you as much as you want."

Gwin looked like he was thinking about the prospect. Then he skulked towards Merlin and lifted his arms in silent demand. Merlin picked him up and set the boy on his lap, displeased that the task was more difficult than he was used to.

"Promise you won't get sick again," Gwin demanded.

"I'll do my best," Merlin laughed.

"Promise," Gwin insisted.

"I'll do my best," Merlin repeated and then tweaked Gwindir's nose. "Now how about that story?"

Gwin did not seem enthused but he leaned against Merlin's chest. "The dragon one?"

"Which dragon one?" Merlin enquired.

"The dragon one," Gwin answered.

Merlin blinked at the wall opposite, over Gwin's head so the boy couldn't see his bland expression. "The dragon one it is then. Alright… Once upon a time there was a grumpy old dragon that lived in a cave…" Gwindir smiled and tugged at Merlin's sleeve so he could grab Merlin's hand, settling in to listen to one of his favourite stories. By the time Arthur came back an hour later, both Merlin and Gwindir were fast asleep. The king watched them with a fond expression and then went to fetch a blanket for the two of them. He had to climb three flights of stairs to find one and Merlin wasn't even awake to hear him complain. Neither he nor Gwin woke when Arthur draped the wool blanket over them and the king stepped back to observe them. He committed the sight to memory - still unnerved by Merlin's near death experience - reminded of the fact that if Merlin had not pulled through, he would not be watching them right now. But shaking himself out of that line of thought, Arthur smoothed down Gwindir's hair before heading toward a desk near the empty fireplace. Like any other surface in Merlin's tower, it was stacked with books, but there was a space cleared which allowed a man to work. There was a pile of parchment waiting along with an inkwell and pen, and Arthur needed to get some work done. He had letters to pen, and nowhere else he would rather be than here.

That was a long one huh? I really hope it was worth your guys' time :D Thank so much for reading and please tell me what you thought in a review :)

Tootles!