Where Legends Begin

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Arthur is talking. Something about a castle and Merlin feels like giggling, but she doesn't for she know that will alarm everyone present. She doesn't want to do that. She's not dying. At least, she doesn't think she is. Dying wouldn't feel this....ordinary, would it? Merlin blinks, trying to capture that thought more fully, make it unravel its meaning within her fuzzy mind. Ordinary? No, no she does not feel that way. She feels light and warm and...numb.

Oh.

That's not good is it?

For the first time, her dark blue eyes move slowly away from Arthur and to the ground, blinking, focusing quietly on the red-stained earth under her. No, that is most certainly not ordinary or good. The realization that all the blood she is seeing is her own makes Merlin feel dizzy, almost queasy and she chokes back bile, breathing carefully through her nose as she forces herself to focus.

The pain comes as if called and the healer nearly cries out as she is lifted, but she doesn't try to escape or compartmentalize the pain this time. It is good. Pain is good. Pain means she's still alive. Her dark blue eyes dilate with the agony, though, and Merlin is entirely unaware of who's she's been seated with, doesn't care that their arms are wrapped around her waist. It doesn't matter.

Breathing matters and she's having a hard enough time doing that. Noises buzz in her ears, probably talking, but she doesn't hear it as the horse starts to move, canter and then run and each jolt brings a strangled whimper to the back of Merlin's throat.

But pain is good. Pain is life. She clings to that pain.
 
"It shouldn't be too long," Arthur demands, his worry making his hands run through his hair over and over again. He swallows but he cannot get his dry throat wet. The world spins even around him as he paces back and forth, trying not to look at the pool of blood that is forming. "What are you doing?" Arthur shouts, waving his hands at his knights in the direction of Merlin. "Get it wrapped as well as you can," he takes off his cape and hands it to the nearest knight. Kneeling down before Merlin, he isn't sure whether or not she can actually hear him. He tries to speak as calmly as he can to her, the fear of her death creeping into the back of his words. "It's going to be okay."

Running his hands through her hair, he watches as the knights move her gently, wrapping her up to at least try and hold the wound together. "It's a mile and a half down the road. We are going to get you home as soon as possible. You will live my dear," his breath catches, a hotness collecting in his eyes before he looks away. Breathing slowly, he feels the familiar heaviness collect in his chest. Shaking his head, Arthur brings over his warhorse, ordering the other knights to help Merlin up to where he is.

The ride feels as though it takes forever, Arthur's arm clinging to the healers waist as they charge past the foliage. Please, gods. If you hear my prayers, by all the power in me, please let her live. Glancing down at Merlin, he nudges his head against hers for the quickest moments, any thoughts of her deceit to him and his kingdom far from the king's mind. "Please," he whispers aloud, his legs hurting as the trees roll by. Sure enough, a castle's wall comes into view, only making Arthur kick the horse beneath him harder. "Heyah! Come on, a few more." Holding his breath as they reach the gates, he stands high in the saddle.

"Let me through these gates. I am King Arthur of Camelot! I come with an injured healer who requires assistance and a rest!" To Arthur's surprise, the gates creak open, the wooden gate over a deep moat starting to lower. The metal chains clink in a rhythmic pattern equaling that of Arthur's own heart. "Thank you, oh thank you." Comes another relieved whisper as Arthur looks down to Merlin, kisses her forehead, before kicking his horse and running over the cobbles in the main square until he reaches the courtyard. Not even noticing the blood all over his chain mail, Arthur hops down once Merlin is taken and follows the healers. He will stay, as he did before, with her until she is well.
 
Guinevere has never been more grateful that Merlin has passed out. The brunette's back has been laid bare and the healers of Castle Windslor were cleaning the cut out thoroughly, fast and efficient they were but lacking the finesse skill Merlin always employed and had been teaching to Camelot's healers. They'd begun to sew up the deep gash and the Lady winced at how painful it looked, looking to Merlin's face to make sure she wasn't suffering, once again relieved that her friend was lost to the world of the conscious.

They'd been working on the Camelot healer for the better part of two hours and finally one approached, bowing respectfully to the King before he spoke. "Your Majesty, she should live. We have cleaned the wound to the best of our abilities and have wrapped and treated it with all of our skill. The cut did not reach her spine, nor does it seem to have effected any of the organs, though, she has lost a great deal of blood. Only the gods can decide her fate now."

He left then with another bow and Merlin was left alone finally, her shirt gone, but her torso face down and a blanket pulled up as far as the healer's had dared over the bandages that swathed her. Guinevere hated to see it and she held in a soft sob as she sat on the edge of the bed, touching her friend's shoulder gently, reaching up to brush her damp hair from her face.

"She saved me." the auburn-haired woman whispered before she shook her head with a long, deep sigh, sniffling slightly as she watched the healer with sisterly affection in her pale eyes. It pained her to see Merlin once more bedridden and she could not help but silently admonish the brunette for it. She just couldn't seem to stay out of trouble.

Speaking of which...

Guinevere looked back to Arthur and all the words she'd wanted to say to him, all the reprimand was lost to her as she gave him a wane smile, weary down to her bones. "Thank you for coming. We needed you."
 
Arthur stands over and out of the healers' way while they clean Merlin's wounds. Some of the other servants try and bring him from the room so that he may clear his head but the King stands firmly rooted to the stone beneath his feet. "I will not leave her side." He tells them, his voice alone showing the power that his blade could bring. The servants bow and leave Arthur to his peace. Arthur stands there with his hand below his chin, arm around his waist. The waiting game is always the toughest one. Eventually the King only finds the strength to lean up against the wall, his hand gripping Guinevere's when she comes over to him before looking to the healer.

"She should live?" He repeats with a sigh, wanting nothing but reassurance that his Merlin will survive the night. With a nod of his head, he shoos the rest of the healers away with his fingers, sad and tired eyes looking back to Merlin. "You're making a habit of this, Merlin," Arthur breathes as he takes two steps closer to the small bed they have her laid on. Even in sleep, he knows she is in pain. Shaking his head, the King pushes back his blond hair away from his face, the clank of his armor sounding in the small healing chambers thick with stone.

So the King does what he only knows how to do, sit and wait for Merlin to wake up. There will be pain and screams, he is sure for a wound of that size does not heal overnight. "Hmm," he nods in agreement to what Guinevere is saying behind him as he sits next to his Merlin, fingers tentative to reach out towards her as they curl around one another in his lap. "She saves us all. Without her, I would be nothing. I would have died in that battle up in the North and never returned to those I love and cherish. I lost a part of my heart that day and I hardly even knew what I was getting myself into by bringing this woman to Camelot."

Looking over his shoulder at Guinevere, Arthur's eyes are sad and serious, his elbows resting on his knees. "There are some days where I wish that I never brought Merlin to Camelot." Knowing such words would hurt the healer so much if she were awake to hear them, Arthur is quick to clarify what he means. "Then she wouldn't have to be bleeding her precious blood that has the weight of gold. Yes, she would be healing the enemy, ,making them stronger with every day, but at least she wouldn't be bound to me. I am a King. King's have enemies. The longer I live, the more of them I might have. The last thing I want is Merlin to die at the hands of my enemies. I wouldn't be able to cope with that, Guinevere. I would become mad."
 
Guinevere can not help but smile a bit fondly at Arthur's retelling of bringing Merlin to Camelot. It is true that none of them had known what they were getting into. She'd changed them all, for the better, and they would have sorely missed her without even realizing what they were missing had she not been in their lives.

The King's words make the Lady look up, though, a frown on her face, but not judgement for she knows Arthur too well to think he is merely saying he wishes Merlin were not here. That is surely not the case, not when he watches over her with such devotion and speaks of her in such high regard. No, there is something else Arthur wishes to impart with his words and Guinevere nods her understanding when her brother of heart continues with his words, explaining what he'd initially not. She is glad for her patience as now Guinevere has wiser words to say than the harsh words she might have given had she not listened fully.

Still, the auburn-haired woman must shake her head, her curls springing wildly for they have long ago left the confines she'd placed upon them. She gives Arthur a gentle smile and places her hand upon his own, her soft fingers against his calloused ones, showing greatly the difference in their life-styles.

"Arthur, Merlin had enemies even before she knew you and that is the truth. But before you, she was alone against those enemies and now she is with people who care about her, have made her better just as she has enriched out lives. You wish to keep her safe, but I think perhaps Merlin's spirit is safer with us than she has ever been while alone."

Pale blue eyes look back to the healer, watching as her friend breathes steadily, nothing but a slight grimace here or a tremor there to show the pain she must be in for her mind and herbs have drug her deep into her subconscious where she might start to heal. "I understand your fear, perhaps not the depth of it for I have no lover, but I do comprehend what you say, brother." Guinevere looked back to the King, her voice soft, but firm. "But know that I now understand that even had you not met Merlin, had you not brought her to Camelot nor fallen in love with her, that she still would have been bound to you. She would have served you even if you'd not have known it. Such was she born for and such is the fate she can not escape, nor do I think, does she want to. She loves you just as fiercely as you love her, Arthur."
 
"I am sure that Merlin deserves to be loved fully wherever she might be. Even if it weren't I who was bound to her not just in duty but in love, then she would be happy with whomever her heart desired. I do not believe in fate, Guinevere, you should know that by now. I know that the gods dabble in all that we do but I do not think they brought Merlin to me. My men found the best healer in the villages by that awful battle and it just happened to be that Merlin was that very healer. I thought she was a man the first time I met her." Arthur smiles gently at the cloudy memory. Those days were long ago, memories now filed in his brain to collect dust unless remembered.

Kneeling down before the bed, Arthur brings his chin to rest on the corner of Merlin's bed. If she would open her eyes, she would see his face alone staring back at her. "Fate would have kept my father alive, Guinevere," he comments slowly, reaching out to move the hair out of Merlin's face, "for he prayed to all the gods every day of his life. That pious man. Maybe he knew his time was closing and coming to an end but I gather he would have readied me for the challenges that were ahead if he did. But he died at the hands of my enemies. Slimy snakes that snuck into my tent, tried to take my Merlin from me and when she would not go, they killed my father as tribune."

Then Guinevere talks about Merlin being bound to him, a concept that he had long forgotten since their love had started to blossom. Now he thinks of Merlin staying out of her devotion to him, not because the higher powers of the world commanded it. She haunted his dreams before he could even speak a single word in return to his parents' voices. The silence that wafted from his mouth with each breath astounded both his parents. They would not settle for a mute King but little did they know, Arthur was waiting for his moment to speak, not because he couldn't but because he wanted to. Now the King doesn't speak again for he looks to Merlin and is stopped from any more useless words.

Pressing his hand to her face, Arthur feels her temperature but keeps his hand there for the texture. Her face is flawless again, something Arthur knows that Merlin should not have. He curls his lips inwards and keeps them clamped between his teeth. Shaking his head, he stands and faces Guinevere. Whatever words she had been saying, he has not been listening to. His own train of thought comes through his head, questions that he has been holding in for too long. They spill from his mouth, not in an angry tone, but one of a child who is trying to gasp the way of the world. "Answer me this riddle then Guinevere. Why would Merlin leave my side again after telling me over and over again that she would always be at my side? Why does scarred Merlin come back without any marks on her body? Tell me why, Guinevere."
 
He speaks of his men finding Merlin, of Fate not being involved and Guinevere merely shakes her head, amused by his denial for she now understands the truth as he does not yet. She does not argue with Arthur, though. She does not wish to argue with him, not after what has happened today and it is not worth arguing over anyway. And when he speaks of his father, she truly feels no need to comment, to debate or explain. That is a topic she does not want to approach and so Guinevere merely listens and she watches Arthur closely as he focuses on Merlin.

She can see how worried he is, how the healer's state effects him and it makes her wish all the more that Merlin would wake, would give them both a smile and tell them they were alarmed over nothing, that she was fine. She wanted to see the brunette try to get out of bed and fight with Arthur the whole time because he would not allow her to.

It was something Guinevere knew they'd have to wait for, though, as there was no chance that Merlin would wake any time soon.

Such thoughts were cut short, though, as Arthur suddenly questioned her and the Lady came out of her dazed thoughts to look at him with a wide-eyed expression for a moment, startled as the answer flew through her mind and yet so did the oath she'd sworn to say nothing. Or had it been an oath to say nothing? What had she sworn? That she'd keep quiet about the dragon and about what Merlin was, but....about what had happened?

No, she'd not.

Still she had to be careful with her words, but then, the Lady was often careful with what she said anyway. "Arthur, Merlin left because her power was out of her control. She didn't want to harm anyone, least of all you, so she left to find help. She was not going to stay away forever. What I wrote to you in that letter were my words alone, not hers. Today we were coming back to Camelot when the bandits attacked. Merlin was not leaving you and she never would, brother. In your heart of hearts you know this."

Guinevere sighed and looked back down at the healer, at the lack of scars. That one...was harder to explain, but Guinevere would try in the simplest of manners. "Her power removed her scars. I don't understand how it was done and Merlin hardly does either, but that is the truth of it. It was during the storm the Ancient Power caused. It took her body and changed it. She was terrified when she discovered it." Pale blue eyes look to brown, stern, fierce.

"She is still Merlin, Arthur."
 
But from what my spies have heard in the streets, your people believe that you are not taking care of them as much as you should be. Your eyes, for whatever private matter, are directed elsewhere. The leader of this guild is a womanizer. He uses their sex to break down the strong men. I have evidence. Right and true evidence. If you would just sit down, my king, I can show you. Why do you think they were so eager to leave the Kingdom together? He threatens them, blackmails them other times, but most influences the women through … dishonorable ways. Enchantments, spells. But listen to me when I say that this man will stop at nothing to kill you. Merlin, Guinevere, he knows that they are close to you. Merlin cracked those pillars in the great hall, brought a storm that panicked the entire town. Those aren't her normal qualities. Most of all, her appearance has changed.

Ceridron's words come flooding into Arthur's mind, the sour taste deepening in the back of his throat. He knows in his heart that he shouldn't listen but the evidence is far too great. Merlin's actions, her power suddenly growing out of her control. Merlin never loses control. Never. Arthur catches his breath, looking from Merlin to Guinevere with a strong worry in his eyes. "I believe you," he falsely assures her, his hands coming to her shoulders so that he may tighten them with his lies. His focus stays on Merlin. "But I have to hear it from Merlin." Dropping his hands, he walks past Guinevere until he reaches the door. "I am going to see what food might be brought to her when she wakes."

Arthur's words are half true. He makes his way down the torch lit hallways of the castle, the draft from the open windows whooshing in as if the castle were breathing. She is not Merlin. He reminds himself, closing his eyes and wishing to the gods that this nightmare would end. He must be a good King to his people first, not to some healer who has stolen his heart. She has been corrupted by the guild master and has been made to do all that which seem uncharacteristic of who Arthur knows her as. Ceridron said so himself, under oath. The man is right, Arthur has been spending too much time focused on Merlin. It must stop.

His heart drops at the internal words, his shoulder resting on the nearest pillar for fear that his world might collapse inwards towards his heart. No. He will never stop loving that woman, it's true. Even in death he will mourn her and love her as if she were still alive. "I love you, Merlin. I need you back," Arthur breathes as he looks out over the specks of yellow flickering in the town windows. "I cannot stop loving you but I can repress my feelings for the good of my Kingdom." Looking down at his knuckles, he notices how bruised they are from the battle today. "Unless you were my Queen. The people would love you, wouldn't they? But I cannot if you have been enchanted by this guild master womanizer. I must find a way to cure you and Guinevere. Gods help me."
 
-----

Merlin recovered well over the course of the next three weeks and though she was not fully healed by the end of the twenty-one days, she was mostly scarred over, ready to travel and therefore did, despite any protests. She wanted to see Camelot again and what Merlin desired, she usually got if she fought hard enough for it. So it was that she'd come back to Camelot, back home and the healer had been overjoyed to be where she belonged once more. After the first week in Castle Windslor, Arthur had left, needing to return to his subjects, his duties as King, but he'd known that Merlin was going to make a full recovery and both Guinevere and Galahad had remained behind with the brunette, ready to escort her home when she was well enough to travel.

The healer had not gotten to speak to Arthur before he'd gone, too exhausted and feverish, sometimes both at once, to accurately tell him what had transpired.

But Merlin was well aware that she might not be coming back to a warm welcome. Her nightmares had gotten worse, so much worse and she was driven to distraction knowing they were not mere dreams but in reality visions. They showed her a Camelot corrupted, overtaken, Arthur falling not to the hand she'd been seeing in the last few months when she saw the future but to a new one, the hand of a friend.

The first time she'd seen it, Merlin had thought that surely she was mistaken, but when it had occurred again, she'd known she did not simply imagine things.

Ceridron was not all he seemed.

But Merlin did not know how she was to stop him, how she was to warn Arthur of him and she was unsure if it wasn't already too late to reason with the King.

So as she rode into the courtyard with Guinevere and Galahad beside her, Merlin's dark blue eyes went to Arthur's tower and in her heart she prayed that he was not lost to her. She would never leave him. Even if he could not see her, she'd be there, protecting him by any means necessary, but her heart would break into a million fragments to know she no longer held his affection, that he looked at her and did not trust her.

Only time would tell what future she might behold the next time she slept.
 
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For the time that Merlin stayed away, Arthur kept Ceridron close to his side. Without his healer, he felt lost and hopeless on what to do for his Kingdom. Merlin is his support, her own words sparking the best of ideas in the King's mind. It's because of his devotion and loyalty to her that he trusts her words more than anyone else's. At least, that's how it was. Now that Merlin is not present in Camelot, the King's intellect is being molded to Ceridron's desires. Given, the King has only agreed to one out of five separate decrees that Ceridron has presented to him. But that doesn't mean that Ceridron is manipulating the King in other ways. He uses his friendship to get close and his influence to keep it that way.

"Enter," Arthur grumbles as he hears a plated rap on the door to his council chambers. It has long been light, the rays streaming in from the tall windows. He had gotten hardly any sleep, black pools beneath his eyes, as he has done most nights that Merlin is still recovering. He expects her to be home soon, if not, he will send someone out to the castle to make sure everything is on schedule. If there was even a hint of Merlin's downhill decline, the King knows he would be among the first to know of it. Then there was the whispers from Ceridron about Merlin's betrayal that worry the King. His head tells him one thing while his heart jerks him away with other thoughts.

"My King, you will be pleased to know that Lady Guinevere, Merlin, and Sir Galahad should be arriving today. A carrier pidgin just arrived from Castle Windslor." A servant hands the King a small scroll. Before he can even finish it, he is up from his throne and practically flying towards the door. Merlin is home. Merlin is home. Is all his mind can think but as he walks towards the doors to the courtyard, his sister, ever faithful Morgana, stops him with her hand on his chain mailed arm. He turns to look at his dear blood sister, his smile always the brightest with her. She is, after all, the family he has left here in Camelot. Just her and his mother.

Before she can speak her slippery words, Arthur has already broken free from her grasp. "We can talk later, sister, I must see how Lady Guinevere and--"

"Merlin," Morgana whispers under her breath in disgust as they say the same name. But her eyes are still as bright as the sun, a strange sight for Arthur but he is too busy walking to question it.

"-- are doing because they will be home. They're alive and home. Safe and sound." The King grasps the handles to the doors to the courtyard, pushing the knights away who normally open it for him. But right as he starts to pull, a yell comes down the hallway. Morgana has slipped on the steps up to her tower! Arthur, without a second thought, is gone from the doorways to check on his beloved sister. No matter how many times they argue and spat, his heart is hears as any sibling would want. Concluding that it's just a sprained ankle, Arthur picks his sister up and helps her to her chambers, missing Merlin and Guinevere's entrance into the castle. "Tell them," Arthur instructs a guard, "to wait for me to return in my room."
 
Merlin and Guinevere looked to each other, questioning and then gaining understanding in each others' eyes, at the guard's instructions. Accepting the message, the guard was free to leave as the two women made their way to the King's tower and started through the halls and up the stairs that would lead them to Arthur's room. If he'd requested their presence there then this was sure to be a private he wished for and Merlin found herself nervous as they came to wait outside Arthur's door, awaiting his return.

Guinevere had taken a seat on a bench, but the healer paced, her back giving light twinges of pain when she moved the wrong way or turned too fast, but they were ignored in favor of her furious thought process.

She wanted to see Arthur. More than anything she wanted to feel him, to kiss his lips again, to hear his voice soft in her ear, but Merlin truly had no hope of that happening right now. Not when she knew Arthur looked at her and saw not the woman he loved but a woman he was unsure of, a woman he contemplated having betrayed him, a woman he wasn't sure was Merlin at all. And it hurt. It far worse than the healing wound across her back did and Merlin cursed her flawless skin, the near perfection of this new body. She'd trade every smooth inch of skin to have Arthur's complete trust again.

Merlin didn't know how she was going to show him she was still herself, still the woman he loved, but she was damn well going to try. Ceridron was a lying snake and Merlin would not let him corrupt Arthur, corrupt this Kingdom. If that meant she lost Arthur's love, but he kept his life and Ceridron lost his...so be it.

Her thoughts were grim and they reflected on her face, worrying Guinevere who watched her friend pace.

"Merlin?"

The healer stopped her motions, closing her eyes with a sigh as she raked her hand back through her dark hair, no bereft of the white that had been with her for two years. It still seemed strange to her that so much about her body had changed. "I just...I don't know what to tell him."

Guinevere smiled softly. "The truth, Merlin, just as you always have and in your way, just as you've always done."
 
Arthur knows that his footsteps would long be heard before he is seen. Turning the last step of the tower, he pauses before the turn to his corridor. Have to be strong. He reminds himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as if it would feed his soul the confidence that he needs. Closing his eyes, the king nods one last time before smiling gently. How he wishes things could just go back to being normal. No wars. No threats. Just him living his life while his father took care of the entire world. Uther did it so well, Arthur's hand moving to his chest. Gripping the cape's brooch, he looks down to see the circular shape, wondering just for a moment if he is even worthy of wearing it.

Turning the corner as quickly, yet calmly, as he can, Arthur lifts his chin when he sees the healer and his heart sister. Of course they are together. The Ceridron influence in his mind chirps up like a hungry bird desiring a snack. "Welcome back to Camelot, Ladies!" His deep voice bellows down the hallway, the clicking of his boots following suit. "It warms my heart to see you both, truly it does. After your little scare in the forest, I wasn't sure you would be coming back at all. I was blessed with the letter," walking right up to his door, Arthur pushes the tab and swings the door open, letting the ladies make their way in first, "that said the whereabouts of Merlin's healing process."

Once they have shuffled in, Arthur lets the door slam behind him. It's not too loud as to make Merlin jump, resulting in her wincing but just enough to know that it closed securely. "You both must be tired, very tired, sit please." Motioning to the chairs before his desk, Arthur doesn't stop to hug them or kiss them until he is sitting in his regal, leather upholstered, chair across the way. But when his eyes shift to Merlin, her reaction is enough to send his heart into his toes. Shame, cold and slicing shame, hits Arthur, his gaze turning down for a moment. After all this time, how could he be so cruel to her?

"Don't," he quickly changes his mind, the wave of his hand hopefully stopping them before they plant themselves in the chair. "I am…" he starts, as if about to apologize. You cannot apologize to them. Make them feel like they're at home but keep a safe distance intellectually. The thought rips at his core, his entire chest burning in flame as he turns the corner of his desk. "I have been at meetings all day, and worrying. Worrying a lot. Quite a lot." His eyes stay on Merlin as she inflates his confidence once more, the acidic thoughts still burrowing themselves in the back of his head. "Come here, my dear Merlin." Opening up his arms, all she will have to do is step into them in order to make it home.
 
Merlin feels her breathe freeze in her throat at the sight of him. Heavens, does he determine to get more handsome every time they are apart? And Merlin knows it is not just his body that attracts her, but so much more. Yes, his blond hair is thick, bleached near white by the sun of Summer, darker and richer gold during the colder months, and his brown eyes are the rich color of the earth, his face strong and his jaw like an anvil, muscles worked to perfection and his strides full of regal grace, but such is not all the healer sees. No, she watches the confidence that surrounds him like an aura, the destiny that shimmers in his eyes and the way the very air around him seems to part for his passing.

He is a man touched by Fate, blessed beyond what he can know even as it weighs on him. Merlin wishes she could ease that burden, but every turn she takes only seems to increase it for Arthur and it makes her heart ache. She can do better, she knows she can.

She'd give anything to see him smile again like he used to.

It is not to be in this moment, though, the healer can already sense that as Arthur's manner strikes her as too brisk, too controlled, too...rehearsed. Like in the ways he might treat a visiting dignitary he didn't much care for. The thought - nay, the knowledge - that he doesn't truly want her here, to be dealing with this, hits Merlin hard. Until this moment, she'd had some hope that maybe her visions had been wrong, for once just maybe, but they weren't.

They weren't and it scared her deeply to think she might lose Arthur...or perhaps that she'd already begun to.

She doesn't know what's shown on her face, but it has the King standing, coming toward her - Guinevere has already taken a seat despite Arthur's protest and merely watches the two, silent and worried - again and the brunette's dark blue eyes meet Arthur's at his invitation. But she doesn't move. Merlin simply looks at the monarch and her eyes contain a message for him he is not sure to mistake.

I know something is wrong.

The healer speaks naught of it, though, and she lets herself move forward, into the arms she has wanted to feel for some time now. They are arms that feel familiar, soothe the longing ache of her body, but the heart that beats against her ear does not seem right. Oh, she knows it is her beloved Arthur, but he does not feel sincere. This does not feel real and she hates it with everything inside her.

If she can't convince Arthur of the truth, Merlin knows she'll kill Ceridron without regret, damn the consequences. If he has poisoned the King so thoroughly against her and Guinevere, then she has lost everything important to her anyway.
 
For once, Arthur tries not to show his mind when in front of the two women he should trust with his entire being. Brown eyes slide from Merlin to Guinevere before he embraces and welcomes back them both. The hug he gives to Merlin is quick, his arms squeezing gently, too gently because of her wounds. Smiling gently, he kisses her cheek before breaking their bond. With hearts no longer close to one another, Arthur moves to Guinevere and embraces his sitting down heart of a sister. "But the only thing that matters is that you are back. Both of you." Sitting back down on his leather chair, he crosses one leg over the other and rests his chin on his fist.

His free hand moves to his chest. "But lets cut the formalities, shall we?" Rubbing his chest, he straightens up before letting his voice ring through the room. It's stern and strong, just as his father taught him. Uther always would softly yell, asserting his authority over the room and every breath in it. "Why did you two leave Camelot? What happened in the forest?" He hardly remembers what that torturous night where Merlin came back to him, different. Changed. Unknown to him. Those scars are what made her Merlin, nothing else. Shaking his head gently, Arthur is reminded of Ceridron's words, his eyes closing for a moment as the young man speaks to him alone. They'll go to any ends to cover up one another. You wait and see.

"I am just trying to fit together the pieces after the cracked pillars and the storm. The last time I saw magic like that was on the battlefield when my father was still alive and breathing. I'm curious. Worried. Tired." Looking down to his feet, he rubs his eyes. The room, lit by the light of the day, casts upon his left side from the open balcony doors. They slam gently with the light wind but not too hard in order to be an annoyance. "But mostly tired. I have called you both here just because I wanted to be the first one you see, the first one you speak to." Gripping the arm of his chair, he pulls himself up, swatting some hairs out of his eyes and adjusting his crown.
 
Guinevere can clearly feel the tension in the room, tension she knows should not be there, but it irritates her more than it worries her. After all these two have gone through, things that are known to others and things they hold secret even now, and all the times they have counted on one another to get past a horrid situation, the Lady can not believe they are behaving so frigidly now. She finds her pale blue eyes narrowing, gaining a hard look of sparking anger as she looks between them and then stands with all the grace befitting her title.

"My King, if you would excuse me, I am wearied from the journey and I do think this conversation is far more between your Majesty and Lady Emrysia as I have already explained my reasons for leaving; to help my friend, and there is no other reason. I do appreciate my King greeting my personally, though."

Merlin literally flinches at the use of her full name and the title, looking at Guinevere in startled surprise, for the auburn-haired woman's voice is bordering on cold and her eyes show disappointment in both of them and finally she speaks more clearly like the Guinevere they know. "You are both behaving appallingly considering what you mean to each other. Work it out."

And with that, she leaves them, closing the door firmly on her way out. She will not sit there and watch them destroy their relationship over something so....well, perhaps it is not a small thing, but it certainly should not be the deciding factor between whether they stay together or not.

--

Merlin stares at the door for a long moment, her body tense and then she sighs and the rigidness leaves. She is tired underneath it all and her body aches. Her heart hurts more, though, and dark blue eyes come back to Arthur without guile and without a mask. She simply looks at him with question and clear wariness, unsure what he will do, unsure how to convince this man that she loves that she IS still herself.

She starts with the truth. It is all she can do and Merlin must pray its enough, though, she won't be above raging at him before she leaves if he's too stubborn to see it.

Merlin sighed and runs her hand back through her hair before she pulls a leg up and wraps her arms around it, chin on her knee. Every gesture is Merlin's, flawless executed for she is who she claims to be. It is merely the visual view of her skin, her body that is slightly askew, different to those who know her well. But it doesn't change her habits, nor her voice, the lilt and force of her words. And her dark blue eyes are completely the same as they watch the blond King.

"My power was no longer in my control, it had grown, so I left Camelot to find help. I did not want to stay and cause more harm. I love Camelot and its people, and I fully plan on rectifying the damage I have done, but I did not purposely seek to cause such destruction upon my home, your home." Merlin took a breath and let it out slowly, knowing this part became tricky. She would not lie, but she could not reveal some things to the King yet, either. No, with Ceridron's poisonous words flowing in his ear, she could not risk the traitorous Knight labeling her insane should she tell Arthur everything. She would come as close as she could as it was.

"Guinevere and I found one by the name of Kilgarrah who was able to help me and explain why my Power had gotten out of my control. I now understand that it is not lack of Power that makes me feed off my marrow and my life source, but rather too much of it. In the last three years I have been eating through my body because I was using too much of my gift, too much for my body to contain properly so the more I drew on, the less my body could contain the Ancient Gift or control it."

This was hard. To tell the truth without explaining fully why such things were this way and Merlin knew he might very well not believe her, think her story fabricated out of thin air. But it was the truth as he could tell it to him now and the full truth would only drive him further from her, of that Merlin was certain. Arthur never had been willing to accept things of this sort without a great deal of thinking and time, and even then he seemed to simply ignore them rather than truly deal with them or learn from them. It was acceptance of a sort, but not fully so and Merlin recognized that. He would not be nearly as fluid as Guinevere had been about hearing and tolerating such things as learning she was a Spirit given mortal form.

"I was slowly dying and in order to save my life, my Power fixed my body. That is why I wandered away when I called the storm. I didn't even realize I was doing it or what was happening. I..." Merlin bit her lip and looked down at her arm, at her hands, without blemish or nicks or scars of any sort.

"I'm still not used to it, to...what it did, how I look now and.....I know it must be a shock for you as well." Merlin took a breath and looked up, gaze steady, filled with the kind of strength that had gotten her through any and all trials up to this point. She would not hang her head in shame as if she was sorry for what had happened. She was not and she was not a traitor as Ceridron would have Arthur believe.

"But I'd rather look different than be dead. I'm still me on the inside and that is enough. I care not what shell my spirit and mind reside in."
 
Vague answers just like Ceridron foretold. Arthur immediately thinks once Merlin starts talking about her situation in finding Kilgarrah. Merlin leaves it as that and moves on with her story, not giving him the information he needs to be satisfied. But Arthur cannot help his heart, as corrupted as it might be, it still beats for the woman sitting across him him. Her figure is god-like in her lack of scarring and marks. More than anything else, the King wishes to kneel before her and kiss her, telling her that all will be well and that he will not let anything happen to her. Ever. Ever again. Ceridron's words play on his actions though, his movements in leaning forward playing simply as a straightening of his boot strap. Keep it together, Arthur.

But the king must look at his subject as she addresses him no matter how hard his heart might be squeezed inside his chest. His gut is telling him to forgive her, just as Ceridron said it would. He loves her and it's not his fault that he has grown so attached. She is a beautiful and highly capable healer and wielder of ancient power. If anyone could move mountains, it would be Merlin. So the King straightens up in his chair, playing with the hem of his cape as she continues speaking. For once, the King doesn't interject, his voice booming with anger or surprise. He listens, perhaps a quality he had learned from the healer and finally is applying it to his own skill set. More than anything he just wants to forgive her for his actions but Ceridron's predictions have coined an argument of their own that Merlin isn't combatting.

"Your speech is eloquent, thoughtful, and moving to say the least, Merlin." Now he must be the King to rule this kingdom, not a sympathetic lover that will let anyone slip through the cracks and destroy his kingdom. "You are saying a lot of words," he stands from his chair, soft creaks following his departure, "but you are speaking vaguely." Taking in a deep breath, Arthur rounds the table once more, this time submitting to his kinder, more compassionate side, and kneeling before her. "Why can't you tell me all that happened?" Whether or not he knows this as true, he stares straight at her face, nothing distracting him from seeing the red flags in her eyes. "I hear your words but I see something stuck in your throat that you are not telling me. Never before have you been so quick with your explanations."

Shaking his head, he resists reaching out towards her for fear that he might be rejected on the spot. "How did your power fix your body? Who is Kilgarrah?" his words start to be fueled by the same emotions he is bottling up, "Why, Merlin? What else was I to think when I kissed each and every one of those scars knowing that they are what make you my Merlin." His hand hits his heart, "My Merlin and no one else's. I want to, more than anything, believe your tale. My heart wants to and so does my soul but my mind is questioning you. It's doubting you." He stands and starts to pace again, hands slinking into his hair and grabbing it by the handful.

"I made this become of you, Merlin. I almost killed you. Your power wants to help me more than anyone else and I almost killed you for it." The King's train of thought has moved, sacrificing his own self instead of barring down upon Merlin with tainted thoughts of betrayal.
 
As soon as he speaks, Merlin knows she's done the wrong thing and inwardly she curses. Why does this man have to be so bloody confusing?! Oh, he is wonderful, gifted and he is a great, will be a great, King, but stars above and land below does he frustrated her!

Merlin takes a slow, subtle breath to release her nerves and looks upon the man she loves, now kneeling before her, almost appearing as the Arther she is used to, not the aloof, distant monarch she has been subjected to so far. It nearly breaks her heart as he speaks and it is with effort that Merlin doesn't just blurt out everything, making herself use her mind, caution for the moment as she watches Arthur move away again. But then he is speaking things that spark anger within her and it becomes a bit harder to think with cold logic as her eyes narrow at his back.

Scars. That is what he is focusing on. Her SCARS made her who she was? The healer tries to perhaps give the King the benefit of the doubt with that one, trying to read into what he might be saying and not expressing very well with words and she thinks she understands partly. It's a change that hasn't been explained and it bothers him. Fine, that she can accept. But saying that what made her Merlin was her SCARS? No, there is no further hidden meaning in that. That is as clear as the sentence portrayed it to be and Merlin's irritation stays.

She does not act on it right away, though.

No, it is his claims that he's almost killed her that makes the Healer finally speak, her tone slightly snapped, as she has spoken to Arthur many times in the past when upset about something. "You didn't do anything, Arthur. You didn't almost kill me. If I was ever close to death, it was my fault, not yours." She stood swiftly, glaring. "Don't you dare try to make my decisions and my sacrifices less than they were by blaming yourself."

"And why do you think I am speaking vaguely, hmm? Could it perhaps be because I know that anything I say is going to be taken back to Ceridron? Since when did the King start taking the word of one man as ultimate truth, and without proof of his claims?" Merlin knew she took a risk mentioning Ceridron at all, but Arthur wanted answers, she'd give them to him and let the cards fall where they would.

"He wants to say that I'm involved with a nameless man who can wield power over me and can use me because I am woman? Arthur Pendragon, when have you EVER known me to let ANYONE use me? I would sooner endure a thousands years of torture than betray you or Camelot." she spat, dark blue eyes full of fire.

"There is much stuck in my throat, my King, but I'll tell you some of it now. Kilgarrah, and he will be hard-pressed to forgive me for telling you, is a dragon. I met him in the two years I was gone. I am a Dragon Speaker as was my father before me and his before him, for all generations of my family. I went to Kilgarrah to find out why I couldn't control my power anymore. It turns out I'm not human, Arthur. I'm a Spirit and I took mortal form to serve you. I didn't let myself remember what I was, though, and I was burning out my body so the Ancient Power gave me a new one."

Merlin took a deep, shaky breath, but regained composer and met Arthur's brown eyes, though, she dreaded what she'd find there. Her next words were quiet. "Believe me or not, that is the truth and I would tell you nothing less. I never have. And if you think scars are the only thing that make me who I am, if that is what you truly believe, then perhaps you don't know me at all, Arthur Pendragon and you have right to let Ceridron poison you against those you love."
 
Arthur stops pulling his hair out, realizing that such actions would only make him seem weak in Merlin's eyes. He can't convince her of anything for she does not know how she is being poisoned. She attacks his decision to trust Ceridron, a trusted friend and ally to his kingdom and therefore distrusts Arthur himself. So the king turns his back on her, propping himself up against the side of the balcony wall before the glass starts. He looks out, one hand on his belt, sword right there, ready for his use. Drawing such a balanced blade on the other half of his heart would never happen but his fingers around its handle gives Arthur strength.

Because you don't know that you are being used, my dear.

More than anything he wants to tell her the truth and ask her to wake up from whatever spell she was under. He knew, he was told by Ceridron, that she would attack him. His heart wants to believe her more than anything but Ceridron has told him so much, so many loose ends that have been tied together by his words when Merlin had not been present. Maybe if she talked to him earlier, he would have listened. She wouldn't betray Camelot unless she thought she was helping him. But she has been promising time after time that her place is in Camelot but she is hardly staying here anymore. At least it feels that way to Arthur.

Maybe she was right and this lack of control of her power has turned her gears away from Camelot temporary. But why didn't she come to him first? Now she is talking about dragons. Big, scaly, dragons. They don't exist, not to Arthur's knowledge. Then she speaks about herself not being human. That's what catches Arthur's attention and makes him look to her blue eyes. "You what?" he asks, his voice low and gravely, eyes narrow because he does not understand. He cannot start to understand. Not now. Not when his anger had been building up all these days. "Of course they're not," he starts to defend himself against his scar comment but it doesn't help him.

His face is hot and his mind is spinning, eyes avoiding hers now and looking for any other distraction for his mind. A spirit? She is… a … what does that mean? What does she mean? Not human… she is not human. I have fallen in love with what? A spirit? Can I even love her now? Of course he knew the answer would always be yes for he loves more than the mortal shape of her body but the fiery girl who speaks from it. How is that possible? Am I really to be tricked in such a way? My heart broken, for I know it's impossible to love a spirit. They cannot. I cannot. Why!?

"You're… you're…" he starts to panic, unable to cope with a dragon and spirit colliding with one another in his brain. She could be lying, sure, but Arthur trusts her no matter how much Ceridron might try and convince him otherwise. When she talks of herself, he should hang on her every word. She is right and he knows it. But he cannot back down. His hand goes to his chest, a burn digging out his heart from the cavity of his ribs. His mouth opens but only fragments of his own breath come out, eyes wide as they look to the floor. Sweat collects on his temples, his body suddenly feeling warm. He has worked himself into a frenzy, his feet disobeying him and legs giving out as he drops to the floor, everything shaking. Panic attacks plague even the strongest of mankind.
 
Merlin didn't know what to do.

For the first time in a long time concerning Arthur - how to address him, how to comfort him, how to explain to him - she felt completely lost and the healer hated it passionately. She watched as her words, her revelation rocked him and felt her heart clench painfully. Her dark blue eyes take in his symptoms clearly, but for a moment she is frozen, completely so, until instinct kicks in, love reboots her, telling her to ignore everything else until her King is stable again and Merlin is at his side in an instant.

Her hands need only find his skin, anywhere would do, but her fingers guide themselves to his face, brushing delicately, softly over his skin with the dreadful feeling that she might never get the chance to again. Every part of her savors the contact even as her power flows from her to him, calming his racing heart, cooling the heat of his skin, helping to clear his vision, soothe his mind. Merlin only becomes aware that she's speaking in the language of the Druids, reassuring words and phrases that seem more like a soft song than words, when Arthur starts to calm and the healer stops softly, watching him.

How she wishes that she had not spoken....but in reality what else could she have done? At least if she loses him this way, she will know it is not because she kept truths from him.

"Oh, what has become of us, my Great Bear?" It is the smallest of whispers as Merlin brushes his gold hair back tenderly and her dark blue eyes find his brown, her tone softer than it had been before, the anger having gone clean out of her. "I am Merlin, Arthur. That is all I can remember being, that is who I want to be, that who I am. I am Merlin. That is who I chose to be, regardless of what I was, who I was before and I shall choose to be Merlin until this form can no longer hold me."

She dreads that such a day will come before these mortal arms can stop holding him, before his own death comes and Merlin fights back tears, knowing she can't be seen with them, not now, not when Ceridron is so determined to make it seem like she is under some kind of spell, make it seem like she would manipulate the King with feminine wiles by any means necessary.

"Even if you don't believe me, even if you say you don't love me and you send me away," Merlin's voice nearly breaks and she draws in a deep, shuddering breath before going on. "I will still choose to be Merlin. I will choose to be the woman you once loved, the woman who loves you, until I am not allowed to be her anymore. And then I will still love you, spirit or no, I will always love you, Arthur Pendragon."
 
Arthur knows he should speak, he should tell Merlin all that has happened to him. But the heavy breathing that spills from his mouth takes a hold of his words and doesn't let his words go. They can't let him go and he has no idea why. He is a friend of Ceridron, it's true, but he loves this woman in front of him as the moth does a flame. He is attracted to her in every aspect of his being. Her scars made her his but he has forgotten about her fierce loyalty. How could I have been so stupid? He wonders. This would have been a perfect opportunity to act upon betrayal if Merlin were underneath some sort of enchantment. Arthur had let himself become vulnerable, weak, powerless.

But Merlin rushed to his side still and is now holding his head, her hands stroking his face. Warm hands. Her hands. It's a movement that Arthur knows shouldn't move him an inch for it's all a part of her ploy, but it does. Having Merlin calm him down, the heartbeat thumping against his eardrum settling down to a soft murmur, helps him. She has only been there to help him. In the face of all great danger, she has believed in him and his cause for making Camelot a great Kingdom and one that would be remembered centuries from now. Even if Merlin is this spirit, such a strange concept whirling around in Arthur's mind, she is right when she says she is Merlin.

It might be a mortal skin that she will only day break out of but Arthur simply hopes that they can live a long, happy, life together before that day. When he dies, she may die at his side. Their arms around one another. The brown windows of his emotional core let Merlin in and she might see the regret he has in ever listening to Ceridron. Merlin has proved herself enough with him even if that fellow knight might try and poison him with other sharp whispers about spells and lies. If Merlin wanted to see this kingdom fall, she could make it crumble to the ground by her own will and means. Arthur seeks forgiveness from Merlin for all he has said and done. Her druid magic is something he can't understand. Sprits, dragons, and regeneration are all things he struggles with grasping but if they are coming from Merlin's mouth, they must be true. She has sworn much more than her loyalty to him but her love too. Why would she be so foolish as to fall for a trick when her heart beats for him?

"Don't cry, my dear Merlin," Arthur whispers, lifting himself just enough off the ground so he can look level into her eyes. All signs of panic, perhaps a form a cleansing on his part from those terrible thoughts, are gone from him. His muscles still spasm from feeling Merlin's warm magic but he holds himself against the ground so he can look at her. "I love you so much. So very much. I should have known better Merlin. You came to Camelot hating the place, yet you did nothing ill against my family." Closing his eyes, he remembers her first few weeks here. It took her so much time to finally gain the knowledge of Camelot's ways and customs.

"I should have remembered your silent vows to me and mine to you but I was shadowed by fear that you were not who I loved. The scars were physical, yes, but seeing you without them," he licks his lips, eyes narrowing gently as he thinks of the right words to say, "is…" his hand runs over her neck, fingers barely touching her skin, "strange. Different. It moved me because you did not explain yourself then you immediately left this place without us coming to terms with one another." He lowers his head and shakes it. "I'm so foolish. How could I have been so easily turned… I know you're the only one I can trust because you've proved yourself over and over again. You are stronger than to be easily manipulated."
 
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