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Gwen received word that her husband was dead nearly a week after the Battle of Camlann. She’d known before that, if she was being honest with herself, but seeing it in writing was different.

The letter came from Ealdor, dark ink on sturdy parchment, absent of any royal stamp. Gwen opened it with shaking hands, and read Hunith’s words:

My dearest Gwen,

I am the bearer of the worst news one can bring. Arthur is gone. 

I would have had you told in person, but I knew this would be quicker, and your position is more complicated than just that of a widow. Merlin came to me last night, and has barely spoken since. I know only that Camelot is without its king, and you without your husband. 

Words cannot express how sorry I am. I will be looking after Merlin for a while, but please write to me if you need anything at all, including a friend.

Long live the Queen.

Yours,

Hunith of Ealdor

Gwen read the simple sentence ‘Arthur is gone’ over and over again. Her heart hurt for Merlin, and she knew not to expect him back for some time. 

“Leon,” she called, and he came into the room at once. 

She looked at him, and whatever he saw in her face must have told him, for his own crumpled like wet paper. He closed his eyes, took a steadying breath, and knelt. 

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she held back. “Rise,” she managed to say, swallowing with great difficulty. “You are now head of the army. Appoint deputies as you see fit, and send them out. The people must be told.”

She clutched the royal seal that Gaius had given her, and took a deep, steadying breath. “There will be three days of official mourning, then my coronation at noon on the fourth.”

“Of course, my liege,” Leon said, and turned to carry out her orders. He stopped in the doorway and turned back to her. “Gwen,” he said, “if there’s anything you need, you know where to find me.”

He left before she had to come up with a response. 

Gwen stood, folded up the letter, and dismissed the guards at the doors, asking to be left to herself for the remainder of the day. They bowed and walked off, no doubt headed to the hospital tents to lend a hand. 

Gwen made sure she was alone, then retreated to the only place she’d felt human since the battle. She opened the door to Morgana’s chambers. Arthur–and Uther before him–had demanded they be maintained, and Gwen had maintained them herself before she became queen. She’d even done so after, when she could get away with it.

She sat down on the bed she had made a thousand times, and felt everything fall away. She left Queen Guinevere behind at the threshold. Here she was just Gwen, and Gwen was… in agony.

She doubled over, convulsing as sobs ripped through her. Gwen cried until she felt as though her lungs were turning inside out, she cried until there was no water left in her, and then she cried in long, dry wails that she could not bring herself to stop.

The world was ending somewhere inside her, as it always was. It had begun when she stared at Morgana and did not recognize the person staring back, it had continued when she held her brother in her arms as he bled out, and now it seemed to be culminating. The world had ended. Gwen screamed until her throat was raw.

She curled up on top of the blankets, and eventually must have fallen asleep.

When she woke, it was to a pitcher of water on the table next to her, and Sir Leon’s silhouette looking out the window. She opened her mouth, found that her voice had completely abandoned her, and drank from the pitcher.

Leon turned, hearing her shuffle to the side of the bed. His eyes were as red as Gwen imagined hers must be. 

“Thank you,” she rasped.

He nodded, then motioned for her. She stood and joined him at the window. The courtyard was full of light. Gwen looked out over her kingdom, seeing candlelight pinpricks stretching as far as the eye could see. She had never seen the streets so full. 

“He will never truly be gone,” Leon said, and Gwen leaned into him, exhausted and in pain.

Both things were true. Arthur would always be with her, with Camelot, in all their hearts and minds, but he was also never coming home. It had been years since they had really been in love, and Gwen had spent most of her time as queen desperately trying to fight the loneliness threatening to drown her, but she now realized just how much Arthur had been keeping her head above water.

Leon’s arm wrapped around her, and they stood, looking out over a kingdom in mourning for an uncountable period of time. 

Finally, Gwen inhaled and straightened. She looked up at Leon, who was looking right back at her, friendship and loyalty clear on his face.

“We have work to do,” she said. “What first?”

The next three days passed in a blur. Gwen drew up decrees, laws, minute changes in the way Camelot was run. She would not reign with Uther’s rules for even a moment, and so many things had to be ready before her coronation. She drafted speeches, consulted with Gaius and Leon about their casualties, sent missives to the outlying villages and Camelot’s allies alike. 

The crown had not even been lowered onto her head, and she already felt as though the weight of it was crushing her. She wished Merlin would come home. 

She wrote to Hunith, who wrote back, letters being exchanged with such speed that Gwen suddenly realized Merlin must have something to do with it. When a letter came in his shaky handwriting, she felt a stab of joy for the first time in days. It was short, and heartbreaking.

Gwen,

I’m sorry. I couldn’t save him. 

I’m sorry I’m not there. I will be eventually.

Merlin

Gwen wiped her eyes, and wrote back.

Merlin,

I know you won’t believe me when I say this isn’t your fault, but I certainly don’t blame you. Camelot misses you, but please take as much time as you need. 

I know what you did in the battle. I am so proud to be your friend. Please keep faith, and let yourself be taken care of. You deserve time to mourn. 

When you return, there will be a position at court waiting for you, and a hug from me. 

All my love,

Gwen

When reports came in that Morgana’s body had been found, Gwen felt a weight lift off her shoulders even as her heart broke a little more. Her tormentor, her best friend, her first love, her enemy. She had mourned Morgana years ago, but it still twisted something inside her. 

Morgana had failed her kind, as Camelot had failed her. Gwen would never forgive her for all she had done, but her understanding ran too deep for her to truly hate Morgana. She still woke up screaming, seeing that tower, seeing Elyan die, seeing Morgana’s face as Gwen had been dragged away, condemned to death for sorcery she hadn’t committed. She also still woke up weeping, the phantom pain of Morgana’s loneliness and anger twisting her chest, the memory of what had filled her when she had been bent to her will. 

She snuck out the night before her coronation, the final night before all the rules of ruler began applying to her in earnest. She went to the woods around Avalon, to where the knights had said they’d found Morgana.

Her body lay, eyes open, perfectly preserved. She looked almost alive. Gwen assumed it was her magic that refused to let her rot. 

She threw Morgana over her horse, and rode down to the lake. She rode her horse in until the water lapped at her waist, and she gently pushed Morgana into the water with a whispered song for the dead. 

Gwen’s orders had meant none of the dead at Camlann lay exposed, whether they be Saxon or Knight of Camelot. Even Mordred, who enough people had seen dealing the king a killing blow, was properly buried. Morgana would not be an exception.

Gwen rode back and slept fitfully.

Her coronation was a blur, and she was certain she wouldn’t remember a second of it by the next morning. 

The next week passed similarly. The decrees were declared, the speeches spoken, the laws codified, and within a week Gwen had legalized magic and outlawed execution as punishment in nearly every case.

She expected pushback. Almost none came. The people were grieving, terrified, and run down. Camelot had suffered plagues, spells, dragon attacks, the Great Purge, wars, Uther’s reign, and famine. They needed change. It had helped that Arthur’s reign had been going in this direction towards the end, with the Druids being nearly friends.

Camelot’s allies looked to her for guidance, for leadership, for help. Gwen realized with some horror that she was practically ruling half of Albion.

It also helped that she had a dragon. Aithusa had shown up in Morgana’s chambers and nearly given her a heart attack, but the way the poor thing curled up on the bed as though she was trying to hold onto whatever might remain of Morgana… well, Gwen sympathized. 

She talked to her when she could not talk to anyone else, comfortable in the knowledge that Aithusa would not reply. The dragon started following her everywhere, and the rest of the castle became aware of her in incidents ranging from hilarious to dangerous until Gwen finally issued an official statement.

Camelot’s crest was a dragon, and it was about time they started living up to that. Gwen understood why this small, unique, injured thing had earned what was left of Morgana’s love. She tried not to think about it too much.

Rumours of King Lot’s displeasure with her growing power were very disquieting. She made sure Leon was recruiting at a reasonable pace, Arthur having opened knighthood to commoners years ago. She did not want to risk another war. She wasn’t sure she could send these children off to die in her name, or Camelot’s.

Her peace letters were returned unopened, her delegations turned back at the border. Essetir was determined, and Gwen was terrified. She was able to get in contact with Tristan, now a knight under Lot, but it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t forge peace with her own strength alone. She needed Merlin. 

She was immersed in treaties anyway, desperately trying to hold the kingdom—her kingdom—together. 

Two weeks after being crowned, a bright spot finally pierced the fog that had surrounded her mind. Gwaine arrived, alive.

The knights surrounded him, yelling, Gaius insisted on seeing him at once, Percival was yelled at for not knowing how to check a pulse, and all was chaos for about two hours.

Gwen waited until the worst of it had died down to see him. His smile sharpened her, allowing the dusty parts of her soul to take a deep breath for the first time since Arthur’s death.

She hugged him tightly, and he laughed and pulled back to bow to her. “My liege,” he said. “I always knew you were a princess.”

“That’s Queen to you,” Gwen said, her face aching from being forced to contort into a now unfamiliar expression. She was smiling.

“Leon told me Merlin’s still at home,” Gwaine said, growing slightly serious, and Gwen nodded.

“I know I haven’t been pulling my weight-”

“Because you were half dead, don’t give me that,” Gwen cut him off.

Gwaine smiled. “Could I have a few days off? I’d like to go see him, and ideally I’ll come back with him.”

“You may visit,” Gwen said, “but you are not to rush him.”

“We could use someone that powerful right now,” Gwaine said firmly. “I know how much you’ve been changing things around here. The response will come, it will be harsh, and Camelot’s all but decimated. We need Merlin.”

Gwen looked at him, surprised. “You know?”

Gwaine shrugged. “A dwarf on a bridge called him Magic. I’m not that thick.”

Gwen sighed. “If Camelot is in danger, I have no doubt he will come. You’re not to demand he return, Gwaine. He and Arthur…”

She trailed off. How to explain what everyone already knew, yet she suspected none but Merlin and Arthur really understood the extent of?

Gwaine nodded. “Yeah, I know. Again, not that thick.”

Gwen smiled. “Alright. I expect you back by the end of the week, is that understood?”

Gwaine bowed deeply, hair almost sweeping the floor. “Of course, your majesty,” he said, then scampered out before Gwen could swat him.

She felt the smile slowly slip off her face, felt the fog encroaching again, and took a deep breath, trying to beat it back. 

She attended a round table meeting, saw a delegation from Nemeth, and wrote to Hunith and Merlin before she managed to slip away to Morgana’s chambers. 

She desperately missed her family. The grief coexisted with her grief for Arthur, feeding into itself until it was all she could feel. She wished Elyan was here, someone she could talk to, someone who understood what it was like to go from one life to another. 

More than that, Gwen wished her father was here. Someone to protect her, to hold her, to see themselves as still above and responsible for her. She needed a parent, a guiding hand, a hug. It had been nearly ten years since he died, and she still carried that grief.

She knew, from the experience of her mother who had died when she wasn’t yet nine, that it was a grief she would carry always. It was part of the reason she’d been assigned to Morgana so young, being able to understand the experience of losing parents. 

Gwen sat there looking out the window until the sun set. Aithusa slept peacefully next to her. 

A knock at the door startled her out of her nearly meditative state, and she saw Leon poking his head in. “Time for the evening meal,” he said, casting a nervous glance at Aithusa.

Gwen rose. “Aren’t you doing census work tonight?”

Leon smiled. “When no one can find you, they send me. I could go back to the census if you’d like to tell someone else where you go when you vanish.”

Gwen shook her head. “I appreciate your discretion.”

Leon paused. “Does the dragon…”

“She can go where she likes,” Gwen said firmly. “She means no harm.”

Leon bowed, and led her out. 

A couple days later, Gwen opened her office door and saw a letter waiting for her. It was in Merlin’s hand again, and she rushed forwards to read it.

Gwen,

Gwaine arrived yesterday. Honestly, it’s as though you want to torture me.

The joy that filled her throat threatened to choke her. She had privately, distantly wondered if she would ever hear Merlin joke again. She read on.

Really though, thank you for sending him. He’s made some good points–surprisingly gently too–and I feel more myself than I have in some time. My mother adores him for some reason, but then she adores all my friends.

It seems I wasn’t as good at keeping my magic secret as I thought. I can say that openly now, can’t I? No one will execute me if they read it, thanks to you. I hear you’ve adopted Aithusa. Take care of her.

You’re already proving to be an incredible queen. It will be my honour to join your court. I’ll return with Gwaine, as I think he’d knock me out and throw me over his horse if I wasn’t already planning to do so willingly.

I do keep faith, Gwen. In Camelot and in you.

Yours,

Merlin

Relief hit Gwen like a boulder. She would not be so alone for much longer. She wanted to give Merlin time, but she wanted more to have help in holding up the burden that had been given to her. She did not have the luxury of time. Camelot needed her, and it needed Merlin too. 

The first rumblings of serious pushback began to reach her ears that evening. Leon came back from patrol bloody, and with two wounded knights. 

“Amata is sending out mercenaries,” he said. “They were no match for us, but I doubt it’ll stop.”

“Because of the ban repeal?”

Leon nodded. “I have to assume so.”

Gwen rubbed her forehead. “I’ll call a meeting of the nobles tomorrow, we can discuss what to do.”

Leon nodded enthusiastically, and Gwen grinned. He’d always liked the more diplomatic and bureaucratic aspects of knighthood. 

He’d been the one to teach her to read, back when she learned to work in his childhood home. He had seen in Gwen a child as smart as himself, something he clearly hadn’t managed to find elsewhere, and they’d been good friends for years until she was hired to serve Morgana, at which point they’d drifted apart. She was glad they’d been brought back together, in however odd a way. 

“You will sit at my hand,” she said. 

Leon blinked. “I will?”

“I don’t have any senior councillors I trust, and I don’t have… well, a queen. I need your support.”

“You always have that, Gwen, you know that.”

She stepped forwards before she could think about it, desperate for a connection more solid. No one touched the Queen, for fear of impropriety, and Gwen felt the lack of it in goosebumps on her arms. 

Leon hugged her without hesitation, and she felt for a moment like they were ten again. She felt tears threatening at the back of her throat, and pulled back.

“Gwen,” he said gently, but she shook her head.

“I'll see you tomorrow, alright?” 

She ignored his eyes on her back as she walked away. She was the sole ruler of Camelot, and did not have time to be weak. She had to carry on what Arthur had started. She had to be the best ruler the kingdom had ever seen. Camelot adored her because they had respected Arthur, in a way bordering on worship. He was infallible, so her appointment by him was honoured, but Gwen was not naive. Between her sex, her skin, and her birth, she knew what she was working against. She loved and trusted Leon, but he was also a perfect visual representation of old Camelot, and she knew having him at her side would lend her credibility with the nobles.

She wondered distantly when she had gotten good at this. 

The council went easily the following day, with a near unanimous agreement reached on strengthening their alliances with other nearby kingdoms. Within the hour, her clerks were drawing up a treaty to be sent to Camelot’s allies, asking for help in defending themselves should Amata attack.

She wrote to some separately, Queen Annis and now-Queen Mithian among them. They had been her most steadfast supporters, and she held out hope they would even become friends. The treaty called for mutually assured assistance should Amata attack Camelot directly, but Gwen was hoping she could extract broader promises from some. 

Sarrum’s heir, King Andred, had a reputation for cunning as well as cruelty, and she did not want to leave any stone unturned. 

She nearly fell asleep at her desk, and forced herself to bed before she could. She did not need to spend another meeting with table lines grooved into her cheek.

Gwen woke the next day to shouting, and was standing before her eyes had fully opened. The bells weren’t ringing, and Aithusa was still sound asleep, obviously unconcerned, so she relaxed slightly. 

She slipped on a dress, wondering if she ought to hire a lady in waiting. It had been months since Sefa, but it had never felt right. She thought of Morgana, and sighed. She wondered if the real point of personal servants wasn’t to do chores, but to keep royals from feeling unbearably isolated. 

Gwen shook her head, dislodging the self pity, and descended to the courtyard. 

Surrounded by excited knights were Gwaine and Merlin. 

~

After he sent Arthur’s body floating towards the isle, after Freya’s familiar fingers wrapped around Excalibur’s hilt, Merlin sat on the shore of Lake Avalon and stared out over the water. He couldn’t cry, couldn’t move, could barely breathe. He had failed. Everything he’d done he’d done for Arthur, and it hadn’t mattered. Merlin’s king, his best friend, his purpose was dead. 

Merlin sat there through the night, and when dawn began to creep its hesitant fingers over the water, he looked up. How the sun still rose was a mystery to him.

“You must not give up hope, young warlock,” Kilgharrah said. Merlin ignored him. 

Kilgharrah sighed. “Come.”

Merlin looked up at him. “Why?”

“Because Albion still lives, and so must you.”

Merlin shook his head, and Kilgharrah huffed, reaching out with talons outstretched. He lifted Merlin and placed him on his back, then took off. Merlin could’ve commanded him to stop, could’ve just jumped off, but he didn’t see the point. He didn’t see the point in much of anything. 

Kilgharrah deposited him just outside of Ealdor. Merlin didn’t have the energy to be surprised. 

A man found him, recognized him, and brought him home. Merlin didn’t say a word, didn’t try to remember who the man was, didn’t care. 

“Merlin?” 

His mother’s voice pierced him, made it through the walls of grief that surrounded him. She pulled him inside, and looked him over. 

He met her eyes.

“Arthur’s gone,” he choked out, and collapsed into her. 

Hunith guided him over to the corner of blankets he’d slept in for half his childhood, arms around him. 

“Rest,” she said, after some indeterminate length of time. “I’ll bring you some food and water, and you can sleep.”

Merlin lay staring at the ceiling until his eyes closed without his permission. He slept like the dead. What room was there for dreams?

Hunith was sitting by his bed when he woke up, the way she’d done when he was sick as a child, or when he’d over-extended his magic and slipped into a faint. 

He sat up, and looked at her. 

“I wrote to Gwen,” she said. “I thought she should know.”

Merlin nodded, and knew he would feel guilty about not telling her immediately, had he been able to feel anything just then. 

Hunith was patient with him, never prompting him to talk, only listening to the scraps he would sometimes blurt out as if compelled. She narrated her letters to Gwen and the responses, always asked if he wanted to write, but never asked twice after he shook his head. 

Slowly, haltingly, he began to talk more, to move more, but he wasn’t himself. He didn’t use his magic, not even once. He had used it for Arthur and Arthur alone.

He told Hunith everything, eventually. His voice was dull as he talked, the words scraping his throat, pulling at his heart. His hands shook, and she held them tightly.

“I failed,” Merlin finished. 

“You did what you thought was right at every turn,” his mother said, desperation in her voice. “That is who you are.”

“I wish it wasn’t,” Merlin said, then shook his head before she could respond. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know- how did you manage?”

“When your father left?” Hunith asked, and Merlin was grateful for her perceptiveness. He nodded. She sighed. “It wasn’t easy. But I had my friends, and the village to contribute to. I had you, and I knew I couldn’t give up on that. You were what was left of him, you were our future. I loved you more than anything.”

Merlin thought of Albion, that hazy possible future, and sighed. Arthur would be back, someday. He would not let their dream die.

“I need to write to Gwen.”

When he managed to put quill to paper, he found he didn’t have much to say. He apologized. He promised to go to her. He wasn’t sure why she would want him there, but he knew her well enough to know she would. 

Gwen was one of his closest friends, she would need all the help she could get, and the guilt was starting to dig its sharp edges into him now, but he just couldn’t. Not yet.

Gwen’s response made something other than grief twitch in his chest, a momentary spark of warmth battling it out in the icy wasteland of his insides. He would make it back to her. 

When Gwaine showed up, his heart began to thaw in earnest. 

There was some sort of commotion outside, and Merlin stepped out to see.

“-about this tall, blue eyes, black hair, you’ve seen him.”

“And what business do you have with him?” A woman demanded, one of Hunith’s old friends. Her daughter had played with Merlin when they were young.

“I’m his friend!”

Merlin stepped forward. “He really is.”

Gwaine spun around to face him, and then was striding over with his arms outstretched. Merlin went willingly, pressing himself against Gwaine’s chest. He wasn’t wearing armour, so this wasn’t official business, and Merlin was grateful not to have chainmail digging into his cheek.

“What are you doing here?” He mumbled.

“I wanted to see you,” Gwaine said simply. 

The crowd had dispersed, seeing that Merlin was not in any danger. He felt a swell of affection, as he hadn’t known that so many people in Ealdor cared enough for Hunith to try to protect her son. 

Gwaine smiled at him, and Merlin almost managed to smile back. Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder. “Going to introduce me?”

Merlin turned to find his mother standing nearby, wary.

“Mother, this is Gwaine,” he said, and Hunith lit up at once. Merlin tended to ramble in his letters home. 

She brought him inside, sat him down, made him a meal, and asked about his life in quick order. 

Merlin sat silently and let the familiar cadence of Gwaine’s voice wash over him, startled into asking questions at his mention of “the queen’s new pet,” as Gwaine called Aithusa. 

Gwaine unrolled his bedroll next to Merlin’s, and headed outside to wash his face.

Hunith smiled at Merlin. “He’s wonderful. It’s nice to see you talking.”

Merlin nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“What for?”

“I’m not exactly helping out.”

Hunith frowned. “Merlin, I want to take care of you. It has always been my most important job.”

He felt gratitude push its way through the grief and guilt to reach his heart, and hugged his mother. He almost felt like a little kid again, though now he was a head taller than her and the wrinkles at her eyes were much deeper. 

Gwaine swaggered back in with all of his usual tact, chattering about getting an early night. Hunith retreated to her bed, and Gwaine stretched out on his bedroll. Merlin lay down next to him, and was suddenly overwhelmed by the memory of Arthur, lying next to him when he had come to help save Ealdor. 

Merlin let out a shaky breath, and Gwaine reached a hand out and grasped his arm. “Whenever you want to talk,” he said, “I’m right here.”

Merlin nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He fell asleep with the warmth of Gwaine’s hand steady on his shoulder.

He woke late, and found Gwaine sitting eerily still at the table.

“What are you doing?” Merlin asked, sitting up.

“Trying to decide how to convince you to come home.”

Merlin looked away. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there.”

“Don’t, Merlin. I’m not trying to shame you. You need Camelot as much as it needs you.” Gwaine walked over, lowering himself to sit next to Merlin. “I know what being purposeless looks like. I know where it leads. You’re not recovering here, you’re rotting.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “It’s my home.”

“Yes,” Gwaine agreed, “but not your purpose.”

“I failed in my purpose,” Merlin snapped. “I haven’t got one anymore. I won’t have one again until- until he comes back.”

Gwaine did not question this, and Merlin knew he’d always understood Once and Future to be more than a title. 

“I followed you,” he said. “Not Arthur. You’re my friend. You are more than what you have done for him, more than what you feel for him.”

“I don’t feel like more,” Merlin said quietly. “I feel like he took me with him.”

“But he didn’t,” Gwaine said. “You’re still here.”

“I don’t want to be!” Merlin burst out, sudden anger filling him. “I never wanted to be where he wasn’t. He’s gone somewhere I can’t follow. He’s gone. He… Arthur’s gone.”

Gwaine seemed to blur, and Merlin realized there were tears in his eyes. He hadn’t cried since sending Arthur’s body off.

“Arthur’s gone,” he repeated, tears flowing in earnest now. “He’s gone.”

Gwaine wrapped his arms around him. 

“I know,” he said, “I know.”

When Merlin stopped crying, he felt almost human again. 

“Thank you,” he whispered into Gwaine’s shoulder.

“Anytime,” Gwaine said. “I mean that. When you come back, I’ll always be right there with you. I know what he meant to you, Merlin, but you’re not alone. You’re still loved.”

Merlin nodded. The hole in his chest was still horrible, pulling in light and love and anything that got close, but it at least had edges now. No pain was infinite, even one as all-encompassing as this. Death wasn’t even infinite.

“He’d be upset if he came back and Camelot was gone,” Gwaine pointed out. “Might as well help us keep it safe for him.”

Merlin looked at him. “You believe it, then?”

“How could I not? Once you put your faith in a man like that,” Gwained shrugged, “anything seems possible.”

“I should write to Gwen,” Merlin said suddenly. His mind shied away from the idea of Arthur’s return, even as it was all that kept him going. It was such an uncertain future, he didn’t want to think of how far away it could be.

“And tell her you’re coming back?”

Merlin nodded, and Gwaine whooped. “I’d say it’s not been the same without you, but I was only there for about a day.”

“What?”

Merlin demanded to see the Nathair bites as soon as the word had left Gwaine’s mouth. 

“Gaius already wrapped me up like a present,” Gwaine said, reluctantly removing the bandages.

Merlin hesitated. He couldn’t do anything for Gwaine that Gaius hadn’t already done, not without using the magic that still seemed locked away inside him.

“You don’t have to magic it,” Gwaine said casually, wiggling his fingers.

Merlin started. “You knew?”

Gwaine nodded. “I’ve known for ages. Thought it would be impolite to say.”

“Since when has that stopped you?” Merlin asked, and Gwaine looked absolutely delighted. 

Merlin spent the morning with Hunith, working in the garden. The dirt on his hands grounded him, made him feel almost as though his body was his own. Gwaine had been recruited by various villagers to help with more manual tasks, and by midday he had thoroughly charmed all of Ealdor.

They left around then, Merlin hugging his mother tightly. 

“I’ll write,” he promised, and she kissed him on the forehead and sent him off with enough food for a week. 

Gwaine pulled Merlin up onto his horse, and Merlin wrapped his arms around his waist, comfortable in the knowledge that Gwaine would hold him up, keep them heading in the right direction. Merlin hadn’t realized how tired he was of responsibility, how heavily the world had rested on his shoulders. It was nice to trust someone else to (literally) take the reins.

Gwaine filled him in on the details of Gwen’s new laws, as Leon had debriefed him before he left. Merlin couldn’t believe how much she’d already accomplished. When he got tired of that, he started asking Merlin questions about his magic. 

Merlin answered readily, but when Gwaine asked for a demonstration, he shook his head. “I used it for Arthur,” he said, and Gwaine didn’t push.

They made camp and slept fitfully, bedrolls lined up next to each other. They rode on in the morning.

When Merlin saw the castle rising in the distance, he fell silent, and Gwaine’s best efforts could not get another word out of him. His grief flooded back in, choked him, threatened to swallow him. Merlin hid his face in Gwaine’s shirt, and didn’t look up until he heard a familiar shout.

“Merlin!”

Leon was running towards them, Percival and a host of extremely young knights hot on his heels. It seemed they had followed their training master off the field when he abruptly abandoned it.

Merlin dismounted, and in a second Leon and Percival were both hugging him. Merlin hugged them back for a second, then felt Gwaine wade in and disentangle him.

“Give him room to breathe, come on,” he said.

Leon started asking questions, and Percival seemed to be trying to insist that Merlin go inside and rest, and it was all very loud and very overwhelming. Merlin had forgotten what being unaccustomed to Camelot was like, what a shock it was after the simplicity of Ealdor.

“Merlin.”

Everything fell quiet at once, and the knights moved aside to reveal Gwen. She had a crown on her head and dark bags under her eyes, but she smiled and it was the same smile she’d given him when he was stuck in the stocks and she had praised him for standing up to Arthur. A smile of friendship, a smile of hope.

Merlin stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, and she let him, queen or not. He could feel the fire of her grief, a twin flame to his, in the way their hearts beat in sync with their chests pressed together. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” Gwen said.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin replied. It was all he could think to say. 

Gwen drew back to address the knights. “Leon, please resume training. Gwaine, wash up and have Gaius check on you.”

Leon motioned to Percival, who took the knights back to the field, but did not move. Gwaine stayed exactly where he was. Gwen sighed.

“Leon, go with them please. You’ll have your chance to speak to Merlin, but now isn’t the time.”

Leon bowed reluctantly, and turned to join the knights.

Gwen looked at Gwaine. “What is it?”

“Are you alright?” Gwaine asked, and Merlin realized the question was directed at him. He nodded. Gwaine looked skeptical, but said, “fine. I’ll let Gaius know you’ll be over soon. He’s missed you.”

Merlin nodded again, and Gwaine handed his horse off to a stablehand before turning towards his chambers. 

“Come,” Gwen said. “Take a meal with me.”

Merlin followed her readily, but stopped when he realized they were about to enter the hallway to the royal chambers. He couldn’t deal with Arthur’s absence, with all the empty spaces where he should be.

“It’s not the same room,” Gwen said, and Merlin followed her.

It was a much smaller and sparser room. Though Gwen’s queenly effects were scattered around it, the furnishing made Merlin wonder if this was supposed to house the monarch’s personal servant. 

“Felt more like me,” Gwen said, walking over to a small table. “I couldn’t bear to stay there.”

“There’s only one chair,” Merlin said, deciding to start with the obvious.

“Yes, well,” Gwen said, and pulled the footstool at the end of her bed up to serve as a second chair. Then she sat on it, motioning for Merlin to take the other place.

He did without protesting. He’d never treated Gwen as queen, not the way anyone else would. He respected her and followed her, but she was his friend first, and royalty second. It was the same way he’d treated Arthur, just with an added layer of shared history. 

“I suppose you’d like to know what happened?” Merlin asked. It was the least he could do for Gwen, really, after letting her husband die and abandoning her to rule the kingdom by herself.

Gwen nodded. Merlin shifted in his seat, trying to figure out where to start.

“Do you remember when I first brought Mordred to Morgana’s chambers?” He asked finally. Gwen flinched, though at which of those two names Merlin wasn’t sure, and nodded.

He told her everything, from Kilgharrah to the Disir. He told her every decision he’d made in an attempt to save Arthur’s life, and how each one had led to his death. He told her that Arthur had died in his arms on the shore of Lake Avalon, and that he would rise deathless from those waters in the time of Albion’s greatest need.

Gwen listened, and said nothing. When Merlin finished, she reached across the table and took his hand. 

“I forgive you,” she said, and he felt some small part of his guilt abate, pulling back just slightly, loosening enough that it allowed him to breathe.

Merlin squeezed her hand, and started to eat his now very cold meal.

“Do you remember when Arthur tried to hide in the armoury after he accidentally cut off some of Morgana’s hair?” Gwen asked suddenly. Seeing Merlin’s surprise, she said, “no one will talk about him, not to me. I think they’re trying to reassure me that they’re not comparing us, but it just…”

“Makes it feel like he’s really gone,” Merlin finished. His chest ached to remember, but it wasn’t just grief, and he wanted to chase that feeling, the way thinking of Arthur used to make him smile. “Of course, she found him anyway and he was surrounded by weapons. Not the best hiding place.”

Gwen giggled. “She cut all his trousers at the knees.”

Merlin grinned. “The tailor wasn’t going to be able to get him new ones for a week. He made me steal some of Leon’s.”

“He always made you do all the dirty work,” Gwen said. “You snuck that food out of the kitchens to give to us, didn’t you? When he was staying at my house and supposed to be cooking for me?”

“He never did learn how to cook,” Merlin replied, feeling slightly lighter. 

“I know you always had to do it when you were out with the knights. Elyan loved your stew.”

Merlin laughed. “Elyan would eat anything. Morgana had to have it, once, when she was hunting with us. She looked like she was going to be sick.”

“Morgana had very particular tastes,” Gwen said. “She never wanted to tell me she hated something, so she’d always ask if I wanted to eat it.”

“Arthur didn’t mind telling me when he hated something,” Merlin replied. “Or showing that he hated it by throwing it at me.”

Gwen laughed. “He used to be awful, didn’t he?”

Merlin shook his head, smiling. “The worst.”

Merlin felt her desperation in every story, the need to invoke Arthur’s name like a prayer, and he shared and understood it. He also heard a similar, subtler plea to be able to talk about Morgana, and though he had not been friends with her nearly as long as Gwen had, he understood that too. She had never been mourned, and mourning was necessary.

They sat there, discussing the dead until Gwen had to leave for a meeting. Merlin felt ghosts around him as he went to visit Gaius, and thought of Balinor. Those he’d lost would never leave him, he was certain of that. In Arthur’s case, it was the other way around. Merlin didn’t know how to leave what was part of him, and didn't want to try.

Gaius hugged him, patted him on the cheek, and said, “you did the best you could.”

Merlin needed this, someone who knew that the burden really had been his to bear, and his to fail to carry. 

“I didn’t fulfill my destiny,” he said. 

“Once,” Gaius allowed, “you did not. But future? Who can say what you might do?”

“It was my job to protect him. I failed.”

“You did what you believed to be right, and you did your best to protect him at every turn. No man could ask more of you.”

Merlin felt his nails dig into his palms, and was surprised at his own anger. Why did no one understand? Why did they refuse to listen?

“Gaius,” he said, “I failed.” 

Gaius looked at him, pityingly. “Merlin. What would you like me to say?”

“I want someone to tell me how to fix this!” Merlin shouted, and felt his magic rise with his anger. Years of self control allowed him to keep it leashed, beating it back, fighting the gold as it drained from his eyes. 

“No one, even one as powerful as you, can fix death,” Gaius said, and Merlin slumped to the floor. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he said, helpless.

Gaius walked over to him and knelt, wincing at the effort of lowering himself. “Merlin. You keep Camelot for him, and you wait. That is what you do.” He stood and took out a potion. “To ease your pain,” he said, offering it.

Merlin shook his head. He’d earned this pain, and he would keep it. 

“Merlin, please. I don’t like seeing you suffer.”

Merlin turned away, heading towards his room. “I’m going to get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Gaius’s sigh followed him as he closed the door. 

Gwen showed up the next morning, as Merlin was sorting through potions. He’d resumed his apprentice work as soon as he woke, trying to distract himself from the fact that the thing he should be spending most of his time on was lying at the bottom of Lake Avalon. 

“Good morning,” she said, letting herself in.

Merlin looked her up and down, keeping an eye out for any sign of injury or illness. “Are you alright? Should I fetch Gaius?”

“No, I’m here for you.”

Merlin spread his hands, and waited. Gwen sat across from him, eyeing him consideringly.

“We’ve been receiving messages from magical groups and individual sorcerers who want to know what Camelot is really doing by lifting the ban,” she said. “It seems to me that we are in need of a Court Sorcerer, someone to be a diplomat between Camelot and your people.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t exactly got diplomatic skills.”

Gwen smiled. “That’s part of your charm.”

“This is the position in court you want me to take?”

Gwen nodded, and Merlin looked down, thinking. “Then I accept.” 

Gwen grabbed his hand excitedly. “Oh, wonderful. We always made a good team, it’ll be nice to work together again. Come find me this evening, we can talk about what your day will look like. I’ve got a delegation to greet, but I’ll see you later.”

Merlin watched her leave, thinking of how heavily the kingship had weighed on Arthur, even with so many people to help him. He wondered who Gwen was leaning on, and whether he had enough strength left to let her lean on him.

Merlin sighed, and went back to his potions. Gaius joined him after a while, and they worked mostly in silence. Merlin grew restless around midday, and Gaius looked up.

“You could deliver this to Leon,” he said, holding up a bottle. “It helps with injuries he sustained during the battle.”

Merlin took it gratefully, and was momentarily reminded of his first day in Camelot, delivering cures and having no idea what his future held. Time, Merlin thought, didn’t happen in as straight a line as it seemed.

He found Leon overseeing training, and realized suddenly that he must be taking over Arthur’s position with the new recruits. His throat tightened.

“Delivery,” he said, holding the potion out.

Leon looked up, smiling. “It’s good to have you back.”

Merlin tried to smile back, but could tell by the look on Leon’s face that he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. 

“Merlin… anything you need, we’re all here for you.” 

Merlin nodded. He knew that they wouldn’t be able to give him anything, that the offer was a show of support more than the material promise of it. He knew Leon could probably see the thought that was stuck on an endless loop in his head playing out on his face: I need him to come back. 

“Merlin!” Gwaine called, jogging over and tossing Leon his sword. “Tag in.”

Reluctantly, Leon stepped into the fray, adjusting the stances of some of the younger pages, and parrying the blows of the older squires. Merlin watched for a moment, then turned to Gwaine.

“You’re involved in training already? Did Gaius clear that?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Gwaine said.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “It might hurt you though.”

“No, I’m as healthy as a horse.”

“Gwen told me you were presumed dead.” 

Gwaine coughed, caught. “Well. Percival’s giant fingers are apparently too calloused to check for a pulse.”

Merlin turned to look at him. “You really did die, didn’t you?”

Gwaine refused to meet his eyes. “I’m not dead now.”

Merlin sighed, giving up. There was plenty he refused to talk about, he wouldn’t begrudge Gwaine the same. 

“What are you training them so hard for?” Merlin asked.

“Gwen’s anticipating an attack from Essetir.”

Merlin frowned. “Really? Cenred was always lenient with magic, and I thought Lot took after him.”

“It’s not about the magic,” Gwaine said. “Arthur’s power was enormous. Bigger than he ever took advantage of, too preoccupied with Camelot. Gwen’s better at seeing the bigger picture, and she’s been forging alliances at a speed no one thought possible.”

“Lot’s afraid of her power? She would never take Essetir by force.”

Gwaine smiled. “I know that, and you know that, but Lot’s never met her. For all he knows, she’s just another power-hungry bloodthirsty noble.”

Merlin nodded. “So he’s going to strike before she can. That’s foolish.”

Gwaine shrugged. “It would be, under normal circumstances, but Camelot is… fragile. We lost so many men at Camlann. We’re decimated, and Lot knows it.”

Merlin swallowed, looking at the young knights—some of them still kids—going through their stances. They could not have another war. It wasn’t worth the lives it would cost. 

Merlin couldn’t find Gwen that evening. He ran into Leon, and asked if he’d seen her. He froze suspiciously, and Merlin pushed.

Leon sighed. “She doesn’t like people to know where she goes when she wants to be alone. It would defeat the point.”

“She told me to find her this evening,” Merlin insisted, and Leon held up a hand to stop him.

“I wasn’t arguing that. I’m just telling you not to go around sharing this.”

Merlin nodded, and followed as Leon began to lead him through the castle. He realized where they were headed when they reached the familiar staircase, and Merlin paused, taking that in.

Leon led him up, and knocked on the door to what had once been Morgana’s chambers. Gwen opened it.

“Thank you, Leon. Merlin, come in.”

She nodded at Leon, who inclined his head and left. Merlin stepped inside, and was met with Aithusa’s eyes staring at him. 

Merlin blinked. Aithusa blinked back. “Hello,” he said.

Aithusa huffed, and turned away from him. 

“He’s a friend,” Gwen said, running her hand along the dragon’s head. 

Aithusa looked over her shoulder, and Merlin could have sworn he was being glared at. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you,” Merlin tried, and Aithusa’s gaze did not waver. 

Merlin thought for a moment, then changed tactics. “I’m sorry I killed your friend,” he said, and meant it.

Aithusa’s gaze softened minutely, and Merlin continued. 

“She was my friend, once. I didn’t want to hurt her. I should have done more to help her.”

Aithusa exhaled a plume of smoke, and walked up to Merlin. Gently, she poked her snout into his chest. 

Merlin bowed his head, honoured by this forgiveness. 

Gwen was looking at him with her eyebrows raised. “She’s usually more skittish.”

Merlin shot her a half-smile. “Did I ever mention I’m a dragonlord?”

Gwen shook her head. “I think there’s a lot you still haven’t told me.”

“That’s probably true,” Merlin agreed, and sat across from her. “I think it might go both ways.”

At her questioning look, he said, “Gwaine told me about Essetir.”

Gwen sighed. “He shouldn’t have. We don’t want people panicking over a rumour.”

“It's more than a rumour, isn’t it?”

Gwen nodded. “I don’t want a war. Some of the council is trying to convince me to take Essetir, that Lot is a cruel king and we must liberate his people.”

Merlin winced. “We both know where that leads.”

Gwen nodded. “To those same people being senselessly slaughtered, on both sides. I’ve tried sending delegations, letters, treaties through mutual allies. The only thing left is to go myself.”

Merlin looked at her sharply. “It’s dangerous.”

“Which is why I want you to come with me.”

Merlin shook his head. “I couldn’t even protect Arthur.”

“You did,” Gwen said, “for years.”

“With my magic,” Merlin said dully. Gwen nodded. 

Merlin sighed. “I haven’t used it since.”

“Why not?”

Merlin twisted his fingers together. “Magic is a part of me. It’s what I’m made up of. I am sorcery as much as I am a sorcerer, and I am… I am for Arthur.” 

“Merlin,” Gwen said, “I won’t order you to do anything. You wouldn’t listen if I did. I am asking you, as a friend, to help me. I am Arthur’s widow and successor, and this is Arthur’s kingdom. If what you say is true, and he’s coming back someday, shouldn’t we make sure he has something to come back to?”

He’ll have me, Merlin thought. He said, “I’ll come with you either way.”

Gwen looked grateful. “We leave in three days time,” she said. “And Merlin- I know Ealdor lies in Essetir. Your mother is always welcome here, if she needs refuge, as is anyone of course. But you have my word that she will be looked after.”

Merlin felt affection flood him, and managed a genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll let her know.” He fidgeted for a moment, then said, “Gwen. I know I haven’t been a good friend to you, these past few years. I was so focused on Arthur, on Albion, and everything else just- fell away.”

Gwen smiled bitterly. “You’re certainly not the only one guilty of that,” she said. Merlin knew what she meant.

Arthur had been an amazing king, and in order to be an amazing king, one had to be a bit of a shit husband. Gwen had been in love with Arthur, not all that he represented. It had been one of the reasons he loved her, but it had also worn their marriage to threads. She and Arthur hadn’t really been together for years now.

“I’m sorry anyway,” Merlin said, and Gwen smiled.

“I forgive you.” 

Merlin reached out, and wrapped an arm around her. If the way she slumped against him was any indication, Gwen needed this as badly as he did. 

As Merlin watched, Aithusa nosed the window open and leapt out. Merlin thought of Gwen’s kindness, her mercy, her benefit of the doubt granted completely and without exception. What other ruler would let a dragon roam free? 

“You’re the greatest queen Camelot has ever known,” Merlin said.

“My only competition in that category is Morgana,” Gwen said wryly. 

Merlin bumped their shoulders together, grinning. “You know what I mean.”

“You could come up with something better, though.”

“You’re my dearest friend,” Merlin said, meaning it but teasing nonetheless.

“Don’t let Gwaine hear you say that,” Gwen said with a smile. “Queen or not, he might issue me a challenge.”

Merlin snorted. “Gwaine is overly protective.”

“Gwaine loves you,” Gwen said, slipping into seriousness.

“And it makes him overly protective,” Merlin replied. He knew. 

“He’ll come with us to Essetir. I don’t know how many of the older knights I can take, I don’t want to leave Camelot unguarded.”

“You should leave Leon in charge, you know that,” Merlin said.

Gwen wrinkled her nose. “He will not be pleased.”

“No,” Merlin agreed, “but he won’t try to sneak out after us.”

Gwen nodded. “You tell him.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, but agreed. He caught up to Leon after a council meeting the next day, during which the plans for Merlin’s appointment to the role of Court Sorcerer were hashed out.

“Gwen needs you to stay here and be in charge when she’s in Essetir,” Merlin said.

“Absolutely not,” Leon said. “I’m head of the guard and First Knight, I should be with her.”

“She needs you here more.”

Leon scowled, but did not argue as he walked with Merlin in angry silence. 

“Were you with him to the end?” Leon asked abruptly, and Merlin’s heart slammed against his chest.

“Yes,” he choked out. 

“Good,” Leon said, and his voice was watery. “I was always scared… he was so reckless, especially as a child. When his time came, I always hoped I’d be there with him. Even better that it was you.”

“I couldn’t save him,” Merlin said, repeating the same desperate confession he felt like he’d been shouting at the universe for weeks.

Leon hung his head, and Merlin understood for a moment that this was a man who intimately understood his guilt, though his came from his vows and oaths as a Knight of Camelot rather than a prophecy. “None of us could.”

Gwen briefed the Essetir party the night before they were to depart. “Lot is an arrogant tyrant who rules with fear and intimidation,” she said mildly. “He is more lenient with commoners, as he was born one himself, and his consideration for outlying villages is demonstrated by his willingness to execute knights that abuse their powers there.”

“In short,” Gwaine said, “the man contains multitudes. What he fears above all else is having power stolen from him, probably because he seized the throne during the period of chaos following Cenred’s death.”

“A period that Camelot played no small part in,” Gwen agreed. “Tristan is now one of Lot’s knights, and has been our main contact through this. We will meet him upon arrival, and do as he says. Our first and only goal is to avoid war. Anyone acting overly aggressively will lose their position, and yes, that includes Sir Gwaine.”

Merlin grinned at Gwaine’s affronted expression. 

“Merlin,” Gwen said, “anything we should know?”

Merlin stood, feeling the odd sensation of having the attention of half a dozen knights and nobles. 

“Like Lot, I was born a peasant in Essetir,” Merlin said. “He’s likely to value community and hard work above all else, and intelligence over courage. Individual acts of valour will not be impressive, so do not try to distinguish yourself.” As an afterthought, Merlin added, “that includes Gwaine.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes, and a ripple of laughter went around the round table.

“Alright, get a good night’s sleep, and be ready to leave at dawn,” Gwen said. “Dismissed.”

Gwen ran a hand over her face, then turned to Merlin. “Will this work? Is it foolish?”

“It is the best plan you could have come up with,” Merlin said. “I think we can make it work.”

Gwen smiled weakly, and Merlin wondered if she was hoping for the kind of faith he’d given Arthur. Merlin loved and trusted Gwen completely, but he could not give her that. Merlin wondered if he would be able to use his magic for her if he needed to. 

They set out at dawn, and rode hard for two days, making camp at nightfall but otherwise not resting. Gwen was dressed in Camelot’s cloak and riding breeches like the rest of them, and laid out her identical bedroll on the ground next to theirs. She insisted everyone take turns cooking and cleaning, including her. 

Merlin felt the party’s unease at the queen’s behaviour, but all it took was a well-placed remark from Gwaine about how much she carried herself like Arthur to make them think better of saying anything.

They reached Lot’s castle around midday on the third day, and Merlin was relieved not to see any heads on spikes. 

Tristan met them at the gates, grinning. “Merlin, my lady,” he said, helping Gwen off her horse, then doing the same for Merlin. He turned to the rest of the party. “And other honoured guests. Come on.”

Merlin grinned at his manner of speaking. It seemed knighthood had not changed the smuggler much.

He led them inside, where King Lot showed them their quarters, fed them, and demanded business not start until the following day.

Merlin felt uneasy. Arthur would have called it one of his funny feelings, and he’d learned to listen to those. Muttering an incantation to silence his passing, Merlin headed for the royal wing.

Lot was examining bottles in the light of his room. Merlin frowned, his unease only growing.

The next morning, Gwen looked a bit green. “Are you alright?” Merlin asked, concerned.

“It must be nerves,” she said, waving him off. 

The party dined with the king, took part in musical festivities, then sat down to business. Lot was remarkably amenable to peace, completely at odds with how he had been acting, and Merlin was certain that something was wrong here. 

Gwen seemed sicker that night, but she waved them all away and insisted she was fine.

She fainted at breakfast the next morning, and the knights rushed to her. Gwaine stayed at Merlin’s side, hand on his sword hilt.

“Stand down,” Merlin hissed, and Gwaine released his grip but did not adjust his stance.

Tristan seemed genuinely concerned, and insisted Gwen be brought to the court physician. Lot agreed, and took them to a woman who bustled around burning herbs and chanting. Merlin could tell both magic and science when he saw it, and this was neither. The woman may have some rudimentary healing ability, but it wouldn’t do anything for Gwen now.

“He poisoned her,” Merlin said quietly to Gwaine.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, but you can’t kill him.”

Gwaine scowled. “He poisoned Gwen.”

“And all she asked is that we avoid war. I can heal her.”

“Can you prove it was deliberate poisoning when you do it?” 

Merlin shook his head. “Then he’ll keep trying. He doesn’t want it to seem like he’s murdered her, that’s why he’s done it this way, but when Gwen miraculously recovers, he might get desperate.”

Merlin nodded, and grasped Gwaine’s arm. “Keep a close eye on him.”

He spoke to Tristan and the healing woman, and enlisted their help to bring him what herbs he needed. The poison was slow acting, caused nausea, exhaustion, and fainting, and that narrowed it down considerably. All he had to do was flush it out of her system.

Gwen did not weaken, as she wasn’t ingesting any more of the poison, so Merlin was able to make sure he got the potion right.

She woke up a few minutes after it was administered, and Lot feigned his joy well.

Merlin snuck into Gwen’s chambers that night, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, and she smiled.

“Never got over the habit of sneaking around, did you?”

“Did you?” Merlin countered, and smiled back when Gwen shook her head.

“It was poison, wasn’t it?” She asked, before he could say anything. He nodded.

“Any other ruler would declare war, Gwen.”

“I am not any other ruler, as you well know,” Gwen said, sighing as though she rather wished she was. “Can we confront him?”

“Not enough proof.”

Gwen winched. “So we wait until he tries to kill me again, in a more obvious way.”

Merlin nodded.

The next day, Lot proposed they go hunting. “It builds community and character,” he said. “What better way to demonstrate our good will?”

Merlin never strayed more than a foot away from Gwen. When the arrow came flying towards her, he knocked her off her horse without a second thought. It whizzed overhead and embedded itself into a tree. 

“Terribly sorry,” Lot said, riding over to help her up. “My bowstring snapped, and it sent my shot off course.”

Merlin heard Gwaine’s undignified snort, and shot him a look. They all knew that a snapped bowstring did not result in a shot like that. They also knew they couldn’t prove it.

Gwaine insisted on sleeping in Gwen’s room that night. He dispatched a ‘bandit’ that had apparently gotten in and made straight for the Queen.

“Lot’s too smart,” Gwen said the next morning. “His Essetir values serve him well. Intelligence and determination. He won’t do anything obvious, and we can’t leave until we make peace he is clearly not planning to give us.”

The second assassin came during the council meeting, Merlin assumed so there would be some plausible way for Lot to suggest that the man could have been out to kill any of them. One of the new knights had cut him down before his poison dagger could even fully enter the air, and Merlin stood, rage boiling under his skin.

All they wanted was peace. 

“Enough,” Merlin said, and he felt his magic crackling through him, begging to be let out. “Lot, confess to your attempted regicide or I will get it out of you.”

Lot looked appalled. “I would never do such a thing. Essetir is a dangerous place, still recovering from the chaos of the last few years. These are the threats I face every day.”

Merlin reached out with his magic, reached down Lot’s throat and into his heart, and seized it. He felt his eyes glow gold as his power roared to life. The language of the Old Religion came to his tongue though he’d never known a spell for this, and he recognized the words coming from his own mouth to mean truth. 

“I have been trying to kill Queen Guinevere since you arrived,” Lot said, his tongue twisting as though trying to fight against what it was saying. 

Every knight drew their sword in unison. 

“Stand down!” Gwen ordered.

Merlin released Lot, who stared up at him angrily. “You- you enchanted me to say that.”

“Did I,” hissed Merlin. He reached out again, and Lot spoke again.

“I have been trying to kill Queen Guinevere, and there is a tattoo of an anchor on my left shoulder. Both of these things are the truth.”

Merlin motioned to one of the knights, who pulled Lot’s shirt back to reveal the image.

“We’ve never met,” Merlin said coolly. “I couldn’t have known that, so I couldn’t have made you say it. Would you like to confess without magic, or would you like to hide behind the people you order to die in your name?”

Gwaine put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, and he realized the wooden floor of the hall was smoking where he stood. He breathed deeply, trying to corral his magic to stay inside of him.

Lot met Gwen’s eyes stoically. “My lady,” he said, “I have been trying to kill you. Your power is great, and I fear for your reach extending into Essetir. Cenred did not treat this kingdom well, and I have no reason to believe you will be any better.”

“Don’t lie,” Merlin snarled, eyes flashing gold again. He didn’t even mean to do it this time, but Lot continued talking, clearly against his will.

“I earned this throne and this power, and I won’t allow it to be taken from me by some girl,” Lot spat. 

His advisors looked genuinely shocked. Tristan looked angry. Camelot’s knights all started to draw their swords again, before a gesture from Gwen stopped them.

Merlin released his hold on the king, and sat. “We should get to that peace treaty,” he said coldly.

“You insolent boy! How dare you use your devil magic on me? I’ll have you killed, and you can go and join your precious king.”

Merlin felt his vision go white with rage, felt his magic reach out of its own accord, grab Lot’s heart, and start twisting. 

That’s how it feels, Merlin thought savagely. That’s how I feel all the time you murderous ass.  

“Merlin!” Gwen yelled, and he stopped at once. 

Lot was hunched over, gasping. He was shaking with anger and humiliation, but said nothing.

“We should get to the treaty,” Gwen said, steady as ever. 

The fact that Camelot was not seeking retaliation for the repeated attempted murder of their queen meant that Essetir agreed to very favourable terms, including free trade and travel between the kingdoms, as well as a clause that permitted Camelot to help any villages in Essetir with whatever they needed, so long as it was not directly fighting Lot’s army. 

Lot looked genuinely relieved at that, and Merlin wondered if he’d been telling some of the truth after all. He still wanted to reach inside the man and wring his lungs out, a kind of deep, horrible anger that he did not understand.

They headed back to Camelot, and Merlin stretched his bedroll out next to Gwaine’s on the first night.

“Why am I so angry?” He asked, quiet.

“You’re grieving,” Gwaine said, as if it was that simple. “When my father died, I wanted to kill everyone who got too close to me, noble or not. I felt so powerless.” 

Merlin blinked back tears. “I’m doing everything I can for Gwen because I feel like it’ll make up for what I couldn’t do for Arthur, but it won’t. Nothing will change it. No matter how much or how little I use my magic, whoever I use it on. He’s still dead.”

Merlin felt Gwaine’s strong hand slip into his. There was nothing more to say.

Merlin was silent most of the way back to Camelot. He could feel Gwaine’s eyes on him, and the weight of Gwen’s concern, but he had to think. He couldn’t trust himself to use his power when he didn’t have such a clear purpose for it. He couldn’t go on like this.

Their arrival back at Camelot was met with much rejoicing, and the clerks soon sent out a statement about the peace with Essetir. Merlin gave it two days, letting Gwen bask in her well-deserved victory, before he came to her.

Well, he waited for her. He played tug of war with Aithusa in Morgana’s chambers, grinning as the dragon bounded around him joyfully. She was still a kid, really. 

Gwen arrived soon enough.

“Merlin,” she said, surprised and weary. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, standing. “I didn’t want to intrude, but I wanted to speak to you in private and see Aithusa. This seemed like the best way to do both.”

Gwen smiled, and sat on the bed. “What is it?”

“I’d like to be relieved of my duties and the council meeting tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Gwen said, and Merlin blinked. He’d forgotten for a moment that time off wasn’t really something he’d have to beg for anymore.

“Don’t you want to know what I’m doing?”

Gwen looked at him. “Do you want to tell me?”

Merlin nodded, and she motioned for him to go ahead.

“I can’t serve this kingdom properly right now,” Merlin said. “I can’t use my magic properly, which means I can’t live properly. I always understood completely what everything I did was for, and now…”

“You’re lost,” Gwen said.

Merlin nodded. “I’m going to the crystal cave. It’s in the Valley of the Fallen Kings, and I can use it to see moments in the future. I’m going to see when Arthur is meant to come back, and hopefully what I’m meant to do in the meantime”

“That Valley is dangerous,” Gwen said. “How many knights would you like to take?”

Merlin smiled. “Gwen. I don’t need to take any knights.”

He wiggled his fingers pointedly, and she ducked her head. “Of course. Sorry, it’s a bit difficult to remember somehow. Why didn’t you go to this cave before?”

Merlin sighed. “I was scared of the answer. I still am. But I need to know more than I need the false hope that he might just come walking in tomorrow.”

Gwen lay a hand on his arm. “And what will you do if it’s an answer you don’t like?”

Merlin didn’t know. 

Gwen sighed. “Just promise me this. Whatever it is, you come back and talk to me before you do anything else.”

Merlin agreed. He readied himself the next morning

“Are you sure this is smart?” Gaius asked as Merlin packed.

“No,” Merlin admitted, not slowing down.

“What good has knowing the future ever done you before?”

“There was that time I stopped Morgana from killing Uther,” Merlin pointed out, filling a bag with apples. “Gaius, I have to do this.”

Gaius sighed. “I know. I’ll be here when you return.”

Merlin hugged him before heading to the stables, saddling his horse and hopping on. He turned around as he rode through the courtyard, and waved to Gwen where she was watching from a window. 

It was a peaceful ride, and Merlin felt more grounded than he had since Arthur died. He would know soon, and then he could figure out what to do. 

Merlin encountered a small party of bandits, and knocked them all out with a wave of his hand. His magic was still churning inside him, desperate to be put to use, and it took very little effort to allow it to spill out.

When he reached the cave, he tied his horse up outside and patted it on the head. Then he turned and walked into the depths of the cave, wondering if the landslide he’d caused last time would be an issue.

He found the central cavern easily enough, feeling connected to this place after everything. He kept hoping Balinor might show up to speak to him, but Merlin was solidly alone. He reached a large crystal in the wall, and carefully prepared himself to look into it, prepared himself for what he wanted to see. He’d had time, last time he was stuck here, to get better at using the crystals to view specific moments rather than just being bombarded with an onslaught of visions.

Arthur, Merlin thought, and peered into the crystal. 

Time passed quickly, with Gwen growing old and withering before his eyes. Merlin watched himself care for her children, her grandchildren, her great-grandchildren. He watched Camelot fall, then bloom into something different. It faced many threats, invaders from the north, conquerors from the south. Merlin watched himself walk past Lake Avalon as the seasons and land changed around him. He saw kings, wars, burnings and clemency in turn. He saw a queen, then another, then the prophecy of a united Albion properly fulfilled, at least in name. He saw ships sailing out, saw the cruelty they would inflict, watched his homeland swell with the influx of wealth. He saw smoke, great metal machines that twisted towards the sky, cities rising in what seemed like seconds. He saw war again, war different from anything he’d ever seen before, the land torn apart by explosions. He saw it rebuilt, remade, forever changed. 

He saw some things he did not understand, and some things he did, and a world he could not comprehend. He saw everything, with two exceptions.

Merlin never saw magic returned to Albion, and he never saw Arthur rise. When he saw himself, walking alongside a huge blue carriage without horses, still looking out over that damned lake, Merlin pulled himself away.

A thousand years at least, probably more. A thousand years watching people wither and fade, while he remained the one constant in a world changing so fast it made his head spin. 

A thousand years without Arthur. A millenia, when Merlin didn’t even know how he’d lasted these past few weeks.

“No,” he said, wrenching himself away from the crystal. “No.”

Merlin looked around, wishing for Balinor, for Taliesin, for someone he could yell at until they agreed to change fate.

Merlin fell to the ground and screamed, his cries echoing around the cavern. When his throat was raw and his knees aching, he stood.

“Enough,” he rasped. He felt his eyes flash gold, felt the crystals humming in his presence. He was Emrys, damn it, he was magic itself, he was Albion, and if he said it was time for Arthur to return then Arthur would. 

“Enough,” he said again, power rolling through him, and every crystal in the cave cracked cleanly down the middle.

~

Gwen waited anxiously for Merlin’s return. She understood ‘Once and Future’ to mean not in her lifetime, perhaps not ever, or at least so far that Merlin couldn’t reach it. She hoped fervently that she was wrong, but she did not think she was. 

She worried what Merlin would do if she was right. She worried about her own ability to cope without him. Gwen had let Lot repeatedly try to kill her, had placed herself directly in the line of fire in a desperate bid for peace, but it had been Merlin who actually stopped him, Merlin’s magic that had gotten the treaty signed at last. 

Gwen was not the prophesied ruler that her husband had been. She was just the peasant who had fallen in love with him. Had there been an heir, or any Pendragon extended family at all, Gwen would never have been on the throne. She likely wouldn’t even have been regent. 

Despite all that, Gwen knew she was doing well, knew Camelot was doing well, knew that she had support and allies in spades. Queen Guinevere was powerful, and peaceful, and would be a good ruler.

Gwen was tired, and lonely, and somewhere beneath it all she was angry . Angry at Arthur for leaving her with this, angry at the people for being allowed to grieve in a way she couldn’t afford to, angry at Merlin for his faith in Arthur that was so unshakeable he had to go find him in the future rather than help her in the present.

Gwen was also deeply and horribly guilty for feeling any of that.

“You need to do something for yourself,” Leon insisted, cornering her after a council meeting. “You’ve only been queen a few weeks, and you’re already going to burn yourself out.”

“I’m fine,” Gwen said, but he grabbed her arm. She looked up, surprised by the breach of proper conduct, and he dropped it.

“Your majesty,” he said. “With all due respect, I served Arthur for years. I know when someone is working themselves too hard. I will alert you if Merlin returns. I know you used to spend time in the library when you and Arthur first married. Go see Geoffrey, read something you enjoy.”

Gwen slumped, giving in. “Alright. Thank you, Leon.”

“Always, my lady.”

Geoffrey greeted her pleasantly, and pulled a couple tomes he thought might interest her. “I’ve brought these out of the vaults since you repealed the magic ban,” he said, handing them over. “They’re not spellbooks–Uther would never allow us to keep anything like that–but they go into the beliefs of the Druids.”

Gwen thanked him, already perking up at the prospect. She spent a lot of time here when Arthur was on missions and her duties were complete, just learning. She’d never had so much time to herself when she was a servant, and she’d also had much less access to books. Morgana used to gift them to her for every birthday, noticing Gwen’s fondness for learning, and she had amassed a small collection that she had read a dozen times.

Full access to the library had been one of her favourite things about becoming queen, and a balm to her loneliness. She wondered idly about expanding education as she sat down and began flipping through the book. She smiled at the mentions of Emrys, wondering if Merlin knew there were books that mentioned him.

She passed a few pleasant hours that way before a serving girl she used to work with burst in.

“Hello Bettu.”

“Gwen. I mean, Lady Guinevere.” 

“Gwen is just fine,” she said, holding back a wince. 

“Sir Leon sent me to tell you Merlin is back.”

Gwen stood at once. She turned to Geoffrey, who waved her towards the door. “I’ll keep the books at the desk for you, my lady.”

Gwen thanked him, then hurried to follow Bettu outside.

Merlin was standing in the entrance hall, looking eerily calm. 

“Did you get your answer?” Gwen asked.

“Yes.”

“And?”

Merlin met her eyes, and the fire in them was like nothing she’d ever seen from him before. “And I’m going to change it.”

Gwen knew not to argue. Instead, she said, “come and tell me what happened.”

Merlin followed her to the council room. Gwen dismissed the guards at the doors, and sat next to Merlin. 

When he was finished explaining, Gwen felt as though she was going to be sick.

“What are you going to do?” She asked, wary of the answer.

“I’m going to get him out,” Merlin said.

“You can’t just-”

“Why not?” Merlin shook his head. “Why can’t I? The Old Religion demands balance, a life for a life, the scales of destiny to be maintained. Well apparently I have hundreds of lives to give. It must be enough.”

“Merlin,” Gwen said, but Merlin stood and began pacing.

“I’m tired of letting fate decide. You didn’t see the things I saw, Gwen. The things Albion goes through. If none of that was its greatest need, who’s to say it’ll ever come? Who’s to say he’ll ever return?”

Merlin shook his head as though trying to dislodge a thought, slightly frantic. “Albion will always need him. It needs him now.”

Gwen swallowed past the hurt, past the fact that Merlin did not have faith in her to look after Camelot. 

“It doesn’t,” she said, unable to push her anger far enough down to stay quiet. “The kingdom doesn’t need him, Merlin. You do.”

Merlin stopped moving, and refused to meet her eyes. Gwen waited for him to get mad, to leave, to shut down. She waited for him to do any of the things Arthur would have done.

Instead, Merlin said, “you’re right. You’re a great ruler, and Albion is lucky to have you, as am I. The kingdom will keep.” He looked up. “But I need him.”

Merlin’s face and voice were both raw with emotion, laid bare. Gwen didn’t think he’d ever been so honest with her.

Gwen took his hand, and took a deep breath. “There are some things I want you to do before you leave,” she said, and he whipped his head around to stare at her.

“You’re ok with this?”

“I love you, and I want you to be happy. Anyone could see that you won’t be if you don’t at least try. Just promise me something? Be safe. Bring him home, if you can, but you better come home too.”

Merlin squeezed her hand. “I’ll try.”

Gwen smiled. “I know.”

They spent the next few days working hard, Merlin leaving enchantments behind that would make things easier for them if they faced an issue without him. 

Merlin said goodbye to the knights, then to her. She wasn’t sure why they all expected this to be such a long journey, but they did, and Merlin clearly agreed. She made him swear to write, then sent him on his way.

Gwen watched Merlin ride out of sight, then turned back to her castle. Camelot wasn’t going to lead itself, after all, and until Arthur came back she was still queen.

Leon stood nearby, and Gwen gave him a sharp nod.

Right, she thought. To work.