Waking up felt like wading through thick layers of quicksand. Sluggish and agonizingly slow as he latched onto the first strands of awareness. Clawing himself to consciousness.

Heavy eyes fluttered open, gaze immediately drawn to the moon, looming over him like a beacon. Night had fallen like a blanket over the world, bathing the ruins of the isle in darkness.

He stared at the stars scattered overhead and all he could feel was a deep-seated emptiness, a void in his chest he could not begin to describe.

It was as if someone had burrowed a hole into his very heart, leaving behind a hollow cavity. It felt like a constant throbbing at the back of his mind.

With a peculiar sense of detachment, he wondered if this is was it was going to be like for him, from now on.

As if his mind, only now, began to catch up to his thoughts, he struggled to get back up. Wanting to see for himself if the veil had indeed been healed like agreed upon. His entire body ached, a deep-rooted sense of tiredness incased his movements as he leaned his weight on his hands and hefted his torso up and his back off the ground. His gaze was immediately drawn to the empty space where the veiled once rippled with darkness. Relief, immediate and overwhelming washed over him and he almost let himself slump back onto the ground. If not for the steady pair of hands that stopped his abrupt fall.

"Merlin, you're awake." Came Lancelot's voice, soft and worried as he helped Merlin lean against a log just a couple of steps away from his previous resting place. "How are you feeling?" The knight's voice held a sadness he never wanted to hear in his friend's voice. The man had heard the deal he'd struck with the gatekeeper. He was, therefore, aware of just what Merlin had lost on this awful night.

Looking past the knight, he noticed the small campfire they had lit while he slept. The knights and the prince were all fast asleep around it.

"Are they okay?" He asked instead, wanting to avoid this discussion for as long as he could.

"They are, thanks to you," Lancelot answered quietly, looking at Merlin with sad eyes. It made him want to run somewhere and hide. "They woke up shortly after the veil disappeared. We decided it was better to wait for you to regain consciousness before riding back to Camelot." And then, as if by an after-thought. "Arthur was really worried about you, you know? Even though he'd never admit it out loud." A smile lit the man's features, making him want to mirror the knight's expression.

"Yeah, I guess he wouldn't." The silence settled between them as the man dropped to the ground, his shoulder's parallel to Merlin's as they both gazed into the fire. The flames crackled and danced with the light wind.

"What did you tell them?" And the knight knew instantly what Merlin meant. Arthur would've surely asked how they closed the veil if no sacrifice was given. At least, with no apparent sacrifice. Because how could he possibly guess just how much Merlin had given up for his kingdom, for him.

"I told them that the Caileach agreed to close the gate, as proof to the prince that not all magic was evil. And that you convinced her to do it." Warmth, awed and adoring slithered into his chest. Almost enough to overshadow the painful emptiness that now resided within him. Almost.

"That was..." and how could he endeavor to find the right words to express his gratefulness. For he'd give anything to sway Arthur's mind on the evils of magic. This wasn't a breakthrough. Nor was it going to change the prince's mind for good. But it was a step forward. A step towards a destiny Merlin longed for desperately and whole-heartedly. "Thank you." He whispered, not bothering to conceal the profound gratitude he was feeling.

"I only did what I thought was right." Lancelot was quiet, serious as he spoke, his eyes never straying from Merlin's in an effort to convey his sincerity. "I just wish they knew just how much you sacrificed for them tonight. Just how much we all owe you."

"It was always going to be my burden to bear Lancelot." He trained his gaze on the flames before them, as if the warm glow would distract him from the storm that brewed inside him.

"It didn't have to be." And yes, he knew that, of course, he did. The Caileach had been clear about the fact that this would be his last chance. "I would've done it if only you'd let me. I would've gladly walked into the gallows for you."

He wanted to be angry at the man. Wanted to shout and rage at him for attempting what he had. Yet, it would be hypocritical of him to do so. For, Merlin was about to do the same thing. He would've succeeded if not for the Caileach's proposal.

"You would've left me." The words slipped past his throat unbidden. He could feel himself immediately regretting voicing his terrible thoughts the moment they were out. He never wanted to feel this open, this vulnerable. As if he was made of fragile material that would break at any second. "You were going to leave me alone."

Alone. Not in the literal sense of the word. But in the most important one. The greatest form of loneliness one can persist in. To be looked over but never truly seen. To be regarded but never recognized and headed. To be overlooked and left behind.

He hated the way his voice cracked with emotion. The aching in his chest grew tenfold. As if the hollowness within him was increasing. Threatening to eat away at his very essence until there was nothing left.

"I- I'm sorry." Lancelot's eyes shined with unshed tears as he realized just what his death might've entailed for the younger man. To lose one of the very few people in this world who knew him for all that he was. For who he really is. "I am so sorry Merlin." Even if he would've gladly given his life if it meant Merlin could live a normal full human life. He thinks it would be even crueler if he had left him to go through it alone. He wrapped his arms around the warlock, wanting the comfort for both of them.

They stayed there, just holding each other for a while. Relishing the fact they had both made it out of this, alive, despite the odds.

Yet, a question plagued Lancelot's mind. "Does it feel different? Do you feel different?"

Merlin broke out of his hold, his gaze miles away as he answered, and his voice cold and emotionless.

"I don't know if I can ever feel the same way again, Lancelot."

__________________________

Merlin and Lancelot had stayed up for most of the night, talking and watching the flames. They spoke of anything and everything.

By first light, the fire had fizzled out, the logs scattered at the center of the small campsite, nothing but ashes to the morning wind.

One by one the knights woke up, each one happy to congratulate Merlin for his bravery and exceptional bargaining skills. Not that they had any idea of what had truly transpired that night.

He would, however, always cherish the way Arthur's features lit up when his eyes landed on Merlin's form. The prince's smile was genuine as he slapped his shoulder. As the servant has seen him do to countless knights after feats of bravery and honor.

It was humbling, that for the first time, his involvement in saving Camelot wasn't completely overlooked. Even if it was greatly underestimated. It still warmed him to his core to hear Arthur's gratitude.

"I'm glad we're all alive, Merlin." The prince admitted softly, as they trekked the road back to the citadel. Their horses trotted in tandem as they rode a few feet ahead of their party. "For a moment there, when I woke up and Lancelot was the only one conscious, I thought you had done it. I thought you'd taken my place."

"Awe, did you grieve me?" The jest came up short, lacking the light-heartedness it usually held.

"I'm serious, Merlin, I'm glad you're alive."

"I'm glad too, Sire." And just for their unusual relationship. "Good servants are hard to come by, after all."

"You're not that good."

"True." The secret smile they shared spoke louder than their words. An echo of the conversation they had the night before. And after a moment, just for familiarity's sake.

"Don't think that your acts of bravery in saving Camelot will get you a day off though. We wouldn't want the glory to get to your head now, would we?" The prince continued smugly, giving his horse a light kick as if to hasten his gallop. "When we get to Camelot I want you to polish my armor, launder my clothes-"

Merlin tuned out the rest of the man's tirade, intent on keeping his smile at bay as they approached the city. Looking back to the knights, he was greeted with similar smiles as he made eye contact with them, one by one. Gwain held a particularly giddy one.

In moments like these, he could almost pretend that he hadn't lost a part of himself back there.

________________________________________

The changes were almost imperceptible at first. Days went by and life got back on track for them in Camelot. He'd wake up, go about his day, as usual, serving Arthur and going through his chores while simultaneously helping Gaius and occasionally checking on the knights.

However, it became increasingly obvious that something had changed.

He didn't notice right away. Didn't think much of his sudden lack of appetite and his newfound inability to sleep through the night.

Throughout his years in Camelot, his sleep schedule had varied greatly. From the nightmares he'd frequently get to his harrowing schedule, sleep was a luxury at best. However, whenever he could find the time, he'd always take advantage of it.

Now, as he tossed and turned through the night, and as he went through every meal sluggishly. He wondered if the changes were more prominent than he'd previously believed.

Every bite he took felt like lead to his stomach as if his body was no longer accustomed to nutrients. It had dawned on him with a hefty kind of horror that his body may no longer have any need for it.

Perhaps that was why he didn't need the sleep anymore. He still felt constantly hungry and tired. However, he found that he could tune it out if he wished so. As if the things that previously sustained him, tethering him to the waking, human world, were no longer relevant or important.

He could also feel the shift in his core, his magic had become stronger. His body and mind were more in tune with the magic of the earth. He could feel it, constantly flowing through every living thing. Circulating through the ground like the roots of an ancient tree, twisting and winding around everything and anything. It was overwhelming and awe-inspiring. For, if he concentrated enough he could feel the world down to the very last grain of dirt lying buried deep within the shifting earth. He could just as easily get lost in it, fade in the ever-moving flow of the world until he couldn't decipher where he ended and where it began.

Gaius had inevitably grown worried and fearful for his ward's sudden aversion to food and rest. So much so that he'd asked Lancelot about it.

In the end, Merlin had no choice but to sit down with the man and explain, in no easy terms just what he had been keeping from him for weeks now.

It had almost broken him, then and there, to see the sad, pitying look on his uncle's old features. The man seemed to grow in years throughout the conversation. Tears streamed down his wrinkled cheeks by the end of the painful tale.

Lancelot, who had been there for both support and answers. Had stared at him with a detached kind of sadness. Silently promising himself to keep a closer look at his friend's habits. Merlin may not require food and sleep from now on, but that didn't mean he shouldn't get it anyway.

The man was already thinner as it is. He'd be damned if he'd let the warlock waste away right before his eyes.

____________________________________

Weeks went by and Merlin had developed a new routine. He'd wake up, after sleeping at least three hours to stamp the tiredness that was beginning to ingrain itself in his body. He'd eat whatever Lancelot or Gaius forced on his plate then left for Arthur's chambers. Somehow, Lancelot had even managed to rope Gwen into their shenanigans. The maidservant would pop up throughout the day with offerings. Always some kind of pastry on hand to offer the warlock as she oh so coincidently crossed path with him, on her way to wherever she happened to be going at the time.

It would be funny, really, if Merlin's body wasn't protesting with each thing he tried to digest.

It still made the emptiness lessen slightly as he felt the commitment his friends were putting into keeping him healthy.

Soon enough, Arthur's birthday arrived. The entire city was preparing for the celebration. Jesters and entertainers from all over the kingdom came to celebrate the crown prince's name day.

The feast alone made the whole castle bristle with activity as all the servants rushed to get things well and ready for the night. Even the king, who hasn't left his chambers in so long, was to be in attendance.

The day had started with jest and laughs. So as Merlin stood in the king's chambers, watching as Gaius announced to the prince the bad news. He wondered where it had all gone wrong.

The king was dying and Arthur was devastated, justly so. The assassin had perished in his endeavor to kill the prince. Uther had saved his son's life by fighting against the intruder, putting himself bodily between Arthur and the blow that was meant for him.

Despite the deep anger and resentment, Merlin harbored for the tyrant, he couldn't help but thank him, for his final act of love.

What shocked him the most, however, was Arthur's willingness to turn to magic for help. Merlin supposed that the tale they had told him about the veil had struck a chord.

Distantly, he realized that this was the opportunity he'd been waiting for. The perfect chance to prove to Arthur that Magic could be used for good, once and for all.

He thought that Lancelot, of all people, would understand his willingness to help Arthur now, in his time of great need. However, like his mentor, the knight had immediately protested against the notion.

The man stated vehemently that it was too risky of a move to take. That so many things could go wrong if Merlin were to fail.

Yet, despite the warnings, despite the hollowness in his chest constricting and expanding, he went ahead with his plan. Knowing that if he didn't, he'd always wonder what he could've done differently otherwise.

______________________

Merlin never thought he'd witness his nightmares come to life. Not this early, at least. Now, as the king's body grew cold and rigid right before their eyes, he watched as his greatest fears manifested themselves. Right here, in the royal chambers.

His heart broke into a million tiny shards as the prince brandished his sword, a war cry slipping past his throat as he charged at the warlock. The rage, and killing intent burned in his eyes like hellfire.

Arthur was trying to cut him down. His prince was trying to drive a blade right through Merlin's heart.

Tears glistened in his eyes as he watched, as if a spectator watching from outside his own body, as his best friend tried to kill him.

On instinct, his magic flared to life in order to protect him from the incoming threat.

It took him a moment to get his body to move, to respond to his command, and run. And he ran, because that's what he always did. He ran and hid and cowered. Because that's what he'll always have to do to survive. He'd always have to lurk in the shadows, work in the darkness that accompanied a life of lies and falsehoods. And, now, he'd condemned himself and the rest of the magical world to this terrible fate. For Arthur would never turn to magic again. Not after this night.

He doesn't know why the spell didn't work. He could feel his powers brimming right beneath his skin. His magic, now stronger than ever, completed the task. He knew this, he had felt it. Felt the king's wounds heal and stitch themselves back together, only to worsen a moment later. As if the magic was falling back on itself, turning on its very essence.

Arthur will never forgive him for this.

Drinking the de-aging potion, he ran back to the king's chambers. He was going to be there for Arthur, even as the world threatened to shatter and break on top of him.

"Find him. I want you to scour the five kingdoms if you have to. He is to face judgment for his crimes tonight." Arthur's voice sounded through the doors as he gently pushed them open. Merlin's gaze immediately met with several knights. His eyes avoided Lancelot's, choosing instead to stare ahead, at the wall just behind the prince's shoulder. "Dismissed." The prince concluded, gesturing for the knights to get to the task they'd been given. However, even as the door to the royal chambers closed behind them. Merlin could still feel Lancelot's presence, right behind the threshold. Waiting for him.

"I- I'm sorry Arthur. I wish there was something I could've done." He whispered, his voice dripping with desperate sincerity. "I'm so sorry."

"I am to blame for this, Merlin. This is all my fault." He's never heard Arthur sound so cold, so detached before.

"You are not. This was not your fault." It was mine.

"It is. I disregarded what my father spent my whole life trying to teach me. I was so arrogant, so naïve. My mistake cost my father his life. I will not make the same folly again." The prince's gaze met his, blue icy eyes bore into his very soul. "Magic... It has already taken so much from me. It is pure evil. I will never lose sight of that again."

The words felt like a twisting dagger to the heart. He felts as if he was drowning, the air leaving his lungs felt heavy and insufficient. He could feel the hollowness in his chest expand until it threatened to devour him completely. He forces himself to stand there, to stay still and suffer in silence, his eyes still meeting Arthur's. The prince was completely oblivious to his servant's inner turmoil.

He stood there until the man dismissed him. Walking away on shaky legs, head hanging low, a man walking to the gallows.

The moment the door closes behind him with a soft click, he crumbles to the ground. Chest heaving with the effort to just breathe.

Two arms hold him up, latching onto his hand, leading him up and away from the prince's chambers. Distantly, he recognizes the winding staircase as it leads them to the physician's quarters.

Brown eyes, soft as warm honey, break through the haze in his vision. Drawing him out of his stupor as if by a spell.

"It's going to be okay, Merlin. You just need to breathe with me. Can you do that?" The man had heard the conversation between the prince and his manservant. His heart was breaking for the sorcerer with every word the prince had uttered.

"It will never be okay Lancelot." His voice is cold to his own ears. Vacant of any emotion as he speaks. "This is all my fault."

Gaius who had been silently watching until now, speaks up, drawing the men's attention towards him.

"It was not your fault, Merlin." The physician states solemnly, drawing a necklace from the pocket of his robe. "I'm afraid there are bigger things at play here."

______________________________

Arthur didn't know what to do. Thick and heavy guilt pooled in his guts. Grief overwhelming and true enveloped his heart like a vice. He wondered if his father would ever pardon him for the mistakes he committed on this night. If he'd ever forgiven him for overlooking twenty years of teachings, for ignoring his life's work and costing him his own in return.

His hands snaked through the strands of his golden hair, twisting the locks until they hurt. Wanting if nothing more, to just feel something other than the encompassing rage that resided in his heart.

The doors to his chambers burst open with a bang, making him jump out of his seat, hand already reaching for the sword at his waist. He lowered it a moment later as his eyes took in the harried forms of his knight and his court physician.

"What is the meaning of this, Lancelot." He asked, voice level, as not to take his anger out on the knight.

"Your highness," the knight began, remembering his deference only now, "I'm afraid a great injustice has been done on this night."

"What are you talking about?" The prince answered, annoyance rising with the man's cryptic words.

"This, my lord." The knight's clenched fist opened to reveal an ordinary necklace.

"What am I looking at Sir Lancelot?" The use of his rank served to emphasize his rising impatience.

"This was found on around the king's neck. It's enchanted, my lord. We suspect this is the work of Morgana."

"Is this true, Gaius?"

"I'm afraid so, my lord. This particular enchantment serves to reverse the effects of healing spells. The king was condemned the moment the sorcerer tried to heal him." The physician answers solemnly.

"The sorcerer tried his best to heal your father. He was true to his word, he honored your agreement. There was no way for him to know of this enchantment. There was nothing either of you could've done to prevent this."

"Are you certain of this?" And the fact that the prince was trusting them to this degree spoke volumes of the king he would be. From this day onwards.

"I am, your highness," Gaius answered simply.

"Very well. Lancelot have the knights call off the manhunt."

"My lord?" The knight faltered, having believed their effort would be that much harder to accomplish.

"The sorcerer will not be persecuted. I only wish I hadn't acted so rashly. I let my anger get the better of me. I shall endeavor not to do so again. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, you may leave."

As the doors closed once again behind his impromptu visitors. Arthur felt a weight lessen in his stomach. Even as the shackles of grief wrapped around his very essence. Was Morgana never going to let them live freely? Was she going to keep tormenting and persecuting them until there was nothing left of his kingdom?

Their war had only just begun. And as he stood there that night, a silent vigil over his father's body. He hoped that whatever the future had in store for them. That he'd live up to the expectations of his people, but more importantly, that he'd live up to his own expectations.

As the crowd chanted for his long life, as they applauded and welcomed the start of his reign. He swore to uphold his oath until his last breath.