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The song in his head lured Arthur away from the camp he shared with Merlin.

Arthur followed it blindly, diving into the woodlands and leaving the protective fire on the edge of the forest. The spring air blew through his hair, and he pulled his sword from its sheath, discarding it without a thought.

Coming to himself, he found himself in a forest clearing, with no armor, no weapon, and a middle-aged woman standing in front of him, scowling at him as her eyes stopped glowing gold.

It was like waking from a dream or a trance. Arthur was suddenly aware of what had happened, how he had been brought here. The woman continued to scowl at him and said nothing. Her eyes practically blazed with anger, telling him she meant nothing good. Arthur braced himself. Shifting his legs the right distance apart to attack if needed. Battle preparedness in such situations was an instinct.

“What do you want?” he demanded of the woman before him. Wary.

“Oh, Arthur Pendragon… You cannot give me what I want.” 

“Then why am I here?” he demanded, centering his balance for a quick rush forward and a blow.

“Judgement…” she told him. “You killed my soulmate. My husband. You hunted him down because he was a sorcerer.”

And immediately, he felt sick. His hand moved to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his clothing. It was a feeling he had been having more and more often since learning of Merlin’s magic and them becoming lovers. The knowledge that he had killed subjects who did not deserve it tormented him. He had chased down innocent people who had family they loved. The people he killed had children, parents, and lovers of their own. How many Merlins had he killed? And how many people’s Merlins had he killed?

Merlin would always blame his father and how Uther had raised him. He would always point out the good they were doing now that the laws were changed. They were even compensating innocent sorcerers for the years they had suffered. But how could any amount of material goods make up for the deaths? Some of the newly-freed sorcerers were happy, some were grateful, and some hated him. 

It didn’t take much to guess this was one who hated him.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur began in a pained tone. “I believed my father. I did horrible things. I can never make up for them, but I have to keep living, I have to try to do what I can, for Camelot and for others. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I have not forgiven myself. You have every right to judge me. I would only ask you do not kill me. There are people who need me alive.” Faces flashed in his mind, Merlin’s at the forefront. “I promise you I am doing everything I can to make up for my mistakes.”

He shifted out of the fighting stance and went down on one knee, bowing his head. “I am sorry,” Arthur repeated.

The woman laughed, “Sorry is not good enough, but I won’t kill you.”

“Thank you,” Arthur told her genuinely.

The woman took a step forward, whispering strange words. Arthur felt magic wash over him, but it didn’t feel like Merlin's magic. It felt sticky and invasive, clawing into him despite clearly not belonging there.

“What did you do?” he asked, standing abruptly. “That was a spell! What does it do?” 

“Justice,” the woman told him. “It's a simple spell. It will make you feel my pain some nights.”

That was fair. As much as Arthur hated it and feared it, it was fair. “I accept your judgement,” he told the woman. “I’m going back to my camp now.” She waved a hand as if dismissing him, and Arthur departed from her presence.

Merlin had done nothing while he was gone but pull himself deeper under the fur that covered their joined bedroll. His curly head was the only thing visible poking out from the fur. 

The sight startled Arthur out of his own melancholy thoughts. He laughed, he had to laugh. Then the laughter died on his lips as the old thoughts, the old anguish came back. He snaked himself under the fur and wrapped both arms around Merlin, pushing his face into the back of the sorcerer's neck as he did when the worst of the crushing guilt overcame him. And he could feel an attack coming on. Thankfully, these happened most often at night, so no one else but Merlin had the chance to see when Arthur was breaking down.

Deep breaths. Inhale the smell of Merlin. Deep breaths. Don’t breathe too fast. Stop hyperventilating. Don’t think about the people of his kingdom whom he failed. Count to ten. Remind himself of the good he was doing now. Ignore the crushing guilt. Think of the expressions on people's faces as magic returned. The happy ones, not the ones who agreed with his father and hated the change in laws, not the nobles who fought it, the happy ones. Ignore the guilt. Stop the memory of screams, of his sword stabbing into innocent people. Think of the child who had made water dance in the market. Gaius’s betrothed, who had returned and made him so happy. And Merlin. Merlin's face as he used magic for little things. Things of beauty, things of joy. Cling to Merlin. Hold onto Merlin like a lifeline and try to remember the good he had done for the kingdom. The things Merlin would remind him of if he woke up to Arthur like this. Breathe deeply. Force the memories away. Breathe deeply and hold onto Merlin. Focus on breathing. Focus on the good.

Slowly, Arthur’s breathing mellowed out. He fell asleep with Merlin in his arms.

“Arthur.” 

Arthur groaned, feeling Merlin shake his shoulder. 

“We should get moving. Also, do you feel like telling me why you seemingly walked into the forest alone like a total dollophead? I can see the footprints!”

Arthur groaned again and pushed himself up. “A sorceress brought me into the woods.”

Immediately, he could see Merlin tense. 

“It’s alright, she only made it so I will feel some of the pain she felt when I killed her husband some nights. That’s fair, Merlin.”

By the expression on Merlin's face and the anger he was radiating, he did not feel the same.

“You can’t keep punishing yourself like this!”

“Technically, Merlin, I did not punish myself; she did with her little spell.” Arthur began to clear up their camp.

 “You know what I mean. You cannot keep doing this, Arthur. We’re going back to the castle.” Merlin crossed his arms. “I’m not doing it anymore.”

“Merlin, you told me that if you were going to share the time I hurt you most, we had to be in the right place. You agreed.” Arthur met his sorcerer's eyes. He had to know this. He had to know what he had done to Merlin.

Merlin groaned. “I didn’t want to keep secrets from you anymore, and you asked. But I didn’t agree to this! I never agreed to you letting strange sorceresses put spells on you because you cannot stand your guilt. We’re done. I’m not taking you!” Merlin stood stubbornly in the middle of the camp.

Arthur walked up to him, “It will be better for me to know. Please, Merlin.”

“You can’t keep torturing yourself for how your father raised you!” Merlin stepped forward, fists clenched at his side.

“Merlin… I need to know.” Arthur tried to make him understand. “I’m working to forgive myself. I’m working on it.” He stretched out to cup Merlin's face. “I need to know.”

Merlin leaned into his touch and let out a sigh. “You’re a stubborn ass, you know that?”

“And you are an impossible idiot,” Arthur informed Merlin before leaning forward to capture Merlin's lips with his own. 

There were no words for kissing Merlin. It was a gift Arthur had never expected to have. And oh, the feeling of his soft lips against Arthur’s. He wrapped his free arm around Merlin, pulling him close before tilting his head to the side, deepening the kiss. Merlin practically melted against him. Arthur loved how he did that. He could be taut and tense in one moment, but a simple kiss made him melt in Arthur’s arms. This was not going to be a simple kiss, however.

Arthur's mouth opened as Merlin’s did the same under his. Their tongues embraced and battled with each other playfully. Warmth that felt better than the sun surged through Arthur from where their lips touched. Impossibly sweet. Arthur tilted his head again, inhaling Merlin like he was the air he needed to breathe. Merlin’s playful tongue poked at his, and Arthur moved a hand to Merlin’s rear, squeezing as they continued to snog. They broke apart, panting, then kissed again. Finally, Merlin pulled himself back. 

“Fine. Fine! I’ll take you. You win. This time.”

Merlin led him to the shore of a lake a short while later. Holding Arthur's hand, he stared out over the water and began to speak in a low tone as if remembering. “The druid girl who could turn into a cat… She was the first person I loved, I think. I’m not sure. It didn’t feel the same as I do with you. But she was special. After she was… After you… Well, you know, I brought her here. She's a spirit in this lake now.”

Arthur's hands clenched into fists as he attempted to handle this new information. He felt sick all over again. He had killed Merlin’s first love! He had killed Merlin's first love! How was he supposed to deal with that? 

Merlin would want him to forgive himself, but how could he? Not for something like this…

He looked at Merlin helplessly as Merlin finally turned to face him. Arthur could read his expression. Sad at the memory and worried. 

Worried for Arthur. Worried after Arthur had killed someone he loved. 

Arthur cleared his throat. Searching for something… anything… to say. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I was trying to protect my people… I didn’t realize…”

“I know,” Merlin told him. “I didn’t blame you. I don’t think she did either. She was happy at the end and said I saved her by caring for her. She helped against the undead army.”

Arthur wanted to say something to this. He really did. But what could he even say? “I’m sorry.” The words escaped his lips.

“I know.” Merlin moved forward, reaching out to hug Arthur. 

Instead, Arthur's fist smashed into Merlin's face unbidden, knocking him to the ground. What had just happened!? What had he done? Why?

Arthur tried to reach for Merlin. Horrified, he found he could not move his own body. Arthur suddenly realized, with panic, that the sorceress from before had lied about the spell she cast on him.

His body moved towards the fallen warlock threateningly. He could feel his face contort into an angry scowl. Then he heard the voice of the sorceress in his mind. She confirmed his suspicion immediately, “I’m afraid I lied. You killed so many, but never one that touched you. And he did not tell you as soon as he should have. I believe this is a fitting punishment. I will enjoy it.”

Merlin had recovered enough to roll onto his back. “What!? Arthur! What are you doing!?” He scrambled backward using his elbows and searched Arthur's face. His hand reached out instinctively as if to call on his magic. Arthur hoped he would. Instead, Merlin merely looked at his own hand, stunned, as if the very idea of using magic against Arthur had shocked him to the core.

The presence in Arthur's mind took advantage of this, and Arthur threw himself onto Merlin, pinning down the other man’s thinner frame. His hands violently ripped off Merlin’s neckerchief.

Then it got worse. 

Arthur watched as his own hands wrapped around Merlin’s neck and squeezed.

Merlin let out a small, desperate choking sound. Struggling under Arthur. Trying to escape somehow.

“Don’t do this! Stop! Please!” Arthur begged the presence controlling him.

“No,” the voice inside his mind replied.

Arthur's hands curled tighter as if determined to squeeze the life out of the man he loved.

He tried to scream, tried to break the hold she had on him. Tried to do anything as he watched in horror.

Merlin's hands tore at Arthur’s desperately, trying to free his neck from Arthur’s grip as his face started to turn red. 

His panicked, night-blue eyes stared up into Arthur’s, asking the question “Why?”

He couldn't tell Merlin what was happening. He couldn't stop himself. She actually meant to make Arthur kill Merlin. And Arthur could not kill him. Not Merlin. “Take it out on me!” he begged the entity in his head “He’s like you, he has magic. He’s like you! Hurt me! Hurt me instead!”

All Arthur wanted was to make it stop. The nightmares that haunted him were nothing compared to feeling himself slowly kill the man he loved. And he was forced to watch, forced to feel everything as he killed Merlin. 

Strangled by Arthur’s hands, unable to free himself, Merlin’s eyes grew hazy. His struggles grew weak. His chest twitched with aborted attempts to breathe. He was fading, and fading fast.

Arthur wanted Merlin to use his magic. He wanted the very universe to strike him down and make this stop because this had to stop before it was too late. “I’m killing him, please!” 

“That is the plan,” the voice in his mind replied. “You're killing him like you did so many others.” 

Merlin’s eyes rolled back, and his struggles faded completely. He was limp under Arthur. Blue-faced. 

Arthur begged and pleaded as he continued to strangle the now unconscious Merlin. He wanted to scream. He wanted to vomit, but he could do nothing. The voice was not even bothering to respond anymore. 

Stay alive, he begged the love of his life silently as his own hands continued squeezing the life from him. Stay alive. Stay alive. Stay alive. Arthur sobbed internally.

Then his hands finally let go of Merlin’s neck, leaving behind horrific bruising and finger imprints.

He couldn’t tell if Merlin was breathing. His chest was too still. If he was, it was only barely.

For a moment, he thought she had given him back control, but when he tried to bend to put an ear above Merlin's mouth, he couldn't. His body was still not his own. 

“Please just give me back control! Please!” He begged. She had made him let go, but still controlled him. Why? 

He got his answer as his own body yanked Merlin’s form roughly to the water of the lake and shoved him under it before sitting down in the shallows right next to him to make Arthur watch.

No bubbles left Merlin's mouth or nose; he was limp and pale under the waves. Oh god, he wasn’t breathing! Merlin wasn’t breathing. 

Suddenly, the voice in his mind let out a confused “What?”

And Arthur was in control of himself again. He pulled Merlin out of the water. “Merlin, it wasn’t me! You're out of the water. It wasn’t me! You’re alright. Just breathe.”

He cradled Merlin in his arms. "Breathe!" he urged.

But Merlin didn’t breathe; he was limp in Arthur's arms. Eyes shut. Lips blue. 

Arthur leaned down, pressing an ear to Merlin’s chest, desperate for some sign of life. 

He heard nothing.

Merlin was gone.

Arthur screamed. He shook Merlin’s body. “No… No NOOO! Don’t do this… this can’t… NO!”

A hand grabbed his arm, and Arthur turned and looked into soulful eyes. The woman they belonged to was partly transparent, younger than the one who had caused his attack, and familiar.

“Just wait a moment. He’ll be back. She shouldn’t have made you enter the lake,” she told him softly.

Arthur looked away from her, back down at Merlin. The body of the man he loved was lifeless in his arms, and Arthur had done it. “If you can save him…” he begged, “Please.” He probably should have been a bit more alarmed by the sudden appearance of Freya’s ghost, but he didn’t care at the moment.

“Just wait,” the woman replied. “It’s alright.”

Arthur did not want to wait. 

Merlin was dead. 

Merlin was dead and gone. 

Merlin was gasping

That was a gasp.

Merlin had gasped!

Arthur stared down at him. Holding his breath and hardly daring to believe the evidence before his own eyes.

Merlin gasped again, coughed, and gasped some more. Alive! He was alive. 

Arthur bent down, pressing his forehead to Merlin's. His tears fell onto the other man’s face. “It wasn’t me… I wasn’t in control. You’re alive… You’re alive… Merlin…”

“He’s alive,” the woman confirmed softly.

Arthur’s mind was too overwhelmed trying to make sense of things. He was crying from relief. Frantic with worry. Desperate with guilt.

“I think… I think I damaged his neck.. He's not breathing right… and you… You are…”

“The one you killed, yes,” she replied. “Lower him into the water again. I think I can heal his neck.”

Arthur was careful to keep Merlin’s face above the water as he submerged Merlin’s neck in the lake. He watched in awe as the dark bruises his hands had caused faded.

Suddenly, Merlin’s eyes flew open. He began to thrash as he took a massive gulp of air.

“Merlin!” Arthur held him steady so he wouldn’t sink under the water. “It wasn’t me. Please. It wasn’t me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. You’re alright. You’re alright now.” He wasn’t sure his mind could handle it if Merlin was actually frightened of him.

Merlin stopped thrashing. His eyes met Arthur's, filling with realization. No blame. Then he looked around warily, his brow knit.

“It's alright, Merlin… I’ve taken care of it. She cannot affect him now,” Freya said.

Merlin’s eyes flicked to Freya and widened.

Arthur did not look away from Merlin. He watched him breathe instead. Every rise and fall of his chest meant that the world was worth living in again. His color returning felt like a cloak of safety descending on Arthur’s heart. He was alive, and that meant more to Arthur than Merlin would ever know. Because there were no words, even the greatest poet would not be able to find words to express how important… how crucial Merlin’s life was.

But he owed an apology to the girl. He had been the one to kill her. Tearing his thoughts from the man in his arms for a moment, he could feel the guilt about her and other magic users like a sharp knife again.

“I’m so sorry,” Arthur whispered.  “I killed so many. I killed you…"

The druid's girl's voice was gentle but firm. “Stop. You cannot change the past, Arthur Pendragon. Remember it, but stop letting it torture you. There are things you cannot change, regrets. I know that better than anyone. Do what you can to make up for your mistakes and let go of the self-hate. It helps no one. Not you, not Merlin, not the people that were hurt.”

“Freya.” Merlin whispered the name in a hoarse voice. 

“Yes, I’m here, Merlin,” the girl said, “but I have to go in a moment… There is one last thing I must do.”

As Arthur rocked his Merlin, Freya spoke as if to an invisible presence. “Did causing more pain make you feel better?”

There was a pause, and Freya replied as if to a voice Arthur could not hear. “I didn’t think so. Do not do it again. Yes, run away. I know you will not do this again. That is the only reason I let you go.”

“Arthur Pendragon?” Arthur tore his gaze from Merlin’s face to meet the druid girl's dark eyes.  “Take care of him,” Freya told him. “I will not be able to appear like this again. It took too much.”  She then dissolved into the water. Arthur looked back at the love of his life.

Merlin’s eyes were sad as he watched her vanish. They remained on the spot where she had stood for a while. Then they looked up at Arthur. Searching.

“Not exactly what I expected… for today…”  Merlin joked, his tone wry. His voice was only slightly hoarse.

Arthur made a choking sound in reply.

“And you're definitely not letting go of me for a while,” Merlin realized. “Maybe get us out of the icy water? That would be nice.” 

Wordlessly, Arthur lifted his sorcerer and exited the water. Back on land, he sank to the ground, holding Merlin tightly to his chest. Merlin was right. He had no intention of letting him go anytime soon. 

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, worried. “Normally, I would make a sarcastic remark right about now, but I can’t tell if you’re capable of speech.”

Arthur buried his face in Merlin's chest. His fingers moved to Merlin's pulse, feeling the strong heartbeat. “You were dead,” he finally said, voice breaking.

“I got better?” Arthur could feel Merlin start to stroke his hair. “So I can’t have been really dead…I was probably almost dead? Partly dead? Semi dead? Either way, not really dead. I must have looked it though, with how you’re reacting. Dead, I mean. But I must not have been.”

Arthur could feel a slightly hysterical laugh building in his chest as Merlin immediately launched into his characteristic rambling.

“I love you,” he whispered. 

“You too,” Merlin told him softly, as his fingers ran soothingly through Arthur's hair.  “I’m alright now. I’m alright.”

“You better be…” Arthur could think about Freya’s words now.  “I… I think she was right. Blaming myself so much does not help. I always will somewhat but… I’ve been doing it too much.”

Merlin's tone in response to this was one of affectionate but utter exasperation. “Arthur, I’ve been telling you that CONSTANTLY, but noooo, I won't listen to Merlin. Why should I listen to Merlin? It's not like he’s been advising me and saving my ass for years. It's not like we’re in love. No, why should I listen to him!" Merlin was clearly mimicking Arthur's deeper voice.

Arthur could feel another laugh bubble up. 

“You’re such a stubborn fool, you know that?” Merlin told him.

Arthur laughed. “And you are an impossible idiot.” 

”Are you feeling any better?” Merlin abruptly interrupted the banter.

“Merlin, you’re the one who nearly died!” Of course, Merlin was asking HIM if he was alright after all of this.

“I asked first,” Merlin told him.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Arthur lifted his head.

“Nothing, I just thought it might make you answer my question.” Merlin’s eyes sparkled slightly with mischief. Despite that, they were also concerned.

“I was trapped in my own body while I killed… nearly killed… you… So I’m doing wonderful, Merlin. And you?” Arthur drawled, trying to hide pain with humor. 

Merlin’s arms reached up to try to hold Arthur just like Arthur was holding Merlin. Arthur shifted Merlin’s position. The feeling of Merlin’s arms around him was comforting and overwhelming. Possibly the only thing holding him together. He needed this. How had Merlin known? Except Merlin always knew.

They both were silent for a long time. Arms wrapped around each other, chest to chest. Breathing softly and clinging to each other in the crisp spring air. 

Finally, Arthur lifted his head from its spot, tilted it to the side, and buried his face in Merlin’s neck and hair. “Answer the question,” he ordered softly. 

“What question?” Merlin asked.

Arthur couldn’t tell if he was being obstinate or had really been so focused on Arthur he had not registered Arthur's “and you.” It was Merlin. Both were equally possible.

So he asked the question again. “How. Are. You.” 

“Well, that was not on my list of favorite things I’ve been through. I’m alright though. I’m glad I got to see Freya again,” Merlin trailed off. 

Definitely so focused on Arthur, he had not registered the question.

“We should probably go home,” Arthur observed.

“Yes,” Merlin agreed.

Neither of them let go of the other.

“We’re not going home, are we?” Merlin ventured as he clung to Arthur.

“No,” Arthur said..

They continued to hold each other as they both lay down on the ground. Night was coming, even if they were not going anywhere. They might as well lie down.

“I’m not letting go because you were dead.. almost dead… and I felt myself cause it,” Arthur finally admitted as the sky darkened. “Why aren't you letting go?”

“You need me.”

“And?”

Merlin took a deep breath before replying. “For a bit there, I thought you hated me for another secret I kept. I didn’t think of the fact that you had just had an encounter with a strange sorceress. I panicked. I thought you hated me… but you don’t.”

Arthur nuzzled against Merlin as they lay together. “I could never hate you…You drive me insane, but I could never hate you,” he reassured the warlock. “I would never attack you.” Suddenly, Arthur was frustrated. “You thought I might?” The idea was heartbreaking. 

“In my defense, I had just been knocked to the ground by a blow to the head and was being strangled. Not the best environment for thinking!”

Arthur pulled Merlin’s skinny form closer to himself. “NO, Merlin, I need you to know that I would never do that! It shouldn’t be something you think about! It needs to be something you just know. I need it to be something you just know!” One of Arthur’s hands ran gently through Merlin’s curls. 

“You are the best man I know. You are the love of my life. I could never hate you! I love you. I will always love you.” Arthur paused. “And apparently, I have to tell you all that a lot more to get it through your thick skull.”

Merlin snorted. “Did you just turn a heartfelt declaration of love and devotion into an insult?”

“You deserve it,” Arthur informed his warlock. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m not the one who took this long to stop drowning in self-blame. Who just would not listen!” Merlin countered. “And you say I’m impossible!”  

There was a long pause before Merlin added, “I’m glad you finally realized you shouldn’t torture yourself.”

“I’ll stop torturing myself if you’ll stop believing I could turn on you! I know it might be hard after so long not knowing how I would react to the magic. But I need this. I need you to know this.”

“So essentially, we both work to stop some of our idiocy?” Merlin’s breath brushed Arthur’s ear as he spoke.

“I wouldn’t call it idiocy…” Arthur defended himself, “at least on my part… but yes.”

“I would,” Merlin told his ear again. “Definitely idiocy on your part.”

Arthur used this as an excuse to roll on top of Merlin and use him as a pillow. A very bony, uncomfortable pillow, but at least he was making his point.

“GAH! You’re crushing me,” Merlin objected, flailing.

“Don’t be dramatic, Merlin. I’m not crushing you; we do this every other night.” 

“Nope. You’re crushing me. You’re crushing me, Arthur!”  Merlin’s tone was full of suppressed laughter.

“Yet, you’re somehow able to talk perfectly.” Arthur adjusted his head on Merlin’s chest.

“That has nothing to do with you crushing me.”

“I think it does.”

“It doesn't.”

“Just for that, I’m going to sleep like this,” Arthur informed him.

“What!? Arthur, no!”

“Shhhh, sleeping on top of you now. Stop moving, I'm shifting my head to somewhere more comfortable.”

Merlin sighed, and his arms moved to situate themselves on Arthur gently. Seemingly, Merlin was surrendering to the fate of being Arthur's pillow.

“I love you,” Arthur whispered, getting more comfortable. “I love you, Merlin.” 

“I love you too,” Merlin whispered back, “and I’m paying you back for this… Tomorrow.”