JessIsNotNormal

Chapter 1: Favour

Chapter 2: Lost

Chapter 3: Magic

Chapter 4: Trust

Chapter 5: Bold Street

Chapter 6: Gone

Chapter 7: Lancelot

Chapter 8: Nobility

Chapter 9: Training

Chapter 10: Test

Chapter 11: The Griffin

Chapter 12: Poetry

Chapter 13: A Remedy to Cure All Ills

Chapter 14: Choice

Chapter 15: Monster

Chapter 16: Sophia

Chapter 17: The Lake

Chapter 18: Rain

Chapter 19: Of Owls and Druid Boys

Chapter 20: The Plan

Chapter 21: Worry

Chapter 22: Escape

Chapter 23: The Rising Sun

Chapter 24: The Black Knight

Chapter 25: Tristan de Bois

Chapter 26: Dragon's Breath

Chapter 27: Hunith

Chapter 28: Crush

Chapter 29: Ealdor

Chapter 30: Hopeless

Chapter 31: Preparations

Chapter 32: The Moment of Truth

Chapter 33: Haunted

Chapter 34: Stay

Chapter 35: Nimueh

Chapter 36: The Unicorn

Chapter 37: Water

Chapter 38: Rat Stew

Chapter 39: The Isle of the Blessed

Chapter 40: Found

Chapter 41: Return

Chapter 42: Tauren

Chapter 43: The Mage Stone

Chapter 44: Realisation

Chapter 45: To Kill the King

Chapter 46: Care

Chapter 47: The Questing Beast

Chapter 48: Le Morte d'Arthur

Chapter 49: Countdown

Chapter 50: The Bargain

Chapter 51: Not Alone

Chapter 52: Goodbyes

Chapter 53: Burn

Chapter 54: Doubt

            Eventually he abandoned the idea of sleep and rose, trying his hardest not to disturb the makeshift bandages around his chest. He busied himself by quietly gathering more wood to stoke the fire, tending to the horses, and watching the mist roll across the lake until the others began to stir.

            Then came the nervousness.

            He’d been trying to think of how to apologise to Jada all morning, in between bouts of kicking himself for being so stupid as to cause such a situation in the first place. What reason did he have to doubt her? Why was it so easy for him to question her loyalty? And yet he’d been surprised when she’d offered no defence, when she’d refused to dispel Gaius’ suspicions—Merlin’s suspicions. So, did Merlin trust Jada or not?

            Perhaps it was habit. Survival. Self-preservation. So many people had come to Camelot since he’d arrived, and so many of them had had ulterior motives. From Mary Collins and Tauren—who had wasted no thought on Merlin in their plans—to Nimueh and Edwin—who had gone out of their way to befriend and manipulate him—there had hardly been a new face in the city who there hadn’t been reason to doubt in some way or another.

            Although, there had still been those who remained true, few though they may have been. There was Lancelot, for one. He had as good a heart as anyone Merlin had ever met, and there was no doubt in his mind that Lancelot would never betray him, even after he’d discovered his secret.

            So why couldn’t he afford Jada the same faith?

            Was it what the dragon had said? Merlin had promised himself that he wouldn’t let that sway his actions towards her, and now that he had uncovered the creature’s true motive, it’s words and prophecies were worth even less to him. All the creature had wanted was to be free and had cared nothing for the people Merlin had tried to help. The dragon had manipulated Merlin into doing his will, almost sacrificing his mother in the process, and Merlin would be damned if he ever let one of his “warnings” influence him again.

            So, no. It couldn’t have been what the dragon had said.

            What, then? Was it simply that the odds were against her? That out of all those who had arrived in Camelot besides her, only Lancelot had proven not to be a threat to the crown, the kingdom, or Merlin himself? Even Morgana had taken a turn into treason, and Merlin had always admired her bravery, her charity, her determination to always do what was right. If she could betray them all like that, then anyone could.

            Jada had made no secret of her disdain for Uther. How long would it be before Morgana—or some stranger like her—convinced her to take up arms against him? And what would Merlin do if that day should come?

            He shook his head, passing the back of his hand over his eyes as if to clear away the thoughts. He was getting ahead of himself. Jada was here trying to help, and so far there was little concrete evidence to suggest she was already working against the crown. So she disliked Uther—most people that Merlin had spoken to did, in one way or another. Even Gaius had admitted that Uther’s job wasn’t to be liked, and besides Arthur, Gaius was probably the person who liked Uther the most.

            Jada had helped Merlin find a way to save Arthur, and she had attacked Nimueh, and she had sat with Merlin all night when they’d thought he wouldn’t live to see the morning. How could he doubt her after all of that?

            He couldn’t bring himself to speak to her until breakfast was almost over and Gaius had finished eating and shuffled away to pack up his things. Jada had sat apart from the two of them, and she’d said nothing since waking besides a quiet ‘Thanks’ as Merlin handed her her bowl. It was making Merlin feel awful.

            “Jada…” he began, eyeing Gaius’ back to make sure he was far enough away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to doubt you, it’s just… well, Gaius thought that it was a bit suspicious that you’d be able to face Nimueh and come out unharmed.”

            He risked a glance at her, and she was looking back at him, but there was no relief in her eyes.

            Nervously, Merlin tried again. “It’s just that… Well, you’ve seen what Camelot’s like. There’s always people arriving who are untrustworthy, trying to manipulate us for… for whatever reason. We have to be careful, you know? We never know who we can trust.”

            “I understand that,” Jada said. Her gaze had dropped to the floor, but any relief Merlin felt at her words was soon snatched away by the awful emptiness of her voice. “But I don’t know how else I’m supposed to prove to you that you can trust me.” Her eyes turned on him, utterly hopeless, and she gave an equally hopeless gesture. “I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.”

            Merlin felt himself physically deflate. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, either. He was supposed to apologise, and then everything would be fixed, and they could all go back to normal. She wasn’t supposed to still be hurt.

            “Are you finished?” she asked, rising to her feet, and for a moment Merlin thought she was referring to the conversation. Then she gestured towards his bowl, which was empty, and he caught up in a rush and handed it to her without thinking.

            “Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks,” he stammered.

            Jada headed towards the lake without another word.

            The rest of the journey back was equally as uncomfortable, and between Jada, the wound on his chest, and making sure Gaius was okay after his brief brush with death, Merlin hardly had time to think of anything else.

            He was, however, worried about his mother. He hadn’t stopped to think as they’d rushed out of the city after Gaius, but now he’d realised that they had accidentally left Gwen to shoulder all her care while the three of them were gone. He wondered how they were going to explain that when they returned, since none of them had even left her as much as a note to explain what was going on.

            With a sudden lurch of fear, Merlin remembered the letter he’d left on the floor. How much incriminating information had been included in that? Had Gwen found it? Would she mention it to anyone else?

            Perhaps he did have time to worry about other things, after all.

          At last, they arrived back at Camelot, the hooves of their horses clattering against the cobbled stones of the courtyard as they drew to a halt. Merlin dismounted swiftly before helping Gaius down, but by the time he had turned to Jada, she was already on the ground and handing her reins to Tyr. Without so much as a look back at Merlin, she turned and headed for the steps, hefting her bags higher up her shoulder as she went.

            “Once you’ve put the horses away, you’re to come to my chambers and have that wound properly treated,” Gaius instructed.

            “Uh, right. Yes,” Merlin replied, snapping his attention back. “I’ll be right there.”

            He walked with Tyr back to the stables, leading both his and Gaius’ horses while Tyr brought Jada’s. Tyr seemed happy enough to chatter at him, and though Merlin doubted he was pulling his own weight in the conversation he couldn’t detect anything out of the ordinary in Tyr’s words. No mention of his imminent arrest, no suspicion—no outstanding news at all, really. Perhaps Gwen hadn’t found the letter, after all.

            Once he’d bidden Tyr farewell, Merlin returned to his quarters. He’d been trying to prepare himself for whatever he’d find on the walk there; Nimueh had said his mother was safe, but what if the curse had caused lasting damage? She’d been in such an awful state when he’d last seen her, and it had been only a few days since the Old Religion had been paid its required life and she would have been able to start recovering. She was probably still bedridden, and the welts might not have cleared yet, so he had to be prepared to see her like that again.

            But she was alive. And she would recover. That thought alone almost choked him with relief.

            When he opened the door to see two figures sat at the table, not one, Merlin had to do a double-take. His brain noted Gaius first, sat with his back to him, but it took a long few moments for it to register that the second was his mother. She sat comfortably across from Gaius, laughing with him about something that had been said before Merlin entered the room, and her skin was clear, her shoulders unhunched, and her face bright and rosy.

            “Mother?” Merlin breathed, hardly able to believe it.

            Her smile turned on him and transformed into a beam, and it only occurred now to Merlin that he had almost had to face never seeing that light in her eyes again. “Merlin,” she greeted, pushing herself up from her seat and moving towards him.

            Merlin had paused in the doorway, but at her getting up he rushed forwards, terrified she was going to fall or injure herself.

            His mother simply laughed, batting his worried hands away playfully as they reached to steady her. “I’m fine, Merlin. Better than fine, actually. It’s like I was never even sick.”

            Merlin blinked at her, somehow having ended up holding her hand, though who was reassuring who he now had no idea. In a sudden rush, all of the emotions he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding back burst forth; all the fear, the worry, the pain of the last few weeks now too much for him to handle. There was a sound like a choked sob, and then his mother was pulling him into her embrace and stroking her hand over his hair, and Merlin was leaning into her at an awkward angle to try and protect his chest.

            “Come here,” she said gently. “It’s all right now. Everything’s going to be all right.”

            Merlin said nothing, simply crying into her shoulder for a few minutes and letting himself be small, letting himself be soothed. At length, it began to feel as though the whole affair was being washed away; the Questing Beast, the Isle, the constant terror of death lurking just around the corner, whether it was his own or that of someone he loved.

            Eventually, he straightened up, gave his mother a watery smile, and wiped at his face with a sleeve.

            “My poor boy,” she said with a furrow to her brows, resting a soothing hand on his arm.

            “Shall we take a look at that burn, now?” Gaius interjected.

            He climbed to his feet without waiting for Merlin to agree, though in that moment Merlin didn’t think he could have found the energy to argue even if he’d wanted to. He was utterly drained and just wanted someone else to look after him, for a change.

            “Take your shirt off for me,” Gaius instructed, and Merlin did as he was told, shrugging off his jacket and neckerchief, too. “Sit over there.”

            Again, Merlin complied, and after gathering a few jars and bandages off the bench, Gaius sat in front of him. Carefully, he unwound the makeshift bandages they’d fashioned from Jada’s cloak all the way down until he’d exposed the wound, which still looked just as red and nauseating as when Merlin had seen it a few days prior.

            He heard his mother suck in a breath. “What happened?”

            He gave her a smile he hoped was reassuring. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I just got hit with a fireball. Unlucky, I suppose.”

            Gaius dabbed at the wound with a cold, damp cloth, and suddenly Merlin had to bite back a hiss. His fingernails dug into the wooden arm of the chair he was sitting in.

            “Sorry,” Gaius said. “This may hurt a little.”

            There was nothing else for it, Merlin knew: the wound had to be treated. It couldn’t hurt more than it had the last time, he tried to assure himself. It had to have healed at least a little bit since then, didn’t it?

            Clenching his jaw and balling his hands into fists, he gave Gaius a determined nod, then turned his gaze to the ceiling.

            His whole body tried to jerk away as Gaius brought the cloth back again, but Merlin refused to let it. He stamped his feet wildly a few times before managing to regain control—though it was certainly a desperate, white-knuckled type of control. He tried to focus on his mother’s hand rubbing circles on his shoulder, or the sound of her voice as she tried to soothe him, but the rawness of his chest would not be so easily ignored.

            The coolness of the water brought him some relief, but the usually soft fabric of the cloth now seemed to scrape at his tender skin with every touch. His fingernails bit into his palms, and he hadn’t even realised how tightly he’d been holding his breath until he felt the cloth retreat and he released the air in a rush.

            “There,” Gaius said, laying the cloth on the edge of the bowl. “All cleaned up. Now I just have to get some more ointment…”

            He stood, eyes already scanning the shelves for a new vial even as Merlin heard himself groan. He didn’t want to go through that again. He couldn’t.

            “Not to worry,” Gaius reassured as he sat back down, jar in hand, “I’m just going to spread it on some gauze, and then spread the gauze on the wound. Now, hold still while I measure it.”

            Once the gauze had been smothered in healing ointment and then bandaged carefully to his chest, Merlin at last felt able to breathe again. This method had proved much less painful after the initial contact, and already the warmth of the ointment was beginning to subside as Gaius headed away to clear up his things.

            “Who did that to you?” His mother’s voice broke through Merlin’s reverie, and he turned his head to look up at her.

            “The same sorceress who made you ill,” he answered. It wasn’t wholly untrue, but the simpler and more vague his story, the less likely to worry her he would be. “Don’t worry; she won’t be hurting either of us again.”

            She stroked a hand through his hair again, but Merlin could not decipher her expression. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have sent you here,” she mused.

            “No!” Merlin said suddenly, sitting up straighter. “I like it here. I do, Mother, really.”

            “But you’re always in such danger.” She gave a sigh. “I wanted you to learn how to use your gifts; to find a place you could fit in, somewhere you wouldn’t have to live in fear anymore.”

            Merlin watched her face fall, and felt his own brows furrow. Her eyes welled with tears as she continued, “If there had been any other choice, I would not have sent you here. I would not have chosen this life for you.”

            Without even thinking, he reached for her hand. All his life, he rarely recalled seeing his mother cry. She’d always been the strongest, most resilient person he’d ever known.

            “Mother, I’m fine. Really.” He gave her a smile to prove it. “I want to stay. I have friends here, people I love and care about, and people who… care about me. Yes, there might be some people that would do me harm, but there’s also people who would do everything they can to face them with me.”

            His found his thoughts wandering back to Jada in his room facing down the door beside him with her sword clutched tightly in her hand. Pushing him out of the way of Nimueh’s attack. Telling him she’d rather stay in this world forever than do anything to hurt him.

            “What is it?” his mother asked, noticing the way his face had fallen even before Merlin had.

            He tried for a smile, though fell short of the mark. “It’s nothing.” A moment of silence passed as he looked down, before conceding just a fraction. “Jada and I got into an argument, that’s all.”

            She sat down beside him, perching gently on the bench. “What happened?”

            Merlin shook his head at himself. “It was my fault, really. She thinks I don’t trust her.”

            “Where would she get that idea?”

            His eyebrows quirked in a bitter kind of amusement. “I all but told her that I didn’t.”

            He could hear the frown in his mother’s voice even without looking at her. “I thought you did?”

            “I do,” Merlin said quickly, looking up now. “It’s just…” He floundered, unable to find the words, then made a garbled sound of frustration. “I don’t know! I don’t know why I said any of it! All I know is that I’m an idiot, and I’ve messed everything up, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

            “You’re not an idiot,” his mother said, putting a hand on his shoulder again. “We all say things sometimes that we don’t mean. If you want to fix things, have you tried apologising?”

            “Yes. I did the next morning, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. She still looked just as sad. Like… like I’d betrayed her.”

            “She’s probably wondering why you don’t trust her.”

            “But I do!”

            “Then perhaps you should tell her that.”

            Merlin frowned. He had, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he?

            He felt himself physically deflate as he recalled his apology, realising that, no, he hadn’t. All he’d done was defended himself, digging his heels in deeper on why she hadn’t earnt his trust. No wonder she’d still been so hurt, he realised at last. All his so-called ‘apology’ had been was him telling her all the reasons he thought he was justified in distrusting her.

            “You’re right,” he said. “Of course you’re right. I need-”

            He lurched to his feet, looking round quickly for his shirt. It had been right there, he hadn’t moved since he’d taken it off, and yet he couldn’t see the thing anywhere.

            With an amused smile, his mother reached out and picked it up from right beside him, holding the tunic out to him.

            Merlin gave her an embarrassed smile as he took it. “Thanks.”

            “It’s what mothers are for,” she replied with a laugh. “Stay out of trouble.”

            He finished easing the tunic over his bandages and grinned. “Me? Trouble?”

            His mother rolled her eyes at him as he headed for the door, and then he was turning for Jada’s chambers.

            Jada had barely opened the door before Merlin was blurting, “I’m sorry.”

            She looked surprised for a moment, though there was still that same sad defeat evident in her features, and Merlin half-expected her to simply close the door again without a word.

            He could barely contain his surprise when she stepped back, opening the door wider to signal for him to come inside. He followed her lead and headed to the centre of the room, while Jada shut the door and turned to face him.

            A few seconds of silence passed as he waited for her to say something, but it soon became apparent that she was waiting for him to speak, too.

            “Jada, I really am sorry,” he began. “I shouldn’t have doubted you. I should-”

            Her eyes had dropped to the ground, and he stopped, unsure how he had gone wrong already.

            “Am I really that untrustworthy?” Her voice was so quiet, so small that he thought his heart might break.

            “No. No-”

            “Because you’re not the only one who thinks so, y’know.”

            “What…” He frowned. “What do you mean?”

            She gave him the briefest of glances, just a flash of grey, before looking down again. Her feet shifted uncomfortably, her thumbs hooking in the waistband of her trousers. For a long time, she didn’t answer—so long that Merlin began to think she wasn’t going to. Then, in the quietest voice he’d ever heard from her, came one word;

            “Michael.”

            He frowned. “Michael?”

            Jada swallowed. “Emily’s father.”

            Merlin felt as though he’d been kicked in the chest, all the air seeming to rush out of him at once. He didn’t understand—not fully, at any rate—but the way she’d spoken about that man before, the way she’d suddenly seemed to shrink at the mere mention of his name now, as though she were trying to fold in on herself and take up as little space as possible…

            The thought of anybody making Jada feel like that ignited a fire in his blood.

            And Merlin had reminded her of him.

            “I just don’t understand,” she began, a sudden desperation entering her voice. “What- what is it about me?! What do I do so wrong that- that nobody…”

            Merlin felt sick, even more so when her hands fell limp at her sides again. No wonder she’d been so hurt, felt so betrayed. She’d thought she could trust him, and he’d opened old wounds and then justified himself doing it.

            “I do trust you,” he said softly, fervently, desperate to fix what he’d done. “I trust you with my life.”

            She gave a short, hollow, huff of a laugh, not looking up. “You’ve said that before.”

            Gods. He didn’t know what else to do, but he couldn’t lose her. Not like this.

            His voice was pleading when he asked, “How do I fix this?”

            Slowly, Jada looked up, meeting his gaze for the first time. Whatever slim swell of hope he had was soon quelled, however, when her eyes slid to the side again. With a defeated half-shrug, she replied, “I don’t know.”

            A long silence followed. Merlin felt it like waves on the ocean, each second that passed pulling him further and further away from her, and though he was trying not to give up, trying to kick his way back to shore, he didn’t know what else he could do except struggle uselessly against the current.

            Perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps he was too focused on trying to save himself, to get back to where they were, that he was just wasting both their energy on something that wasn’t going to work. He couldn’t get back to where they’d been, but that didn’t mean he had to drown. He just had to get out of the water in a different place.

            “This is my fault, and I’m sorry,” he began, straightening up. “I don’t know why I’m so afraid of letting other people in, of relying on them and trusting them to stand by me. I don’t know why you got the worst of that when you’ve done nothing but support me since you first set foot in Camelot.”

            His head tilted, his lungs a little breathless from the weight of his confession. “Maybe it’s because…”—Oh, Gods, he was really doing this—“I care about you, more than anybody else. Maybe it’s because you care about me more than I’ve ever been used to. Maybe it’s because I trust you with everything I have and everything I am, and that scares me. That terrifies me, so I have to pull back. And it’s not right, and it’s not fair, and it’s not how you deserve to be treated. It’s not your fault. You don’t have to prove anything to me, least of all that you deserve to be trusted.”

            Jada was standing frozen, her eyes wide and her lips parted slightly. Merlin felt his gaze linger on them, and couldn’t help but recall the last time he’d stood in that very room wanting to kiss away the hurt that he was causing her.

            “I am an idiot,” he said simply, with a slight laugh.

            So much had changed since then, though the time was hardly long. Back then, when he’d thought it would be the last time he saw her, he’d been so ready to give her his whole soul. There had been no doubt about his trust in her anywhere near his mind, and all he’d wanted was to have more time with her, to tell her how much she meant to him.

            Jada had tilted her head sympathetically. “No, you’re not. Quite clueless sometimes, but not an idiot.”

             “Do you know the last time I stood here…” He took a step forward into the very same spot, pointing at it with a finger, “I felt… that there was nobody else on earth I trusted more than you.”

            He smiled a little, though it was bittersweet. “I felt… whole. Complete. Like you had seen me for who I was, and instead of turning away, instead of being disgusted, or afraid, or wanting me to change… you smiled.”

            He felt his lips quirk again, and couldn’t resist taking another step closer, tentative though it was. “I have… needed you… for so long.”

            “Merlin…” Her stunned expression had returned, but her voice sounded more like a warning.

            He dropped her gaze, looking down at his feet. She was right. He’d needed to say it, and he wouldn’t take it back, but now was not the time to press any further.

            “We don’t need to talk about that now,” he agreed. “I just want you to know…”—He looked up into her eyes again, making sure she didn’t miss a single bit of his sincerity—“That you mean a lot to me. And I’m going to prove that. Because saying it means nothing if I keep making you feel like this.”

            Jada was looking at him now with a strange expression, something like curiosity mixing with a definite level of confusion. Merlin couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering over her face; from the freckle on her cheek to the curve of her mouth, her lips still parted, then up to the little lines of confusion between her brows.

            Gods, he was in trouble. Was he losing his mind? If he was, he wasn’t sure he would miss it. Not when he could just stand this close to Jada and feel so warm and safe and happy.

            He returned his eyes to hers now with a soft smile, thinking that perhaps he had never really appreciated what a nice colour grey was before. Especially with flecks of charcoal in it.

            Pulling himself back to the present, Merlin took a small step back. “I’m going to go now. But I want you to know that if you need anything, I’m still more than happy to help. Just ask.”

            He headed past her to the door, but paused with it just slightly ajar. Jada had turned to watch him, though she still didn’t look as though she’d managed to process everything that had happened just yet, and remained rooted to the spot.

            “I’ll… hopefully see you soon,” Merlin said. He didn’t wait for her to answer, not wanting to pressure her into making any commitments involving him right now, and stepped outside. As soon as the door was shut, he breathed a sigh of relief, feeling for the first time as though he’d actually managed to make some progress in righting the situation. Making it up to her wasn’t about him, he needed to remember. It was about Jada, about healing the hurt that he’d caused her, and making sure that he didn’t hurt her in that way again.

            He was going to learn, and he was going to do better. But, for now, he was finally going to get some sleep.

            What do I have here that’s more important than you? He still couldn’t quite believe that those exact words had come out of her mouth, but he’d heard them, he’d seen them do so. He’d watched as her lips had shaped them, her voice low, and then when she’d stepped in, stepped closer, still holding his hand in hers…

            A million thoughts had flashed through his mind, and not one of them left his face unflushed as he considered them now.

            The three of them had all long since climbed into their bedrolls, and Jada and Gaius were quite certainly sleeping, but even Merlin’s utter exhaustion wasn’t enough to quell the pain from his chest.

            The gentle pressure of the blanket was too much against it, so he’d pushed it lower to his middle, but that had left his shoulders, arms, and face exposed to the chill of the night. In truth, even just his tunic lying atop the wound was too painful to sleep through, but the only way to rid himself of that would have been to take it off and likely freeze to death.

            Lying on his side was no good, since it caused his skin to wrinkle in the middle and he’d learnt the hard way that that felt like a thousand hot knives being pushed into him at once. He’d gritted his teeth and flopped onto his back again, a choked sound of frustration escaping him.

            Gods, he just wanted to sleep. Could he not have even one night of peace?

            Out of sheer desperation, he looked to his bag. The ointment for his previous blisters was still in there, he knew, since in all the fuss following the hunting trip he’d completely forgotten to take it out. There was still a bit left, if he remembered rightly—not much, but some. Maybe enough to soothe the wound long enough to let him get some sleep.

            Merlin reached for the bag, grimacing as his tunic fell against the raw skin, and dug around inside until his fingers brushed the smooth, hard side of the jar.

            Please let this work, he begged as he popped the cork out, hiking his tunic up until the wound was easily accessible. His fingers scooped as much of the ointment out of the jar as they could, before he set the vial aside and shifted position.

            He took a few deep breaths, dreading the pain that was about to come, and in his anticipation had subconsciously covered his mouth with his raised tunic. Bracing himself, he brought his fingers to the wound.

            The searing agony that shot through him at the contact tore a high-pitched, garbled sound from Merlin’s throat. He covered his mouth quickly, biting down hard on his sleeve, and squeezed his eyes shut tight. At some point he’d fallen back against the blankets beneath him, yanking his hand away from the wound, but the worst was yet to come as the ointment started to do its work.

            At first, it was just a warm sensation that spread from the tiny section he’d managed to treat, but then that warmth was spreading, deepening, and growing hotter and hotter as the seconds passed until he felt like he was being scorched all over again.

            Merlin clamped his hand over his mouth, his back arching and his legs kicking uselessly. Only a strangled sound escaped around it, but his thoughts were consumed by the need to scrape the ointment off, he needed to get it off, get it off, get it off-

            “Merlin?”

            He could barely register the worried whisper, but then there were sounds of hurried movement, and a presence at his side.

            “Merlin, what’s happening?”

            The burning was beginning to lessen now, though not by much. It was just enough that he was able to open his eyes, breath coming harshly through his nostrils, and point to the jar on the ground. He didn’t dare let go of his mouth, yet.

            “Tell me how to help,” Jada said, her voice rough with sleep and worry.

            Merlin shook his head, his legs still writhing. “Can’t,” he forced out.

            “I’ll get Gaius.”

            She was already turning away when he grabbed her arm, smearing ointment up it. “No.”

            He could uncover his mouth now, and moved his arm over his face instead. His chest heaved in ragged gasps.

            “You really are ridiculous, you know,” Jada said, but she stayed where she was.

            Merlin gave a breathless laugh. “You wanted me to treat it.”

            “I didn’t mean-” She cut herself off, lowering her voice again. “What are you doing?”

            He peeked out from under his arm, letting go of her to pick up the jar. “Treating it. It’s burn ointment.”

            Jada slumped into a sitting position now, her side almost leaning against his thighs. “God,” she said in an exhale. “I thought you were dying, or something.”

            Merlin felt his gaze soften, the sting of the ointment now almost completely disappearing. He supposed, faintly, that he should have been more flustered by her sitting beside him while his tunic remained tucked beneath his chin, his whole chest exposed, but right now he found he was too exhausted to care.

            “I’m here,” he said, not knowing what else to tell her.

            She gave a small smile, thought it didn’t reach her eyes. She looked exhausted, too, Merlin noticed. “Good. Are you finished treating it?”

            Merlin glanced at the jar, then raked his teeth over his bottom lip. “No, I only got a little bit. But I…” He shook his head, tired, frustrated tears springing to his eyes. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t sleep like this, but that…”

            “Tell me how to help,” Jada replied, her eyes sincere. “Do you need me to put it on for you? Or I can hold your hand while you do it—I don’t mind if you break my fingers,” she added the latter with a sympathetic laugh.

            Merlin considered the options, a sense of hopelessness filling him as he realised there was really no way to reduce the pain. He needed the ointment to treat the wound, but he didn’t think he could make himself do it again—not even with Jada’s hand to crush when he did so.

            After a moment’s hesitation, he handed the vial to Jada, nodding towards it pointedly.

            Jada took it, then looked back at him. “Are you sure?”

            He considered changing his mind, but nodded anyway. There really was no other option.

            A wave of panic hit him as Jada shifted closer to his chest. “Just…” he blurted, before taking a few seconds to calm down again. “Just, be careful. Please.”

            Jada gave him a reassuring smile, though it did little to calm his nerves. “It’s okay. I will.”

            Merlin bit his lip as she stuck her fingers in the vial, his heart seeming to fill his throat as she shifted into a better position. She drew a shaky breath now, the reassuring warmth vanishing from her face as she looked on the wound in apprehension. After a long moment, she looked back at his face.

            “Don’t bite your lip,” she said, worry evident in her voice.

            Merlin released it. “Right. Sorry.”

            “Do you need…?” She trailed off, looking around on the floor for a few seconds. Merlin wasn’t sure exactly what she was thinking, until she picked up his neckerchief from the grass nearby and offered it to him.

            His poor heart could do nothing but pound frantically as he put the fabric between his teeth, looking up at Jada with not even remotely hidden fear, now.

            Her eyes were wide as she looked back, before turning her gaze away and shaking her head. “God, this is awful.”

            Despite himself, Merlin managed to let out a short laugh. “Yeah, it’s not much better from this angle, either.”

            She gave an amused huff, but hesitated for another moment. As a last thought, she intertwined her fingers with his, and dabbed her other hand to the wound.

            Immediately, Merlin had to bite down on the scarf, though a whine still managed to escape around it as his body went taught. He only realised how badly he was crushing Jada’s hand when he noticed her squirming in his grip, though she didn’t make any motion to stop him.

            “Sorry,” he gasped, trying to loosen his hold as the pain receded.

            “It’s fine,” Jada replied, though he could hear the strain in her voice. Nevertheless, when he tried to pull his hand away, she held on.

            She waited while he calmed down again, and dimly Merlin became aware of her thumb brushing over his. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

            “Did you get much of it?” He just wanted it to be over. He needed it to be over.

            “Some.” Not the answer he was hoping for. “Do you want me to try and do small bits at a time so it hopefully hurts less, or do you want me to try and do as much as possible in one go?”

            He wasn’t sure which answer she was hoping for, couldn’t tell which was better, but he just needed it to be over. “All at once.” He gave her hand a squeeze—gentler, this time. “Please, Jada. Do as much as you can.”

            Her voice was rough. “Sure?”

            Merlin nodded, shutting his eyes. He just needed this to be over.

            She let go of his hand to pick up the jar again—must be nearly out of ointment now, he thought—but then after only a few seconds her hold was back. Merlin moved the neckerchief back into position, trying to take calm, steadying breaths.

            Jada’s fingertips touched his scorched skin again, but this time they didn’t retreat even as he let out a cry. His feet kicked uselessly against the blanket, his jaw clenched so tightly he was surprised he hadn’t yet bitten through the scarf, and after a few moments he was squirming and writhing where he lay, body trying desperately to arch away from the pain.

            He could tell Jada was trying to be quick, trying to get it over with as desperately as Merlin wanted her to, but all Merlin could think of was how much it hurt and how much longer, how much longer, how much longer, how much longer-

            Jada stopped, her touch withdrawing, and then there was a gentle hand on his face and a thumb wiping away his tears, and had Merlin been crying? He didn’t remember crying-

            “It’s done,” she whispered, voice full of relief. “It’s done, it’s done, Merlin, it’s over.”

            His eyes had opened, though they took a moment to refocus on her face despite how close it was. “Done?” he repeated raggedly.

            Jada nodded. “Done. Finished. Over. God, I’m so sorry.”

            She looked like she wanted to cry, but now all Merlin could feel was an overwhelming sense of relief that drowned everything else out. With one hand on the back of her head, he pulled her down so their foreheads were pressed together, shutting his eyes as he fought to catch his breath.

            “I’m so sorry,” she said again, her breath sounding ragged, too.

            “What on earth is going on here?”

            Merlin’s brain couldn’t make sense of the new voice, but he knew that Jada’s touch vanished as she slumped into a sitting position beside him.

            “Gaius,” she said. “Merlin… Nimueh hurt him. His chest”—Some sounds of movement—“We were treating it.”

            She was still holding his hand, Merlin realised dimly. He tightened his fingers, her touch helping to pull him back from the brink of unconsciousness.

            “This is the burn ointment I gave you,” Gaius noted. Footsteps drew him nearer to where Merlin lay, and then there was an inhale that wasn’t quite a gasp. “What are those markings? And those… those ones have mostly healed.”

            A sudden anger entered his voice. “How much have you been keeping from me?”

            “Merlin asked me to. He didn’t want you to worry.”

            “Didn’t want me to­-” Gaius’ voice turned towards Merlin again. “Merlin, can you hear me?”

            Merlin tried to nod, but his head was just so heavy, he wasn’t sure it worked. Even his eyelids seemed to have given up responding for the night. But his thumb he could move, and he brushed it against Jada’s skin.

            He wasn’t sure she had noticed, as it seemed to him that a few seconds of silence passed, but then her hand was on his cheek again and her voice was soft as it came from just above him.

            “Merlin? Hey, Merlin, I need you to just stay awake for me for a little bit, okay? Just come back for me.”

            He woke slowly, with some difficulty, but the soft shapes being drawn near the corner of his mouth gave him something to latch onto, a sensation to pull himself out of the darkness. When his eyes opened, his vision was filled with Jada’s face lighting in a smile. “There we go. Thank you.”

            He did little but blink for a few moments, before taking a deep breath and trying to stretch, only to pull the injured skin of his chest.

            “Ah!” His hand flew up to touch the wound, but fortunately Jada managed to grab it just as he came back to his senses.

            “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” she reminded.

            Now that he was awake enough to notice it, Merlin could feel the heat that the ointment was causing. He seemed to have mostly missed the unbearable-searing-agony stage in his slip in consciousness, though he was hardly ungrateful for that, and now it was mostly just an uncomfortable warmth.

            “Gaius is going to have a look at you, okay?” Jada explained, already scooting up so the physician himself had room to work.

            There was no way to argue this time, since Gaius already knew and Merlin hadn’t the energy to come up with a convincing lie, so he remained quiet. He did grab hold of Jada’s wrist, not wanting her to move too far away even while he was being examined. She looked surprised at first, but then unclasped his fingers to intertwine them with her own, remaining by his head with a small, warm smile.

            He flinched as Gaius’ fingers probed his chest, though they didn’t touch the wound, and once Merlin had relaxed again he couldn’t help but notice how much rougher Gaius’ hands were in comparison with Jada’s.

            “Did you wash the wound?” Gaius asked, using his neutral physician’s voice now.

            Merlin shook his head. “Didn’t have the chance.”

            He hummed a response, returning to his examination. “It looks clean. Hopefully the ointment will do its work and eradicate any chance of infection. We’ll need something to bandage it with, however…”

            He thought for a moment, then pointed a wrinkled finger towards Merlin’s chin. “Jada, hand me that neckerchief, would you?”

            Jada did so, and Gaius unfurled the fabric to examine it. “No,” he said, after a moment, “It wouldn’t be long enough. Perhaps we’ll have to tear something up.”

            “What about my cloak?” Jada offered. “I’ve got that. I could wash it, rip it up, and then you could wrap that around him.”

            “No, no,” Merlin tried to protest. “I’ll be fine, you don’t need to-”

            “That might work,” Gaius mused, nodding thoughtfully. “Fill the cooking pot with water from the lake. If you boil it, first, it should make it clean enough to use, for now.”

            “Got it.”

            She leapt to her feet, her hand slipping out of Merlin’s, who it became clear nobody was listening to. With a sigh he lay back, his eyes roving the fluttering leaves up above as Jada’s footsteps hurried away.

            “You should have told me about this, Merlin.” Gaius’ voice was disapproving as it interrupted his thoughts, but just one look at him revealed the concern in his eyes.

            “I’m sorry,” Merlin replied. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

            Gaius sighed, though Merlin thought some of his tension seemed to ease.

            “There’s something I don’t understand,” Merlin said after a moment. Gaius’ eyes flicked back to him, waiting for him to continue. “Jada was hit, too. Same spell, same caster, same result. Except… she has nothing. No mark, no burn, not even so much as a bruise. How can that be?”

            Gaius’ face was perplexed. “You’re sure it was the same spell?”

            “Positive.”

            “Then I have no idea. Perhaps I’ll have a look at her too, when she comes back. You’re certain she was hit?”

            Merlin nodded, feeling his brows pucker. “I saw it. I thought…”

            He trailed off, shaking his head. Nimueh had sent that fireball at him, it was meant to have hit him. He’d frozen at the sight of it, and it had been just about to meet its mark, but then the next thing her knew something had hit him in the side and he was on the ground.

            When he’d looked around, Jada had been thrown several feet back, and she was lying still.

            “Perhaps you were mistaken?” Gaius suggested. “If someone of your power couldn’t withstand the blast without gaining this”—He gestured towards the wound—“Then I can’t see how someone like Jada would even hope to survive such a blow.”

            Merlin couldn’t explain it, either. Unless… “Maybe she’s more powerful than I am.”

            “Impossible,” Gaius dismissed. “A sorceress more powerful than you would have shown signs, there would have been at least some hints before now. Think how young you were before your magic started to show.”

            It was a solid point, Merlin agreed, thinking back to all the stories his mother had told him of levitating toys and furniture-breaking tantrums. She’d had to keep him inside for most of the first few years of his life for fear of him losing control in public and landing them both in trouble.

            “The only way someone could have that much power and keep it hidden,” Gaius continued, his tone suddenly grave, “Is if they were purposely hiding it.”

            Merlin felt his heart sink. “Jada wouldn’t do that,” he said quickly. “Why would she?”

            There was a clatter behind him, and Merlin turned his head to see Jada herself hurrying back into camp, carefully carrying the pot full of water.

            “Sorry it took so long,” she said. “I had to try and lean off the dock to scoop it up. Not really the best of plans, but I couldn’t think of any other safer way to not fall in.”

            Something in the back of Merlin’s mind suddenly recalled a note in a book he’d read, something about powerful, evil creatures not being able to cross running water. He shoved the niggling thought aside, unsure whether it was even fact or fiction, and focused back on reality.

            “So should I boil it first and then put the cloak in, or put the cloak in and boil it at the same time?” Jada was asking.

            “Boil it all together, and come over here,” Gaius said.

            She tried to stuff her cloak in the pot, but it wouldn’t all fit. Looking over to Gaius with a questioning expression, she mimed a ripping motion with the fabric, and after Gaius’ nod of approval began tearing for real.

            After she’d submerged all the makeshift bandages in the pot, she set about trying to light the fire, though that mostly consisted of her sitting on the floor beside it and struggling to get the flints to spark.

            A minute or two passed, and then Merlin reached out an arm towards her. “Here, pass me a branch.”

            Jada looked up, flints pausing in mid-air, and then turned her gaze back to the pile of wood. Picking one up, she crossed over to him, though there was confusion evident on her face.

            When she handed it to Merlin, he held it for just a few seconds before murmuring, “Forbearne.”

            The stick ignited at the end, making Jada jump slightly, and then he passed it back to her and nodded towards the heap.

            Gaius waited only long enough for her to light the fire and set the pot on it before his interrogation began.

            “Merlin said that Nimueh managed to hit you, too,” he began.

            “Yeah,” Jada replied, without hesitation. “But it hasn’t left a mark, or anything. I’m completely fine.”

            “All the same, I think it’s best to check you over.”

            She shrugged and nodded. “Sure.”

            Leaving the pot to boil, Jada came and sat beside them again, lifting her tunic up for Gaius to take a look at her side.

            “This is where she hit you?” Gaius asked with surprise in his voice. Jada nodded. “Remarkable.”

            “I don’t understand how I got off with nothing when Merlin got that.”

            Gaius eyed her. “Indeed.”

            “There must be an explanation though, right? Maybe it’s because I’m not from here.”

            “Perhaps.”

            “Perhaps?” she repeated. “Do you have any other explanation?”

            It became clear that Gaius had little intention of telling Jada about his suspicions as he hummed and shifted uncomfortably under her waiting gaze. Merlin, on the other hand, could see the uncertainty in her eyes, and he so desperately wanted her to dismiss their doubts and prove them wrong. He couldn’t bear the thought of finding out she’d been lying to them, but hanging in uncertainty was not where he wanted to be, either.

            “Jada,” he began, shifting her attention to him, “When you were younger, was there ever any… incidents, any signs that you had magic?”

            He could see her think about it, though a furrow appeared between her brows. “No, not that I can think of. I don’t…” Suddenly, her expression changed. “Ubi said- When I was in his and Morgo’s house, Ubi said something about how I’ve… come from a long line of magic users? Something like that?”

            Merlin frowned, and he could see that Gaius wasn’t caught up, either. “Ubi was the one who helped Morgo kidnap you?”

            She nodded. “Yeah, basically. They were talking—I didn’t really understand what they were going on about, at the time—but they were talking about… about…” She slammed her hands over her eyes, trying to think. “God, I don’t know. I thought they were crazy! I just wanted to get out of there.”

            A few more seconds passed. “Ubi was surprised I hadn’t noticed anything yet. Morgo told him I’d had no need to? I don’t know… But that- That means they knew, right? Why would they know and not tell me? I knew Ubi for years, was our entire friendship just a lie? How could he not tell me?”

            She seemed genuine, but Merlin couldn’t be sure. There was only really one way he could be, he realised, and that was to tell her the truth.

            “Jada, the thing is…” He saw Gaius shoot him a look, but kept going. He needed her to tell him everything was fine. “Obviously, some kind of magic is at work, here. And in order for your magic to go up against Nimueh’s magic and win… Well, that would mean that your magic is pretty powerful. More powerful than Nimueh’s. More powerful than mine”—He gestured to his chest in illustration—“And that… That doesn’t really happen by accident, with someone who’s never even used magic before.”

            He could see her processing his words, and he saw the moment she caught up. “You think I’m lying.”

            It wasn’t a question, which somehow hurt Merlin, but the worst was her tone. It was dull, simple—matter-of-fact, even—as though she wasn’t even surprised any more that they were doubting her. That he was doubting her. Her acceptance pained him.

            “Do you have any evidence to disprove us?” Gaius asked, suddenly finding his voice.

            A second passed, and then she shook her head. “No,” she replied, still with that emptiness in her eyes as they lowered.

            This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Merlin had expected her to deny it, to refute their fears, but she just looked so defeated. He didn’t even think she could be guilty, looking at her now. Just defeated.

            “Then what are we supposed to think?” Gaius asked sternly.

            “I don’t know.” She got up, heading back over to the pot on the fire, and lifted it off. It was still bubbling as she brought it over, using the ladle to fish the scraps of cloth out of the water. “Here’s your bandages.”

            Merlin felt awful. He hadn’t expected the knife he’d used to stab her in the back to turn around and wound him, too. He hadn’t meant to stab her in the back at all. She was supposed to have blocked it. She was supposed to defend herself.

            “Jada…” he began, but had nothing else to follow.

            She finished cooling and handing the bandages to Gaius, then got up to set the pot back beside the fire. “Goodnight.”

            Without another word, she climbed back into bed and turned away from them.

            They could hear Nimueh’s voice echoing around the ruins as their boat pulled in, her words forming some kind of spell, and Merlin was so on edge that Jada feared he was going to leap into the water and swim the rest of the way. He stayed put, however, until the boat had come to a stop before bolting out of it and into the darkened staircase.

            Jada could manage no such speed and it took her several moments longer before she had managed to haul herself out of the swaying vessel. As she steadied herself, she heard Merlin’s voice above her yell, “Stop!”

            That made her move, lurching unsteadily towards the staircase and staggering up it.

            “Back again so soon, warlock?” she heard Nimueh say calmly.

            Jada was going to kill her. If she lay even a single finger on him, Jada would kill her. The ultimatum felt jarringly simple and for a second she worried about what she was becoming, but then she had reached the top of the stairs and the time for thinking was over.

            No matter what happened, she had to keep Merlin alive.

            “What have you done?” Merlin demanded.

            He was standing on the edge of the stones ahead of her while Nimueh watched him steadily from beside the altar, the Cup of Life in her hands. At her feet, slumped against the stone slab and facing away from them, lay Gaius.

            Nimueh set the cup down on the stone, stalking slowly towards Merlin. “Your mother is safe. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

            “Have you killed him?”

            She halted, facing him squarely. “It was his wish.”

            Merlin turned away from her for a moment, a pained, defeated sound escaping him. Then, suddenly, he was yelling. “I bid my life for Arthur’s; not my mother’s, not Gaius’!”

            “The Old Religion does not care who lives and who dies. Only that the balance of the world is restored. To save a life, a life must be taken. Gaius knew this.”

            She turned her head towards Gaius’ unmoving form, but there was no sympathy in her expression. Merlin’s answering voice was hard. “It is not the Old Religion that has done this. It is you.”

            A slow, sly smile made its way onto Nimueh’s face. It made Jada uneasy, her hand finding its way to the hilt of the sword at her hip, but she couldn’t yet tell whether Nimueh had noticed her presence or not. Trying not to draw too much attention to herself, she inched forwards, making sure to keep to the edge of the ruined walls.

            “Come, now,” Nimueh crooned. “We are far too valuable to each other to be enemies.”

            Merlin was appalled. “No! I share nothing with you!”

            “With my help, Arthur will become king.”

            “I will make Arthur king,” he answered, a sudden confidence filling his voice. “But you will never see that day. Atrice!”

            His hand shot up, palm outstretched towards Nimueh, and in the next second lighting was striking out from it. Nimueh blocked the attack easily with the back of her hand, absorbing the charge into her skin.

            “Your childish tricks are useless against me, Merlin,” she mocked, turning her own palm to face him and drawing circles in the air with it. Sparks crackled beneath her skin, before igniting into a ball of flames that swelled in size as they watched.

            Jada saw what was coming, even as Nimueh declared, “I am a priestess of the Old Religion. Forbearne!”

            Jada collided with Merlin before he even knew she was there, shoving him to the ground as the flames hurtled towards him. Then everything was red and orange, the ground knocked the wind out of her as it hit her in the side, and the world disappeared.

            The flames engulfed Jada’s vision, the flickering tongues the only thing keeping her from being sucked into the black void around her. She expected them to hurt, but there was no searing pain, no strangling smoke, no blistering heat. Instead, there was a warmth, and it began in her fingertips before winding its way through her palms, her wrists, her arms. It was in her blood, woven into the very fabric of her, and it sank straight into the depths of her chest, filling her up, before suddenly shooting down into her legs and bursting out of her like a roaring inferno.

            Jada gasped a breath, and above her was a cloudy sky.

            Her back and shoulder hurt, so she must have been alive, she concluded, though the flames still licked at the edge of her vision. Confusion clouded her mind even as she struggled to right herself, realising now that she was lying on her back where she had fallen.

            “Pity,” a smug voice said. “Together, we could have ruled the world.”

            It wasn’t talking to Jada, but it awoke something within her, some dark, carnal rage. She looked to the voice—still struggling to sit up—to find Nimueh standing over an unmoving form, a disinterested look on her face as she regarded him.

            It took a few groggy seconds for Jada’s brain to register the dark hair, the worn boots, the frayed neckerchief, but then the rage overtook her, the flames roaring in her veins. Her hand hit the floor, intending to push herself up, to grab a fistful of smug priestess, or seize her sword and run her through, but the fire in her blood spilled out at the contact with the earth.

            Tongues of red and orange, yellow and gold, sprang up and headed in a line towards Nimueh, who had turned on her heel and begun to strut back to her altar. She let out a yelp as they licked at her feet, her composure finally shattering, before her eyes raised to lock with Jada’s.

            The flames were beginning to climb Nimueh’s tattered dress, now, but she raised a hand towards Jada, her lips parting with the spell on her tongue.

            But instead of Nimueh’s voice breaking Jada’s reverie, it was Merlin’s. “You should not have killed my friend.”

            Nimueh turned to look back at him at the same time as Jada, but Merlin’s gaze was to the sky, his features as dark as his voice. He raised a hand to it, and the clouds above cracked with thunder, lightning flashing and illuminating his face. As his hand lowered towards Nimueh, several bolts of lightning stabbed downwards, striking her where she stood.

            For a few moments, Nimueh was only able to convulse as the currents ripped through her. Then they tore her apart.

            There was a silence. It began to rain. Jada’s fires hissed, then sputtered, and at last died out, the rage within her subsiding and allowing a deep shock to take hold.

            Merlin was looking at her with wide eyes, his hair already slick against his forehead. “Are you all right?” he breathed, frozen in place.

            Jada gave a stiff and shaky nod. “Are you?”

            His answer was the same. Suddenly, he broke into a run, rushing towards Gaius’ still form and dropping to the ground beside him with a thud.

            Jada followed as Merlin began shaking Gaius’ shoulder, his voice already ragged with grief as he called his name. Gaius gave no response, and Merlin turned his face to the sky to let out an anguished cry at whatever force had allowed this to happen.

            Jada sat beside him despite the sodden ground beneath her already soaking her clothes. There was nothing she could say or do except lay a gentle hand on his arm, her heart breaking as Merlin pressed his face into Gaius’ shoulder and shuddered against the force of his sobs.

            What would he do without Gaius? she wondered. He’d been like a parent to Merlin, and to lose him like this must have seemed unbearable to him. What would she do without Gaius, without the sensibility and the guidance and all the knowledge he’d kept close to his chest?

            She and Gaius may not have always agreed on everything, but Jada was already beginning to sense the hole his death was leaving them with.

            There was a strange sound, almost like a bleat, and it was so out of place it made Jada do a double-take. Then came a weak, “Merlin…”

            Gaius eyes were opening slowly, confusion clouding them as he looked up into Merlin’s disbelieving face. “Merlin…”

            All at once, Merlin sprang back to life, flinging himself into Gaius with a delighted cry. “Gaius! Gaius, you’re alive!”

            He hugged his guardian tight, burying his face into his chest and sobbing with joy, now. Jada thought her smile must have looked slightly hysterical.

            “What did you do?” Gaius asked, astounded.

            Merlin shook his head, his face split in a grin. “Nimueh’s dead. The balance of the world has been restored.”

            Now it made sense to Jada. The Old Religion really hadn’t cared whose life it received in exchange for Arthur’s, and by some incredible stroke of luck, it had counted Nimueh’s death as valid payment.

            “You amaze me,” Gaius managed, breathless from his brief trip to the other side. Jada had to agree with him now. “You’ve mastered the power of life and death itself. We’ll make a great warlock of you, yet!”

            “So you believe in me now?” Merlin asked.

            “Well, I would do…” Gaius replied. “If… if you could… stop this blasted rain!”

            Merlin grinned again, letting out an elated laugh, and Gaius managed a shaky one also. They leant back against the altar as the rain continued to pour, completely soaked and utterly relieved.

            Merlin’s eyes turned to Jada, his chest still heaving as he took her in. Jada didn’t know what to expect from his expression, but to her surprise it was the relief that remained dominant in his features.

            “I thought I’d lost you, too,” he said at last.

            She gave an uncertain smile. “I’m still here.”

            How exactly she’d managed that, she didn’t know. Now that there was time to think about it, the entire situation made her head swirl, that sickly, dizzy feeling threatening to take over again.

            Had she died? That was impossible, surely, if she was still here. But then, Gaius was here also…

            And what about what had happened after that? What about the flames? That couldn’t have been her doing, could it?

            “Did you know?” Merlin asked, his brows only pinching slightly. The rest of his face remained soft, especially when Jada only looked back at him in confusion. “That you had magic?”

            Nausea bubbled in her stomach. That was impossible. It couldn’t have- It had to be something else… Maybe the island itself had decided that enough was enough with Nimueh. Somehow a sentient island made more sense to her than the idea that she had magic.

            “I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about…” she denied, unable to hold his gaze.

            “Jada, I saw you.”

            His voice was gentle, but he wasn’t going to give it up. He shifted his position to lean just slightly closer to her, tilting his head to try and meet her gaze again. She could feel Gaius watching in silence from his other side.

            “You don’t have to be afraid,” Merlin soothed. “Magic isn’t something you need to fear.”

            “I- I wanted to kill her.” It made her feel disgusting to even admit it, as though she were dirty, sullied.

            Merlin’s fingertips touched her wrist ever so softly, the contact feather-light. “She almost killed you.”

            “It wasn’t about that,” Jada refuted. She’d hardly spent a moment considering the hit she’d taken, particularly when getting up from it. “I wanted to kill her because I saw her standing over you.”

            She swallowed, drawing in a shaky breath. Her eyes still couldn’t meet Merlin’s. “And then… And then I was going to get up, I was going to fight her, but when I put my hand on the floor…”

            Lifting her hand, she looked down at her palm in fear and bewilderment. Had all that really been burning just under the surface of her skin? She hadn’t even meant to do it—how could she have?—but now the warmth of it had completely abandoned her, allowing the chill of fear to fill her up instead.

            How could she carry on about her life now? It wasn’t just the magic—though the thought of all that power apparently residing in her fingertips was a terrifying thought in itself—it was the sheer instability of it. Of her.

            She’d wanted to kill Nimueh, and in a moment of rage, she’d almost done just that. Not even a quick death; a slow, agonising, burning death was what she’d almost granted, and the only reason Jada could give as to why she hadn’t actually killed Nimueh was that Merlin had gotten there first.

            What happened the next time she got mad? What if in the next argument with Gaius she flung her arm and set the room ablaze in an instant? Or the next time Uther said something abhorrent and she glared at him from across the room, she inadvertently caused the King of Camelot to suddenly burst into flame in the middle of his court?

            She couldn’t be trusted, she couldn’t control herself, and who knew what damage she might cause next.

            “Jada.” Merlin’s soft voice brought her back to the present, his hand taking hold of hers and breaking her fixation on it. “It’s going to be all right. We’ll figure this out, okay? Together.”

            She looked up at him now, and immediately her eyes filled with tears. Merlin wasn’t looking at her with fear, or disgust, or even apprehension. His face was open, his eyes accepting, and when he saw her beginning to cry, he pulled her into a hug.

            It was briefer than their usual embrace, what with Gaius still sitting beside them, but the comforting squeeze Merlin gave her as they separated was enough for Jada to steel herself again.

            He gave her a searching look, and she replied with a determined nod. Merlin smiled.

            “Now,” he began, pushing himself to his feet, “We should head back. Do you think you can walk?”

            The latter was directed at Gaius, and he considered for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I think so. Here, help me up.”

            He held his hands out to Merlin, and Jada rose to help him also, before the three of them headed for the boat.

            They made camp once they had crossed the lake, wanting to dry out their sodden clothes as much as possible now that the rain had stopped. Jada could see Merlin’s gaze flickering to Gaius every so often, the physician’s movements already growing tired even as they got out of the boat, so she understood when he suggested they settle down early and rest for the remainder of the afternoon.

            After tending to the horses, she went with Merlin to gather firewood, leaving Gaius to rest and watch the supplies.

            “Is there something in particular I’m supposed to be searching for?” she asked, examining the sticks on the floor.

            “Wood.” Merlin was wearing a teasing grin when she looked up at him with a disapproving, trying-not-to-smile expression, a sizeable collection of twigs already gathered in his arms. “As long as it’s not too wet, anything will do, really.”

            She found a stick that seemed suitable and gave it a once-over before adding it to her significantly smaller armful. The two of them worked in silence for a few minutes, each focused on their task, before suddenly Merlin slipped on the soggy leaf litter and let out a startled sound. He managed to keep upright, but as his arms gripped the sticks tighter to his chest he let out a cry. The wood suddenly clattered to the floor.

            “Are you all right?” Jada asked, already moving towards him. “What happened?”

            Merlin’s eyes were screwed shut, his fists clenched and half-raised, and he seemed to be trying to keep his breathing under control, but as Jada came closer he tried to force himself to relax. “It’s all right,” he ground out, though his eyes were open now. “It’s fine. One of the branches just poked me wrong, that’s all.”

            Jada wasn’t buying it, particularly as her eyes landed on the blackened circle in the centre of his chest. The fabric of his tunic seemed to have been singed by something, and she set her heap of twigs down before stepping forward for a closer look.

            “What happened here?” she asked, barely brushing the mark with her thumb.

            “Nimueh,” Merlin sighed, thankfully not trying to dismiss her now. “After she hit you, she attacked me again. This one hit its mark.”

            She hadn’t managed to keep him safe, then. Jada didn’t want to think about Merlin going through the same thing she had after Nimueh’s magic had struck.

            “I didn’t even thank you for that, did I?” he realised, though Jada only gave a confused frown, looking up at him. “Thank you. For trying to save me. For protecting me.”

            “And then you went and got yourself hit, anyway.” It was meant to be a joke, but Merlin’s brows puckered.

            “I’m sorry.”

            Jada tilted her head at him, giving an apologetic smile. “No, it- I was joking.”

            “Oh.” He flashed an awkward smile in return, before his features grew concerned. “You should have Gaius take a look at where she hit you. It must hurt.”

            Jada frowned and shook her head once. In all honesty, she’d almost forgotten about where Nimueh had hit her. She felt bruised and achy, certainly—though that was most likely from where she’d hit the ground—but the actual flaming impact itself didn’t seem to be causing her any particular discomfort.

            Confused, she lifted the bottom of her tunic, hiking it up just enough to let her peer at where the ball had hit. If it had left a mark, it should have been over the bottom of her left ribcage, but the skin there was unbroken save for a few old stretchmarks.

            She ran her fingers over the area for a moment, then looked up at Merlin. “See? I’m fine.”

            A deep furrow appeared between Merlin’s brows. “That’s where she hit you?”

            “…Yeah?”

            He leaned closer to it, still frowning, and lifted a hand as if to touch her, but drew it back again at the last second. “Are you sure?”

            “I think I’d remember.”

            Merlin straightened up, face apologetic. “Oh, yeah, of course. It’s just… it doesn’t even hurt?”

            “No.” She twisted her torso from left to right, just to be sure. “I feel a little bruised, but other than that, I’m fine.”

            Apparently completely puzzled, Merlin leant back, putting his hands on his hips and letting out a, “Huh.”

            Now it was Jada’s turn to be concerned. “Why? What did you expect to find there? What do you have?”

            His mouth made a surprised little ‘o’, before he rushed to cover his tracks again. “Nothing. Same as you. I’m fine.”

            Jada’s hands came up to her hips, her eyes fixing him with a firm stare. “I can’t tell whether you think I’m dumb, or you think I just don’t care enough to argue.”

            “Oh no, I don’t think that! I just-”

            “Show me.”

            He blanched. “What?”

            “Show me, or show Gaius. Or tell me the truth about why you never want to be honest about things like this.”

            That pulled him up short, and Merlin simply stood for a few moments, staring at her in surprise. Jada’s firmness began to crumble as she waited, wondering if she was being unfair.

            “I don’t like people worrying about me.”

            It was a small admission, but the fact he was willing to try made the corner of Jada’s lips quirk in a smile. “Why?” she asked.

            “It’s…” He frowned, and she felt as though she was watching him figure it out in real time. “It’s my job to make sure everybody else is safe. I don’t… need people to worry about me.” He gave a long pause, and then added, “Other people have more important things to be worrying about.”

            “I worry about you,” Jada said, taking his hand absently and drawing circles on his palm with her thumb. Her eyes, however, remained lowered. “What do I have here that’s more important than you?”

            She sensed, rather than saw, Merlin freeze, heard the breath catch in his throat just as her heart seemed to leap into hers. Maybe that had been too much, maybe she’d crossed a line, but if it came down to a choice between keeping her feelings secret or letting him know his worth…

            It hadn’t been much of a choice.

            When she looked back up at him, Merlin’s face was still frozen in surprise, his eyes flickering between the both of hers. She gave a soft smile, closing her hand now around his. “Let me care about you.”

            He made a few small, stuttering nods, though his expression still retained its wide-eyed surprise, and Jada stepped in to take hold of the hem of his shirt. Merlin’s gaze never left her.

            Lifting it up caused Jada to gasp, almost dropping the tunic again in horror. Just above his breastbone, looking about as big as the circumference of Jada’s palm, was a scalded, reddened, weeping patch of skin that looked as though the air brushing past it would be painful, let alone a pointed stick jabbing into it. It had covered nearly half of the recovering blisters, the new skin that had formed under them now having been burnt off again, and surrounding it still remained faint blue lines reminiscent of the lightning bolt that had struck him little more than a week previous.

            How Merlin wasn’t in tears in that moment, Jada didn’t know.

            “Merlin…” She heard herself gasp, and there was genuine fear in her voice. She looked from the wound, up at his face, and then over his shoulder towards the camp. “This needs to be looked at by Gaius.”

            She was in the process of lowering his shirt gently when Merlin took hold of her arms.

            “Please, don’t,” he begged. “He’s just died, Jada. He has bigger things to worry about.”

            Her head shook vehemently. “That needs to be treated, Merlin. Otherwise it’s going to get infected, and I’m pretty sure you don’t have antibiotics here yet, so I can only imagine what kind of treatment you’d use for that.”

            He gave a half-shrug. “That’s what the leeches are for.”

            “Leeches?!” A hysterical sound escaped her, something close to a laugh but without a semblance of humour. She began marching back to camp, abandoning the firewood and taking hold of his wrist, instead. “You’re telling Gaius.”

            “No, I’m not,” Merlin replied, staying rooted to the spot.

            Jada turned back to face him, keeping hold. “Then I will. You can’t just leave that, Merlin; you’re clearly in pain.”

            She could see him growing more and more stubborn even as she did, and it was getting them nowhere. As a last resort, she softened, stepping closer and not trying to hide her worry anymore. “Please, Merlin.”

            There was conflict in his eyes as he looked past her, back towards the camp where Gaius was waiting for them. A long moment passed, and then at last, Merlin let out a sigh. “Let him rest, tonight. If it’s no better by morning… I’ll talk to him.”

            It wasn’t a flood of relief Jada felt, more like a steady trickle that filled in all the gaps between her remaining worry. It was an agreement, at least. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

            Merlin gave a nod. “Now come on, we need the firewood so that we can get dry. Come and help me carry it back.”