Extra To Protagonist

The light was softer this time.

Not the cold, sterile glow of the infirmary's wards. Not even the morning sun filtered through enchanted glass. It was quieter than that—gentler.

Like something living had pushed its way through the cracks of this building and sat quietly beside him.

He opened his eyes slowly.

No pain. Not right now. Just the dull ache of disconnection—mana still absent, like his body had forgotten it ever held power. His limbs were heavier than they should be, skin too still.

But his mind was awake.

And someone was in the room.

He turned his head slightly, blinking against the haze.

Then stopped breathing for half a second.

She was there.

Sitting beside his bed, hands clasped tight in her lap, shoulders trembling with restraint. Long black hair fell over her shoulders, tucked behind one ear the way she always used to when she was nervous. Her coat was too thin for the morning chill. She hadn't noticed.

Her eyes—gold, just like his—were rimmed red.

"…Victoria."

The name came out quieter than he meant it to. But it was enough.

Her head jerked up.

For a heartbeat, she didn't move.

Then—

She launched forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Not careful. Not measured. Just full-force, warm, real.

He froze.

Her face pressed into his shoulder. Her breath hitched. And then the sob broke out of her chest, sharp and small and shaking.

"You absolute bastard," she whispered.

He closed his eyes.

His throat was tight.

She gripped the back of his hospital tunic, fingers trembling.

"I thought you were dead, Merlin. I thought—I thought—"

"I know."

"No, you don't. You don't get to know. You don't get to vanish and then come back like this. Like it's nothing. Like I'm not supposed to fall apart every time someone says your name."

He didn't know what to say.

He never did, when it came to her.

But his arms moved.

One slowly lifted and curled around her back—weakly, but enough to hold her in place.

"…I'm sorry," he whispered.

Victoria laughed against his shoulder, raw and tear-choked. "You always are."

He felt the way she trembled—shoulders shuddering, breath catching. Her hands clung to him like he'd disappear again if she let go.

"I missed you," she said.

He nodded once, eyes still closed.

"I missed you too."

Her fingers tightened.

"I don't care where you went. I don't care what happened. You're here. You're alive. That's enough."

He wanted to tell her it wasn't.

That he wasn't whole.

That whatever came back wasn't the same person who left.

But he didn't.

Because right now, her arms were around him.

And for the first time since he opened his eyes in that bleeding sky—

He felt like something tethered him to the world.

They stayed like that for a long time.

She cried until she couldn't anymore.

And he held her, even when he didn't have the strength.

Because if she was here—

Then maybe some part of him still was, too.

—

The courtyard was quiet. Not silent, but quiet.

Wind scraped low against the stone tiles, dry leaves curling in circles. The fountain in the center of the training square gurgled like it didn't know anything had changed.

Nathan leaned against the wall just beneath the overhang, arms folded, hood pulled over his head. He was trying not to think too hard. That was dangerous these days.

'He's alive at least.'

That should've been enough.

It wasn't.

Not when Merlin looked like that.

Not when he didn't talk. Not when his eyes barely moved. Not when Nathan had watched him jump through a portal like it meant nothing—and come back like he wished it had stayed that way.

He heard the footsteps before he saw her.

He didn't need to look.

Vivienne Dorne was impossible to mistake.

She didn't walk like a professor. She walked like a soldier who'd learned to slow her steps only out of respect. Boots clicking gently against stone. Arms folded. That long braid swaying slightly down her back.

She stopped next to him.

Didn't speak.

Nathan broke first. "How long have you been lurking?"

Vivienne exhaled, just short of a laugh. "You're getting better at noticing."

"Bad habit. Blame him."

She didn't ask who him was. She didn't have to.

Nathan glanced at her sideways. "You were there right?"

Vivienne nodded once. "Morgana brought him straight to the medical ward."

"And what did she say?"

She looked at him.

Her brown eyes were tired. Not physically. Not even magically. But somewhere behind the gaze—somewhere in the cracks where people didn't usually look.

"Obviously he's alive," she said.

"That's not what I asked."

A beat passed.

Then she leaned against the same wall, just a few feet away, gaze flicking toward the fountain.

"He's… breathing. Moving. Aware."

"Obviously….but?"

Vivienne didn't answer immediately. Then—quietly—she said, "His mana's gone."

Nathan's heart skipped.

"Gone?"

"Not sealed. Not blocked. Not even suppressed. Just… missing. Like it burned itself out trying to stay together."

Nathan looked down at his hands.

"He jumped in to save us."

Vivienne nodded. "He did."

"Do you know what he saw in there?"

"No." Her voice was sharp. "And if he remembers, he hasn't said."

Nathan swallowed. "Will he get it back? The mana, I mean."

Vivienne didn't answer for a long time.

Then—softly—"I don't know."

That hurt more than he wanted it to.

She turned to look at him properly then. "You care about him."

"Yeah. Shocking."

"I'm not making fun."

Nathan offered her a tired smile. "Wouldn't matter if you were."

Vivienne studied him a little longer.

"You remind me of him sometimes," she said.

That got his attention.

"…Me?"

She nodded. "Not the power. Not the way you fight. But the way you follow."

Nathan tilted his head. "That's not exactly flattering."

"It wasn't meant to be."

He snorted.

Vivienne looked back at the fountain. Her tone shifted—softer now, harder to read.

"He was my student too, you know."

"I know."

"I trained him to be faster. Smarter. I thought… maybe that would be enough."

Nathan didn't speak.

"He never stopped fighting, even when he should've. Even when he couldn't win."

Nathan turned to her, brows furrowed. "Then why does he look like he lost?"

Vivienne didn't answer right away.

Then she said, almost too quietly—

"Because sometimes surviving costs more than dying."

Nathan looked away.

The words stuck in his ribs.

He hated that they were true.

"…Do you think he's still him?" he asked, voice lower.

Vivienne hesitated.

Then—

"I think Merlin's still in there. But I think he left a piece of himself behind."

That was the worst part.

Nathan knew exactly what she meant.

Because when he looked into Merlin's eyes now—

He didn't see anger.

Or bitterness.

He saw nothing.

And that scared him more than anything else.

Vivienne pushed off the wall. Her boots scraped lightly against the ground.

"He'll need you," she said. "Sooner or later."

Nathan looked up at her.

"Yeah?" he said, quietly.

"He won't ask."

"He never does."

She offered him a faint smile.

Then left.

—

Nathan stayed a little longer. Watching the fountain. Listening to the wind.

His hand drifted to his side.

Where his dagger sat.

Still warm.

Still humming.

He whispered, mostly to himself—

"I'll stay, Merlin."

A pause.

"Even if you don't."

—

The common room was too small.

Not literally. Physically, it had space. Enough chairs. Enough light. A window cracked open just enough to let in a breeze.

But emotionally?

It was choking.

Liliana sat with her legs pulled up into the armchair, chin resting on her knees. Adrian paced—again—back and forth near the table, jaw clenched.

Elara stood with her arms folded, eyes distant. Seraphina sat perfectly upright, spine like a steel rod, lips pressed into a line.

Nathan was the last to arrive.

He stepped in. Closed the door. Leaned against it for a second longer than he meant to.

Adrian stopped pacing. "So?"

Five eyes turned to him.

Nathan didn't smile.

He just shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's gone."

"What's gone?" Liliana asked, already frowning.

"His mana."

Silence.

For a second, no one breathed.

Then Elara said, "What do you mean 'gone'?"

"I mean he can't use any of it. No lightning. No wind. Nothing."

"That's not possible," Seraphina said immediately. "Unless someone forcibly sealed his core—"

"It's not sealed," Nathan said. "It's just not… there."

He looked at each of them, slowly.

"Vivienne said it's like it burned itself out holding him together. That it didn't shut down—it emptied."

Liliana's mouth opened, then closed again.

Adrian ran a hand through his hair. "Can he recover it?"

Nathan didn't answer.

"Can he?" Adrian pressed.

"I don't know," Nathan said. Quiet. Steady.

Liliana's voice cracked. "But he's okay, right? I mean, he's awake."

"Yeah," Nathan murmured. "He's awake obviously."

But they all heard what he didn't say.

Adrian sat down hard in the nearest chair, running both hands over his face.

"Shit," he muttered.

Elara didn't speak.

She stared at the table. At nothing.

Seraphina exhaled slowly. "If his core is gone, the Academy might—"

Nathan's eyes flicked up. "Don't say it."

"They might discharge him."

"I said don't."

Her expression didn't change, but she said nothing else.

Nathan moved to the center of the room. Looked at them, each in turn.

"He didn't ask for any of this. Not saving us. Not jumping into a portal. Not coming back like this."

Adrian muttered, "But he did it anyway."

"Exactly," Nathan said. "So we're not going to sit around waiting for him to vanish again. If the professors try to shove him off the roster, we push back."

Seraphina raised an eyebrow. "With what?"

"Each other."

That made her pause.

Elara finally spoke, voice flat. "What does he need?"

Nathan looked toward the door. Toward the hallway Merlin was still recovering in.

"Time."

Liliana blinked. "That's all?"

He nodded.

"Time. Space. And us. That's it."

They didn't agree out loud.

They didn't have to.

The air shifted.

The team had been broken once.

They wouldn't let it break again.