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Chapter Text

Distressing events are not usually portended by a foul weather anomaly or earthquake any more than a particularly momentous occasion will be marked by birds singing and the spontaneous eruption of rainbows and songs from angelic beings. Unfortunately.

And since this is not (usually) the case, Hunith did not have the slightest inkling that this day would be any different than the ones before.

Up with the dawn, she'd already fed the chickens and her goat, tended to the garden sprouts thrusting their green heads toward the summer sun. Her house was relatively clean—it had been years since she'd had Merlin underfoot to so drastically alter that state—and her laundry was scrubbed and ready to be hung out to dry. The weather had been particularly fine the past few weeks, not too hot or cold, and just enough rain to paint the world green, but not soak it. As Hunith lifted the first dress to hang, she couldn't help but admire the serenity and wish that wherever he was at the moment, Merlin could have a little taste of it as well.

If wishes were horses…well, that wouldn't have helped Merlin out much either. It wasn't a horse he was in need of, but the opportunity to get off one. Five bloody hours of hunting without a rest—Arthur was a tyrant! Merlin groaned and shifted in his saddle, trying to give his posterior a break.

"Stop being such a girl, Merlin," Arthur snapped.

From his position in the lead, he wouldn't see the glare and rude gesture Merlin flashed his way as he said, "It's not as if I have all that padding like you, sire. My arse gets sore."

Instead of continuing their customary banter, Arthur drew his horse up and flashed a hand signal that might have been "shut-up", "halt" or "left-turn". Merlin hadn't paid much attention when Arthur tried to drill hand signals into him one day after going a few rounds as Arthur's practice dummy.

Merlin didn't need the hand signal to tell him something was wrong. He reined in his mare, stroked her neck reassuringly, and extended his senses—magical and mundane—to investigate what had put his king on alert enough to ignore the jab about his weight. There didn't seem to be any magical threat lurking in the vicinity, but the forest had become unnaturally quiet. About an hour ago, the other knights, Gwaine and Elyan, Percival and Leon, had split off in pairs to flush out the hart they'd been trailing. It wouldn't be this silent if Gwaine were approaching, and Leon would have respectfully announced his presence.

A faint whistle and a whisper of wind preceded three arrows that thudded into the ground around the feet of Arthur's horse. A credit to his skill, the king stayed seated while the horse reared, then regained control of the beast as he drew his sword and shouted, "Take cover, Merlin!"

The warlock ignored his master's order and immediately found the archers tucked into the boughs overhead. A whispered word and the bows flew from their grasps, knocking them from their perches at the same time. As they fell, another man emerged from the trees brandishing a sword. Confident Arthur could hold his own against a single, unhorsed assailant, Merlin scanned for further threats. Only he expected those threats to be directed at Arthur, which might have been why he was caught off-guard by the multiple hands that suddenly seized him from behind and hauled him roughly to the ground. Three men, who each outweighed the skinny warlock by a good fifty pounds, sat on his arms and legs, holding him down while a fourth forced a foul concoction into his mouth, holding his nose and jaws tight until he swallowed.

"Please, don't struggle, Emrys. It'll be over soon."

Panicked, Merlin lashed out with magic, throwing all four men off, but the damage was done. Whatever they'd given him sparked a wildfire of searing pain that quickly consumed his entire body. He screamed and thrashed. Vaguely, he registered the men returning.

"Don't fight it, Emrys," one of them whispered. "We're only trying to help you."

Hands seized Merlin, every touch like knives thrust beneath his flaming skin. His final thought as he succumbed to the pain was of his friend and master.

"Arthur!" he cried just before sliding into blissful, pain-free unconsciousness.

Arthur had found it a brilliant stroke of luck that those archers managed to fall out of the tree. Honestly, the odds of all three fumbling their holds like that were pretty low, but then stranger things had happened. Then this loon, with no armor and sword skills rivaling Merlin's for Worst Ever, burst out of the forest and proceeded to dance around just out of Arthur's reach almost as if he were trying to distract . . . .

Merlin's screams drew Arthur around so fast his neck twinged. His manservant lay on the ground, screaming and writhing in pain with no apparent injuries. Four more bandits, dressed in similar tunics and breeches to his own inept attacker's, scrambled toward the downed servant. Merlin flinched violently from their touch, but they didn't seem concerned with hurting him so much as restraining him. The fact that they were more intent on Merlin than the king registered with an appropriate amount of surprise, but Arthur pushed it to the back of his mind for later consideration.

With a final cry of "Arthur," Merlin fell still and silent. For a heart-stopping second, Arthur feared the boy was dead, but he refused to believe it. Throwing himself from his horse with the agility and grace of Camelot's greatest knight, Arthur charged the men. They would pay dearly for laying a hand on what was his to protect.

~~~

Hunith had just sat down for her evening meal when something banged against her door hard enough to rattle the shelves. When it struck her door again, she started, a hand grasping for the knife lying on the cheese plate. Her weapon clutched to her chest, she rose and ventured on silent feet to the window. It was dark outside, but even in the dim moonlight she could see the glitter of mail on the man's chest and the line of a sword at his hip. He held a bundle of something in both arms, using his foot to pound at her door. There was something familiar about the silhouette of his profile, and then his hair glimmered gold briefly in the night light and it clicked.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Hunith ran to the door and threw it open. "King Arthur?"

He turned his head as if checking for observers before ducking through the door. "Hunith, I apologize for dropping in unannounced, and I would not have done so if the issue weren't dire."

Arthur fidgeted, something more in character for her son than the young king, and his gaze darted all around the room, as if trying to light on anything but her. A chill settled around Hunith's heart as her gaze was drawn to the unmoving bundle in Arthur's arms: something—or someone—wrapped in his red cloak.

Unable to voice her fears she simply said, "Merlin?"

Arthur jumped and his gaze darted briefly to his burden. Wordlessly and with surprising gentleness, he laid it down on Hunith's cot.

Hunith stiffened, half-expecting to see Merlin's black hair and pale face. But her son, although too thin, was tall. He certainly wouldn't have been able to be that completely folded into King Arthur's cloak. Slowly, Arthur unwrapped the bundle to reveal the pale figure of a tiny, sleeping child with raven hair and ears she would have recognized anywhere. Merlin wore his usual tunic, which was now so overly large it would have slipped right off his slender shoulders if he stood.

Dropping to her knees, Hunith stroked her hand over the boy's forehead, smoothing his dark hair from his face. "Oh, my dear boy," she whispered, fishing one of his tiny hands from the folds of fabric and pressing it to her cheek. She looked up at Arthur, who seemed to take that as a request for an explanation.

The king sighed and passed his hand over his eyes. "We were in the forest not far from the border, when these men attacked. While one of their group distracted me, the rest ambushed Merlin."

Here his expression tightened, and his lips narrowed to a thin line. "I don't know why they seemed so interested in Merlin. I didn't see what they did, but his screams alerted me to their attack. There wasn't an injury, but he was in pain. He passed out while I killed the men. In the time it took to make sure no one else lingered, he . . . ."

Arthur swept a hand to indicate Merlin's tiny form.

"Has he regained consciousness, sire? Since this . . . happened." Hunith asked, fearful for her son's health if he hadn't and fearful for his life if he had. Merlin at the age of four, what he appeared to be now, had a surplus of magic and almost no control. If he'd woken up and performed an accidental feat of magic in front of Uther's son . . . .

Arthur shook his head, then started to pace. Hunith almost wilted in relief.

"Ealdor was closer than Camelot and given his apparent, er, age, I thought it best to come to you first. If he retains none of his adult memories, then he will need a familiar face."

Hunith settled Merlin's hand on his chest, marveling once again at how tiny her son was, and touched Arthur's shoulder. "Thank you, sire, for considering his safety and comfort. You must be tired and hungry. I know it's not much, but please, have something to eat."

"My knights . . . we were separated. They will wonder."

 She tucked Merlin back into the cloak, smoothed his hair again, and ushered Arthur to the table, forcing him to sit. "They will have to wait 'til morning."

Somewhat dazed, he complied without fuss. After a minute, he stirred and said, "The horses. I had to leave them outside and—"

"I'll tend to the horses, sire. You eat. Then I'll fix you a pallet." As she slipped outside, she whispered, "Why must these things always happen to you, my boy?"

~~~

Sunlight poured through a crack in the window, striking Arthur across the eyes. For a moment, he forgot he wasn't in his oversized bed with Merlin chirping annoyingly at him to rise and shine as he threw back the curtains. His back and neck ached, his skin felt tight with dried sweat and dirt, and he was chilled—clearly it was Merlin's fault.

Groaning, he reluctantly cracked his eyelids to express his usual displeasure at his servant. A pair of wide-open blue eyes set in a tiny, fey face gazed back at him with intense, but guarded fear. Then the previous day's events came back to Arthur, and he bolted upright, wincing as his stiff back and shoulders resisted the movement.

Merlin had shifted to the far corner of the cot, his knees drawn tightly to his chest by arms so slight Arthur had seen twigs in less danger of snapping. With his face all but buried in his arms, Merlin searched Arthur's as if for some sign as to whether he were friend or foe.

With a comparable amount of fear (Arthur had never been very good with kids), he put on what he hoped was a gentle smile. "Good morning, Merlin. How are you feeling?"

At the mention of his name, the boy started visibly and his gaze darted around the house, but whatever he sought he clearly didn't find. His demeanor grew more defensive and he shrank even tighter into himself.

"Who are you?" he finally demanded in a voice so familiar and strange at the same time it made Arthur's heart ache.

"My name is Arthur, Merlin. I'm a friend." He hesitated. Merlin wouldn't believe he was Merlin's friend, so he quickly amended it to, "A friend of your mother."

Merlin's eyes narrowed. "Where am I? My mum?"

That surprised Arthur. Hadn't Merlin grown up here? "This is your mum's house. She's . . . ." Unsure of where Hunith was, Arthur fell silent.

Merlin shook his head. "Different."

Arthur blinked. "What, your house?"

"Different!" the boy repeated fervently. He extended a stubby index finger toward the far corner that was occupied by several woven baskets that had probably held that past winter's food stores. "Mum sleeps there." His hand shifted to the back wall, where Hunith had left Arthur's possessions last night. "My place."

Heat rushed to Arthur's face. Of course the house had changed over the last seventeen-odd years and Merlin's young mind would find it disconcerting to say the least. Thankfully, Hunith bustled through the door, carrying a pail of fresh goat milk and some eggs.

"Mum?" Merlin exclaimed, his relief almost palpable.

Hunith set her burdens on the table and rushed to her son's side. Arthur stood and relinquished his place.

"Yes, my dear?" She sank onto the edge of the cot and reached for him.

But Merlin fell back, eyeing her with open distrust. Her flash of hurt quickly became a reassuring smile.

"Different." Merlin declared in a trembling voice that sent a stab of pain through Arthur's chest. Large, wet tears gathered in the troughs of Merlin's eyes. "Everything is wrong!"

Finally, something inside the boy broke. He buried his head in his arms and sobbed, bony shoulders shaking with each cry.

Hunith turned. "Sire, if you could give us a moment alone?"

Oh thank God! Arthur thought, trying to pretend he wasn't running for the door. His arms were meant to wield swords not console distraught children, although with as much of a girl as grown Merlin was, he should have been somewhat practiced at it.

He'd no sooner set foot out the door, when Hunith shouted, "No, Merlin, wait!"

Turning, Arthur found the cot empty and a devastated Hunith reaching toward the door. Damn, he hadn't even seen Merlin pass. However, the boy's bare feet left a clear trail in the dirt path, headed toward the edge of the village and the forest beyond. No sign of Merlin, though.

"Fast little guy," Arthur groused. "Don't worry, Hunith, we'll find him."

~~~

Waking that morning had not been a pleasant experience. While Merlin slept, someone had upset his world, like an overturned box of apples, leaving him wobbling on unstable, unfamiliar ground. It might not have been a big change—after all, he still recognized most of the apples—they were just all wrong. And worse, his only companion at the moment was this strange blonde man, whose long, muscular limbs were sprawled in such a way that Merlin would have to climb over him to escape.

When the man woke, he seemed nice enough, almost familiar, though Merlin had never laid eyes on him before; but then he'd tried to make Merlin believe that this different world was right. But it wasn't. Merlin could feel it. It was one of the special things he could do, but couldn't tell anyone about.

And then, when his mother (but not his mother) came, it was too much. He couldn't fight his tears any longer. The magic slipped out. He hadn't meant to, but it happened sometimes when he was upset. Time slowed, and Merlin slipped awkwardly off the cot, adjusted the too-large tunic as best he could, and ran. He cried so hard he didn't notice when time returned to normal.

A deep, smoldering burn began to build inside Merlin's chest, humming and thrumming in time with his racing heart. The forest closed in around him, snagging at his arms and legs and tearing his bare feet, and still he ran. Eventually, the tunic worked its way back down around his ankles and Merlin tripped. He tried to break his fall and earned two scraped palms, bloodied knees and a face full of grass. That hurt!

Suddenly, that power inside came charging up his throat and burst from his mouth like a clap of thunder in a series of words he didn't recognize. Once they were said an odd sense of calm descended.

Sniffling, Merlin pushed to his hands and knees and rolled back onto his heels. He had fallen in a large, grassy clearing, dotted with the pretty wildflowers his mum liked to keep in a vase on the table. He flipped his palms up to inspect the damage. Raw and stinging scrapes rimmed with green stains and dusted in dirt covered the heels of both hands. His knees matched, and he'd torn a hole in his clothes. Merlin scowled. If they had been the right size, he wouldn't have fallen.

Presently, the thump of massive wings approached. Merlin glanced up as a shadow fell over him. A great gold dragon dropped gracefully into the clearing. It folded its wings against its sides and lowered its head to look at him. Merlin forgot his injuries, and his jaw dropped in wonder. He should have been afraid of a thing that large with so many sharp teeth, but he just couldn't manage. This creature felt familiar somehow.

Merlin grinned and waved. "You're a big dragon!"

The dragon snorted and something like laughter rumbled in its chest. "Yes, I am, young warlock."

"I'm Merlin." Merlin chirped proudly, thrilled that this dragon wanted to talk to him. He would have to tell Will later. Will bragged about talking to the traveling performers who'd passed through earlier that year, making fun of Merlin for hiding behind his mum's skirt. But Will had never talked to a dragon.

"I'm four," he added as an afterthought. He didn't want the dragon to think he was a baby and fly away again.

"Which, I suppose, is part of the reason for your recent distress. What else troubles you, little one, for you to call me thus?"

Merlin wiped his nose on the too-big sleeve and looked down at his toes. "S'not the same. Everything is wrong." He hesitated a bit, but thought the dragon would probably disapprove of lying more than admitting a weakness. "I got scared and I ran. Then I fell down."

He showed the dragon his scraped hands.

"Then I met you." Merlin smiled again and looked at the dragon through his eyelashes. "You are new, but you . . . I like you."

The dragon sighed and lowered his bulk fully to the ground. Merlin took it as an invitation and scrambled over to pet his snout.

"Only you, Merlin, could get yourself into a situation such as this," the dragon muttered, but Merlin paid him no mind. The odd texture of the dragon's scales beneath his splayed fingers fascinated him.

Nuzzling him to stand a short distance away, the dragon said, "Of course things are not the same, young warlock, for magic is at work here. But that does not mean you need fear your home or your mother or the young Pendragon."

Merlin perked up at the mention of another dragon.

"The man who was with you this morning," the dragon clarified. "Arthur Pendragon."

"I think I like him okay. He's new, like you, not . . . scary." Merlin turned his attention back to his hurting hands. He fought the stinging in his eyes, not wanting his new friend to see him cry. "But my mum . . . is magic why she's different now?"

The dragon's expression softened as much as was possible for a beast with fangs and scales. "Is it your mother who has changed, or merely her outward appearance?"

"She's still my mum," Merlin confessed sullenly. "But her hair and face are wrong."

"Her appearance may have altered," the dragon said, "but you know her love for you is strong, unaffected by time, distance or magic, young warlock. And you will need both her and the young Pendragon to make the world right again."

Merlin nodded, unable to look the dragon in the eye.

"Now." The dragon lifted to its feet. "Let me see to your wounds, little one, and then I must take my leave. Your mother searches for you."

Smiling weakly, Merlin lifted his hands and face to the dragon. It opened its mouth—Merlin could see way down into its throat—and breathed a golden mist over him. Instantly, the stinging subsided as each scrape, cut and bruise healed. Merlin giggled at the tingling sensation that traveled from his toes to the top of his head.

"Stay safe, young warlock," the dragon said as it launched itself into the air.

"Bye!"

Delighted by the lack of pain, Merlin ran a few quick circles around the clearing and then decided to pick some flowers for his mum.

Chapter Text

Arthur's tracking skills were considered among the best in Camelot. Merlin wasn't stealthy on his best day as an adult, and as a child, he was even easier to follow. How he'd managed to get so far so quickly remained a mystery, one Arthur intended to take up with his lazy manservant as soon as he was his proper size.

Hunith had fallen behind a little given the thickness of the underbrush that caught on her skirt more than Arthur's breeches, so Arthur reached Merlin and the clearing first. He'd expected to see the boy curled into a tight ball, crying his eyes out, but the sight of Merlin darting around the clearing, wildflowers and a few weeds clenched tightly in both tiny hands, shocked him.

Stepping out, he cleared his throat. "Merlin?"

The boy jumped slightly, but when he saw Arthur, his little face lit up. "Arthur!" He ran, almost tripping twice on the hem of his oversized tunic, and threw himself at Arthur's legs hard enough to sway the king.

Arthur put a tentative hand on Merlin's head, now no higher than his thigh. "Are you okay?"

Merlin nodded and, to Arthur's relief, released the death embrace on his legs. He handed the king one of the plants, roots still attached. "The rest are for Mum 'cause she's a girl. And my mum."

Arthur gripped the flower loosely between two fingers. "Um, you certainly seem better."

"Oh yes," Merlin said. "The dragon explained everything and said I should trust you and my mum because it's not your fault you're new and she's different, because she's still my mum. And you're nice."

"Dragon?" Well, now he knew Merlin's oddness was clearly a trait he'd been born with.

"The dragon told me I needed your and Mum's help to make the world not wrong anymore."

"Merlin!" Hunith crashed through a final bush and darted forward. She swept the boy into her arms and planted a kiss on his brow. "You scared me!"

The flowers fell forgotten as Merlin squirmed and wiped his forehead, his gaze fixed on Arthur as if he feared what the king would say about the show of affection. Arthur bit back a smile. That was not the least bit adorable.

"Sorry," Merlin muttered finally. He dropped his head to Hunith's shoulder, draped his arms around her neck and relaxed into her. "The dragon took care of me. See!"

Grin back at full force, Merlin pushed back and turned slightly away so he could show his palms. Arthur expected exasperated amusement and more tender kisses for the clearly childish silliness, but Hunith paled and cast a horrified glance at Arthur before settling Merlin on his feet and kneeling in front of the boy.

"Merlin." She said his name like a warning and cupped her hands together. Merlin pouted and mimicked her gesture.

"Pack it up," they said together.

Hunith laved her hands together like washing with soap, with Merlin continuing to imitate. "Wrap it tight."

"Tie it with a bow." She mimed tying a string around his hands. Merlin held his hands together as if they'd actually been bound, and Hunith clasped them lightly in hers.

"Something special only me and Merlin (in place of his name, Merlin said, "Mum") know."

A lump formed in Arthur's throat at the intimate, domestic sight, reminded of the simple pleasures he might have shared with his own mother had she lived. Another thought niggled at the back of his mind about the strangeness of Hunith's and Merlin's behavior and her reaction to Merlin's nonsense, but he forced it aside. Now he needed to figure out how he was going to fix his manservant.

A gurgling shattered the moment. Hunith tickled Merlin's stomach, eliciting squeals of delight. "I think someone's hungry!"

"Um," Merlin's gaze snaked toward Arthur and he bit his lip.

This blatant desire for Arthur's approval shocked the king. He knew Merlin was loyal, and in his own unorthodox, idiotic way respected Arthur, but he'd never shown the slightest inclination to care what Arthur, or anyone, thought of his actions. If he did, he wouldn't have spent so much time in the stocks.

"I'll bet you are," Arthur finally said, ruffling Merlin's hair affectionately to dispel any distress his delayed response might have caused. "I know I'm hungry enough to eat a boar, bristles and all."

"Me too!" Merlin declared, turning back to Hunith.

Arthur caught Hunith's eye and said softly, "The whole village will be out by now, and no doubt he'll be looking for more familiar faces, friends to play with. And surely someone would recognize him and cry sorcery."

Hunith's pained expression stopped him. She set Merlin back on his feet and whispered something in his ear before drawing the king hopefully out of Merlin's hearing range. The boy squatted and carefully gathered his dropped flowers.

"Merlin didn't have many friends," she whispered, "just Will really, and he's . . . I don't know if I could bear to tell Merlin that Will's gone. Or if at this age he'd even understand. And I really don't want to upset him if I can avoid it."

Arthur nodded and rubbed the stubble on his chin. "If my knights aren't tracking us, they will be headed to Camelot to report us missing. We need to get back there as soon as possible. Perhaps Gaius can figure out how to reverse whatever curse those men put on Merlin. I just wish I knew why. What could they possibly gain from turning my manservant into a child? It's not like he retained any memories or secrets about the castle that could be tricked out of him."

"Maybe whatever enchantment they used went wrong. Maybe they never intended to make him a child."

Arthur shook his head, watching as Merlin struggled to fit all the flowers into one tightly clenched fist. The boy wasn't succeeding. "No. I found child-sized druid robes and shoes on the men I killed, along with a few toys. They knew he would become a child, and I think they intended to take him with them."

Hunith pressed a hand to her chest and swayed slightly. "I'm so grateful you were there to stop them."

A worm of guilt burrowed through Arthur's chest. "If I'd protected him properly, he wouldn't be like this now."

"You did more than enough, sire," Hunith assured him. "You've always treated my son well, and you have our gratitude."

Before his cheeks could heat and betray him, Arthur switched subjects. "Do you think you could fetch my supplies and horses? I have provisions enough in my pack to see us through to Camelot, and if we meet up with my knights there will be more."

Hunith dipped her head. "I can find someone to tend to my animals and be back ready to travel in about an hour. I'll bring breakfast as well." Her gaze darted to her son, then back to the king.

"I'll watch after him, Hunith," Arthur assured her, resting his hand on his sword hilt, a visible reminder of his strength and status as a knight and king of Camelot.

"Thank you, sire." She curtsied, then explained to Merlin that he was under no circumstances to wander away from Arthur while she went to bring him breakfast. Then she put her hands together again, waited until Merlin did the same (dropping his flowers yet again), kissed his head and strode into the woods.

Arthur sighed, removed his sword and belt, then sank to sit at the base of a nearby tree, at ease but with his weapon propped within easy reach. His body still ached from sleeping on that stool, and he hadn't been lying about being hungry. But those physical concerns paled in comparison to the Merlin problem. What if this couldn't be fixed? What if his manservant, his friend, was forced to grow up all over again? Selfish though it was, Arthur couldn't help but wonder how he would get by without the young man at his side, spouting off as if he had diarrhea of the mouth and the cheerful optimism of a five-year-old girl. Sometimes, though he'd never admit it, Merlin was all that stood between him and despair in the many dark hours he'd faced these past years. Especially after Morgana's betrayal and his father's death.

His gaze wandered to Merlin, who'd abandoned his flowers and started to diligently gather sticks and grass stalks, which he would arrange into a design known only to him before scampering off for more. But the overly large tunic kept slipping off his shoulders, tangling around his ankles or falling over his hands, hampering Merlin's efforts.

When the boy finally uttered a frustrated growl, Arthur decided to step in. He walked over and knelt beside him. "Give me your arm."

Merlin obediently turned and extended both arms. Arthur rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, but the tunic slipped off one narrow shoulder, revealing a flash of Merlin's pale chest while swallowing his hand again. Arthur spun him by the shoulders, gathered up a handful of fabric and tied a knot at the neckline in back. It looked awful, but at least it kept the garment on the boy's shoulders and up away from his feet.

"There," he proclaimed, half proud of his ingenuity.

Merlin raised and lowered his arms a few times, before grunting his satisfaction and squatting down to resume his work. Now that his hands remained free, his woven grass and stick creation began to take shape—an animal of some sort, Arthur guessed. It was actually pretty impressive for a child of Merlin's age.

"That's very nice, Merlin," he said. "What are you making?"

Merlin applied the finishing touches, then lifted it up proudly for Arthur to see. "A dragon."

Arthur grinned. "A dragon, eh?" It looked more like a goat had sprouted two extra legs from its back, but he wasn't about to say that to Merlin. He was reminded of the rare times growing up when Uther wandered down to the royal nursery to check on his son, offering the briefest praise for something he'd made—usually it was a knight or a warhorse. One time, his father had even swept him up into his arms, pretending to be his steed, and galloped him all around the nursery.

Though those times were few and far between what with training and lessons, Arthur had cherished them. But Merlin had never known a father. Never had someone to play those rough and tumble games.

Arthur brightened. Merlin, being Merlin, didn't have a warhorse to gallop around, but he had made (who knew why) a dragon. "Well, any dragon worth its wings can fly. Do you want to make it fly?"

"Yes!" Merlin nodded fervently, but his smile faltered. "But I'm not supposed to. Mum says I can't do stuff like that where people can see."

That answer confused the king. "What do you mean?"

Merlin shrugged and his whole body wilted with sadness. "Mum says it's a secret and I'm not supposed to."

A shiver shot up Arthur's spine. Was peasant life really so different to that of royalty, where imaginative play was considered shameful, a secret to be hidden? In a way it did make sense. When every bit of energy must be expended just to survive, things as frivolous as play probably were discouraged. Although he couldn't imagine a mother as sweet and caring as Hunith would deny her son the simple joy of pretend play.

"Well, what if I help you?" Arthur offered and, without waiting for the boy to answer, swept him into his arms.

Merlin yelped, clutched his dragon to his chest and latched onto Arthur's shirt as the king settled him on his hip, supporting him with a gentle hand on his back. Arthur could feel the boy's heart racing and his tiny chest rising and falling at an alarming speed. After a few seconds, though, Merlin calmed and his body relaxed. Then he began to look around curiously, as if pleased by this new, higher perspective.

Arthur smiled and then immediately frowned when he noticed his hand tracing slow, soothing circles on Merlin's back. The king of Camelot shouldn't be calming a child like a nursemaid. But technically Merlin wasn't really a child, and no witnesses were around.

"Think we can make him go higher?" Arthur asked, indicating Merlin's dragon.

Once Merlin nodded, and Arthur shifted both hands to the boy's middle and hefted him overhead. Giggling, Merlin held the dragon out in front of him.

"Now let's make him fly." Arthur began a slow circuit around the clearing, increasing his pace a little with each revolution. This elicited peals of laughter from Merlin, and even the king couldn't help but chuckle. Soon, he added dips and twirls to Merlin's "flight". Arms aching and a bit winded from laughing, Arthur settled Merlin back on his own two feet.

Immediately, the boy bounced on his toes and lifted his arms to Arthur. "Again! Again!"

"The dragon's tired," Arthur said.

Merlin glanced at his dragon and cast it aside. His arms lifted to Arthur. "Again!"

Arthur's jaw dropped. He hadn't expected to be taken so literally.

Once more, Hunith demonstrated an uncanny knack for showing up right when Arthur needed her most. She led his and Merlin's horses, fully tacked and supplied, into the clearing. "You boys ready to eat?"

Neither the king nor his temporarily de-aged manservant needed to be asked twice. A small bag slung over Hunith's shoulder contained a breakfast of apples, cheese and bread. She smiled and handed Arthur his portion before taking the rest of the bread and breaking it into bite-sized chunks. Merlin reached for one, but his mother caught his hand and clicked her tongue.

"Goodness, were you digging in the dirt?"

She fetched a water skin and poured a small amount onto Merlin's hands despite his very vocal protests.

"Don't you act that way to your mother," Arthur scolded. "She's absolutely right. We all should wash our hands."

Merlin watched with wide eyes as Arthur poured water into his own hands, rubbed them together and dried them on a rag Hunith handed him.

"Now your turn, dear."

That time, Merlin said nothing and imitated exactly what Arthur had done. He then showed the king his hands. Arthur pretended to study them closely for a moment before giving the boy the barest nod of approval. He had to shove bread into his mouth to keep from laughing out loud at the look of smug satisfaction on Merlin's face as he showed his hands to his mother and then, without asking, snatched a bit of bread from her lap. She sighed and tore a few bites from the cheese. The king had gotten a whole apple. The other she took and sliced into wedges, half of which she ate, the others she gave to Merlin until his smile became a frown and he turned his head away.

"Had enough?" Arthur teased. The boy flashed him a very Merlin glare, but the effect was lessened by how green he looked.

Arthur stood and dusted his breeches. He retrieved his sword from its place by the tree and strapped it around his waist. His hand dropped to the hilt. It was not yet midday; they could probably make it halfway to Camelot by nightfall.

He glanced back to Hunith and Merlin, only to find Hunith rummaging through her pack and Merlin nowhere in sight. His gaze shifted and he spotted a mop of black hair just behind him to his right. Merlin stood legs apart and one hand on his hip, staring intently at the tree he himself had been staring at while he thought. Arthur glanced down at himself, not quite surprised to see he was standing in the same position.

"A-ha!" Hunith exclaimed, straightening suddenly. She stared at them for a few seconds before pressing a hand to her mouth to hide a smile.

Arthur scowled and dropped his hand from his sword and turned. He suppressed a growl when Merlin copied him yet again.

"Merlin, come here," Hunith said. She held up a small, brown tunic and breeches and a pair of boots. "We need to get you changed before we go."

"Where are we going?" he asked, eyeing the clothes uncertainly as he glanced at Arthur's fine red tunic and breeches, then back at the rough peasant rags his mother held. Arthur couldn't help but sympathize with the boy's obvious dislike for the clothes.

"Do you remember when Gaius came to see us?" Hunith asked.

Merlin nodded eagerly.

"Well, we're going to visit him now. In Camelot."

"Really?" For some reason, Merlin wilted a little at the mention of Camelot. His head dropped and he fiddled with the folded sleeve of his tunic. Merlin's next remark was so quiet, so laden with emotion, Arthur felt his eyes stinging. "Wa-was I bad?"

Hunith's eyes misted over as well and she rushed to gather Merlin in a hug. "No, no never, Merlin. You are not bad. You are special. So very, very special." Using his distraction, Hunith gently slipped Merlin out of his oversized tunic and put the other over his head, coaxing Merlin's skinny limbs into the sleeves with no resistance. "Gaius is a friend and we need to visit him is all. And Arthur, well, Camelot is his home too."

She helped her son into the breeches, then pulled him into her lap to put the shoes on his feet. Merlin immediately struggled out of her grasp and looked from himself to Arthur and back. Then, in a very Merlin-like gesture, he sighed and shrugged slightly before flashing a broad grin.

They led the horses back through the forest and returned to the road only after Ealdor was at least a mile out of sight. After a mild argument and a few threats, Arthur helped Hunith mount Merlin's horse then seated the very pouty boy himself in front of her. Merlin's tiny hands gripped the pommel and he scowled at the horse's mane, refusing to look at Arthur or his mother. He had wanted to ride with Arthur, who had adamantly refused.

"I need to be free to act should we be accosted on the way," Arthur said yet again as he swung into his own saddle.

Merlin huffed. "I can help. I'm not a baby!"

"You can't fight, Merlin, you don't even have a sword," Arthur said. He couldn't hide the exasperation in his voice. This felt so much like old times, Arthur looked to make sure his manservant hadn't returned to his proper size while his back was turned.

"I don't need a sword," Merlin grumbled just loud enough for Arthur to hear.

"Merlin!" Hunith scolded. "Don't be rude."

No matter how Arthur strained to listen, no further comment followed. Hunith might be worth keeping around after Merlin was restored for that amazing ability alone. Apparently, only she could control the boy's unruly mouth.

Blessed silence continued for all of five minutes. Then, Merlin's anger miraculously evaporated and nonstop inane chatter began about everything from the texture of his horse's hair, to the number of squirrels and other forest creatures he spotted along the path.

The sun was beginning to set when Merlin's prattle died off. After a minute or two, Arthur glanced over at the boy. He was asleep, head tipped back against his mother's chest. Hunith held him upright with an arm around his waist and smiled when she noticed Arthur watching.

"You are a saint to have endured that for seventeen years straight and still preserved your sanity," Arthur quipped.

She shifted the reins to the hand holding Merlin, and combed her fingers through his hair and lightly stroked his cheek. He stirred briefly, snuggling against her, but didn't wake. "He certainly is very noticeable in his absence. And he kept things interesting. I know it must be hard for you, to put up with him like this, and I want to thank you for being so patient and kind with him."

Arthur shrugged, glad that in the waning light his flush wouldn't be so obvious. "It's not that much different than riding out with him as an adult. He never seems to shut up. But why does he seem so keen on imitating me? Adult Merlin certainly never does that."

Hunith giggled. "He likes you. I don't know if Merlin's mentioned it, but he grew up without a father. "

Arthur nodded. They'd had that discussion before.

"Well, he's never really had any men in his life to look up to before. No uncles, grandfathers or older brothers. Now he has Gaius. At this age, though, you're the first man who's ever paid any attention to him—other than to scold him for some childish misdeed or mistake."

Now Arthur was really glad he'd taken the time to play with Merlin. While no one could replace Arthur's mother, at least he had had loving surrogate female figures to nurture him. Merlin hadn't had that luxury.

Hunith's voice grew hard, angry. "Merlin's father had to leave Ealdor without knowing he'd sired a child."

"Not all men are honorable—"

"He left to protect me," Hunith snapped.

Arthur reflexively flinched. He'd seen Hunith angry when they confronted those men attacking Ealdor, but it had never been directed at him. No wonder Merlin minded her so well.

It must have suddenly dawned on her who her audience was. She dropped her head. "Forgive me, my lord. I didn't mean—"

"No, no, you are right to defend the honor of Merlin's father if he has proven to be so. I spoke hastily and I am sorry, Hunith."

Hunith hugged Merlin a little tighter. "You are a good man, King Arthur. Thank you again for all you are doing for us."

"We should stop and make camp now," Arthur said, eager to change the subject. "It'll be too dark if we wait much longer."

They found a clearing a short distance from the path. Arthur swung down and took Merlin from his mother so she could dismount. He grinned at the way Merlin curled against his chest and lightly fisted a hand in his tunic, without waking. After Hunith got both feet on the ground, Arthur tried to hand Merlin back, but his little hand tightened and he whimpered.

"If you don't mind, I can get a bedroll set up for him first," Hunith offered.

Arthur nodded and found he didn't really want to relinquish the boy just yet. Merlin's slight weight made Arthur feel strong, invincible even, as if just by holding him close he could protect him from anything. When Merlin was his scrawny adult self, Arthur was protective of the weaker man, but for some reason Arthur always felt safe, as if Merlin were protecting him—impossible as that sounded.

"Here."

Hunith startled Arthur from his thoughts as she reached her hands under Merlin's arms and pulled him toward her. The boy muttered and kept his hold on Arthur's tunic, until Hunith crooned something in his ear. Merlin quieted and nuzzled against his mother's neck. She stroked his back, humming softly, as she carried him to the blankets she'd prepared and tucked him in.

A short while later, Arthur and Hunith had the horses watered, fed, unloaded and secured, then saw to a fire and their own dinners. Arthur sat propped against a tree, while Hunith joined her son and soon drifted to sleep as well. Arthur's hand strayed to the hilt of his sword, the responsibility for his two defenseless companions weighing heavily on him. Hopefully, the night would pass without incident.

Chapter Text

Trees tall and ominous as giants pressed in on Merlin. It was dark and Merlin shivered in the unfamiliar forest. He turned a circle, hoping to see his mum or his new friend Arthur, but he was alone. Fingers clenching and unclenching on the hem of his tunic, Merlin called out faintly, "Mum?"

"Emrys." The name hissed past his ears like a silk scarf being dragged over his head.

Merlin shivered and turned toward the voice. "Hello?"

Shafts of light, pale and soft as moonlight, thrust through the thick trees ahead, like beckoning fingers. Merlin broke into a run, half sobbing with relief. "Mum!"

Instead of his mother, a strange man, tall, stern-faced, and dressed in pale Druid robes, smiled in greeting. The light came from an orb hovering over his cupped palm. "Hello, Emrys."

Merlin scrambled to a stop so fast he fell back on his backside. He didn't like this new person. Something felt not-right about him in a way that made the hairs on the back of Merlin's neck stand up. Plus, he didn't even know Merlin's name.

"I'm Merlin," he corrected, trying to disguise the quiver of fear in his voice with a glare.

The man stared down at him, unfazed. "That is the name your mother gave you. But you are special, with magic unlike any other. You have another name, your true name: Emrys."

Merlin shook his head, crawling back without taking his eyes from the scary man. His magic rose in response to the terror clawing through his veins. No one was supposed to know his secret. He clasped his hands together like his mother had taught him, so tight his knuckles ached. Something special only me and Mum know.

"Don't be afraid, Emrys," the man said in a kind voice. He stepped closer and sank into a crouch in front of Merlin. He hefted the orb once. "As you can see, I have magic too. But yours is truly a rare gift, child. Something to display with pride, not hide in shame."

"Not allowed," Merlin insisted. "Mum says it's a secret because people with magic get killed if people without magic know."

"Aren't you tired of hiding?"

Merlin bit his lip, feeling a little guilty as he nodded.

The man extended his other hand. "Come with me, Emrys. I can teach you all about magic. And one day you will be the most powerful warlock the world has ever seen. You can make it safe for people like us."

The thought of learning about magic, not being scared, tempered Merlin's fear with curiosity. "Really?"

The man moved his hand closer and nodded. "Wouldn't you like that? To be able to use magic openly?"

Merlin bobbed his head, eyes wide. He couldn't quite imagine a world without his Secret. It would be like a world without Mum, or rain, or wildflowers. "How?"

"Come with me. When you are fully trained, Emrys, you will be able to fight Camelot's king and put an end to his killing of our kind."

The thought of fighting a king, even a mean one, didn't sound nice. "Do I have to? I don't want to fight. I just want to use my magic."

"You want to be free, don't you?" the man pressed, some of the softness draining from his voice. "To free us you must destroy the Pendragon and restore the blight that family has cast upon the land."

Pendragon! That was Arthur's name. Arthur was nice. He played with Merlin and protected him and his mum. He was going to help fix the wrongness.

"No!" Merlin said firmly. "Arthur is a Pendragon. And he's nice to me. I don't want to destroy him."

All the kindness vanished from the man's face, and his smile became more of a snarl. He reminded Merlin of the butcher's dog that had gotten loose one day and cornered him against Will's house.

"He's not nice; he's a Pendragon!" Spittle flew from the man's mouth and his gaze turned wild. His hand shot out, fast as a snake, and caught Merlin's forearm. "I'll teach you the truth about your precious Arthur."

Tears pricked Merlin's eyes, and he fought, arms and legs flailing. "Let me go! I don't want to go."

"Foolish, child." The man shook him so hard Merlin's teeth rattled. "We only wish to help you reach your full potential. You'll thank me once you are no longer poisoned by the young king's charm."

"No!" Merlin screamed, his struggles fierce but ineffective. "Leave me alone!"

That final cry was punctuated by a burst of magic. It exploded from Merlin through the forest, washing the man, his light and the forest away, leaving Merlin in utter darkness.

~~~

Arthur's chin dropped to his chest and his eyes drifted shut. The sound of something moving through the trees woke him what seemed like seconds later. Body acting on reflex honed through years of training, he was on the balls of his feet, sword in hand, before he could fully process what had woken him. Arthur scanned their camp, immediately spotting the rumpled blanket where Merlin should have curled up against his mother, who slept on.

The sight sent Arthur's heart racing. He waited, all senses on alert for another—there! Somewhere to his left, a distant voice that sounded like Merlin. Arthur sprinted toward the voice of his manservant. His sword hand ached, but he couldn’t relax his grip. Some of those sorcerers must have come back, and he'd be damned if he let them take the boy.

Expecting to find Merlin in the clutches of two or three sorcerers, Arthur almost trampled the tiny figure sprawled on the forest floor. At the last second Arthur sprang up, launching himself over the boy's head and staggered to a stop against a tree a few feet away. Panting heavily, he surveyed the area. Nothing but the whisper of the trees and an unintelligible murmur from the tiny boy broke the silence.

"Merlin?"

The boy sat with his head tilted up as though looking at someone, only his eyes were closed. Merlin was sleepwalking.

Arthur chuckled nervously, glad no one had been awake to witness his less-than-regal dash through the forest. He slid his sword back into the loop on his belt and moved to gather Merlin into his arms. Without warning, the boy started to thrash and shouted, "Let me go! I don't want to go!"

Startled, Arthur jumped back. Merlin wasn't just sleepwalking; those sorcerers were attacking him through his dreams. Arthur stood there, arms twitching uselessly at his sides. This wasn't something he could kill with his sword and it scared him. He had no way to protect Merlin against this intimate invasion.

"No!" Merlin screamed. "Leave me alone!"

Arthur was hard pressed to describe what followed. As the words left the boy's mouth, his eyes flew open, not the familiar blue, but blazing gold. Merlin's tiny body arched back and raw power surged out of him—no spells, no incantations, just unadulterated energy responding to the will of a frightened child. Arthur had never felt anything like it, and he'd been struck by powerful sorcerers before. For a moment he was drowning in pure magic, but it didn't throw him; it caressed him, as warm and energetic as one of Merlin's hugs and as reassuring as his goofy grin. It was like standing inside Merlin's soul, completely enveloped in his essence. Arthur felt safe and yet utterly terrified.

Then Merlin's eyes faded back to blue and fluttered shut as his tiny body went limp. The magic faded as well. Arthur sprang forward, again acting on reflex more than any conscious effort, lifted Merlin with trembling hands—thank goodness Merlin couldn't see—and checked the boy for signs of injury. Sound asleep once more, Merlin shifted and smacked his lips, curling instinctively to Arthur's chest as he had earlier.

Arthur blinked while his mind tried to catch up with what he'd seen. Merlin had magic. Merlin had powerful magic. Merlin had had magic from a very, very young age, maybe even since birth. Merlin had lied to him from the day they met, but Merlin had never used his power to harm Arthur or anyone in Camelot. He knew this was true because if Merlin had this much power as a child and he harbored any inclination to harm him as an adult, Arthur wouldn't be alive right now.

His hand drifted to Merlin's cheek. Arthur traced the baby soft skin and smoothed the wild angles of his tousled black hair. "Something special only Merlin and Mum know."

Anger, betrayal, or at the very least annoyance should have been churning in Arthur's heart, but he couldn't rouse more than the slightest trace of these sentiments. He'd heard of people who were naturally gifted in magic, but never of someone for whom performing magic came so instinctively, or manifested so young. What had it been like to grow up with a deadly secret, not one chosen by Merlin or his mother, but thrust upon them by the cruelty of fate and the simple fact that Merlin had been born? To be too young to fully comprehend the concept of death much less why he would be killed for his secret? And how had someone raised in such a hostile environment managed to stay so kind and gentle? Arthur suspected Hunith had a lot to do with that.

No, Arthur could dredge up nothing but an overwhelming sense of awe at the amazing creature that had blundered so endearingly into his life. So many incredible escapes and lucky breaks throughout the years made sense now. Those subtle nudges from the sidelines had Merlin's fingerprints all over them. His father had been wrong. Magic wasn't evil. Merlin wasn't evil. What he'd felt before, that was Merlin: frighteningly powerful, loyal, loving, protective, dangerous to his enemies, but not evil. Merlin was precious.

Gently, Arthur carried Merlin back to camp. "Don't worry. I'll protect you and your secret."

~~~

At the entrance to a cave nearly a day's ride on the opposite side of Camelot, a dozen druids of varying ages, dressed in worn, travel-stained robes, gathered around a fire. Their gazes didn't stray to the expanse of stars overhead, but remained fixed, glittering in the dark, on the brown-haired man who sat on a stool a little apart from the others, his back to the cave's gaping mouth.

The man's eyes were closed. A pale nimbus of light haloed his still form. They listened to his one-sided exchange with Emrys. Then, without warning, the glow stopped. Sheer power as solid as a wall shoved the entire group to the ground and extinguished their fire. A frightened murmur raced throughout the group as they untangled themselves. Fortunately, everyone seemed to have escaped serious injury.

A short, matronly plump blonde was the first to her feet. She leaned over the man who had been on the stool and, sighting no obvious injuries, helped him to his feet. "Tibalt, what happened?"

"Emrys happened," Tibalt said sourly, accepting her assistance. He angrily brushed the dirt from his robes as he surveyed his fellow conspirators. Most had found their feet, and one had seen to relighting the fire with a quick spell.

"I thought Earon and the others had succeeded in administering the potion?" she pressed.

"They did, and it worked perfectly, Irina," Tibalt explained. "Emrys is but a child of three or four years, with no knowledge of his adult life. His mind is open and ready for proper guidance to help him fulfill his destiny. But his power has not diminished with his size. He forced me out. Already, he's developed affection for the king that poisons him against his true path."

Irina's expression hardened and tears filled the troughs of her eyes. "Then we have failed."

"Not yet," Tibalt said, laying a hand on her shoulder. "If we retrieve him, he can be taught, trained and by the time he has reached maturity again he will have forgotten his foolish fondness for the young Pendragon and become our salvation as was foretold."

Another man stepped forward. "How do you intend to separate him from the king? Clearly brute force won't work against Emrys, and our scrying indicated they would reach Camelot on the morrow. If that happens, he will be lost to us as well as any hope we have for a future of peace for our kind."

"Not necessarily," Irina said. "Let me go to Camelot. Not even Emrys would recognize me, and the child might be more receptive to a woman."

Tibalt frowned and his hand ghosted Irina's cheek. "That will be dangerous. If anyone suspects you of magic, you could be executed."

"I will be careful and my methods subtle. I will not fail to rescue Emrys and return him to his rightful place among his own kind."

Chapter Text

When Merlin blinked the sleep from his eyes, the sky was just starting to turn pink. He yawned and stretched, kicking the blanket off himself and his mother's shoulder. The air was cool, but he couldn't see his breath and he wasn't shivering. The terror from the nightmare was all but forgotten, and he couldn't help but be a little excited to start the day.

His new friend Arthur, tending to his horse at the far side of their camp, turned to smile at him when he noticed Merlin was awake. Merlin scrambled to his feet and ran over.

"Good morning, Merlin. How are you?"

Merlin bounced on his toes, clutching at Arthur's pant leg as he leaned forward to pet the stallion's soft belly. "Good! This is my first time sleeping outside. I've never even been this far from home before. Will went to visit his cousins once, but they didn't get to sleep outside."

Arthur pried Merlin from his leg, hoisted him onto to his hip and demonstrated how to stroke down the horse's neck. Merlin mimicked him, though his four-year-old movements weren't nearly so smooth or gentle. While the horse was soft and nice, he preferred touching the dragon's scaly hide. The dragon talked to him and his abundant magic soothed Merlin. Not to mention the dragon could fly.

"Merlin, don't bother Arthur!" his mum scolded.

He turned and saw her stifle a yawn with the back of her hand. She looked so tired now, like one of her old gardening dresses, and he didn't like the strange silver lines etched into the darkness of her hair. He wanted her to look happy the way she should look, all smooth, bright-eyed and dark-haired.

"Come and help me fold these blankets," she added.

Squirming until Arthur let him down, Merlin sprinted across the clearing as soon as his feet hit the ground. Helping his mother with chores wasn't always fun, but it made him proud. Unlike most of the other village women, she didn't have someone to assist with the more difficult tasks. And Merlin was already four now. Plenty big enough to help.

 His mum folded the blanket in half and told him to roll it up, while she did the same to the other. Merlin concentrated on this task—it was tough to keep it rolling straight. Several times it went more to the left or right and he had to start all over. Soon, an oddly shaped pinecone and an acorn caught his attention and he began playing a rousing adventure where the acorn was a princess and the pinecone a dragon that had to rescue her from being buried alive beneath a rolling mountain (a role the blanket had been perfect to fill). Once the dragon rescued the princess, he took them both flying around their camp, swooping high and low.

Without warning, his mother swept him up and carried him back behind a copse of bushy pines. Startled, Merlin dropped his toys and threw his arms around his mother's neck. She forestalled his questions with a finger over her lips, then settled him on his feet and crouched in front of him, stroking his shoulders and back reassuringly. Merlin shifted on his feet, enjoying the crunch of pine needles. This was a familiar game, one they played sometimes when his magic slipped out. Like that time they were gathering herbs in the woods behind the miller's house. Merlin had been hungry and eyeing the shiny apples on their tree, when his magic stirred and suddenly every one of the apples fell. The miller's wife had come running at the noise, and Merlin's mother had dragged him off into the forest. They'd had to take the long way home, so no one would see them his mother had explained. Once inside the safety of their home, he'd been severely scolded about not using his magic around people.

This time, though, he hadn't even done anything! Merlin sighed and went through the hand motions.

His mother wrapped his hands in hers and pressed a kiss to his fingers. "My dear boy, you didn't do anything," she whispered. "We just need to be quiet until Arthur tells us it's safe."

Merlin hoped the man from his dream hadn't come. He didn't want Arthur to get hurt protecting him. Arthur was nice.

There were voices speaking urgently, but too quietly to be understood. And then, Arthur was calling. Merlin grinned and sprinted into their camp before his mother had gotten back to her feet. He froze, smile fading, when he saw Arthur standing by their horses with two strange men. Both wore swords, mail and red cloaks, but one was extremely large. Even Arthur looked small next to him. The other had dark hair and looked rough, like the men who sometimes passed through town.

They stared at him like he had a second head or a tail, then glanced at Arthur, who smiled and stepped forward, crouching to be on Merlin's level. "Merlin, this is Sir Gwaine."

The rough-looking man smiled. "Hey there, Merlin. Nice to meet you."

Hunith's skirts brushed against Merlin's back and her slender hand found his shoulder. Without taking his eyes from the men, Merlin sought her fingers with his own and clenched them tightly.

"And this," Arthur continued, "is Sir Percival."

The large man dipped his head and the corner of his mouth turned up. "Hello, Merlin."

To the men Arthur said, "And this is Hunith, Merlin's mother."

They greeted her politely, but Merlin could feel tension in the air.

Arthur turned back to Merlin. "They're knights and they're going to ride with us to Camelot."

Merlin squeezed his mother's fingers and his heart raced. Knights worked for the king who killed people like Merlin. Merlin knew what "kill" meant. Nasty Tom, who was twelve and much bigger than Merlin, noticed something odd about Merlin and called him a sorcerer even though Merlin had made sure to never, ever let his magic slip around the bully.

One day, when Will wasn't around to protect him, Tom had cornered Merlin out behind the chicken coop where he'd been playing with the baby chicks. Tom caught one of the fluffy, yellow birds in his fat fist and squeezed until it peeped in pain. Merlin, tears in his eyes, asked him to stop, but Tom only sneered.

"What you gonna do about it, sorcerer? If you try anything, I'll tell my dad you used magic and Camelot will send knights out to kill you and your mum."

Barely three at the time, Merlin hadn't understood the threat, so Tom demonstrated. He crushed the chick and dumped its broken, bloody body at Merlin's feet.

"Just like that. You and your mum'll be dead."

Sobbing, Merlin snatched up the chick and ran to his mother. After a very snotty explanation, he'd asked how he could make the little bird better. He'd cried all the harder once his mum told him that not even magic could fix dead. She didn't think Merlin had really understood, but he had. Dead meant you didn't wake up ever again.

  Arthur looked at him oddly and frowned. Merlin blushed and pushed away from his mother to stand by himself, though he gripped the hem of his tunic until his knuckles turned white. Merlin was four now. He knew what "kill" meant, and though it scared him, he didn't want Arthur to think he was a scared baby.

But Arthur's frown didn't go away.

~~~

A night spent debating whether or not to reveal that he knew of Merlin's magic resolved itself when Arthur saw the flash of terror on Merlin's face at the revelation that Gwaine and Percival were knights. The same concern, though tempered with age, reflected on Hunith's face. They'd probably run like spooked deer if he so much as hinted at the "M" word. No, he couldn't confess until they were safely inside Camelot's castle walls.

He was proud of how well his knights were handling the unusual situation. Though they were concerned about Merlin, they'd restrained curiosity and hadn't pressed for more details about what had happened. And they were being particularly sensitive to Merlin. Gwaine kept having to catch himself, though, as he turned to share some joke or tale with his friend only to realize Merlin wasn't himself and couldn't banter as they usually did. The king understood how he felt. They both missed their friend and needed to get him back.

With Gwaine and Percival's help, they packed the camp away in no time. Merlin's initial shyness evaporated a mere five minutes after they mounted up. Quiet just wasn't a natural state of being for the boy; he was as energetic and talkative as three adult Merlins. In his head, Arthur mitigated the boy's chatter to background noise, catching only the most bizarre phrases here and there:

". . . then the owls would burn down the hawks' castles. But then the hawks would all fly away and then the whole forest would catch fire and then none of the animals would have any homes."

"What?" Arthur swiveled in his saddle and saw Merlin making grand gestures with his skinny little arms to illustrate his point. Percival and Gwaine, riding on either side of Hunith and Merlin, were trying hard not to laugh.

"There was a really big hawk nest!" Merlin said as if that should explain everything. He twisted and pointed back behind them, presumably at this impressive nest.

Hunith smiled blithely and squeezed Merlin's waist to keep him from standing on the horse in his excitement. "It was like a hawk castle," she added with a little shrug.

Arthur nodded very slowly. "Uh-huh."

Merlin beamed, but then his jaw dropped and his blue eyes widened. Arthur turned back around and saw Camelot's pale turrets peeking over the crest of the next hill. His chest swelled with the familiar warmth of pride. No matter how many times he rode out, that first glimpse of Camelot upon riding in again stole his breath away just a little bit. It was more than home; it was his kingdom, a place of peace and prosperity for all. And it was his responsibility to make sure it stayed that way.

"Impressive, isn't it?" he could help calling out to Merlin over his shoulder. As the full castle came into view, he waited, bouncing with a bit of boyish excitement himself, for Merlin's probably inexhaustible stream of questions to begin.

But the boy's awed silence stretched on and on, until Arthur had to look just to make sure Merlin hadn't fallen from his mother's arms. Instead of a gawping, eager lad wriggling in his mother's grip, he saw a huddled, visibly-terrified child clutching the saddle and Hunith's arm so tightly his knuckles were as white as the royal linens.

Wa-was I bad?

Merlin's question after they'd announced they were going to Camelot hit Arthur like a punch —to the stomach, without his armor—courtesy of Percival. Arthur swiveled back to face forward, his own knuckles going white on the reins and a very queasy sensation roiling through his stomach. After what he'd witnessed last night, it made perfect sense.

Camelot wasn't truly a place of peace and prosperity for all, was it? Merlin's child mind had heard the name and immediately associated it with punishment. He'd seen the knights, noble protectors of the realm, and shrank away in terror. And now the mere sight of what should have been something awe-inspiring left him trembling in fear. Were there other children like Merlin out there? Ones told stories where the boogie man king of Camelot would burn them or chop off their heads if they let slip a bit of magic. And how many of those had succumbed to the constant fear of persecution, the public condemnation, and let it twist them into the very monstrous thing the laws were meant to destroy?

Tears pricked Arthur's eyes as he gazed on his beloved home. His ideal image had been tainted; no, Camelot itself had been tainted by his own father's blind hatred of magic. Like so many of the attacking sorcerers, Uther had twisted Camelot into a cruel, pathetic parody of what it should have been. It would take a miracle to restore the kingdom to the glory Arthur had always envisioned.

Or perhaps, he glanced back at Merlin, a little magic and the support of a good friend.

Muffled sobbing began when the city gates came into sight, wrenching Arthur's heart further. Even Hunith's soothing whispers failed to console the boy. Gwaine and Percival looked at a loss as to why Merlin was so upset and how they could fix it. Arthur pulled his horse alongside Hunith's. Merlin's face was buried in her dress and his bony shoulders shook.

She glanced at Arthur with a look of wild-eyed desperation and sputtered out a flimsy excuse, "He-he's never been to such a big city before, sire. He's just . . . a little overwhelmed."

Arthur smiled sympathetically and placed a hand on Merlin's head. Almost instantly the boy's shuddering stopped and in a few seconds he turned his blotchy-red, tear-stained face toward him.

"It is a big place," Arthur said once he had Merlin's attention. "But you're perfectly safe here, Merlin. I'm going to protect you, remember? Do you trust me?"

Merlin wiped his nose and nodded slightly.

"Good. Now you two go see Gaius. Gwaine will see to your horse. I'll go on ahead and report in, then we'll have lunch together. Does that sound nice?"

Merlin nodded again, a little more enthusiastically. Arthur smiled, even if it was a bit forced. Lowering his voice for Hunith's ears only, he said, "Tell Gaius what's happened and that I'll be there as soon as I've spoken to my uncle and the council and stopped any search attempts they've planned. I doubt anyone would make the connection between the child and the adult, but I'd like to get you both out of sight as soon as possible."

"Yes, sire, of course."

"You hear that, Merlin? Lunch!" Gwaine exclaimed as he led them forward. "And I don't know about you, but riding always gives me an appetite." He prattled on in a jocular voice with grand, sweeping gestures, successfully distracting Merlin from his fears. While the boy didn't cheer up, he at least hadn't devolved back into tears before they rode out of sight.

Arthur smiled approvingly at his knight's antics. As he and Percival rode on, Arthur considered who, if anyone, else he should bring into his confidence on this matter.

~~~

Ten minutes later, Hunith, Merlin balanced on her hip, his arms looped tightly around her neck, knocked at Gaius's door.

"Come in!" the old physician called out.

Hunith nudged the door open with her elbow, then stepped inside. The room looked just as messy and chaotic as the last time she was here, and filled with signs of Merlin's presence as well as Gaius's: Two sets of bowls and spoons, two goblets. A familiar neckerchief tucked inside a book to hold its place.

The physician himself stood with his back to the door, preparing a potion of some sort. He carefully transferred the contents of one vial into another, put in the stopper and turned around. His annoyed scowl turned into a smile. "Hunith, my dear! What a surprise. I'm afraid Merlin's not—"

He cut off at the sight of the boy in Hunith's arms. The blood drained from his face as quickly as his smile. "Hunith, is that who . . . ?"

"Gaius!" Merlin exclaimed happily, all sign of his former distress wiped away at the sight of a familiar face. He squirmed until Hunith put him down, then he ran over to Gaius. The last time Gaius had come to visit, her son was three, so the memory of the physician would still be fresh in Merlin's mind.

He stopped just short of crashing into the older man's legs and held up four fingers of his right hand. "I'm four now. We came to visit you. Arthur brought us. He's nice and he has a sword." He lowered his voice in a dramatic whisper and said, "Don't worry about everything being different. The big dragon said Mum and Arthur will help."

Gaius looked down at Merlin and up at Hunith several times, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly, before he finally managed a strained, "That's very nice, Merlin. You certainly have gotten . . . er . . . big since I last saw you."

Merlin beamed proudly and stood a little straighter. Gaius clearly wanted to question the situation, but wouldn't in front of the boy. Hunith swept Merlin into her arms and set him on the bench at the table. Gaius grabbed a random book from his shelves and laid it in front of him. Not quite able to reach the floor, Merlin swung his legs and eyed the book with interest.

"You look at that, dear. Gaius and I are going to talk for a bit."

Nodding, Merlin shifted to his knees so he could rest his elbows on the table, pillow his chin on his hands and look at the pictures. Hunith and Gaius retreated to the far side of the room.

"How did this happen, Hunith?" Gaius demanded in a whisper.

"Arthur showed up at my door the night before last with him like this. He can give you the details, but apparently they were attacked by sorcerers who purposely targeted Merlin. Arthur killed them before they could abduct my son. As you can see he has none of his adult memories and is, for all intents and purposes, a four-year-old child."

Gaius glanced at Merlin from the corner of his eye. The boy was no longer reading the book, but making the pages dance and fan through the air with magic, his eyes glowing gold.

"He hasn't done any magic in front of Arthur, has he?"

Hunith followed his gaze. "Merlin!"

The boy's eyes faded back to blue and the pages fell still. He gave them his most apologetic pout and returned to studying the pictures.

"No, I don't think so," she whispered. "But he's just so powerful and had so little control at this age. I fear it's only a matter of time. Do you have any idea how to fix this, Gaius?"

Gaius frowned. "I'll have to do some research, but that won't do much good unless we know what exactly they did to him. It could be a spell, a curse, a potion of some sort, and I imagine each cause would require a different remedy. I'm equally as troubled as to the why this was done to him. If you wanted to remove the king's secret protector, it would be much easier and more effective to kill him, not turn him into a child."

"Merlin," Gaius called, then sighed and shook his head when the boy looked over at them curiously. "Never mind." He smiled sheepishly at Hunith and made his way over the stairs that led to Merlin's little room. "Force of habit. I'll have to fetch the magic book myself this time."

Hunith put a hand on his arm. "I'll get it. My knees can handle the climb better. Where does he hide it?"

"Loose floorboard, under the bed." Gaius massaged his knees. "And thank you, dear."

Chapter Text

That 'Agravaine' sounded so close to 'aggravating' couldn't have been a coincidence. Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose, his temples, exhaled loudly, tapped his toe and finally had to pull rank as king to get his uncle to shut up.

"No, I do not know who these sorcerers were or what they wanted. They paid with their lives for attacking me, but I suspect they had accomplices. Leon can take a small group out first thing tomorrow to investigate." He wasn't going to tell any of the nobles that Merlin had been the true target. They'd fight an investigation made over threats to a servant. Not to mention there was still the matter of the as yet unidentified traitor at court. If Merlin was as instrumental in Morgana's previous defeats as Arthur now suspected, the last thing he needed was for her to get wind of his current predicament.

"I must insist, Arthur, that you keep a guard with you at all times. Sorcerers have made an attempt on your life. We must take such a threat seriously."

"As you can see, Uncle, I am perfectly fine. Merlin and I escaped without injury. But if it will appease you, I can have Gwaine, Percival and Elyan take shifts as guards until we've determined the extent of the threat." They, along with Leon, were his most trusted knights and ones he knew cared for Merlin. He'd intended to include them anyway; and if their presence appeased his uncle, well, all the better for him.

"Where is that servant of yours anyway?" Agravaine said, seeming disproportionately interested in Merlin's absence.

Arthur shrugged, falling back on his father's philosophy. "I fail to see the importance of the whereabouts of one servant, but if he has half a brain, he'll see to his chores and get some rest, as I intend to do as soon as we are done here. Is there anything else, Uncle?"

Agravaine pressed his lips into a line, then bowed slightly. "No, sire."

"Then you are dismissed." Arthur waited for his uncle to go before summoning a servant to have Percival, Elyan, Leon and Gwaine sent to his chambers and heading that way himself. Being king and all, Arthur felt a bit silly excluding his uncle, but he didn't really trust the man when it came to Merlin and this situation. Agravaine's stance against magic was as strong as Uther's, and if Arthur wanted to try to convince the council that he should change the laws on magic, he didn't want his uncle stirring up opposition while he was busy trying to change his manservant back.

He froze. Did I really just think about ending the ban on magic?

After the incident with Elyan, he'd extended an olive branch to the Druids, who were peaceful magic users. Why shouldn't he do the same for all other magic users who sought only peace? Arthur groaned. It pained him to admit it, but he needed Guinevere, needed her calm, level-headed advice. Merlin's counsel was welcome, but, even if he hadn’t become a four year old, as a magic user himself he was automatically biased. Guinevere was not.

Now was not the time, though. Now he had to figure out how to restore Merlin. Then together they could figure out how to restore Camelot.

His saddle bags lay on the table. Arthur retrieved the small vial he'd found on one of Merlin's attackers. Maybe it could help Gaius figure out what had been done. Someone knocked on his chamber doors.

"Enter," Arthur said, curling his fingers around the vial to hide it. His grip relaxed when his four knights stepped inside and shut the door.

"Sire, it's good to see you home and unharmed," Leon said, not bothering to hide his smile.

Arthur grinned wryly. "I fear the trouble is only just beginning, and as usual, it is centered on Merlin."

Leon and Elyan exchanged worried looks. "Gwaine and Percival mentioned that Merlin had been 'affected' by the attack, but would not say more."

"Wisely done on their part," Arthur said, nodding his thanks to the other two knights. "What we discuss here is to be shared with no one outside this room other than Gaius or Hunith, Merlin's mother. Not even my uncle and your fellow knights are to know."

"Yes, sire," all four said somewhat in unison. Then Leon coughed. "And what, pray, are we not to divulge?"

Arthur told them what had happened after he and Merlin separated from the group, and by the time he got to the end, Leon and Elyan were gaping. Gwaine and Percival, having known the result if not the details of the attack, looked concerned more than shocked.

Leon spoke first. "Clearly Merlin was targeted for a purpose, but no offense to the boy, what on earth could that purpose be? He's just a servant, albeit an important one."

Arthur started to reply, but held back. He suspected Merlin being magic had something to do with it, but that wasn't his secret to share. At least not until there was no other option.

"I'm afraid I can't guess their motive until I've spoken to Gaius more about the nature of this curse," Arthur said. "Leon, I want you to head out with a group first thing tomorrow to see if you can uncover any information behind these sorcerers and possible accomplices."

"Yes, sire," Leon bowed slightly.

"Percival, Elyan, I need you to round up playthings appropriate for a young boy, and remember this is Merlin were talking about, so nothing he could trip and impale himself on." Arthur rubbed his chin. "I think my old toys are lying about somewhere. You could ask the steward to get them for you."

Elyan and Percival nodded.

"Gwaine. My uncle has insisted I keep a guard with me because of this latest attack. You will take the first shift. Elyan and Percival will round out the detail." Arthur ran a hand through his hair, feeling bone tired all of a sudden. A hot bath and hearty meal would do him wonders, but there wasn't time just yet.

"So," Elyan said, fighting a smile, "Merlin's really a child?"

"I must admit, I'm curious," Leon added. "It's hard to picture Merlin as a boy."

Arthur snorted. "It's hard to picture Merlin as an adult. He's always been so childish, his stature merely matches now."

"He's cute as a button and will talk your ear off if you let him," Gwaine said. He held his hand about level with his knee. "Wait 'til you see him. About yea high and bursting with energy."

"As amusing as this may be for us, for Merlin it is a confusing and frightening situation," Arthur cautioned, his smile fading. "You four go and get something to eat and then see to your tasks. I need to speak to Gaius and get some lunch myself."

"Will do," Gwaine replied flippantly, while the other three responded with, "Yes, sire."

Once they'd gone, Arthur rinsed his face, neck and upper body, then changed into a fresh tunic and breeches. He then made his way to the physician's chambers, pausing only long enough to order a passing servant to send lunch to Gaius's. Arthur entered the room unannounced.

Gaius, his back to the door, craned his neck to look into Merlin's room and offered instructions to someone, probably Hunith, inside. They were searching for something. Merlin sat on his knees at Gaius's table. An open book lay in front of him, but the boy's gold gaze was focused on the three glass vials of colorful liquid dancing in midair over his head. One had clearly come from over the small flame at the far end of the table because its contents still bubbled and steam drifted from the opening. The slightest slip of Merlin's concentration would dump the scalding liquid directly onto to the four-year-old's head.

Realizing the futility of shouting out, Arthur raced across the room, hooked an arm around Merlin's waist and yanked him back and away from the vials, half crushing him to his chest. Startled, Merlin yelped and the vials dropped to the bench where he'd been sitting. Merlin's cry and the sound of glass breaking brought Gaius and Hunith running. Merlin tilted his head back, eyes just fading from gold to blue.

His startled expression melted into pure joy. "Arthur!"

As Merlin started to slip from his grasp, Arthur let him, gently settling the boy onto his feet, though he wouldn't turn him loose until the broken glass had been seen to. He glanced up at Gaius and Hunith, who regarded him with open fear as if he might pull out his sword and chop off Merlin's head right then and there. Hunith hurriedly tucked a large book behind her back and swallowed hard.

 It stung to see how little faith they had in him, but he supposed when it came to Merlin he could be equally as overprotective.

"Sire, um, we didn't hear you come in. Merlin must have knocked over the potion I was working on when he saw you." Gaius fetched a broom and began to sweep up the glass shards, all the while eyeing Merlin surreptitiously for injury, or possibly further sorcery. Arthur could almost see the old man mentally calculating how much the king might have seen and how best to explain it away.

Arthur ignored the remark and spun Merlin around to face him. "Are you okay, Merlin? You didn't get anything on you?"

Merlin shook his head, but Arthur checked Merlin's arms and legs for scratches and burns anyway until he was satisfied that the boy had escaped injury. He glanced at the adults in the room. Both seemed to relax as if his lack of comment confirmed that Gaius's little fib had been believed. Feeling a tiny bit vindictive, Arthur frowned at Merlin and said disapprovingly, "You could have really hurt yourself, or worse some stranger might have seen. Didn't your mother teach you to be careful with your magic?"

Hunith's soft, feminine gasp preceded a loud thump of the book she'd been hiding hitting the ground. Her knees buckled and she sat down hard on the stairs, her arms half-stretched in an aborted attempt to reach for her child. Gaius, although equally shocked, kept his wits and rushed to her side. "Hunith!"

Seeing her ashen face, Arthur felt bad about his tactless remark.

"Mum!" Merlin cried, struggling against Arthur's grip. Wide blue eyes peered up at Arthur with sincere remorse. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Arthur let him go, hoping the gesture would reassure Hunith and Merlin that he had no intention to harm her son. The boy scrambled up the steps and pawed at his mother with his tiny hands. "Sorry, Mum. Sorry, sorry."

She put a trembling hand on Merlin's head and looked Arthur in the eye with a defiant, somewhat misty gaze. He could almost hear her unspoken challenge: I won't let you hurt him.

Gaius moved slightly in between the king and Hunith and Merlin, his expression was equally defiant, but cautious. He made one last attempt to smooth things over. "Sire, surely the clumsiness of the boy could not be mistaken for sorcery. I shouldn't have left him so close to my work."

"Gaius, don't lie to me." Arthur couldn't help the sharpness of his voice. "I saw him levitate those potions, and even if you could explain that away—and for the record I am not as dense as you seem to think me—can you explain what happened last night when those sorcerers tried to get Merlin through his dreams?"

Hunith gasped again and hugged Merlin to her. "What happened last night?" She glanced down at Merlin, who bit his lip and looked as if he wanted desperately to cry but wouldn't.

"I woke in the middle of the night and found him a good distance from the camp," Arthur explained. "He'd been sleepwalking, and before I could take him back, he started to shout and fight against some foe I couldn't see. Somehow the sorcerers must have invaded his mind. Then Merlin's eyes turned gold and magic exploded out of him. I . . . I've never felt so much power . . . and yet I'd never felt safer. It felt like Merlin."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Merlin murmured over and over again as his hands went through the motions he and his mother had used the day before.

"He must have been frightened and reacted on instinct to drive out the mental invasion," Gaius said, patting Merlin's shoulder with such open affection Arthur felt a little jealous. "You must know, Arthur, Merlin is not like anything I've encountered before. He was born with his magic. For him it's as natural and instinctive as the beating of his heart. Unlike myself and other sorcerers, he's never had the option to stop doing magic. He can't. Although I've always been loyal to both you and Uther, I could not condemn the boy to death, and it was at my insistence that he's guarded his secret so closely all these years. So if there is a punishment to be had, I will gladly take it."

"No! Please don't hurt Mum or Gaius!" Merlin blurted, throwing himself at Arthur before Gaius or his mother could pull him back. "I know I'm not supposed to and I'm in trouble, but not them. They told me not to and . . . and I did. I didn't mean—but I—it just happens sometimes. I'm sorry."

Wa-was I bad? No matter how he looked at it, Arthur couldn't bring himself to think 'yes'. He curled an arm around Merlin's tiny torso, frowning at how bony the lad felt even through the rough fabric of his tunic. "I can't in good conscience punish Merlin for existing, and I certainly can't punish his loved ones for protecting him. Guilt by association was one of my father's beliefs that I've never held."

Arthur sighed. "The Camelot I've always believed in was a beacon of hope to all. A shining example of how great a kingdom could be. But I've been blind, all these years, unable to see that this vision of Camelot was merely that, a vision. And it can never be real until all my subjects, both magical and not, who desire to live in peace, can see her that way. You tried to tell me, Gaius, after Merlin rescued you from Morgana, but I didn't realize it until I saw the abject terror on the face of a young boy, one I love as a brother, upon seeing this place." His hands clenched into fists and he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. "I never want anyone to look upon Camelot like that, Gaius. All these years, he's believed blindly in a world he's never seen, and I've been blinded to the truth that that world doesn't exist, not yet anyway. How did I not see it, Gaius? And how did he manage to see the good past all that hate and fear?"

"Merlin is special," Gaius answered softly. "You two share a great destiny, and I'm honored to say that I see it getting closer. I am so proud of you both."

Arthur blushed.

Merlin tugged at Arthur's tunic. "You saw me make the man with the light go away?"

He nodded, assuming Merlin meant what he'd done to stop the dream invasion.

"Merlin, what did the man with the light do?" Gaius asked kindly.

The boy chewed his lip and his hands dropped to toy with the hem of his tunic. "He talked to me. He knew about my magic, but he didn't know my name."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked.

"He said I was special and called me Emrys. He said that was really my name."

The way Gaius stiffened that name must have meant something, but Arthur would ask about it later.

Merlin smiled. "He asked me to go with him. He said if I went I could do magic and not be killed. That I could learn and be very powerful and save all the magic people."

His smile turned into a frown. "He said to save the magic people I had to fight a Pendragon. But I don't want to fight. I just want to use magic and not be bad. And Arthur's name is Pendragon. And I like Arthur."

The boy was visibly upset now, his breathing heavy and his hands clenched and unclenched. Items around the room began to rattle ominously, and gold sparked through Merlin's eyes. Arthur started stroking his back again, encouraging him to calm down.

"He yelled at me. And he grabbed me." Merlin rubbed his arm, presumably where the man had grasped, but Arthur's touch seemed to soothe him. The room went still again. "I wanted him to let go and go away. And then the magic slipped out and he did."

Someone rapped sharply on Gaius's door. All four jumped and turned toward the sound. Arthur gently pushed Merlin to Hunith and moved to stand in front of them both as Gaius went to the door.

"Can I help you?" the physician asked calmly, so much so that Arthur wondered how often the old man had done the same to him while Merlin hid just out of sight doing something illicitly magical.

"His Highness requested lunch be brought here, sir," an unfamiliar voice explained, and a boy pushed past carrying a tray laden with food.

"Ah, yes!" Arthur said, stepping forward to walk with the servant and hopefully keep him from noticing Merlin and Hunith as he set out the food on Gaius's cluttered table. "I'll have the plates sent back when we're done."

"Will that be all, sire?"

"Yes, yes, thank you." Arthur practically pushed the lad out and closed the door. He smiled at Merlin, when he peeked out from behind his mother's skirt. "I promised a certain someone lunch."

Merlin hesitantly approached the feast, his eyes nearly as wide as the plates. "Is this for us?"

"Eat as much as you want, Merlin," Arthur said. "It's food fit for a king."

"You're going to overwhelm the poor boy," Gaius said with a chuckle. "Even adult Merlin would be in awe of an offer like that."

Ignoring them, Merlin crawled onto the bench and stared at the food warily, as if he were afraid it might disappear if he tried to touch it. Hunith muttered a quick thanks to Arthur then put a piece of the roast venison, fresh bread and a hunk of cheese on a plate for Merlin, which she then broke into more manageable pieces.

 Still tentative, Merlin grabbed a piece of the meat and stuck it into his mouth. His cheeks flushed and his eyes closed slightly. He'd barely chewed and swallowed before cramming another piece into his mouth. "'S goo," he said with his mouth full. When that bite was gone, he turned a beaming smile on his mother and exclaimed, "Will won't believe this!" Turning a critical eye on the meal once more, he added, "Can we take some home to Will? He shared a sweetmeat with me one time and I want to share too."

Hunith exchanged a worried look with Arthur and Gaius. It was Gaius who finally broke the tense silence. "I'm sure Arthur will be happy to give you something to take once we've resolved this issue. Would that be alright with you, Merlin?"

Merlin nodded, his mouth too full of bread to reply, and let the matter drop. Once he was fully engrossed in his meal, Arthur drew Hunith and Gaius away.

"He's going to figure it out," Hunith murmured. "He's always been so clever, so aware of things. How do I tell . . . how do I explain to my child that his only friend is dead, has been dead for years?"

Gaius patted her hand. "We'll figure this out, Hunith. We'll get Merlin back to his proper age. Speaking of which, Arthur, I need to know exactly how this happened. Was there an incantation or curse?"

Arthur pulled out the vial. "I didn't see what they did to him, but I found this on the sorcerers' bodies. I think they forced him to drink something from it. And I discovered child-sized clothing among their supplies. Based on what Merlin told us about his dream attack, they knew about his magic and wanted to spirit him off to be raised as some kind of weapon. But they've confused him for someone named Emrys. Does that name sound familiar to you, Gaius?"

"Indeed it does," Gaius said, taking the vial and examining the remaining traces of bluish liquid inside. "There is a lot you should know, sire, about Merlin and what he's done for you and for Camelot, but much of that should be left for Merlin himself to tell."

"I don't think he's in a position to offer much insight," Arthur said, waving a hand at the boy busily digging into anything within reach of his tiny fingers, oblivious to their discussion.

"But," Gaius said sternly after Arthur's interruption, "I will tell you about Emrys because it concerns you, too. The Druids have a prophecy about a time of peace and prosperity for all of Albion, a kingdom united under the rule of the Once and Future King. The king, though, can only achieve this with the help of Emrys, a creature of magic, a warlock of power unlike any that have come before or will ever come again."

"Whoa, you make it sound like this Emrys isn't even human," Arthur said. How could those men have confused sweet, clumsy Merlin with this thing of legend? Powerful or not, Merlin was more human than most.

"Sire, I implore you never say something like that in Merlin's presence," Gaius reprimanded gently.

"You mean Merlin is this Emrys?" And did that make Arthur this Once and Future King?

Gaius nodded. "And he's spent his entire life feeling isolated from everyone and everything not only because of the laws against magic, but because even amongst his kind, he is an anomaly. Shortly after arriving in Camelot, and getting into that fight with you, he asked me if I knew why he was different. He asked me if he was a monster. A boy, who'd saved my life with magic directly after witnessing a sorcerer's execution, thought himself to be a monster. And no matter how many good things he's done, or how much love and compassion he gives, that tiny seed of self-doubt remains. If he were to hear to you, whom he adores as a brother as much as a friend, question his humanity, it would break his heart."

Hunith bit her lip, but didn't interrupt their conversation.

"I wouldn't, Gaius. And I'm going to do something about that as well, once we've fixed this. Any ideas on how we do that?"

Gaius lifted the vial to the light to examine the thin circle of residue inside. "This should be a tremendous help, but it will take time to analyze the potion they used. I'll need to research . . . " His gaze darted to the book Hunith had dropped, which Arthur felt confident in assuming was a book of magic.

"Is there anything I can do?" Arthur asked.

The lines on Gaius's forehead multiplied as he frowned. "Hunith is the most qualified after myself and Merlin in dealing with magical texts, but our efforts will be slowed tremendously looking after Merlin in this state."

Arthur crossed his arms and glanced at Merlin, who'd clearly eaten his fill and had resorted to molding his bread into different shapes with magic and making them dance around his plate. "Are you suggesting I be his nursemaid?"

"Quite the contrary," Gaius exclaimed, though Arthur caught him and Hunith exchanging a wicked glance. "These sorcerers went to a great deal of trouble to make Merlin this vulnerable, so I don't think that initial setback has thwarted them completely. Merlin will need your protection, sire, from those sorcerers as well as from himself. As you have already witnessed, the boy possesses a great deal of power and almost no control. And I can think of none better than yourself for such a task."

Damn it, but even knowing he was being manipulated, Arthur couldn't quash that heady sense of pride puffing up his chest. Though he didn't know the specifics, he suspected he owed a great debt of honor to Merlin for his secret protection, and this was a chance to repay him in kind. And though he'd never admit it aloud, Merlin was kind of fun to be around, exhausting, but fun.

Smiling slightly, Arthur slid onto the bench next to Merlin and fixed himself a plate. "Well, Merlin, how would you like to spend the day with me while Gaius and your mum catch up?"

The boy bit his lip and the bread creatures froze, but didn't completely revert back to their baked origins. Hunched tightly in on himself, he studied Arthur from the corner of his eye, the irises still blazing gold. Arthur carefully schooled his expression to reveal no hint of his own discomfort with the blatant magic. Closely watching him for a reaction, Merlin set his creations moving again. When Arthur showed no negative response, Merlin's stiffness eased and eventually he nodded. "Okay."

Chapter Text

Arthur, having already made his excuses to the council due to the ill-fated hunting trip, had the rest of the afternoon free to "protect" Merlin while Hunith and Gaius worked out how to restore him. Leaving Merlin in an alcove with instructions to stay quiet, Arthur dismissed the guards Agravaine had posted outside his chambers, then hurried Merlin inside. The boy gaped at the massive room.

"This is yours? All by yourself?"

"Yes," Arthur answered, shutting the door behind him.

"Wow!" Merlin threw his arms up and turned a circle. "This is bigger than Mum's house. Like a king's room!"

"It is," Arthur said, grinning. "A king's room, that is."

Merlin paled and took a step back, tilting his head to look up at Arthur. Hunith was right. Merlin, clever boy, quickly figured out the hints. "You're king?"

Arthur nodded. Again, instead of being impressed or slightly in awe to realize he was in the presence of royalty as Arthur expected, Merlin wilted and turned his attention to his feet. "The king kills people like me. But you're nice to me."

Kneeling to be at eye level with the little warlock, Arthur put a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "That was my father, Merlin. Not me. You've shown me that magic is good, not evil.  Perhaps it's time to get rid of those laws against it."

To his further surprise, Merlin shook his head. "Magic isn't good. And it isn't bad. I think . . . I think it's like a thunderstorm."

"A thunderstorm?"

Merlin nodded. "A thunderstorm waters the plants. And it floods. It can be loud and bright and pretty. And it can blow down houses and barns. It isn't bad when it does that. And it isn't good. We only think it's good and bad because we want it to water the plants and be pretty, and we don't want it to blow down houses. You can't make a law against thunderstorms. That's silly. Laws against magic are more silly, because magic is better than a thunderstorm."

Arthur smiled at the childish wisdom. "So you think I should lift the ban on magic?"

"Yes," Merlin declared. "But  . . . ." He hesitated as if trying to find a way to say what he wanted. "Like when I tripped Markal with my magic because he was picking on me. Mum whipped me with a switch. The next day, I tripped him with my foot, no magic at all, and Mum whipped me again and made me shuck peas all day and I couldn't play with Will."

He fell silent and looked up at Arthur, his expression hopeful that his point had been understood. Oddly enough, Arthur did understand, and it was probably one of the soundest arguments he'd ever heard about magic. "You were in trouble for tripping someone, not for how you went about doing it."

"But so many people with magic have done so many bad things," Arthur murmured, more to himself than to Merlin.

Merlin giggled, wandering off as his interest in the conversation waned now that he'd been reassured he wasn't in trouble. "If you killed everybody who did bad things," he said, crouching down to look under the table, "then there wouldn't be any people left 'cause Mum says everyone does bad things sometimes."

Arthur laughed out loud at that. The stack of armor in the corner caught Merlin's eye, and Merlin scrambled under the table toward it.

"Wow!" Merlin exclaimed, trying to lift the breastplate. It proved too heavy and slipped from his grip with a loud clang. The boy staggered back and fell hard on his backside. Arthur fought the urge to rush to his side. Dangerous potions were one thing, but he couldn't coddle him over every little tumble. Merlin's eyes went wide and glistened, and he looked up at Arthur, who reached over his head and plucked up his breastplate as if nothing had happened.

"This is what I wear into battle."

That lack of reaction spurred Merlin to his feet, though Arthur did catch him rubbing his backside when he thought the king wasn't looking.

Arthur held out the piece for Merlin to examine. The boy eagerly reached out, his hand hovering about an inch over its polished surface, and stroked the air curiously.

"Wow!" he repeated.

"You can touch it, Merlin," Arthur said, amused.

Merlin giggled, but made no attempt to touch the metal. "There's lots of magic in this."

Arthur started and almost dropped the breastplate. He caught himself and managed to set it back with the rest without throwing it. Someone had enchanted his armor?

"What do you mean magic? Has someone cursed it?"

Merlin's nose wrinkled and he tilted his head. "No. . . ." He sounded thoughtful. "It's just better. The magic makes it work better."

"Better?"

Merlin mimed casting a spell and made his eyes flash gold. "Better, you know. So stuff can't hurt you. Even swords and stuff. " His eyes lit up. "Do you have a secret sorcerer to help you? Is that why you don't mind my magic? Does he make all the knights' armor better, or just yours because you're king and you're special?"

Without waiting for an answer, Merlin spotted something else and scampered off. Arthur stared at his armor. That sly bugger had been enchanting his armor to protect him.

Ropes creaking and mischievous laughter drew his attention back to the little warlock. Merlin was jumping on the middle of his bed.

"Merlin," Arthur said, adding a bit of inflection as a warning. "Beds are for sleeping, not jumping."

The boy jumped once more and landed on his backside. Then he squirmed to the edge of the bed and slid off, stumbling slightly, and ran over to a chair near an open window. One of the chambermaids must have been airing out the room while he was gone. Merlin scrambled onto the chair, turned and launched himself at the windowsill. Arthur felt his heart drop into his stomach and in a second of utter terror he pictured Merlin's graceless little body tipping head-first out the window and splattering in the courtyard below.

He didn't even remember moving, but the next thing he knew he had an arm curled around Merlin's waist, while the boy leaned dangerously out the open window and pointed at a falcon soaring over the battlements.

"Look! Look! A bird!" Merlin exclaimed. "I wish I could fly. Do you think if the big dragon comes back he could take me flying?" He turned to Arthur, blue eyes impossibly wide and an expression of unbridled joy on his face. "I can make things fly. I bet I can make me fly."

Another image of Merlin falling to his death flashed through Arthur's mind. "No, Merlin. If people were meant to fly, they'd have been born with wings."

Merlin's expression turned calculating.

"And don't even think about giving yourself wings!"

Apparently Merlin had perfected pouting during the first four years of his life. His lower lip stuck out, his eyes narrowed, and he crossed his skinny arms over his chest with a great huff. "It's not fair! Your secret sorcerer gets to do magic, but I can't. I never get to play the way I want to play."

"Just because I won't execute you for doing magic, doesn't mean doing something stupid with your magic, like trying to fly, won't kill you. And I don't think your mum would be very happy if I let you get hurt."

"Mum" was the magic word. Merlin's pout softened. Then he brightened. "What if I could turn into a bird?"

Arthur chuckled and, swept up in the moment, planted a kiss on Merlin's forehead. "You're impossible, you know that?"

The boy beamed and didn't squirm as Arthur picked him up and closed the window, probably thinking he'd won the argument.

"No, no birds. No wings. No magic, Merlin."

Merlin threw his arms around Arthur's neck and buried his face in the king's tunic. "Go ahead. E-eggsicut me!" he exclaimed, voice muffled, his breath hot against Arthur's shoulder. "If I can't do magic, I . . . I'll just die anyway."

"That's not true," Arthur chided. "You won't die from not using magic."

Merlin shook his head, but didn't lift it. "Nuh, uh. I tried once. Mum got real upset, so I tried to stop. I tried really hard. But I got sick and itchy and all the blood made Mum even more scared."

"Blood?"

"From itching. I itched until the blood came up and it still didn't stop itching. Mum told me not to keep the magic in like that anymore and she gave me lots of special baths with herbs. And I had to wear rags on my hands like a baby!" He sounded the most perturbed about that last bit. At four Merlin clearly felt he was well on his way to adulthood. "Mum thought I was going to die. She didn't think I understood, but I do. I'm not a baby. Dead means you don't wake up. Tom showed me with the baby chick. We put it in the ground because not even magic could make it better."

The king was glad Merlin didn't look up and see the horror he couldn't mask. He'd heard when Gaius had said Merlin couldn't stop using magic, but it hadn't really sunk in. He'd considered it something Merlin could train himself to do without, like weaning a drunk off alcohol or compensating for a lame limb or the loss of eyesight. But Merlin couldn't stop doing magic because it would literally kill him to do so. Merlin was magic, as close to an embodiment of that energy as had ever been seen before anyway.

"Tell you what," Arthur said. "What if I make you my official Secret Sorcerer?"

Merlin's head popped up so fast it nearly collided with Arthur's chin. His tiny little body went taut as a minstrel's lute string. "Really? Me?"

The king nodded, trying his best to appear solemn and officious.

"I can do that!" Merlin bobbed his head fiercely. "I'd be the best Secret Sorcerer."

"There are rules a Secret Sorcerer has to follow, Merlin," Arthur added. "Are you certain you can follow the rules?"

"Yes," Merlin promised, his blue eyes wide.

"Well," Arthur cast about for the proper phrasing. He hadn't actually expected his ploy to be this effective. "First, the Secret Sorcerer has to stay secret."

Tiny, pale hands flew through the motions to Hunith's rhyme.

"No telling anyone. And you can't let people see you doing magic or it wouldn't be secret anymore, would it? Second, you are my Secret Sorcerer. That means you can only do sorcerer things that I, the king, give you permission or tell you to do. Can you do this, Merlin?"

The boy nodded solemnly.

"Okay, er . . . ." Arthur settled Merlin on his feet and retrieved his sword. "Kneel, young sorcerer."

Merlin gaped at him for a second, then dropped unceremoniously to his knees on the stone floor. Arthur winced, his own knees aching in sympathy, but Merlin didn't appear to be in any pain. Probably because he currently didn't have all that far to drop.

"Do you swear to be my Secret Sorcerer and obey the rules that come with this honor?"

"Yes!" It came out more as a squeak than a word, but Arthur pretended not to notice.

He touched the blade to each of Merlin's shoulders, in the opposite order he would for naming a knight. "I accept your oath, Merlin, son of Hunith, and I name you Merlin, Secret Sorcerer of Camelot."

Merlin pushed solemnly to his feet, and his brow furrowed in thought. "Can I tell my mum?"

Arthur put the sword away, pretending to consider. "You may tell your mother and Gaius of your new status, but no one else.

The boy nodded fiercely and opened his mouth to reply, but a loud knock at the door cut him off. Arthur scooped Merlin up and dumped him in a giggling heap on his bed. Pressing a finger to his lips, Arthur said, "Quiet, now," and then drew the curtains closed.

When he opened the door, Percival and Elyan bustled through carrying a large basket between them. Arthur stepped back to let them pass and closed the door.

"We found this in a storage room down by the kitchen," Elyan explained, waving a hand at the mound of toys inside the basket. "Right where the steward said it would be."

The various wooden figures, knights and horses, even a small replica of a castle brought on a surge of nostalgia. Arthur lifted a small stallion—white once, but faded to a dingy grey with time and use—and traced its back and flank. He remembered receiving this on his fifth birthday, and he'd loved it so much it had accompanied him literally everywhere for months. He eyed the wooden swords and shields dubiously. Merlin would like the figures, but, much like his adult self, he was far too delicate a child for the weapons, even toy ones. He motioned for the knights to hide those.

"Thank you," Arthur said, turning—horse still in hand—to his bed. The curtain rustled and he caught Merlin's blue eye darting back from a crack in the fabric wall. The two knights noticed, but refrained from commenting without Arthur having to remind them to be gentle and not spook Merlin.

"It's okay, Merlin," Arthur said, throwing back the curtains. Merlin sat, knees hugged to his chest. His gaze darted to Elyan, the only face he hadn't yet met.

"You remember Percival," the king said gently, gesturing to the large knight. "And this is Elyan, another of my knights. They brought you some toys." Arthur extended the horse to Merlin, who curled his tiny fingers around its belly and set it on his knees to examine, ignoring the knights. He smiled and stroked its back.

"What's his name?"

"Sir Horse," Arthur replied immediately, and then slapped a hand over his mouth at the slip. Percival snickered quietly, and Elyan hid a grin behind his fist.

"Didn't have much imagination as a kid, huh?" Gwaine's irreverent comment startled everyone in the room. He'd of course slipped in without knocking—almost as badly mannered as Merlin.

Ignoring the outspoken knight, Arthur extended a hand to Merlin. "Would you like to see the rest?"

Merlin stroked Sir Horse a couple more times, then slid his hand into Arthur's with a nod. Still a bit timid around the knights, Merlin edged off the bed and kept behind Arthur, nearly treading on his heels until Arthur huffed in exasperation and maneuvered Merlin to the front. The boy shrank back against his leg and squeezed his hand. This wouldn't do. He couldn't have Merlin being afraid of the knights, their friends. Gwaine, who'd always been closest to Merlin after Lancelot, seemed to have the hardest time masking his hurt at being regarded so fearfully by Merlin.

Elyan was the first to break the tension. Extending a hand, he knelt to be at Merlin's level and smiled. "Hi, Merlin. I'm Elyan."

Blue eyes looked up at Arthur. He squeezed Merlin's hand reassuringly before letting go and taking a step back. Shifting Sir Horse to his left hand, Merlin took Elyan's in his right. "Hello."

Then he caught sight of the basket full of toys just beyond Elyan's shoulder. Percival noticed and dragged the basket closer. Arthur watched approvingly as Merlin relaxed and began to rummage through the toys one-handed, refusing to turn loose of Sir Horse. With an ease only children could manage, Merlin soon had distributed figures to each of the knights and the king and coaxed them into a game of knights and horses, with Percival, Gwaine and Elyan as the knights, he and Arthur as the horses, until he'd realized that the numbers weren't even.

Gwaine solved the dilemma by putting his knight back and picking out the figure of a hideous old man with a long beard. "Why don't I be the evil sorcerer? The brave knights need someone to fight, after all."

Merlin's shift in mood was tangible. Hugging Sir Horse to his chest, he frowned at the ugly carving in Gwaine's hand, eyes glassy. "I don't want to fight. I want to play knights and horses."

Gwaine fixed Arthur with a questioning look, but smiled and put the sorcerer figure back into the basket and retrieved his knight and another horse. "Okay, okay. Why don't you take an extra horse, then, so it will be even."

Merlin grinned and accepted the toy.

"Well," Percival said, seating himself on the floor beside Merlin and standing his knight in front of him. Gwaine and Elyan and eventually Arthur did the same, until they formed a sort of circle around Merlin. "If the knights aren't going to fight, what are they going to do?"

Merlin's blue eyes gleamed in excitement. Then he launched into an epic tale about how the queen of the horses had been taken prisoner by an evil king (Arthur tried not let the fact that Merlin's idea of evil was a king bother him) and made to work in the fields like a common mare. Without their queen the horse country was dying, so the horses went to the country of knights to ask for help on a quest to rescue their queen. The evil king lived in a kingdom with no magic, so the horses would become like ordinary beasts, not able to talk or think once they arrived. Which was why they needed the knights to rescue their queen and lead them back home again.

As he spoke, Merlin acted out his bits, prompting the others until they caught on. It was surprisingly fun, especially with Gwaine embracing his role, resorting to dramatic voices and sound effects that left Merlin giggling and breathless. Arthur had lost all track of time until there was a knock at the door and Leon's voice called through, "Sire?"

"It's the evil king's army!" Merlin shouted and scrambled, laughing, across the room with Sir Horse and the other figure clutched in each hand.

Arthur stood, wiped the dust from his breeches and cleared his throat."Come in."

As Leon stepped inside, Merlin climbed up onto the table and threw himself onto Percival's broad back, wrapping his skinny arms around his neck and kicking his sides with his heels. "Onward, Sir Knight! We can't let the evil king catch us."

"Aren't the knights supposed to be riding the horses?" Elyan asked in mock seriousness as he indicated the steeds in Merlin's hands.

The boy considered, then crawled higher onto Percival's shoulder so he could reach down and grab the toy knight, which he traded for his other steed, not willing to part with Sir Horse. "There."

Gwaine guffawed and ruffled Merlin's hair affectionately. "Clever little guy."

Leon, whose jaw had dropped at the chaotic sight, finally managed to lean closer to Arthur and whisper, "If I hadn't seen it for myself, I'd have never believed. He's practically a babe."

Arthur was about to call Merlin over to introduce the new arrival, but Merlin's gaze snapped to Leon like a magnet drawn to metal. He cocked his head and wriggled his way down Percival to the floor and trotted over, eyeing Leon in the same intense way he had Arthur's armor earlier. When he had sensed magic.

Oblivious to this, Leon knelt. "You must be Merlin. I'm Sir Leon."

Merlin dropped the knight toy and tentatively reached out, pressing his tiny palm to Leon's bearded cheek. "You've been touched by magic." His eyes narrowed and he chewed his lip, hugging Sir Horse to his chest. "You were hurt. Bad. But magic fixed it."

Arthur forced himself not to groan as all four knights inhaled sharply, aware of what Merlin's innocent comments implied.

Gwaine eyed them all as if sizing up in which order he'd have to take them to get Merlin out and asked, "How do you know that, Merlin?"

Merlin looked up at Arthur, grinned proudly and said, "I can't tell. It's a secret."

That time Arthur did groan, and he shook his head a little. He stepped forward, placing a protective hand on Merlin's shoulder, who still didn't realize he'd revealed more than he should. Gwaine acknowledged the gesture with a slight smile and a nod and relaxed his stance. Percival shrugged and lifted his eyebrows as if to say he didn't care one way or the other.

Leon just looked at Arthur and said, "Those conveniently falling branches make a lot more sense now."

Elyan stared at Merlin. A range of emotion from fear and horror to anger flashed briefly across his face. He quickly shuttered it away behind a mask of cool indifference as he met Arthur's gaze and dipped his head in acquiescence to his king.

Merlin, oblivious to all this, picked up the fallen toy knight and trotted toward Elyan and Percival with it. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice how Elyan flinched back and took a few steps away as the boy drew closer. Merlin stood on his tiptoes, arm extended until Percival handed him the horse toy. Merlin juggled all three awkwardly until he managed to pass him the knight, then turned and trotted back to Leon. Beaming, he handed the knight the horse.

"There, now you can play knights and horses too. You can be a horse."

 Arthur sighed. He needed to talk to Elyan. And he needed to do it quickly, before Gwaine acted on the glaring daggers he kept shooting Elyan's way. Arthur had hoped he could count on Elyan's assistance, but he wouldn't force any of them. In fact, he was a little surprised by his reaction. Of them all, he'd thought he himself would have been the most opposed to Merlin, followed by Leon who'd been a knight under Uther's influence the longest.

Merlin yawned loudly and rubbed his eyes with a fist, reminding the king of how late it had gotten while they played. The light was beginning to fade, and he'd soon have to send for a servant to light the candles and fetch his dinner with Merlin unable to do his job. And a bath. He definitely could use a hot soak.

Smiling, Arthur lifted Merlin, settling him on his hip. "I think it's about time to put the horses and knights away and for you to go to bed."

"I'm not" —another yawn interrupted his protest— "sleepy."

Again, Hunith displayed an uncanny knack for arriving when Arthur needed her most. Her knock was gentle and she bowed when Leon opened the door and invited her in. "Sire."

"Mum!" Merlin exclaimed, going eagerly into his mother's open arms. She kissed his cheek, which he scrubbed with a scowl and a horrified, "Mum!"

"Good evening, Hunith. You've met Sir Percival and Sir Gwaine. These others are Sir Elyan and Sir Leon." Turning to his knights, Arthur added, "This is Merlin's mother, Hunith."

They exchanged a brief greeting, then Arthur asked, "Any progress?"

Hunith shook her head, looking years older in an instant. "Gaius intends to try Geoffrey's library tomorrow."

Merlin yawned again, and Hunith stroked his head. "You've had quite a day, I see. It's time for dinner and a bath then bed."

"I'm not sleepy." Merlin was whining now and looked on the verge of throwing a tantrum. "And I don't need a bath."

"I wasn't asking," Hunith said sternly, smacking his thigh lightly. Then she tugged at Sir Horse. "Now give that back. It's time to go. Gaius is expecting us."

Merlin hugged Sir Horse tighter and looked to Arthur with wide, pleading eyes.

"Sir Horse is yours to keep if you do as your mother says without complaint," Arthur told him. Leaning close to the boy's ear, he whispered, "And I certainly expect my Secret Sorcerer to conduct himself in a manner befitting his station."

The boy straightened his shoulders and nodded solemnly. Then, as if to prove how good he could be, Merlin put his head on his mother's shoulder and hugged her neck. "G'night, Arthur, Elyan, Percival, Leon, Gwaine."

"Good night, Merlin," everyone but Elyan chorused.

"Good night, my Lord," Hunith said, flashing Arthur a grateful smile over her son's head. "And thank you all for looking after him this afternoon. I hope he wasn't too much trouble."

Arthur laughed. "No more than we could handle, but it was a very interesting day."

Once they were gone, with Leon as an escort, Arthur turned serious. He put his hands behind his back and turned to look out the window. "Could I speak to Elyan alone for a minute?"

Percival forestalled any comments Gwaine might have made with a quick, "Of course, sire. We'll go find a servant to bring your dinner."

"Have them bring enough for all of us," Arthur said. "We still have much to discuss."

"Sire, I-" Elyan began as soon as the door closed.

"I'm not upset, Elyan," Arthur said, taking his seat at the table and motioning for Elyan to join him."You have a problem with Merlin's magic that much is obvious. I won't make you help, if you truly are against it, but I'm afraid I don't understand why. Is this because of the druid spirit that possessed you? Or perhaps because you lost your father to accusations of sorcery?"

Elyan sank stiffly into a chair and stared at his clasped hands on the table. "I . . . it's hard to say, sire. I like Merlin. He's a friend and I want to help him, but he chose to break the law, to practice magic, and . . . well, if I may speak freely, sire, I find it hard to accept that you would overlook this particular betrayal from a friend, when you banished my sister for hers."

Arthur stiffened, his own temper flaring at the reminder of what he witnessed between Gwen and Lancelot. It wasn't the same, not at all. Gwen chose Lancelot knowing she was engaged to Arthur. And as much as he cared for Merlin, in a platonic, brotherly sort of way, he loved Guinevere. Her closeness to him only made it that much harder to take. Besides, Merlin didn't choose magic. Oh, but then Elyan didn't know that, did he? And really, Elyan didn't know Merlin all that well either. Not like Gwaine or even Leon.

"I don't wish to discuss Guinevere and our relationship," Arthur said, making sure to keep the emotion from his voice, "but Merlin's situation is not the same. He is breaking the laws, yes, but not by choice. Merlin was born with magic. What he chose was to risk his own life, live in servitude and hiding, all to help protect me and this kingdom for no reward or recognition. Always willing to put his life on the line to save his loved ones.

"In fact, Gwen was accused of sorcery once when your father was healed from a deadly, magical illness. Merlin came bursting into the council room confessing to sorcery, which I immediately dismissed as foolishness on the part of a lovesick boy. He had a bit of a thing for Gwen back then." Arthur chuckled wryly. "To think he really was telling the truth. He was the magic user who cured your father."

Elyan smiled a little at that. "And who got my sister accused in the first place."

Arthur cleared his throat and leaned his elbows on the table. "So, what will you do? I will think no less of you should you choose not to remain involved, but if you do decide to help, you must be able to keep any negative feelings hidden from Merlin. You saw for yourself, he's just a child. Any issues you have—and I assure you I have a long list myself—will have to wait until we can take them up with the adult."

"Merlin is a friend, who apparently saved both my sister and my father once. I'm not comfortable being around his magic, but it would be dishonorable not to return that favor. You can count on me, sire."

Chapter Text

Irina slid off the wagon bed almost as soon as it creaked through Camelot's city gates. Smoothing her skirts to dislodge any clinging bits of hay and debris, she glanced at the darkening sky. Almost sunset. She'd been fortunate to arrive before the gates closed for the night. It would give her time to get settled and do some scouting before attempting to reclaim Emrys.

A few coins got her a hot meal and a drafty room in a small inn, and as soon as she'd attained some bit of privacy, she pulled a small mirror from her bag and breathed on it. The fogged glass remained that way, and a few seconds later the words, "Did you arrive safely?" appeared as if scrawled in the cloudy moisture by a finger.

She grinned and wrote, "Of course. Have faith. Soon I will deliver Emrys to his people." Each phrase replaced the last, until Tibalt replied, "Be careful."

After returning the mirror to her pack, Irina pulled out two cloth-wrapped bundles and fetched the bowl left for patrons to freshen up. One bundle contained a dozen sweetmeats, which she arranged in the bowl. The other was a small bottle of clear liquid, odorless and mostly tasteless, that functioned as a sedative.

Grinning, Irina treated each of the candies with the drug. What child could resist the offer of a treat? And while Emrys would sense if she tried to enchant the sweetmeats, he wouldn't notice the drug until it took effect. Then she could easily spirit him away without traumatizing the boy or getting beat back like Tibalt had. Once the sweetmeats had fully absorbed the drug, she rewrapped and stowed them in her pack. The other things she carried were a change of clothes for herself and a little peasant girl's dress and a headscarf.

Even if the king discovered Emrys was missing before she could escape Camelot, he would be searching for a young boy, not a little girl and her mother. Tibalt had said Emrys was a rather fey, pretty child, and often at such a young age it was hard to distinguish between the sexes. It was a near perfect plan.

She gently extracted a small, metal band, its shiny surface marred with numerous runes, careful not to touch the cursed object with her bare skin. This, however, made her plan foolproof. Irina shuddered and put it back. Binding Emrys's power would only be a last resort. They wanted to help, not hurt, him.

Assured of her plan, Irina settled down to get what sleep she could.

~~~

Gaius closed the tome and dropped it onto the towering stack of dusty volumes that had proven useless. He rubbed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to drop into bed and sleep for a week.

"That boy will be the death of me," he muttered to himself, trying to stave off the fear curling icy talons around his heart. What if he couldn't find a cure? Merlin, Hunith, Arthur—all of Camelot really—were counting on him to fix their secret warlock. He'd hoped to have found some remedy in one of his books, but now he would simply have to wait until tomorrow for the results of his analysis of that potion. At least that would help him narrow down his research.

He sighed and pushed slowly to his feet, joints creaking and aching. He was really getting too old for this. Gaius set out three bowls, pouring some stew into each one to cool. Hunith would be back with Merlin soon and the lad would need to eat.

The door to his quarters swung open and Leon and Hunith, with Merlin on her hip, stepped through. Leon lingered in the doorway, while Hunith crossed the room to Gaius. Merlin waved at Leon over his mother's shoulder.

"Bye!"

Leon smiled at the boy and caught Gaius's eye, indicating with a jerk of his head that he wished to speak to the physician privately. Gaius acknowledged Merlin's greeting and stepped over to the knight.

"Yes, Sir Leon?"

"Gaius, King Arthur wishes to see you in his chambers at your earliest convenience to discuss the . . . um . . . situation."

Gaius nodded. "Of course. Tell him I'll be there as soon as I've helped Hunith get the boy settled. We're both a bit out of practice at caring for one so young, I'm afraid."

It took close to an hour to get Merlin fed, bathed, dressed and settled into his own bed upstairs in his room. Despite his persistent yawning, the boy was oddly energetic and chattered on so steadily about his new position and the afternoon's excitement, Hunith had to spoon the stew into his mouth in the brief pauses between comments or else he'd never have finished eating. The bath was just as exhausting for the adults and left both them and much of the floor soaked, due mostly to Merlin's insistence that he could do it by himself.

All of which was why Gaius trudged up to Arthur's chambers, soggy and looking like he'd been kidnapped again. Arthur, seated at the head of his table, eyed him with an amused grin playing about his lips, but displayed great kingly wisdom by keeping any comments to himself. Elyan, Percival, Leon and Gwaine sat with him, though Gwaine slouched back in his chair and had his boots propped on the edge of the table. Empty dishes and the lingering scent of venison suggested they'd just finished their own dinner.

  "Hunith told me you've not found a cure for Merlin's condition yet," Arthur said, getting down to business as the young king often did when frustrated.

Gaius shook his head and clasped his hands behind his back. "No, sire, I'm afraid none of my books have offered any insight into Merlin's predicament. However, the analysis results of that potion will be ready by tomorrow, which should help narrow the search."

"Isn't there some sort of, I dunno, aging spell?" Gwaine asked, wiggling his fingers in what Gaius could only assume was meant to be a magical gesture.

Gaius glanced at Arthur, unsure how much he'd told the knights. "Well, yes, such a spell exists, but I'm afraid it would do Merlin no good. He hasn't just grown younger; he's completely reverted to his four-year-old self. If we were to use an aging spell, we would merely put that four-year-old into an adult body. I must find the specific antidote to the potion he was given if I'm to reverse the effects on his mind, as well as his body."

"I must admit the memory loss worries me," Arthur said, picking at the edge of the table. "What if that part of his mind was destroyed by this potion? These sorcerers wanted to raise him as a magical weapon. Leaving something like his adult memories intact, even locked away in his head, would be too risky."

Gaius started at the casual remark about magic, his gaze darting over the knights.

"Oh, we know about Merlin's special gift," Gwaine said, grinning. Arthur shot him a scathing look that did nothing to quell the knight's tongue. "But Merlin can't tell us because it's a secret."

For a moment, Gaius thought he might be having a heart attack the way it thumped wildly in his chest. Percival, the closest, jumped up and helped the old physician into a chair.

"Don't worry, Gaius," Arthur said. "I've explained as best I could Merlin's unique gift and they've been accepting."

Elyan shifted a bit uncomfortably in his chair at that comment, but said nothing.

Percival clapped the physician on the shoulder. "Yeah, we'll look out for him."

Something wet and warm trailed down Gaius's cheek. He touched his face, surprised to find he was crying. "Oh my." He chuckled softly. "So many years Merlin's longed to be accepted by his friends for all he is, and when that day finally comes, he goes and gets himself turned into an oblivious child. But on his behalf, thank you. Thank you all."

"Well, what did you expect us to do after Arthur went and made him a bloody member of the court?" Gwaine teased, his amusement growing the redder Arthur's face got. "Official Secret Sorcerer, was it?"

"Ah, yes, he mentioned something to that effect to Hunith and I many, many times tonight. He is quite proud."

"It was just a way to try to help him control his magic." Arthur shrugged. "Not that it did any good. He gave himself away by sensing that Leon's life had been saved with magic from the Cup of Life and announcing it to everyone."

"But he couldn't tell us how he knew because it was a secret," Gwaine said with a laugh. "God, I hope he remembers this when we get him back! Years of good teasing material."

"I believe his adult memories are still present in his mind, locked away," Gaius said, turning back to Arthur. "But you're right, sire, about that being dangerous for the sorcerers who did this. They cannot get their hands on Merlin. In his vulnerable state, it will be an easy matter to remove those memories permanently, which was probably part of their plan all along, until you prevented them from abducting him in the forest. Should they succeed, the Merlin we know will be lost forever and he will have to grow up all over again."

Arthur frowned, pensive. "And to have a warlock as powerful as Merlin raised for the sole purpose of destroying Camelot. . . ."

"Is he really that powerful?" Elyan asked.

Gaius nodded, feeling traitorous for bringing it up, but they needed to understand. "He is the most powerful warlock that has or ever will walk this earth. The Merlin we know would die before using his gifts against Arthur and Camelot, in fact I've seen him try on more than one occasion. I would not betray Merlin's trust like this were the situation not so grave, but if these sorcerers succeed, there is another aspect to Merlin you should be aware of. Something he inherited from his father when he died. "

Arthur's head snapped up sharply. "Merlin told me he never knew his father."

"He didn't." Gaius wrung his hands, battling guilt. "Not until the day you went to find Balinor and I told him. I don't know why Hunith kept it secret, but I couldn't let him see the man face to face and not know. And perhaps I hoped that if Balinor knew Merlin was his son, he might be more inclined to come to our aid."

The blood drained from the king's face, which he buried in his hands. "Left to protect them. To protect them from my father. And he died. And I told Merlin not to . . . .Tell me, Gaius, is there any way that my father and I have not done Merlin ill? Prophecy or no, why on earth would he do so much for us?"

"That, sire, you will have to ask Merlin himself."

"So, Merlin is a dragonlord," Leon said. "At least there are no more dragons for him to call should the worst come to pass."

"I'm afraid that's not entirely true," Gaius said, causing every head to turn toward him. "You didn't kill the Great Dragon. While you were unconscious, Merlin spared Kilgharrah and forbade him from harming innocents or Camelot ever again on pain of death. They've become allies of sorts over the years, two creatures of the Old Religion with a similar hope for the future. Fortunately, Merlin is currently unaware he has this gift, and no one aside from the dragon, Hunith and myself know—and now you. It is possible that as a child he is unable to use this ability."

A wry chuckle escaped the king's lips. "He may not be aware, but he is definitely capable. The first morning he woke in Ealdor, Merlin ran, scared and crying, into the woods. When I found him, he was calm and happy and claimed a big dragon had assured him everything would be okay. I thought it a childish fantasy, but now . . . ."

Percival whistled."No wonder these sorcerers are so eager to get their hands on him."

"And why we will do everything in our power to make sure they don't," Arthur declared.

~~~

This wrongness, Merlin was beginning to think, was the best thing to ever happen to him. It was the first time he'd ever been away from home, and he'd not only gotten to see Camelot (which wasn't as scary as he'd imagined), but he'd made friends with the king and his knights (who didn't hate him because of his magic). And got to be the king's Secret Sorcerer. And use his magic. Everyone was so nice to him, too, not like the adults back home. His mum was still busy, but not like back home where she often worked beneath the hot sun until her back ached and her fingers blistered. If she didn't seem so sad for some reason, Merlin would have wished things could stay this way forever. But he didn't want his mum to stay sad, and he missed Will.

Today, after he and Sir Horse had a big breakfast, Arthur came and let him do some magic, just a few tricks, then told him that he had kingly jobs to do and wouldn't get to visit until that evening. Merlin tried to smile and told him it would be okay, but it made him sad. He liked Arthur as much as he liked Will, maybe even a bit more because Arthur didn't tease him about his ears or how skinny he was. Then he, Mum, and Gaius had gone off to whisper things in the corner, so Merlin took Sir Horse over to the stairs and pretended they were the tallest mountain in the world. He and Sir Horse had nearly made the summit, when his mum came back and told him he was going to visit the market with Sir Gwaine.

"Wouldn't you like that, dear?" she asked.

Merlin considered, making Sir Horse rear up on his hind legs. He would rather spend the day with Arthur, but Gwaine was funny. "What do you do at the market?"

Gwaine, who'd obviously come in sometime while he and Sir Horse were busy, dropped onto the stair beside Merlin, tossed his hair over his shoulder and smiled. "All sorts of things, Merlin. You can buy almost anything, and sometimes there are entertainers, minstrels and storytellers."

"Really?" Merlin asked. He wanted to see more performers. This time he wouldn't be too scared to talk to them.

"Really," Gwaine affirmed. He stood, dusted his breeches and descended the stairs.

A dragon, the king, knights and performers. Merlin grinned and bounced excitedly. "Did you hear that, Mum? Wait 'til I tell Will. He's gonna be so jealous."

Oddly, his mother didn't look too happy about it. She forced a smile, showed him a few coins and handed them to Gwaine. "Yes, I'm sure, dear. Now, this is yours to spend, but only if Sir Gwaine says it's okay. Don't get too much sun, you know quickly you burn. And if you get too hot or tired, tell Sir Gwaine. And promise me you'll stay close to him."

"I know, I know, Mum." Merlin rolled his eyes and hopped down the stairs, sometimes two at a time just to show her how grown he was. Why did she have to treat him like that? He was the king's Secret Sorcerer now. "I'm almost five. And I have an important job."

His mum was waiting for him with her hands on her hips when he reached the bottom step. "Well, my job is to worry about you, young man, no matter how grown and important you get." She knelt to be at eye level with him. "Give me a hug and have fun, okay?"

Merlin threw his arms around her neck. Even though she looked different and had taken advantage of a hot bath tub, she smelled the same—kind of like hay and flowers and the cooking fire. And her hug was just as warm and strong as always.

"Okay, Mum," he said and gave her quick peck on the cheek. He supposed it was alright for Secret Sorcerers to do that. At least to their mums when they seemed sad.

He said goodbye to Gaius and gave him a hug, reluctantly left Sir Horse on the table at his mother's insistence, then let Gwaine take his hand and walk him out of the castle to the lower town.

The market was much bigger, louder and more colorful than Merlin had pictured, so he spent the first few minutes of his visit clinging to Gwaine's leg like a pale, blue-eyed, black-haired ivy. Smells hung hot and heavy over the entire place, ranging from pleasant food odors to the rank of unwashed bodies that crammed into the narrow lanes between stalls. That everything was not built for someone of Merlin's small stature became frighteningly apparent. All he could see were legs and swirling skirts, as if there weren't any heads or torsos attached, and he couldn't see any of the interesting wares for sale unless he stood on tip-toe and peered over the edges of the tables and counters.

But then Gwaine crouched down and patted his shoulders. "All right, up with you!" Merlin hesitated, then scrambled up to sit on the knight's shoulders.

"There's a good lad," he said as he adjusted Merlin's position and stood up.

Merlin clamped his hands around Gwaine's face, frightened by the sudden change. Gwaine gently pried his hands off his eyes, moved them to his forehead and gripped Merlin's ankles. "Don't worry, I've got ya. Isn't this better? Now you can see."

And it was better. He felt as tall as Percival and nothing seemed scary anymore. They wandered around for a bit examining the wares that Merlin could now see easily. He spotted a stall selling pasties and meat pies and tugged at Gwaine's ear until the knight acknowledged him. He pointed at the food. "Can I get one?"

Twisting his head to look up at him, Gwaine grinned and playfully squeezed his ankles. "We've only just started, mate. Trust me, you'll want to see a bit more before you decide where you want to spend your money."

Merlin sighed as Gwaine carried him away. He wasn't all that hungry yet, but the pies had smelled so good.

They eventually found a minstrel and stopped to listen to a few songs. Gwaine took a seat off to the side and plopped Merlin onto his lap. "I need a break from your bony little behind, mate. You're heavier than you look."

Giggling, Merlin settled back against Gwaine's chest and closed his eyes. The lilting melody reminded him of how his magic might sound, and his mind filled with a swirl of colors he imagined his magic would look like if it were something visible. Gwaine gave the man a few coins and had to literally carry Merlin away, slung under one arm like a bundle of firewood, when he refused to leave.

That nearly caused a tantrum until Merlin remembered that as Secret Sorcerer he couldn't do those kinds of things anymore. He apologized and got to walk on his own two feet, but with his left hand securely gripped in Gwaine's right.

It became tougher not to throw a fit as the morning dragged on. Merlin's legs were tired from all the walking and he was really getting hungry now, but Gwaine was chatting with a pretty young girl selling shiny baubles and ignored Merlin's hints that he wanted to go.

However, someone else noticed his plight: a woman with a long, blond braid and wrinkles around her eyes. She was soft-looking, like her lap would be as comfortable as a cushion and her hugs like a warm blanket. After a particularly whiney, ". . . but I'm hungry," she opened a small bag and handed him a sweetmeat.

"There you are, darling."

Merlin popped it in his mouth and savored its strong flavor. "Thank you," he said, remembering his manners once it was gone. He eyed her bag and tried to look as pathetic as possible. Maybe she'd give him another.

"Sorry, lad, but I got to sell the rest," she told him.

Immediately, Merlin turned to Gwaine, tugging at his sleeve. "Gwaine. Gwaine! Can I have my money? I want to buy more treats."

The pretty girl at the stall giggled and looked at him. "I think your little friend his trying to get your attention."

Merlin flashed her a grateful smile and tugged at Gwaine's arm again. The knight glanced at him, eyebrow arched. "Yeah, Merlin?"

He pointed at the woman with the sweetmeats. "I want to buy treats. I'm hungry."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Gwaine readily agreed, his attention already back on the girl. "Gotta fatten him up somehow," he explained to her as he let go of Merlin's hand to fish out the coins from Merlin's mother. He dumped them into Merlin's cupped palms and ruffled his hair. "He's a bit skinny."

"Well, you're a bit hairy!" Merlin stuck his tongue out at the knight and stomped his foot. He was not skinny! His mum said he just wasn't done growing yet.

The pretty girl burst out laughing and then covered her mouth. "He has a point. You do have lots of nice hair."

"Not as nice as yours, my dear," Gwaine said, winking at Merlin as he gave the girl a rakish bow.

Ignoring the silly grown-ups, Merlin held his hands out to the blond woman. "Can I buy more treats?"

She glanced at the coins in his hands, plucked out one and handed him the bag. "There you go, love. Don't eat them too quickly, or you'll make yourself sick."

To show her what he thought of that advice, he shoved three into his mouth at once, hardly able to chew around his mouthful. The woman smiled at him and said, "I suppose boys will be boys."

In a couple of minutes, the bag was almost empty and Merlin was ready to admit that maybe she'd been right. His stomach ached and he felt sluggish and sleepy. He rubbed his eyes, but that only made his face as sticky as his fingers. Now he felt downright sick. Miserable, Merlin dropped the bag and curled up on the ground. If he took a nap, maybe his stomach would feel better. He blinked once, twice and the last thing he felt before passing out was the kind woman scooping him into her soft arms and pressing a kiss to his temple.

~~~

Percival appreciated standing head and shoulders above everyone else, especially when walking through the lower town on a crowded market day. Gaius had finally figured out which potion the sorcerers had used to change Merlin and had sent the knight out to get the rare herbs he would need to make the antidote. Percival had gotten everything and was on his way back when he spotted Gwaine flirting shamelessly with a pretty, young brunette.

Rolling his eyes at the typical antics, Percival sought Merlin, who had to be somewhere nearby. Even a flirting Gwaine knew better than to ignore his duties, especially when that duty involved protecting a friend. He spotted a familiar mop of black hair only a few feet from the roguish knight as an older blond woman hefted a limp, unresponsive Merlin into her arms.

"Gwaine!' Percival bellowed, charging through the crowd toward them. Gwaine's head snapped up, and he saw something in Percival's expression that set him searching for Merlin.

Gwaine swore loudly upon finding his charge in the arms of a stranger. He barely had time to draw his sword when the woman threw out a splayed palm and muttered a word. Her eyes flashed gold, and Gwaine went flying back into the pretty girl's stall. People screamed, and the sorceress disappeared in the ensuing panic.

Growling, Percival forced his way to Gwaine's side and helped the knight to his feet. The smaller man wobbled, pressing a hand to the back of his head. His fingers came back stained with blood, but Gwaine didn't seem to notice. His eyes didn't look focused.

"Merlin!" He lunged forward and would have fallen if Percival hadn't caught him.

"He's gone," Percival stated bluntly. "You well enough to report to Arthur?"

"I turned him loose for just a second! He was eating . . . ." Gwaine bent down, nearly toppling onto his face, and retrieved a small bag. "I let go of his hand to give him the coins his mother sent. He wanted to buy some sweetmeats."

Percival squeezed Gwaine's shoulder hard enough to distract him from a bout of self-recrimination. "I've got to warn the guards to lock down the city. You need to tell Arthur what's happened and have Gaius treat your injuries."

Gwaine nodded dumbly and staggered toward the castle. Percival watched just long enough to make sure he wasn't going fall and sprinted toward the city gates.

~~~

The mad panic started to work against her as Irina struggled to reach the city gates. Perhaps if she didn't have an armful of unconscious child to carry, she might have been able to push through. Eventually, she made her way to an alley, unoccupied but for a few mangy cats that glared with wary, yellow eyes at her intrusion on their territory. If only that giant of a knight hadn't shown up, she could have vanished into the throng. But now she'd been seen. And the alarm had been raised. Fighting to keep calm, she focused on her back up plan.

Emrys was, as Tibalt had said, a rather pretty child, delicate and almost too thin. Gently, she laid him on the cleanest patch of ground and hurriedly worked his limp little body into the dress, half afraid he might break if she wasn't careful. It seemed almost impossible that something so seemingly fragile could contain such an unbelievable amount of power.

Irina's heart fluttered and she stroked his cheek, grimacing at how sticky it was. (They'd remedy that as soon as she got them both to safety.) She'd always wanted a child, but wasn't willing to pay the price Uther had to overcome her barrenness. But now, in her autumn years, she'd been given a chance to nurture Emrys into the figure of legend he was meant to be. She ran a hand through his raven hair and tenderly tied the headscarf over it. One day the greatest warlock ever known might even call her mother.

A scrap torn from her extra dress served to hide her own hair. That knight couldn’t have gotten too close a look at her, but hair as gold as hers was easily remembered. Satisfied, she shouldered her pack, lifted Emrys into her arms and worked her way toward the city gates. Unfortunately, that giant knight was there and the guards had shut the gates. She forced herself not to flinch as the man's steely gaze passed over her. He showed no sign of recognition, and Irina exhaled in relief. At least the disguises worked, but getting out of the city was going to be harder than she'd anticipated. They'd have to lay low for a few days, then leave when the king's vigilance waned.

At another inn, Irina took a room for her "daughter" and herself. Though the innkeeper showed them no more interest than he would an insect, his wife seemed quite taken with the unconscious bundle in her arms. A quick lie about her daughter being ill got her a sympathetic look, but the woman stopped fussing over the child to let "her" rest.

The room was small, but clean. Irina settled Emrys on the bed, then sank to sit on the floor beside him and pulled out her mirror.

"What's wrong?" came Tibalt's immediate response. They'd agreed not to make contact again until that night.

"I've got Emrys, but I was spotted taking him," Irina wrote. "The city gates are shut, so we'll be a bit delayed. I'll send word when we finally get out."

"Be careful, Irina."

"I will."

She sighed and secured the mirror in her pack. Hopefully, she had enough of the drug left to keep the boy sedated until they were safely out of Camelot. She didn't want to resort to the magical binding. But for now, all she could do was wait for an opportunity to escape.

Chapter Text

As far as council meetings went, this one wasn't the worst Arthur had sat through. Negotiations with a neighboring kingdom over some disputed lands had gotten sticky. Both sides had been pressuring him to marry the princess to resolve the dispute, but fortunately those talks had been delayed by this latest attack. Unfortunately, that didn't stop his own council from discussing it at every opportunity. But Arthur just couldn't focus when his manservant/personal warlock was cursed by evil sorcerers to be a child.  

Shortly after the meeting began, Arthur received a message from Gaius, who wasn't in attendance due to a fabricated, unexpected illness in the lower town he needed to investigate, saying he'd isolated the potion used. If he managed to gather all the supplies, he could have an antidote ready by that evening. It had taken effort not to let his excitement and relief show at the news.

Suddenly, just before they were going to break for lunch, the doors burst open and Gwaine, looking a bit dazed, staggered into the room. Half the council jumped to their feet, and Arthur straightened in his chair, instantly concerned. Merlin was supposed to be in the market with the knight right now.

"Sire, I . . . a sorceress . . . ." Gwaine managed to say before he collapsed.

"Guards! Elyan!" Arthur was at the man's side in few paces with Elyan, acting as bodyguard, on his heels. "Help me get him to the Court Physician's chambers."

Agravaine followed, but Arthur put a hand on his chest. "Uncle, will you dispatch some of my knights into the lower town to find out what's going on?"

The dark-haired man bowed stiffly and exited. Arthur followed Elyan and one of the guards carrying Gwaine down to Gaius's chambers. The physician and Hunith both stood before an open book, examining several different containers of dried herbs. They jumped at the interruption and Arthur noticed a nearby cloth was thrown over the book before Gaius followed them to the patient bed. Hunith hovered back by the table, wringing her hands and chewing her lip.

"What happened?" Gaius asked. His unspoken question, Where's Merlin?, Arthur was wondering himself.

Arthur thanked the guard, then ordered him to find out what was happening and send word to him there. Once they were alone, Arthur let his stoic mask drop. "I don't know, I don't know!" he blurted before Gaius or Hunith could ask. "He staggered into the council chambers and said something about a sorceress, then collapsed."

"He appears to have sustained a pretty serious blow to the head," Gaius said, when he touched Gwaine's head and ended up with bloody fingers. "And I expect some bruising to his back, likely from being thrown into something hard rather than hit over the head if he was dealing with a sorceress."

Arthur spotted a small bag in Gwaine's fist and pried it loose. Inside were a couple sweetmeats, probably Merlin's if he had to guess. Gwaine would have preferred a nice bottle of mead.

Hunith brought water and a clean rag to Gaius. Elyan stepped forward to help hold Gwaine up while Gaius dabbed his head with it. Gwaine groaned and then hissed, flinching away from the rag.

"Where's Arthur?" the knight demanded, trying to climb out of the patient bed.

"I'm right here," Arthur said, stepping into view. He didn't put too much effort into hiding his anger. "What happened? Where's Merlin?"

"She took him!" Gwaine exclaimed, stricken. Hunith made a strangled whimper, but didn't comment. Gwaine winced when Gaius touched his wound again, but kept talking. "I let go of his hand to give him money. He wanted sweetmeats some woman was selling. I turned away for a second to . . . to talk to this girl. He ate the treats, two or three at a time and he never left my side. Percival was coming up from somewhere and he shouted my name. I looked over and that woman with the treats had picked him up. He wasn't conscious. I—maybe drugged? Oh, God, she took him!"

Gaius held a hand out for the bag Arthur was holding. "Are these the treats?"

Gwaine clutched his head and nodded gingerly.

Gaius glanced inside. "I assume a bag this size held more than two sweetmeats, so it would be safe to assume Merlin ate some. You're probably right about them being drugged."

"Where did she take him, Gwaine?" Arthur pressed.

"I- I don't know," Gwaine blinked furiously. "She used magic, threw me into a stall. The next thing I know Percival is helping me up. He went to the gate to have the guards seal the city while I came to inform you." He reached out, missing on the first few tries, and caught Hunith's hand. "I'm so sorry, Hunith. I should have protected him better."

"You did what you could," she choked out and squeezed his fingers.

"I'm afraid this is going to need some stitches, Sir Gwaine," Gaius announced as he finished cleaning the wound.

The tight feeling in his chest made it almost impossible for Arthur to breathe. He was so angry he wanted to hit something, but blind rage would accomplish nothing. He knew he shouldn't fault Gwaine for being caught unawares by a sorceress, but he couldn't help it. Instead of lashing out, Arthur reined in his temper and patted Gwaine's shoulder. "Rest here. I'll send a search party to check all the inns, taverns and boarding houses for new female tenants with a child. She has to be somewhere in the city. We will find her and get Merlin back."

~~~

Darkness and warmth were the two things Merlin noticed when he opened his eyes. He blinked, trying to clear the fuzziness inside his head and figure out where he was. Someone was holding him, tightly, and rocking back and forth. It would have felt nice, but a queasiness in his belly accompanied the fuzziness in his head. He shifted and squirmed, trying to get free enough to sit up, but the arm holding him squeezed and a hand stroked the side of his face.

"Shhh, little one, it's okay," a woman's voice whispered.

Merlin recognized the nice lady who had sold him the sweetmeats. He blinked, eyes impossibly heavy, and could almost make out her face in the darkness. He yawned. "Who are you? Where am I? Where's Mum? And Gwaine?"

With each question, tremors of fear shot through his oddly numb body. Why did he feel so strange? The last thing he remembered was being with Gwaine in the market, so how did he get here?

"I'm Irina." The woman shushed him again and pressed a cup to his lips. Merlin guzzled the cool liquid, surprisingly thirsty. She pulled it away and made him drink his fill in slower, shorter sips. Almost immediately, sleep dragged his eyes closed again.

The next time Merlin woke, he was lying on a bed. His body didn't want to move and his head felt like someone had stuffed it with wool. Dim light filtered through a closed window, but it wasn't enough to brighten the room.

"Mum?" he called. Tears filled his eyes when the Irina lady scurried over. Her long skirt hissed with each step.

"Shh, I'm here, child."

He cried harder. "I want my Mum. I'm tired of the different now. I want to go home."

Normally, when moods like this hit, his magic sparked and acted out, but for some reason his magic felt as fuzzy and sluggish as the rest of his body. He tried to get up, but only flopped helplessly in the blankets. "Wrong. It's all wrong," he sobbed.

The woman clucked her tongue and propped him upright with one arm. "I know, dear. I know. But it will all be over soon."

She had a bowl this time, filled with a lukewarm broth. As she fed him, his sobs eased until even the occasional shuddered breath passed. The broth felt good going down and eased hunger pains Merlin hadn't noticed before. Tear tracks on his cheeks made his face stiff and itchy, but he couldn't move enough to scrub his face. How long had he been asleep? Where was everybody?

Once he'd downed half of it, she eased him back and stroked his hair, humming softly. He fell asleep again before he could gather his thoughts enough to panic.

~~~

Leon and his patrol had set out from Camelot at dawn as Arthur had ordered. They found the place where the king had been attacked, but the site yielded no more clues as to where the sorcerers had come from. The bodies were gone, though, presumably retrieved by magic since there was no sign anyone had come to gather them. Giving it up for a dead end, they began a tour of nearby villages until daylight ran out. They took rooms at a local tavern and would resume the search the next day. Leon wondered if Gaius had been able to restore Merlin yet, but a dark corner of his mind feared things wouldn't be so simple.

The next morning at breakfast, a juicy rumor finally surfaced, causing Leon to freeze over his bowl of porridge, spoon half-way to his mouth.

"Mason claims he saw 'em, ghostin' through the woods out west o' Camelot, right behind his fields. 'Alf the crop rotted overnight, he says," a rather grubby farmer was telling his companion.

"Sorcerers?" the other man guessed.

"Druids, I think. I 'eard there's a group of 'em what broke off from the rest o' their lot."

His companion snorted. "What's the world coming to when even sorcerers don't like each other? Let 'em kill each other off, I says. Stop 'em cursin' our fields and animals."

Leon turned, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. "Where exactly are these renegade druids?"

The farmer eyed him warily. "I don't know nuthin' 'bout no sorcerers. I's just repeatin' what I 'eard."

"Did you hear where the renegade druids are hiding?" Leon pressed, trying not to let his frustration show.

The farmer shrugged. "Somewhere west o' Camelot's all I know."

The knight thanked him for his time with a bit of coin and he and his men left. They tarried with the horses, waiting for word to get around that the knights would pay for information about the renegade druids. Sure enough, just before they mounted up, a young boy approached, a bit hesitant.

"Sir? Are you the ones looking for the druids?"

Leon nodded. "Do you know where they are?"

Worrying his hands in the hem of his tunic, the boy shifted and eyed the pouch of coins at Leon's belt. Leon shook the pouch and added, "There is of course a small reward for any information that will help us find them."

The boy licked his lips. "They say there's a cave about a day's ride west from Camelot. It's near a stream and not too far from the road that passes through the forest."

"We appreciate your assistance," Leon said and pressed several coins into his hand.

The boy flashed him a grin and ran off, coins clutched in a white-knuckled grip.

"Well, men," Leon announced, swinging up onto his waiting horse. "We're only half day's ride from Camelot, east rather than west. If we cut straight through instead of following the road, we may be able to get there within a day or two."

 Hopefully, within the next few days they'd round up these sorcerers and put an end to their plot against Merlin.

He grinned at the irony: knights of Camelot protecting a warlock from sorcerers. Such a thing wouldn't have crossed his wildest dreams a few years ago, but with Arthur as king . . . well, it didn't seem so strange. Arthur was truly a good man, and in all honesty, a greater king than his father. And Merlin, well, Merlin wasn't just the average warlock either.

~~~

There had been no sign of Merlin or the sorceress since he was taken yesterday afternoon. By the next morning, the city gates had had to be opened, but everyone who passed in and out was thoroughly searched and made to stand before a mirror as a test for glamour after Gaius warned Arthur of that possibility. It was already growing late in the afternoon, and so far nothing had turned up. Arthur's frustration mounted. He'd had no word from Leon yet, and though hunting sorcerers who didn't want to be found would take time, he wasn't feeling patient.

Hunith had become a wraith of sorts, hovering pale and silent in Gaius's chambers, assisting with whatever task Gaius or Arthur needed, though no one felt comfortable asking much. She refused to eat and tended to stare out the window if she found herself with nothing to do.

Arthur found her like that when he walked into Gaius's room that afternoon, seeking a distraction himself. "Hunith, you should rest. Get something to eat. I'll have food sent up from the kitchens. You should do something to get your mind off those sorcerers."

Hunith brushed off his attempt to reassure her. "My son has been kidnapped by people who don't want money or anything I can offer, but want to destroy everything he is and has become and turn him into a weapon, a monster to keep on a leash. And I'm powerless to do anything about it. I believe I am entitled to grieve after my own fashion, sire, and I ask that you leave me to it!"

Taken aback, Arthur stared at her, open mouthed. After a moment, Hunith sagged and turned to him, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, sire. Please forgive that outburst. I'm just . . . I need . . . I need him to be okay. Ever since he was born and I caught him floating objects from his cradle, I had to prepare myself each day for the eventuality that knights would come drag my son to the executioner's block. Every time he came home late, I feared his magic had been seen and that he wouldn't be coming home ever again. I worried so much, for so long, and then when I found out Will knew, I sent him to Gaius to learn to control his gift, find a use for it perhaps. And every day I would wait for word from Camelot telling me I'd killed my son by sending him to the kingdom that most hates his kind.

"And then he started to tell me about you and all the things he did to keep you safe, about your adventures together, about the kingdom you would build; and I was proud. My son had found a place in the world, and though I still worried, I knew. That when the doom hanging over his head since he first drew breath finally claimed him, it would have been for a noble purpose, an end earned through heroism, rather than being put down like a rabid dog."

She sobbed into her hands, trying and failing to compose herself. "I can't bear to think they will erase the noble man I raised and replace him with a savage beast. Force him to destroy what he sacrificed so much to create."

Arthur moved forward and stiffly put his arms around Hunith. He wasn't used to hugging and giving comfort, especially to women other than Guinevere. But Merlin wasn't here to help his mother; and Arthur knew, had his own mother lived, he would want someone to do the same for her if he were unable. "That won't happen, Hunith. I won't let it."

Hunith choked back a sob, stepped away and wiped her eyes. "Thank you, sire. Please, forgive me for losing my temper." She and bowed stiffly then fled to Merlin's room and locked the door behind her.

Gaius's door opened and the physician said, "Ah, sire, I did not expect to find you here. Has there been word about Merlin?"

"No." Arthur ran his hands through his hair and sighed. He turned and noticed Gaius fiddling with the potions at his table. "I thought you'd already made the antidote."

"I have, sire," Gaius explained as he worked. "This isn't for Merlin. I've received word of a young girl taken ill in the lower town. They are not from Camelot and the mother did not have the means to afford medical help. But the tavern-owner's wife is an old acquaintance. When she told me how the poor child has been too sick to get out of bed, I agreed to go see her."

"That is kind of you, Gaius. I won't keep you then. And I'll send word immediately if I get any news on Merlin." He paused. "On second thought, perhaps I'll accompany you. I'm not certain I can bear sitting around waiting."

"I understand, sire. And I will appreciate your company."

It wasn't a long walk to the inn, but when they stepped inside, a rather thin, willowy woman rushed Gaius, wringing her hands.

"She's gone, Gaius. I don't understand. When I told her I asked you to come, she got so angry. I went up to her room to explain you wouldn't charge her, but they were gone."

"Calm down, Sara," Gaius said, rubbing her shoulders. "What's happened now? Who's gone?"

Sara took a deep breath. "That woman I told you about. With the sick little girl. At lunch I mentioned that I asked you to check on her daughter. I thought she'd be so relieved. I've not seen the little one move since she got here, nor heard one peep, though at that age they should be making all sorts of noise. But she got all pale, then red. For a moment I feared she might strike me. Then she just went upstairs and locked herself in her room. I got worried and had my husband open the door an hour later, and they were gone."

An eerie chill shot up Arthur's spine and judging by the look Gaius shot him, the physician shared his concern.

"Are you certain it was a female child?" Arthur asked.

The woman jumped, and clapped a hand to her chest. "My Lord!" She dropped into a deep curtsey. "Forgive me, I didn't notice you there."

Annoyed, Arthur waved her silent. "Are you certain the woman's child was a girl?"

Sara's brow furrowed. "I-I guess. I mean the woman said she was her daughter. And the girl was wearing a dress and a headscarf."

"What did the child look like?" Gaius asked, his voice kind, but urgent. "Hair color? Eye color? Fair or dark?"

"She was a cute little thing, except for a set of rather unfortunate ears. I daresay she'll grow into them one day, though. Very skinny, poor dear. Must have been sick for a while. I think her hair was dark, black or maybe brown. I couldn't see much for the scarf. She never opened her eyes, but her skin was very pale." Sara frowned at that and looked at Arthur. "Huh. Now that I think about it, the mother was blond and had your coloring, sire. Not at all like her daughter."

"When did you notice they were missing?" Arthur pressed.

"A couple hours ago. I shouldn't have meddled, but I was so worried about that little girl. And now you've come all this way for nothing."

"I'll check the room, sire, go," Gaius said, anticipating Arthur's thoughts.

The king almost ran from the inn down to the city gate. Elyan was there with the guards checking those entering and leaving the city. Arthur had insisted that one of the knights who could recognize Merlin be at the gate at all times, but if Merlin had been disguised as a girl, rather than by a glamour, they might have managed to slip past undetected.

"Elyan!" Arthur called. The knight waved past the old man he'd just checked and barred the way.

"Sire?"

"Have a mother and daughter passed through here recently?" Arthur asked, scanning the crowds as he spoke. There were many peasants and women, but none with children.

Elyan considered. "A little while ago an older woman carrying a little girl came through."

Arthur's chest tightened. He clenched his hands into fists and willed his temper in check. "Was the woman blond?"

"I believe so, sire," Elyan replied, tension building in his once calm face. "She was wearing a headscarf, so I'm not certain. But she had a little girl with her. And the mirrors revealed no glamour."

Grinding his teeth, Arthur turned to the guards, "You may resume your usual duties now. Elyan, get Percival. We're to ride out immediately. That woman was the sorceress, and she just smuggled Merlin out of the city."

~~~

Arthur was acting strange, Agravaine thought. Ever since the king had come back after being attacked by those sorcerers, he'd been more secretive, spending all his time holed up in his room or with the Court Physician. Agravaine had seen neither hide nor hair of that pest Merlin since then either. That in itself was worrying as the meddling servant was always underfoot. No wonder Morgana called him a thorn in her side. It wouldn't surprise him if the boy also knew who Emrys was. Maybe they should have abducted him instead of the old man. Gaius wouldn't have been able to launch a rescue mission like the boy had.

Even stranger, this business with the sorceress spotted in the lower town had Arthur, who'd never been known to react as violently as Uther, up in arms. And no one had even gotten hurt. Something was definitely up, but what?

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Agravaine ducked into a nearby alcove, out of sight but within hearing range. He'd found this to be a lucrative method of gathering intelligence for Morgana and rather enjoyed it.

This time it really paid off.

"Gwaine!" the king snapped, sounding irritated.

Someone, presumably Gwaine, stopped and the second footsteps caught up.

"I'm going, Arthur," Gwaine said. "I owe him this. It was my fault he was taken. Now I've got to make it up to him."

"You're injured," the king protested.

"Not too injured to help a friend," Gwaine said. "And don't tell me Merlin wouldn't do the same for us, if one of us had been taken."

The pair continued on out of hearing range, but Agravaine had heard enough. Merlin had been taken. No wonder Arthur was so upset and so secretive. He had an unnatural attachment to that pest, and the council would have protested so much effort expended to recover a mere servant. As a young king just beginning his reign, Arthur couldn't afford to challenge the council too much.

This was a perfect opportunity to be rid of that nuisance once and for all. If the young man had been taken by this sorceress from the lower town, surely Morgana would be able to convince her to hand over the servant, or kill him once she was done with him. Pleased to have such good news to pass on, Agravaine saddled his horse and set out immediately for Morgana's hut.

When he marched in without announcing his presence, she stood at her table, poring over some documents. "Do you have the plans, Agravaine? And I do hope for your sake, you do not disappoint me again."

"I do, my lady," Agravaine said. He handed a roll of papers to Morgana, who snatched them and spread them next to some blank paper on her table. "In fact, I had a rather easy time of it. The king has been most distracted of late, and I haven't seen that meddling servant of his at all. Also, I have some interesting news concerning that pest."

Morgana waved her hand over the plans and muttered a spell. Her eyes flashed gold and a duplicate of the plans appeared on the blank paper. She rolled the originals up and handed them to Agravaine. "Well, what is this news? I haven't got all day. I need to get these to Helios."

"Ah, yes, well, it seems Arthur's manservant has been abducted by a sorceress. The king's preparing as we speak to ride out after him."

"Good riddance to that servant, but I fail to see how that is interesting enough to warrant this interruption," Morgana snapped. "We are not yet prepared to invade, so the king's absence means nothing at this point."

"If you were to get to the boy first, my lady, ensure that the king's efforts do not succeed . . . . The last time he thought the man missing, it drove him to distraction with grief. Were he to actually find him, not-living as it were, well, a similar reaction would not hurt your cause. Remember, the servant's proven more troublesome than just a pest. Were it not for his interference we might have gotten the identity of Emrys from Gaius."

Morgana snarled and slammed her hand on the table. "It was also that snake Alator who turned on me!" She smiled, flickering between moods with a frightening speed. "But I see your point. I'll deliver these plans to Helios, then I will find this sorceress and make certain that Merlin never interferes with us again. Don't worry your precious head, Agravaine. Soon the servant will be dead and Camelot will be mine."

Chapter Text

Birds were singing when Merlin woke the next time. He opened his eyes and watched patches of blue sky winking through trees overhead. Irina was carrying him through a forest.  Tears sprang to his eyes, but he fought them back and didn't try to move. If she heard him, she'd make him take something, and he would go back to sleep. Merlin didn't want to sleep again. He wanted his mother and his own home and his best friend Will.

Too soon, though, she glanced down and noticed him. "Oh, dear, it's wearing off faster, and I've only one dose left."

Merlin squirmed as Irina stopped and laid him on the ground. His body still wouldn't move properly, though. She bent over him with a little bottle in hand.

"I don't wanna go to sleep again," he begged. "Please."

"I'm sorry, Emrys, but we're only trying to help you," she said as she forced the last of the bottle's contents into his mouth, clamping his mouth and nose shut so he couldn't spit it out.

Upon hearing the name Emrys, Merlin tried even harder to fight. Irina was with the scary man with the light from his dream. She must have taken him from his mum and Arthur like the other man tried. The drug's effects were inescapable though, and within minutes his eyes fluttered closed again.

The next time it was dark, and Merlin didn't have to take anything. He lay quietly, watching the woman sit on a stump near a fire as the fuzziness slowly started to lift. Irina looked back at him, very sad, and she held something shiny with a rag. Whatever it was, she didn't seem to like it because she held it out as far from herself as she could and shuddered every now and then.

Finally, just as he got enough control of his arms and legs to sit up, the woman walked over and knelt beside him. "I'm so sorry, Emrys. I really hoped I wouldn't have to use this, but Tibalt insisted. I'm out of the drug and our camp is still too far away."

Merlin tried to crawl back, but his arms and legs wobbled and shook. His magic eddied and swirled inside him, but he couldn't make it respond, as if it, too, wasn't quite awake enough to move. With whispered apologies, she removed his left boot, easily overpowering his struggles, and put the shiny thing, a circular band with strange markings that made Merlin's stomach turn, on his ankle. A single word passed her lips and her eyes glowed gold. The band tightened until it fit flush against his skin, and she slipped his boot back on.

The world vanished, or it seemed to. Merlin could still see the woman, the trees, the campfire; smell the smoke, the pines, the moist dirt; hear the logs crack, Irina breathe, the night creatures move; feel the chill air, the rough pallet, a sharp rock poking his back. But the world wasn't there. No, not the world, Merlin wasn't there. He reached out to touch a stalk of grass, half-expecting his fingers to glide through it like he was made of smoke. They didn't, but he couldn't feel it like normal.

Deep, down inside his magic burned and writhed, same as when he tried to stop for his mum. Soon the itching would start, and his mum would be so mad and make him wear rags on his hands again. No, he wasn't a baby and Arthur had made him Secret Sorcerer. He could use magic.

So Merlin tried something simple, making a leaf float, and nothing happened. He tried again and again, tears spilling when nothing happened. His magic just seemed to ghost through everything, like he'd expected his hand to do when he touched the grass a moment ago.

Apparently Irina knew he was trying magic. "I'm sorry, Emrys, but I had no choice. I have to take away your magic until I can get you to your people. You'll thank me when you're old enough to understand."

"No, you don't understand!" he snapped. She didn't take away his magic. Gaius said he was magic, and she couldn't take away what he was. All she'd done was make his magic stay inside, stop it from touching the world. He sniffed, relieved that he could finally move enough to rub his face. "Why do you want to hurt me?"

"Oh, dear child, we don't want to hurt you!" she exclaimed. She drew him into her lap and dried his tears with her sleeve.

Merlin pushed and fought to get away. He didn't care if he was acting like a baby. This lady kept trying to hold and cuddle him, and he didn't like it. She wasn't his mum, she just pretended to be. Well, he didn't want to pretend with her.

"We want to save you. Return you to your own kind where you can nurture your gift, not hide it."

Merlin tugged at his left ankle. "Hurts!"

"I know it's uncomfortable being cut off from magic. To feel so empty, only half-alive." She kissed his forehead. "But it's only temporary, little one. A few days or weeks at most. Just until you understand that we want to help you."

"No, that's wrong! It's too much. Inside. I itch and bleed and then I die! Die is when you don't wake up." He pawed at his chest and then the boot covering the band, trying to show her. Mum knew. Mum understood. And Gaius. And Arthur. But they weren't there to help. "It can't stay inside. It has to come out."

His pleas fell on deaf ears. This woman didn't understand. She offered him some food, but Merlin couldn't eat no matter how hungry he felt. "Can't."

"You haven't eaten more than a few sips of broth in two days, Emrys. And you're too thin as it is. Come on, now. It's good and warm."

When he refused, Irina held him still with magic and fed him like a baby. He threw it up a few minutes later all over her. Merlin felt awful and his mouth tasted yucky, but her horrified reaction more than made up for it.

"Told you I can't," he muttered and looked down at himself. That was when he noticed he was wearing something long and flowing. He glared at her, knowing if his magic could get out she'd probably burst into flames. "This is a dress!"

"Stay there," Irina said a little sharply. Merlin huffed. She wasn't nearly as concerned about what he was wearing as she should have been. People might think he was a girl!

Magic pinned Merlin in place, and she disappeared out of his line of sight. When she came back, she wore a different dress and had a water skin.

"Let's get you cleaned up and get some sleep."

He opened his mouth to tell her he wasn't sleepy at all, then closed it. If she went to sleep, maybe he could run away. Will had taught him how to sneak really good. He wasn't sure where he was, but anywhere would be better than with her.

The woman washed his face and made him rinse his mouth and spit several times. Then she tucked him into some blankets, tied a short tether from his wrist to hers, and lay down behind him. Merlin hid a grin behind his hand. He and Will used to tie each other up all the time and take turns escaping. Only Will could tie better knots, and Merlin still got loose, without magic. 

In no time at all, the woman's soft snores filled the air. Snickering to himself, Merlin slipped his hand free and stumbled away into the forest. It was a lot scarier in the dark by himself. Every sound seemed louder, and each shadow hid a monster. With the traces of the drug still in his system, no magic and a queasy stomach, the going was even harder. Not to mention the stupid dress kept tripping him! Eventually, he got fed up and stopped to take off the dumb girly thing. He'd rather walk naked.

Worse than wearing a dress, he discovered, was not being able to get out of one.

Merlin had gotten the hang of breeches (ones that only tied, not laced) and almost could do a tunic by himself (Mum only had to do his arms through the sleeves and his head through the top, but that was it!), but a dress was something foreign. He'd managed to get himself hopelessly trapped, when a girl laughed and suddenly a pair of gentle hands started to untangle him.

"How did you get all the way out here like this?" the girl asked, clearly amused.

Merlin's heart stopped racing when he didn't recognize the voice. It wasn't the lady who took him. And then he was free of the cursed dress. Fortunately, his breeches and tunic had been underneath, but the tunic was twisted, exposing most of his tummy to the cool night air, and one of his breeches legs was stuck above his knee.

His savior was one of the prettiest ladies he'd ever seen, with dark, messy hair and bright, pretty eyes that almost glowed in the moonlight. She straightened his clothes, then smoothed his hair and nodded her approval. 

Merlin grinned. How lucky he was to find someone to help him way out here. "Thank you. A bad lady brought me out here. She made me sleep all the time and put me in a dress!" He kicked the offending item for good measure. "But I got away. She tied me up, but Will can tie better knots and I get out all the time. What's your name? I'm Merlin. I'm four."

The woman inhaled sharply and narrowed her eyes at him. She seemed almost angry, though Merlin couldn't imagine what he might have done to upset her. She'd helped him, after all. If she didn't like him, she wouldn't have. Merlin bit his lip and looked down at his feet.

"That's okay. You don't have to tell me. Do you know where Camelot is? That's where my mum is. We're visiting Gaius. I—I don't know where I am and I want to get back before the bad lady finds me."

Merlin remembered the coins Gwaine had given him, thrust into a pocket when he'd gotten the sweetmeats. He fished them out and held them up to the lady. "I have this. Mum says you have to pay for stuff when people help you. Like when Will's dad fixed the water that fell on my head when it rained. He had to climb on top of the house and mum gave him eggs and milk because we didn't have coins. But I have coins. See."

The woman crouched to be at his eye level and stared at him. "What did you say your name was?"

"Merlin."

She smiled, though it made her look scarier rather than prettier. He hugged his coins to his chest and took a step back.

"Well, well, Merlin. My name is Morgana. And I know how to get to Camelot."

Merlin perked up. "You do?"

Morgana nodded. "I even know your mother, Hunith. We met several years ago. You don't remember that?"

He shook his head. "I'm four. Maybe that was before me. Mum says that's why I don't remember my dad. Because he was gone before I came." Excited chills raced up his spine. Merlin bounced on his toes. "Do you know my dad? Can you tell him to come home 'cause Mum and I miss him?"

Morgana looked startled for a second. "No, I didn't know your father. Sorry."

"Oh." Merlin's shoulders slumped and he tried really hard not to let her see how disappointed he was. He didn't want to make her mad and be left there alone. "That's okay."

 The pretty Morgana took his hand in hers (It was very soft and warm.) and tugged him into motion. He trotted alongside her and held out the coins again. "Here."

She accepted them hesitantly, then grimaced. Merlin remembered he'd been eating sweetmeats when he put them in his pocket and they were probably sticky. He waited for her to say something, but instead she tucked them away, wiped her hand on her skirt and kept going. "Quickly now."

 A funny feeling fluttered in Merlin's chest, aside from the tingle and burn of his caged magic. Morgana had helped him and even knew his mother's name, but there was something not right about her. She remained silent while they walked, not even complaining at Merlin's frequent stumbles. He was still weak from his captivity and the band around his ankle itched. He tried to bend down and reach into the boot to scratch, but Morgana yanked him along, hurting his wrist when he almost fell. Merlin tried to rub it with his other foot and met with the same result.

"Can we slow down, please? You're hurting me," Merlin said, certain she just hadn't noticed his struggles.

"No," she answered sharply and gripped his wrist even harder when he tried to pull free.

The flutter in his chest grew stronger. Morgana scared him, he realized. And then his situation sank in. He was all alone in a forest at night and had trusted a strange lady who appeared from nowhere.

"You're not a nice lady, are you? You're not going to take me to my mum."

When she ignored him, Merlin dug his heels into the ground, forcing her to trip that time. He opened his mouth to tell her he didn't want to go with her anymore, but an open hand struck his cheek with a resounding smack. Pain exploded across his face, blinding one eye momentarily and his jaw ached. His eyes watered, and he pressed a hand to his cheek. No one, not even old man Simmons, had ever struck him like that.

Morgana bent, her face hovering inches from his, and took him by the shoulders. She seemed to be searching for something, but Merlin couldn't possibly figure out what. Irina had taken him and trapped his magic, but she liked him. Morgana seemed to hate him. He met her gaze, tears flowing freely, utterly confused.

A very animal growl escaped her lips, and she shook him. "I know you're in there somewhere, you meddling imbecile! I will make you pay for what you've done to me and mine. Don't think this" –she gestured vaguely at him— "will save you from me."

She released him so suddenly, Merlin fell back. He tried to catch his fall with his left arm and something inside popped. He screamed in pain and hugged the injured wrist against his chest.

"I didn't . . . do . . . anything," Merlin protested between sobs. "I don't . . . know you. I just . . . want . . . my mum . . . and home . . . and  . . .  and . . . ."

"Shut up!" Morgana snapped. "Useless fool, I should just kill you now."

Morgana extended her right hand toward him and drew herself up, tall and terrible and beautiful. Then suddenly, she was flying through the air as if an invisible giant had swatted her. A tree halted her flight and she slumped, unmoving, at its base.

"Emrys!"

Merlin turned to see Irina puff, red-faced, toward him. One hand held her skirt and the other was still lifted from doing magic. Merlin didn't spare either woman a second look as he bolted in the opposite direction. His body itched and trembled, his face ached and his wrist throbbed, but he had to get away.

Miraculously, Merlin managed not to fall again despite the darkness and numerous tree roots and rocks. He couldn't keep running forever, though. And the sobbing only made it harder because he didn't have room for air. And then he did stop—very suddenly—when he ran full force into something tall and hard and bounced back and onto his backside. Shock silenced his crying. He sat, clutching his hurt arm, and blinked up at what looked like a giant boulder, or pile of boulders. The boulders shifted and a pair of large, golden eyes blinked down at him. A voice tinged with the faintest rumble of amusement asked, "I did not imagine I would run into you here, little warlock. Or rather, you would run into me."

With a single, wordless shout of relief, Merlin sprang to his feet and threw himself at one of the dragon's large, clawed feet. He rubbed his tear-streaked face on the warm scales and hugged as tightly as he could with one arm. Instinctively, the dragon seemed to sense his need. A large, scaled head pressed gently against Merlin's back, holding him against his paw in a kind of hug. "Peace, my little warlock. We are kin. My strength and power will keep you from harm."

Merlin wanted to tell the dragon what had happened, ask it to take him home, but all he could do was tremble against the dragon's strength and sink into the warm comfort of knowing he was safe.

~~~

Kilgharrah felt the tension drain from the little warlock beneath his touch. For all their troubles in the past, he was fond of the boy and didn't wish to see him suffer. But he was suffering, that much was clear. Human herbs tainted his scent, probably forced on the boy to keep him submissive. He radiated weakness, far more than the fading taint would indicate, which meant exhaustion, possibly malnourishment, and injury, though he wouldn't be able to properly assess the latter until morning. And aside from the curse that had returned the warlock to this vulnerable form, an aura of dark magic surrounded him. Kilgharrah sniffed. Likely that was what had prevented him from sensing the boy was in trouble. With his magical senses he probed the foulness. He snorted smoke when he realized some fool had dared bind the warlock's magic.

Not much later, the noise of whoever pursued the warlock drew closer. The dragon longed to confront them for their affront against his kin and dragonlord, but that would only add to the warlock's distress. Instead, he would retreat and take the child to safety. Mindful of his razor talons, the dragon scooped Merlin up with his paw. The warlock wordlessly accepted the change and burrowed deeper into his grip.

The dragon sprang up and churned the air with mighty beats of his wings, carrying them off into the night. Merlin shivered as the altitude increased, but Kilgharrah's body heat would protect him. Though he didn't speak, the boy shifted to peek out between the gaps of his claws.

"Careful, little one, don't lean out too far."

Merlin said nothing, but obediently scooted away from the opening. His young warlock had always had a rather busy tongue, even more so now. This silence concerned the dragon. He needed to get the warlock back to the care of his mother, the young king and the old traitor. Unfortunately, he could not readily return to Camelot, and it was likely the young king had gone in search of his missing half.

Sighing, Kilgharrah made his way to a system of nearby caverns he frequented. He could keep his young charge there until morning, then they could search for the king. The dragon paused outside the cavern. It was spacious enough to fit him comfortably and relatively free of debris, but the little warlock didn't share his excellent night vision. Likely it would be pitch dark inside, something that disturbed young humans even more than the adults.

He gently set Merlin on a nearby patch of grass. "Stay put, little warlock, and I will get something for light."

A felled tree became kindling with one blow from his paw and he carried the pieces to the back of the cave and breathed fire over them. The wood burst into flame and the stones around it creaked beneath the heat. When he deemed it cool enough, he called for Merlin to join him.

The boy tottered in, holding his left arm as if it pained him. By the light of the fire, the dragon could already see nasty bruising forming along the right side of his face where someone had struck him. Kilgharrah positioned himself between the boy and the cave entrance and lay down.

"I can tell you are injured, Merlin. Let me see your wounds."

Still quiet, Merlin very slowly extended his arm. The dragon could see the wrist was swollen and the pale skin darkening. With the warlock's lack of flesh, he could clearly tell nothing was broken or out of place. Kilgharrah opened his mouth and breathed healing magic onto the boy, but to his surprise it didn't work.

Merlin didn't seem too surprised. He sat down and removed his left boot. A wicked band of metal glinted around his ankle. Already the surrounding skin was raw where the boy had tried to get it off, probably unconsciously. Kilgharrah's eyes narrowed. He recognized it as the work of a long dead priestess, of a similar make to the chains that once bound him beneath Camelot, meant to contain powerful creatures of the Old Religion like himself and the young warlock.

Merlin clawed at his ankle with his good hand. "Hurts," he finally said.

"I am sorry, child. I can do nothing for you until the binding is removed. You will need a druid or a priestess for that task. Would you like to tell me what happened?"

Merlin nodded and looked up at him through his eyelashes. "Can I sit with you?"

Recognizing the child's need for comfort after his ordeal, Kilgharrah conceded, "You may this once."

The warlock flashed a half-hearted grin and nestled down into the space between the dragon's foreleg and his chest and idly stroked the scales of his leg with the uninjured hand. "Gwaine took me to the market. It was fun and kind of scary, but mostly fun. I got sweetmeats from a lady, Irina. She was nice at first, but I got a stomachache and went to sleep. And then every time I woke up, she was there and no one else and she made me go to sleep again. Then I woke up and we were in the woods. She didn't make me go to sleep. Instead she put this on me."

He clawed at his ankle again. "I don't like it. It hurts, inside, because the magic can't get out and that hurts me because I'm different. Oh, and she put me in a dress like a girl! I tried to take it off, but I got stuck. And a pretty lady named Morgana helped me, but then she got angry and hurt me. I don't know why she hated me. Irina, the one who took me, she liked me a lot. She kept trying to hug me and pretend to be my mum. But Morgana said she wanted to kill me. Irina stopped her and I ran away again and found you. I like you. Thank you for helping me. I had coins, but I gave them to Morgana before she hurt me. When we find my mum, I can get you some because you're supposed to pay people who help you."

 "I am not people, Merlin. I seek no monetary compensation."

"Huh?"

"You don't have to pay me, Merlin. We are kin. And you do not remember, but you have already done my kind the greatest service."

"Oh, okay," Merlin said.

Kilgharrah closed his eyes and drifted back to the sleep that had been so rudely interrupted earlier.

"Thank you," Merlin said, startling him awake again. The boy shifted so that he was lying on his back and walked his feet up and down Kilgharrah's chest.

"You have already said that, little one."

"No, I mean thank you for the flying. I wanted to fly before, but Arthur wouldn't let me. It was lots of fun. Can we go flying again?"

"Merlin," the dragon said, allowing a bit of a growl to deepen his voice. "I am glad you are feeling better, but you should rest. And I, too, must rest."

"But I'm not tired," Merlin said. "I slept a lot. And I hurt. I can't sleep when I hurt and I'm not tired."

"Then you must find a quiet way to entertain yourself while I sleep. Do not touch the fire and do not attempt to leave the cave. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Merlin said, getting up to explore the parts of the cave lit by the fire. Kilgharrah watched with one eye long enough to make sure the boy would obey and then slept.

Morning announced itself with a swath of warm sunlight on the scales of his side and back. Kilgharrah yawned and stretched, forgetting for a moment why he was in a cave and not on the lovely patch of grass he'd found yesterday. He remembered upon hearing the shallow, labored breaths coming from by his right foreleg. Merlin.

The child warlock lay listlessly against the crook of his forearm, a stick with a blackened point in hand. He gazed up at Kilgharrah with glassy eyes. His pale face was unusually red, and the dragon could see raw patches peeking out from the collar of his tunic where he'd likely been scratching. If the dragon's morning stretch had disturbed him, he showed no sign. Other than his blue eyes tracking the dragon's movements, he seemed nearly catatonic.

Kilgharrah examined their cave, surprised to see infantile drawings adorning the wall. That explained the blackened stick. He recognized a crude stick figure that looked like the young king and what was likely Merlin's mother, holding a smaller figure by the hand. Illegible scribbles, likely intended to be labels, were directed to each drawing by arrows. The only one he could read was a poorly scrawled "Merlin" beside the small figure. The drawings grew less and less distinct as they continued around the cavern, the final one abandoned mid-sketch.

His obedience had been rather surprising, though likely that was a sign of his ill health more than improved behavior. Kilgharrah nudged Merlin gently. "Good morning, little warlock."

Merlin huffed a slightly deeper breath in acknowledgement, but otherwise didn't move. The boy's condition was deteriorating quickly.

"Come." He stood and gingerly gathered the boy into his palm again. "It is time we find your king."

As soon as he took to the skies, Kilgharrah sent a mental message to the druid chieftain encamped in the forest near Camelot. He knew the man had assisted his warlock in the past and would no doubt do so again.

Chapter Text

Night descended with a cruel swiftness. It was late afternoon when Arthur, Elyan, Gwaine and Percival set out from Camelot, and they only discovered the sorceress's trail in time to make camp before it was too dark to see. Elyan saw to the fire, while Percival tended the horses. Gwaine, injured as he was, had to rest while everyone else, even the king, went about setting camp.

The air had turned chilly, and Arthur worried Merlin might not be warm enough. The boy was drugged and utterly defenseless at the mercy of a sorceress. Propped against a tree on the outskirts of camp, Arthur stared at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists. He hated that there was nothing more he could do. If only they'd found him sooner, or caught them as they were leaving the city.

"Worried about Merlin?" Elyan said, taking a seat beside the king.

Arthur scowled and didn't dignify that with a response.

"Sire, I know you don't want to think about this, but what if we're too late? They've had him for a couple days now. What if by the time we get him back, they've removed his memories?"

No, there was no way. He needed Merlin, the old Merlin, his friend Merlin. He refused to consider the possibility that they might fail him. Damn, Elyan.

"I . . . I don't think it will be necessary, but if that happens, I will take him in as my ward, as my father did with Morgana, though I will do better by him than my father did with her. Merlin and Hunith will be well-provided for."

"Damn right you will!" Gwaine interjected. "And if you don't, I certainly will. Raise him as my own son. Look after Hunith."

"Well, for Merlin's sake we'd better pray Arthur steps up," Percival quipped. "Or better yet, Merlin is restored to normal."

It felt good to smile, but the worry hadn't abated. And it wouldn't until Arthur could see Merlin with his own eyes. Arthur stood, wiped his hands on his thighs, but before he could announce the watch schedule, Elyan jumped in.

"Sire, let us take the watch the tonight. You and Gwaine really need to rest if we want to resume our hunt at first light."

Arthur briefly considered protesting, but in the end just nodded and retreated to his bedroll. To his surprise, he was out almost as soon as his head hit the ground.

What seemed an instant later, Percival was shaking him awake. "It's time, sire." The large knight handed him a hunk of bread and cheese, then returned to help the others break down camp. Within half an hour they were on the trail again.

The horses noticed it first. They grew uneasy and restless despite the reassurance of their riders. Without Merlin among them, Arthur realized with a sharp pang of sadness, he didn't have to bother to signal for silence as they tried to pinpoint what was disturbing the animals. A few moments later they heard something, a distant thump, thump repeating at regular intervals. Arthur suppressed a shiver and quickly signaled for the men to dismount and stand down. He would recognize that sound anywhere after all those nights hearing it before the deadly blast of flame and the dragon's roar struck fear into their hearts.

Fear remained Arthur's first reaction, but he reminded himself of what Gaius had said about Merlin and the dragon being allies of sorts. Maybe the beast had sensed Merlin's trouble and come to help. A quick glance exchanged with Elyan, Percival and Gwaine showed they'd thought similarly and appeared to be having as difficult a time remaining calm.

A few minutes later, the great beast itself appeared overhead. It wheeled sharply and dropped, with unexpected grace, onto three legs. The other paw curled protectively around something. It folded its wings against its sides and surveyed the group. "Young Pendragon, you do not seem as surprised to see me alive as I would have thought. Perhaps certain truths have come to light recently?"

Taking a breath and hoping his voice didn't falter, Arthur stepped forward. "I have been told a few things, yes. Gaius says Merlin is a dragonlord and he spared you when he sent you away. And he hinted that perhaps you are no longer an enemy to us."

"I was never your enemy, young king," the dragon said. "And though the warlock and I had our differences, neither am I his. He showed me mercy once." The dragon opened its paw and with incongruous gentleness deposited a rumpled Merlin on the grass at their feet. "And now I have shown it to him. He is my kin and the last of his kind. I could do no less."

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed, dropping to his knees beside him. Merlin responded to his name by rolling over to face him.

Arthur gasped. The entire right side of his face was purple and swollen where someone had struck him. Hard. He held his left arm close to his body, and Arthur could tell it was swollen and discolored as well. Behind him, the knights stirred, unsettled by the sight.

Surprisingly, it was the taciturn Percival, beating Gwaine to the punch, who rushed forward and angrily demanded, "Who did this to him?"

Fortunately, Elyan managed to keep both his comrades in check before they could anger the beast.

"That is the handiwork of the witch Morgana according to Merlin," the dragon said, his voice rumbling with anger as well.

Morgana?  How was she involved in all this? Biting back his own rage, Arthur continued his examination. Merlin whimpered beneath Arthur's ministrations and watched the king with glassy, listless eyes. Raw patches marred his exposed skin. Arthur drew the tunic up and winced at the sight. The boy's thin torso was almost covered in scratches, many places as raw as the area around his collar. He recognized the self-inflicted wounds and remembered Merlin's comment about what happened when he tried to stop using magic. But why would he have stopped? Arthur's heart lurched. Had the boy restrained himself trying to comply with his silly rule about needing his permission?

"Please, Merlin, try to heal yourself if you can," Arthur whispered and touched a hand to the flushed cheek that wasn't bruised. "He's burning up, but none of his wounds look infected!"

Arthur jumped when the dragon's booming voice answered. "He has been bound by those who took him. If his magic is not released soon, it will be the death of him."

Merlin stretched his good hand down and tugged at his left boot. "Hurts."

Growling, Arthur worked the boot off Merlin's foot and bit his lip. A metal band etched with strange markings and symbols fit flush around his ankle. The skin around it was reduced to bloody welts and scratches where Merlin had clawed at it.

"How could his fellow magic users have done this to him?" Arthur exclaimed. "Surely, they had to realize how it would affect him."

"Few truly understand the nature of the young warlock's power," a gentle voice said. "And then that is all they see. But it is his heart, not his power, that makes him great. That makes him Emrys."

They wheeled, drawing weapons, to find a lone druid standing placidly behind them. Arthur recognized the curly hair and pleasant face of the druid chieftain, Iseldir, he'd delivered Mordred to and who'd also handed over the Cup of Life. The man smiled and inclined his head slightly. Arthur, Gwaine and Percival relaxed, but Elyan stiffened. He'd nearly killed the king and gotten himself executed because of a druid spirit, so the reaction was understandable.

Iseldir didn't seem to mind. He walked over and bowed to the dragon. "I received your message, Kilgharrah. I came as soon as I could."

The druid knelt beside Merlin and held his hands out. "May I?"

Merlin glanced at Arthur, then slipped his uninjured hand into the king's larger one before nodding.

Projecting calm, Iseldir reached out for Merlin's foot the way one might approach a skittish horse. He stroked the boy's calf, slowly inching toward the injured flesh. Merlin's grip tightened as the man approached the band and his breathing grew more rapid.

"Oh, Emrys!" the druid exclaimed softly, his voice heavy with sympathy.

"No!" Merlin shouted and burst into tears. He kicked the Iseldir's hands away, crawled into Arthur's lap and clung in a trembling ball to his neck.

The druid looked as shocked as everyone else. "Please, Emrys, I can help you."

"Don't make me go to sleep again," Merlin sobbed into Arthur's shoulder. "I'm Merlin. Merlin. I don't want to sleep again." He clawed at his foot, reopening the scratches. "It hurts."

Arthur rubbed his back and eased his hand away from his ankle. "What's wrong, Merlin?"

"She called me that. The bad man with the light called me that. That's not my name. She made me sleep." Merlin tried to grab his ankle again, but Arthur caught his hand.

"I'm sorry, Em-Merlin. The people who hurt you were once druids like me, but they broke faith long ago. I promise I only wish to help. You may stay with King Arthur if you like. May I help you, Merlin?"

"It hurts," Merlin whined, not really answering, but Arthur nodded at the druid over the boy's head. Merlin was too traumatized to realize he needed help, so it was up to them to ensure he got it.

Iseldir wrapped a hand around Merlin's slender ankle easily and completely covered the metal band, though from the grimace on his face its touch must have pained him as well. Arthur stilled Merlin's struggles with a hand on his thigh and whispered encouragement in his ear.

The druid began to speak words in the odd, musical language of magic. The foreign sounds set Arthur's skin crawling. All the magic he'd seen Merlin do had been instinctive, without spells, which had, for some reason, made it a bit easier to differentiate from the type of magic he'd been raised to fear. But this, this was too much like what had caused him and Camelot so much harm, and he had to fight not to wrench Merlin away from the man.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the man's eyes flashed gold and the metal band fell free. The druid recoiled sharply, letting it hit the ground. And then the world was awash in magic—pure, innocent and wild—almost exactly like the thunderstorm Merlin had compared it to. The king grinned, recognizing the unique Merlin-ness that howled and thrashed and caressed and embraced him, awing him with its power and humbling him with its gentleness.

Arthur laughed out loud. This was magic. This was Merlin. And miracle of miracles, it wanted nothing more than to stand at his side.

The forest seemed oddly quiet and flat after the brilliance of Merlin's magic receded. All but the dragon appeared a bit stunned, staring into space with vague smiles on their faces. Elyan looked to Arthur with an expression of joy and dawning comprehension. Arthur knew the man finally understood why Arthur had so easily forgiven the warlock. You couldn't be touched by something as pure as that and think it evil.

Merlin carefully lifted his bruised face from Arthur's shoulder, his mouth schooled into a little "o" of surprise. The boy glanced down at the metal band on the ground. Rage twisted his young features, and the blue eyes blazed gold. Merlin slid from Arthur's lax grip, his good hand balled into a tight, little fist. Overhead storm clouds materialized and lightning split the air accompanied by deafening thunder. Arthur shivered. As pure and innocent as the earlier outburst was, this was a display of magic at its most terrible. Arthur had never seen Merlin so angry, and even he wasn't too arrogant to admit it frightened him. Everyone, even the druid and the dragon, took a step back.

The ground beneath their feet began to tremble slightly and the metal band slowly lifted from the ground beneath Merlin's steady glare. As they watched, the air around the metal shimmered. The band began to slowly disintegrate, evaporating into thin air like smoke. Merlin's bony shoulders heaved, and the storm raged on. Everywhere the air started to shimmer. Arthur began panting for breath as the magic drove out the air. His clothing and mail began to trail vapor.

Arthur could feel it then, the magic flooding the area around them. Eventually, it would force out every other substance until nothing but that raw energy remained. His heart lurched when he realized Merlin was about to repeat that little display on a much larger scale.

Young Pendragon, the dragon's voice boomed directly into Arthur's head. The little warlock has the full power of his adult self, but with a child's mind to guide it. And right now that child is hurt, frightened and angry and doesn't know how to deal with those emotions. You must stop this tantrum before he destroys us all.

What do you expect me to do against that? Arthur thought, and the unexpected reply startled him.

He is the embodiment of wild magic and nature; you are the representative of human order and civilization. You are his king, his other half, his balance, as he is yours. Only you can make him submit.

That annoying dragon was right. He was the king, and Merlin was his servant, his friend, his responsibility, although he hadn't realized just how big a job that was when he took it on. Merlin had always been there for him, a voice of reason when he threatened to veer too wildly out of control. If it weren't for Merlin, he'd have killed his own father years ago after that incident with Morgause and his mother's spirit.

Yet with the kind of power Merlin wielded, the warlock was a hundred times more dangerous when he lost control. No, no that wasn't true. Arthur's lapses could be just as deadly. The lessons learned with the unicorn and with Queen Annis were hard earned, and ones he wasn't likely to forget. He was a king and his mistakes could topple his kingdom and those of his allies. Merlin had helped prevent those from becoming disasters, had tried to warn him before if Arthur had only been willing to listen.

Now, he had to try to return the favor.

Forcing his own fear under control, Arthur stepped up to the tiny warlock and turned him around to face him by his bony shoulders. His skin felt raw where he touched Merlin, but he ignored the discomfort.

"Merlin, that's enough. You're safe now. It's over."

Those burning gold eyes shimmered with tears. "It hurt! I was going to die and not wake up." He hugged himself. "It hurt. It hurt. Everything is wrong. I just want everything to be right again!"

The ground shuddered at the boy's words, and Arthur wondered if Merlin were really capable of reshaping the world itself back to what he thought it should be. He didn't want to believe the little voice in the back of his head that said, "Probably."

Arthur shifted his hands to cup Merlin's face, forcing him to look him in the eye. "No, Merlin. Listen to me. You are my Secret Sorcerer and you swore an oath to obey me. As your king, I am telling you to let it go. They can't hurt you anymore, but if you keep this up, you're going to hurt me, Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, your big dragon, everyone. Even your mum."

Merlin blinked and the ground stilled. He shook his head slowly and began crying in earnest. The gold faded from his eyes, and he collapsed. Arthur caught him before he could hit the ground, pressed him to his chest and rocked him gently, not caring who saw him comforting the distraught boy.

The storm cleared and the ominous weight in the air lightened, but no one dared move. Not until Merlin's sobs turned into hiccups and then sniffling silence.

Gwaine was the first to speak. "I think he's out."

The king laid a hand over the steady rise and fall of Merlin's back and looked down. The boy's un-bruised cheek was squashed against Arthur's shoulder, dragging his lax mouth open slightly. His eyes were closed. A few single teardrops glittered in the black fringe of eyelashes and warm breath ghosted from his parted mouth over Arthur's arm.

"Well done," the dragon said, coming to stand over the pair. Arthur's face heated at the unexpected praise and he fervently hoped his cheeks hadn't turned red. "Now, lay the young warlock before me, and I will tend to his physical wounds."

"What about his mind? Are his adult memories still in there somewhere?" Arthur asked as he reluctantly settled Merlin on the grass at the dragon's feet and took a couple steps back. The boy slept on, oblivious.

"When the spell on his body is broken, his mind will be freed as well." The massive beast bent until its head was only a few feet away and opened its jaws, revealing the rows of razor sharp fangs. Arthur started forward, but Gwaine put a cautioning hand on his shoulder. The dragon didn't bite down, or breathe fire, but exhaled a golden cloud over the boy. Merlin stirred, murmuring a little, but didn't wake.

When the dragon was done, the bruising had all but disappeared and the worst of the self-inflicted scratches looked days old. The rest had disappeared completely. The swelling had gone down on his wrist as well. The dragon touched its snout to Merlin's forehead with what could only be described as a tender look in its eyes, as if it were nuzzling one of its own young. Then the beast abruptly snapped its head upright, looking vaguely embarrassed at the men (if dragons could wear such an expression) as though it had forgotten they were present.

It hurriedly shuffled back a few paces, cleared its throat and announced, "There is some unfinished business that needs my attention. I will leave him in your care, young king, but trust that should you fail him, our next meeting will not be so civil."

That said, it unfurled its massive wings, leapt into the sky and flew off in a westward direction. Arthur squinted after it, almost certain he'd seen some kind of black markings on its flank.

Elyan and Percival exchanged glances, but it was Gwaine who finally scratched his head and said, "Did that dragon have a stick figure drawing of a unicorn on its arse?"

Chapter Text

It took a day for Leon's group to reach the western forest. They made camp, and set out again at first light. As they were nearing the cave the lad had mentioned, they heard the ominous thump, thump of dragon wings beating the air. Leon ordered his nervous men to stay behind, and went ahead to scout the area. If the sorcerers had abducted Merlin in his absence, the boy might have called the dragon to his aid, though he had no way of explaining that to his men without breaking the king's confidence.

Sticking to soft earth and grass, Leon crept forward. The dragon's roar shook the air. Leon pressed his hands over his ears until it passed. He heard shouts of alarm and moved closer until he could see about a dozen druids hovering at the entrance to a cave, all warily watching the skies as the Great Dragon swooped overhead. Leon couldn't help the spike of fear at seeing the beast again. The last time he'd seen it, it was attacking his home and killing innocent people. The creature dove, felling trees until it had cleared enough space to land.

The druids remained in the cave entrance, though they seemed curious as much as frightened. A dark-haired man stepped forward. "Great dragon, what business have you here to descend upon us thus?"

The dragon snorted smoke and narrowed its eyes. "You use pretty words to disguise your ill intent, faith-traitor.  It has come to my attention that you were the ones who enchanted Emrys and bound his power with the intent of twisting his destiny to suit your own selfish ends."

"Peace, dragon," the man said. "We only mean to help Emrys reach his true potential, to give him the childhood he should have had, had fate not been so cruel to him."

"You know nothing, human, and your intentions count for naught. In fact, you are fortunate this little ploy of yours failed, or else you'd have doomed all of Albion."

"Failed?" the ex-druid asked.

"The young king has regained the other side of his coin," the dragon replied cryptically. "However, the fact remains that this affair was an affront against a creature of the Old Religion like myself. I was bound for twenty years beneath Camelot, and you are aware of the vengeance I rained down upon the wicked king. Do you think I would do less to those who similarly bound and sought to control one of my kin?"

Leon turned away, creeping back in the direction he'd come, before the screaming began. He'd seen what the dragon's flame could do, and he didn't want to watch anyone else, even sorcerers, fall to it. The good news was the sorcerers had been taken care of, and according to the dragon, their plot had failed, which meant Merlin would be alright.

The sounds of a struggle met Leon's ears as he returned to his men. Drawing his sword, he crept closer, wanting to assess the situation before jumping in. The five knights engaged an older blond woman, a sorceress judging by the gold flashes of her eyes, but she was tiring as her attacks grew more sporadic and less potent with each passing second. Leon moved stealthily to come up behind her.

From this close, he could see the travel stains on her dress and a number of scratches on her limbs, the kind obtained by running haphazardly through the woods. Leon pressed his sword to her back and said, "Cast again, and I'll run you through."

The woman stiffened and slowly sank to her knees as a sign of submission. "I don't have him anymore. He went into the forest alone and a beast got him. I will take you to the claw marks and disturbed earth if you don't believe me. Our one hope, and I failed him."

Her voice was raw as if she'd been crying. Leon assumed she was talking about Merlin, though the last he knew the boy had been safe with the king in Camelot, and the beast must have been the dragon, though clearly she didn't know Merlin and the dragon knew one another. He wondered what exactly had happened in his absence. It sounded like an awful lot.

"I believe you," Leon said. "I just watched it take out a druid camp in a cave nearby. Friends of yours, I take it?"

"Dead? Tibalt. Marin. Emrys. All dead." The woman dropped her forehead to the ground and uttered a heart-breaking wail.

The other knights moved as if to slay her, but Leon stopped them. "Bind her and take her back to Camelot. I believe the king will wish to speak with her about her crimes." When the knights hesitated, Leon added, "She won't be any trouble. Look at her."

True to his prediction, the broken woman gave no resistance as they bound her and loaded her onto a horse. The ride back to Camelot was a tense, yet silent one. Especially for Leon. This woman believed Merlin dead, and though he didn't, his mind wouldn't be at ease until he saw his friend's smiling face again.

~~~

Shortly after the dragon left, Iseldir examined the unconscious Merlin one last time, declared he was suffering from a case of magical and emotional exhaustion but otherwise okay, and disappeared as abruptly as he'd appeared. Arthur didn't really doubt the druid's word, but he wouldn't be satisfied until he'd had Merlin examined by Gaius and heard from him whether or not Merlin was all right.

Gwaine, who'd been at Merlin's side since the dragon left, was joined by Percival and eventually Elyan, though the latter had kept his distance and hadn't taken his hand off his sword until the druid had gone. He may have finally accepted Merlin, but that clearly didn't extend to the druids just yet. The knights conducted their own brief inspection of the little warlock's health.

"Stop poking him, Gwaine!" Elyan, soft-spoken, yet stern, scolded. "He's a child not something interesting you found on the side of the road. He'll wake when he's ready."

"I'm not poking him," Gwaine argued, belying his statement by prodding Merlin's arm with his index finger again. "I'm checking for injuries."

"I don't think that's how you check for injuries, Gwaine," Percival calmly pointed out. "That's called poking, or from Merlin's perspective, annoying."

Arthur smiled. He'd feared that seeing a demonstration of just how powerful Merlin was would have stretched the delicate bonds of friendship to the breaking point, leaving the warlock with awestruck allies or wary acquaintances, and no real friends. Knowing Merlin, the most frightening aspect of his secret being found out would not be the risk of execution, but being shunned by all the people he cared about. But, it seemed, that wasn't going to be an issue. Not even for Elyan.

He decided to step in when the banter turned into a more serious row about who would carry Merlin back on their horse. Guilt-ridden Gwaine made the most vehement argument, and Arthur was inclined to let him have his way on this one. Arthur may have forgiven the roguish knight for letting Merlin be kidnapped, but he was still a bit angry and felt Gwaine ought to make it up to the boy.

"Gwaine can carry Merlin back, but I want to meet with you all at Gaius's shortly after we return."

"Ha! Gwaine exclaimed, mounted his horse and extended his arms. Percival reluctantly handed Merlin over, then mounted his own horse.

"I hate to do this," Arthur continued, ignoring the outburst, "but I need to question Merlin about what happened before we restore him. I need to know how Morgana was involved in this, and how much she knows about Merlin."

"And why can't that wait until after he's been restored?" Elyan asked. He climbed onto his steed as well. "Why traumatize the poor child more?"

Arthur frowned and followed suit. "I hardly think it will traumatize him. I'm not going to interrogate him like a criminal. And I can't take the chance that he won't remember this once he's been restored."

None of his knights said anything, but he could tell they weren't pleased by the plan. Well, Arthur didn't like it either, but it had to be done. Morgana was too dangerous to pass up any intelligence about her that might come his way. And some tiny part of him still hoped the dragon might have been lying. Morgana and Merlin had been like friends once. She'd gone to Ealdor to help his mother. Surely even she couldn't have faced a four-year-old Merlin and abused him in any way. And if she had, and he couldn't blame magic for her corruption, he could only blame her, which he wasn't sure he was ready to do.

They rode at a steady, but gentle pace for most of the morning. Unfortunately, Merlin woke about an hour from Camelot, disoriented and frightened. The little warlock lashed out with feet, fists and magic, crying for his mother and for Arthur. They halted and watched as Gwaine, his expression pained, barely managed to keep the boy from falling and breaking his neck without getting himself knocked out a second time by a burst of magic.

"Easy, Merlin. It's me, Gwaine. Arthur's right here. And Elyan and Pericval, too. You're safe now. We're taking you to your mum."

Merlin's struggles quieted. He gingerly reached down and felt inside his left boot, then prodded the nearly vanished bruise on his face. Tipping his head back, he looked up at the knight, and then sought Arthur with bright, blue eyes. "It wasn't a dream. The thing is gone. I don't hurt inside anymore."

"Why don't we stop for lunch?" Elyan suggested. "I'm sure Merlin's hungry, aren't you?"

Merlin didn't respond other than staring down at his hands with an intense frown on his face.

"Excellent idea!" Gwaine seconded, sounding so cheerful he must have thought it might rub off on Merlin.

It didn't. In fact, as they set about gathering a lunch from their supplies, Merlin shuffled off to the side and squatted down, hugging his knees to his chest as if he wanted to just curl into a tiny ball and disappear. When Arthur took a bit of jerked meat and bread to the boy, he caught the shimmer of tears trailing down his cheeks.

"Merlin, what's wrong?" he asked, sinking to sit beside him. It struck him that mere days ago he'd have been leery of offering comfort, but now it seemed like second nature. Merlin cringed away to avoid any incidental contact. Arthur was a bit hurt until Merlin finally spoke in a barely audible whisper.

"M'sorry. I was bad. I almost hurt you. With magic. I didn't want to, but I was so angry. I'm sorry. I don't want to be scary. I don't want to be a monster. Even when I don't do bad, people are scared of me. They don't like me, and sometimes they aren't nice to Mum because of me. Mum says don't listen to them, that I'm special. But they're right. I'm scary. A scary monster."

Now Arthur's heart ached, but for an entirely different reason. He put a hand on the boy's back and felt the strong, steady beat of his heart, a heart so full of love and life and magic. A heart that was on the verge of breaking from unwarranted guilt. "Merlin, you are not a scary monster. Look at me. Look at Gwaine, Percival, Elyan. Do we look scared to you?"

Merlin sniffed and did as he was told. He shook his head, visibly confused.

"We're knights, remember? We've faced scores of monsters of all kinds, so we recognize them when we see them. And you, Merlin, are no scary monster."

Arthur stood and left the boy alone with his thoughts (and the food). He'd opened the door, but Merlin would have to choose to walk through it.

"What's that about?" Percival asked quietly with a nod in Merlin's direction.

"He's upset because he lost control of his magic and almost hurt us," Arthur explained. "He says he's a scary monster."

Gwaine stood abruptly and went to his horse.

"I assured him he was not," Arthur added, watching the roguish knight dig through his saddlebags.

A minute later, Gwaine walked over to Merlin, holding something. He crouched down and handed it to the boy. They exchanged a few words, then Merlin threw his arms around the knight's neck and whispered something in his ear. Gwaine swiped at his eyes as the boy pulled back, then picked up the food, accepted the hand Merlin shoved into his, and led the boy over to join them.

When they got close, Arthur saw Sir Horse clutched tightly in Merlin's free arm. Gwaine's foresight to grab the toy on his way out of Gaius's impressed Arthur. Its presence seemed to reassure Merlin in a way the king and his knights couldn't.

"We're glad you decided to join us, Merlin," Percival said with a smile.

Merlin smiled wanly and crouched down to pick at his own food, warily at first and then with gusto as he suffered no ill effect. Arthur couldn't blame him if that was how the sorceress had been keeping him drugged. After he'd eaten, Merlin's sour mood lifted completely. Soon, he was loping around the group in an odd half-crouch, half-run, making Sir Horse gallop through the grass, over rocks and even on the knights and Arthur himself. Arthur frowned as he noticed how the boy still favored his left arm. Even though the swelling had gone down, the injury must not have healed completely.

Suddenly, the bushes just beyond Merlin crackled. Arthur and his knights were on their feet in an instant, weapons drawn. Arthur caught Merlin's arm and drew the startled boy closer to his side. They scanned the trees until a young doe plodded hesitantly into view, its ears twitching back and forth as it stared at them with liquid, brown eyes. Arthur relaxed, and Gwaine whistled low.

"Will you look at that? Wanders into camp just as pretty as you please," Gwaine said, inching slowly toward the crossbow secured to his horse's saddle. "Bet I can bag us dinner tonight."

Merlin glanced around at the knights, then spotted the deer. He gasped, hugging Sir Horse tightly; but when he noticed Gwaine getting a weapon, he shouted, "No!" and darted from Arthur's side to stand between them and the deer.

To Arthur's shock, the doe didn't startle and flee. It remained where it was, watching them with an eerie amount of intelligence. "Get back here, Merlin. It's just a deer. Let Gwaine shoot it."

"No!" Merlin snapped vehemently, and he trotted over and threw his arms around the deer's neck. That time it reared back and tried to pull free.

"Merlin!" all four men shouted. Arthur had seen the kind of damage a seemingly harmless deer could do with its hooves when frightened, and Merlin had practically thrown himself under them.

Merlin's eyes glowed gold and the deer stilled. For a moment it stood frozen in place, then a rippling veil of gold light engulfed its body. A second later an achingly familiar female figure stood in the doe's place.

"Gwen!"

Guinevere's eyes rolled back, and Arthur was just quick enough to catch her before she fell on top of the little warlock.

The boy peered curiously into Gwen's unconscious face, then petted her head in the same awkward way he'd stroked Arthur's horse before. "She was very sad, and I didn't want you to hurt her. The mean lady did that to her."

Elyan dropped to his knees beside them and began to check his sister for injury. "Why would Morgana do this?"

Bile rose in the back of Arthur's throat as he studied the woman in his arms. The dull ache that clenched his heart every time he thought of Gwen took hold of his entire body until he feared he wouldn't be able to breathe for all the emotions jumbling inside. Seeing her was like ripping the scab off an old wound, and he hadn't realized just how much he'd been holding back until she'd left his feelings raw and exposed. He gritted his teeth, torn between wanting to tie her onto a horse and send it running to the farthest corner of the kingdom and hugging her close and never letting her out of his sight again.

Merlin startled Arthur from his thoughts by tugging on his sleeve and flashing his most disarming grin. "She got to be a deer. Can I be a bird now?"

Arthur battled his features into a cool mask of indifference, eased Gwen to Elyan and stood. "No, Merlin. I believe your mother wants to hug her son not a bird. C'mon. We ought to get going."

Elyan looked sharply at Arthur. "You intend to take her back to Gaius as well, right?"

"Bring her." Arthur finally barked out as he scooped up Merlin and handed him to Gwaine. "We need all the information about Morgana we can get."

~~~

Back in Camelot, Arthur left the unconscious Gwen in Gaius's care, then he and the knights left Merlin, Hunith and Gaius to have their reunion in private. When Arthur returned to the physician's chambers bathed and changed, all three knights were already there. Percival and Gwaine stood with Hunith around a tub. Gaius stood over by his workbench on the opposite side of the room, while Elyan hovered nearby, his gaze darting every so often toward Merlin's room, where they'd put Gwen.

The old physician dipped his head in greeting. Arthur heard splashing and Merlin's childish laugh. Upon closer inspection, he noticed Hunith, Gwaine and Percival's clothes were dripping, and Gwaine's hair stuck to his face and neck in soaked clumps.

"I can do it!" Merlin's little voice insisted, and then suddenly all three adults were scrambling back from the tub where a golden-eyed Merlin stood waist deep in water. A large sphere of water hovered over his head, the black hair molded into oddly spaced spikes by white lather. With a wave of his hand, the sphere popped, dousing him with a cascade of water.

The gold abruptly vanished from his eyes. Merlin coughed and sputtered like a drowning kitten, clearly shocked by the amount of water he'd conjured. His feet slipped, and Hunith practically materialized at his side to keep the boy from going under.

"Now you see why I'm over here," Gaius said, chuckling softly.

Gwaine was the first knight to return. He couldn't get much wetter without getting in himself at any rate. The knight grabbed a pitcher floating in the water and poured a more controlled amount over the warlock's soapy head while Hunith held him still and scrubbed.

"Isn't that better?" Gwaine said, ignoring Merlin's petulant glare. "And I don't see why you're so keen to do this yourself. Arthur doesn't wash his own hair. He's got servants for that."

"I'm not a king," Merlin pointed out. "And I'm not a baby. I can do it."

Gwaine glanced at Arthur and grinned. "So you're saying the king is like a baby?"

Merlin, who obviously hadn't spotted Arthur yet, huffed and said, "If he can't take a bath by himself!"

Arthur glared at Gwaine and said, "Oh I can take a bath by myself just fine, but it's easier with help and I have servants."

The little warlock jumped and turned, sloshing more water onto his mother. He leaned over the edge of the tub and waved a skinny arm. 

"And," Arthur added, handing Hunith the towel draped over the back of a chair. "I think it's an important lesson to learn that everyone, even the king, needs help sometimes."

"But that's what friends are for." Merlin's face grew pensive as his mother finished drying herself and hauled him out of the tub, wrapped him in the towel and dried him off. "You have servants, though. Does that mean you don't have friends?"

"Kings don't need friends," Arthur immediately retorted, wincing at hearing his father's callous words come so easily from his own mouth.

Merlin scoffed and rolled his eyes. "That's silly. Everyone needs friends. You can be my friend, okay. I don't care if you're a king. That can't be worse than being magic."

Arthur flushed a little at the sounds of strangled laughter coming from his knights.

"That's very nice of Merlin to overlook a little fault like being king," Gwaine quipped, his eyes dancing with glee.

Turning his back on the man, Arthur joined Gaius. "He seems much better."

"Oh, he is," Gaius said, glancing at the boy who was currently fighting his mother to put on his clothes by himself. "Physically, he's almost completely recovered except for the arm which will take a bit longer to fully heal. I suppose we should thank Kilgharrah for his help."

"Kilgharrah?"

"The Great Dragon. Merlin says the dragon took him to you after finding him in the woods. He has a great deal to say on the subject of flying as well, but I couldn't get much out of him about his injuries or his ordeal other than, 'It hurt!' over and over until he stopped speaking altogether."

"The dragon said the woman who kidnapped him bound his magic," Elyan said, coming up beside them. "A druid chieftain helped remove the binding. And it said Morgana caused most of Merlin's physical injuries."

"Morgana?" Gaius asked. His hands stilled on the mortar and pestle he held. "Kilgharrah told you this?"

"Yes," Elyan answered, "but it claimed it was only repeating what Merlin had told it. Merlin also claims it was Morgana who enchanted Gwen into a doe."

"Morgana can't be involved in this," Gaius said. "She sees Emrys as an adversary. And I know for a fact she doesn't know about Merlin."

"How can you be sure, Gaius?" Arthur asked.

"Because that's why she tortured me. For information on Emrys."

Arthur flinched as the normally composed Gaius's voice broke.

The old man turned away, half crying. "I'm ashamed to say that in the end I told Alator of the Cathe everything. I betrayed Merlin. If Alator's true loyalties hadn't been with Emrys and the prophecies, Morgana would have discovered Merlin's secret and actively sought to destroy him."

"Destroy him?" Elyan asked. "Wouldn't she try to ally herself with him instead?"

"There is much bad blood between her and Merlin, as well as the mysterious sorcerer known as Emrys. Were she to find out they were one and the same, she would be twice as determined to kill him."

Arthur crossed his arms and watched the boy in question, now fully dressed and his left wrist wrapped for support, playing quietly with Sir Horse while Gwaine, Percival and Hunith cleaned the mess his bath had created. "But these ex-druids know who Merlin is. I need to find out if they shared information with Morgana. And if not, how did she come to know that Merlin had been abducted? The only ones who knew this wasn't just another witch hunt are in this room. None of us would have leaked this information to Morgana."

Gaius followed his gaze and sighed heavily. "I've tried my best and so far haven't been able to coax anything out of him. Perhaps as an adult, he won't be so reluctant to share."

"Can you guarantee that he will remember this experience once he's restored?"

"No, I cannot, sire."

"Then I guess I'll have to try and see if he'll open up to me," Arthur said, striding over to Merlin.

Merlin had apparently gone through a strong independent stage at this age and responded well to being treated like an adult. The Secret Sorcerer bit seemed to work wonders, so he'd just have to try a similar tactic.

The king cleared his throat and tried to look as stern and official as possible. "Merlin."

The boy paused in his play and grinned up at him. Arthur stared at him, waiting for Merlin to catch on to his seriousness.

"Come," Arthur commanded and went immediately to the far corner of Gaius's chambers.

Curious, Merlin followed, clutching Sir Horse to his chest.

"Okay, I'm ready for your report, Secret Sorcerer."

"Report?" Merlin asked, picking at Sir Horse's tail.

"You do have a report, don't you? On the incident with the sorceress who took you. All my official courtiers must tell me about important events. My Secret Sorcerer is no exception."

"Oh!" Merlin exclaimed. His hands worried with the toy horse more fiercely. "I have to tell you what happened? Everything?"

"It's part of your job. You do still want to be my Secret Sorcerer, don't you?"

"Yes!" Merlin exclaimed. "Yes, yes, yes. Okay, um . . . ." He looked down at his toes. "C-can I sit with you? I reported to the dragon and he let me sit with him. He took me flying, too. I was so high!"

Arthur lowered himself to the floor and tugged Merlin into his lap. The boy snuggled against his chest and sought Arthur's hand with his free one. Tiny fingers wrapped around Arthur's thumb and stroked the nail.

Finally, Merlin spoke. "I went to the market with Gwaine. We had fun. I liked the music. And he put me on his shoulders. I liked that too. Then it wasn't as much fun. I was hungry and tired. I got sweetmeats from Irina. She was nice, but not really because I fell asleep and she took me and kept making me sleep. She wanted to pretend to be my mum, always hugging and kissing me before I went back to sleep."

Merlin shuddered and the rhythmic stroking of Arthur's thumb faltered. "Then she didn't make me sleep anymore, but she put the bad thing on my leg. It made my magic stay inside and hurt me! She gave me food, but I told her I couldn't eat. So she made me, and I threw it up all over her." Merlin snickered quietly. "She didn't like that. Then she tied me up and went to sleep, but I wasn't tired and Will used to tie me up better and I got free. So I got away very sneaky. But she put me in a dress and I got stuck. A pretty lady helped me. She was nice, too, until I told her my name. Then she got all funny and said her name was Morgana and she knew Mum and could take me back to Camelot. I gave her money to take me back, but then she got mean. I tried to get away and she hit me."

A few silent tears trailed down Merlin's cheek here, and he touched where his face had been so badly bruised. "I fell down and hurt my arm. Look, Mum put on a bandage!" He showed Arthur his wrapped arm proudly. "I don't know why she didn't like me. She said mean things and then she said she wanted to make me dead. That's when Irina came and made her hit a tree and go to sleep."

Arthur flinched. Had she been merely knocked unconscious, or was she dead? He felt a bit guilty for briefly hoping it was the latter. Clearly the woman who'd been like a sister to him was no more, but Arthur still wasn't sure he had it in him to kill her when the time came. And he had no doubt now that that would be the only way she would stop trying to take Camelot.

". . . and we were flying so high!" Merlin was saying. "He took me to a cave and made a fire. I drew lots of pictures because I hurt and I wasn't tired."

He looked up at Arthur. "Do I need to tell about finding you too?"

"No, that will be all, Merlin," Arthur said, trying to remain as officious as he could. "That was a wonderful report. You and Sir Horse are dismissed now."

Merlin beamed at the praise, but looked very relieved to scamper off with the toy. Arthur pushed to his feet, mulling over what he'd heard. Morgana hadn't known about Merlin's condition, therefore she was not a part of these renegade druids and, as Gaius said, didn't know about Merlin being Emrys. That also meant her spy hadn't known. However, it seemed too much of a coincidence that she'd turn up in the area right when Merlin was abducted. Somehow the traitor had figured out the servant was missing and that the king was riding out to find him; Arthur was sure of it.

His gaze darted to Merlin's room as his thoughts drifted to the woman lying unconscious in his servant's bed. How did Gwen fit in to all this? And what could she tell him about Morgana? A dull ache formed around his heart, but Arthur fought it back. It was over between them, and he wouldn't dwell on the past.

"Sire?" Gaius cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. "Did you have any luck?"

"You were right about Morgana not knowing about Merlin's magic," Arthur replied. "Nor did she know he'd been turned into a child. She apparently didn't recognize him until he told her his name, hoping she could take him back to Camelot. But it does seem likely the traitor informed her that Merlin was the true object of our search mission, though how this person found out, I can't imagine."

Gaius nodded. "Well, then, if there are no further objections, I think it's time we discuss restoring Merlin to his proper age."

That time Arthur nodded. "I agree."

Chapter Text

Gwen woke to the sounds of someone muttering quietly nearby. She sucked in a breath, then froze, needing time to process what had happened. Morgana was the last thing she remembered, her former friend and mistress's face sneering coldly at her in the forest. And then it was darkness and fear until now, when she felt the distinct texture of servants' linens and a firm, but lumpy mattress beneath her.

She opened her eyes. Stone walls rather than trees surrounded her. The room was small, likely a servant's judging by the size and cheap furnishings, and smelled fragrantly bitter like an apothecary or Gaius's chambers. It certainly didn't look like Helios's fortress or any place controlled by Morgana. And if Morgana had brought her here, it would be a dungeon cell rather than a room.

The voice that had woken her was coming from below, so Gwen cautiously leaned over the edge of the bed and instantly relaxed. A pair of scrawny legs twitched and kicked, while the rest of what had to be a young child struggled with something under the bed, then began to wriggle back out. The limbs turned out to be attached to an equally skinny boy no more than four or five years old with a damp, messy mop of black hair and blue eyes. A set of ears that reminded her of Merlin framed his fey little face.

Grinning impishly, the boy examined a crude wooden carving of a dragon and sat back on his heels. He felt around with his left arm—bandaged at the wrist Gwen noted—until he found a horse figurine of royal quality that had been standing off to the side.

Holding the two face to face, the boy started speaking in a false voice, "Oh, hello. My name is Sir Horse. My name is . . . Lord . . . Dragon. You look nice. You can be my friend. Okay. You want to fly? Sure. Okay, let's go."

He lifted both toys overhead, looked up and froze as those blue eyes locked with Gwen's. His grin vanished behind a mask of wary fear.

"Hello." She sat up, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. "Do you know where I am?"

The boy nodded and hugged his toys close under his chin. The tip of the dragon's wing brushed his lip and he bit it, all the while studying her with the unabashed intensity only the very young could manage.

"Are you a princess?" the boy finally asked, having apparently concluded his mental assessment. "Because you look like a princess. And the mean lady put a spell on you and the king brought you back to his castle."

Gwen smiled and ruffled the boy's hair, but he jerked violently away and toppled backwards, hitting his head on the table leg behind him. His hands dropped the toys and flew to the back of his head. Tears welled up in his eyes.

"Oh, you poor dear!" Gwen slipped off the bed and sank to her knees before the boy. She reached out more slowly this time to examine his head for injury. He shied away at first, but finally let her touch his head, sniffling loudly. "Shhh, shhhh, it's okay. No blood. Not even a lump. It'll just smart for a bit. I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't scare me," the boy denied sullenly. He squared his bony little shoulders as if to prove it, but avoided meeting her gaze. She fought the urge to run her hands through his damp hair in a soothing gesture as she didn't want to further upset him.

Eventually, he relaxed and tilted his head to look up at her. Gwen gasped. She hadn't noticed before, but from this close she couldn't miss the fading evidence of a bruise on his face. That plus a bandaged arm and the way he'd flinched away from her touch . . . had someone abused this sweet child?

"When you say 'mean lady' do you mean Morgana?"

The boy whimpered softly and clutched his injured arm to his chest. If she'd had any doubts the 'mean lady' was her former mistress, the boy's terrified response to the name eliminated them.  

"No, I'm not a princess," Gwen said, hoping to distract him from his fear of Morgana. "But I am on a mission. Do you know how far Camelot is? I need to speak to King Arthur."

The boy frowned and pointed at the door. "Not far."

Gwen stroked his head again, pleased that he didn't flinch that time. She couldn't just leave him here, not if Morgana was hurting him for some reason. "Would you like to come with me?"

"To Arthur?" the boy asked, looking puzzled.

Gwen nodded. "He's very nice."

The boy nodded at this, though his frown deepened. "He still won't let me be a bird. And you got to be a deer."

"Okay," Gwen said slowly, forcing a smile. Clearly this child had no shortage of imagination. "I suppose we could discuss that with him when we find him."

That seemed to cheer the boy immensely. "Okay!" He plastered a smug smile on his face, hopped up and trotted to the door. With a visible struggle, he opened it. Gwen regained her feet a little less energetically, and before she could caution the boy, he darted out.

By the time she reached the doorway, the boy hopped over the last two steps to the ground and sprinted across . . . Gaius's . . . chambers to where none other than Arthur stood, deep in conversation with Elyan, Percival, Gwaine, Gaius and Merlin's mother Hunith. Shocked, Gwen watched as the boy grabbed Arthur's sleeve and tugged until the king acknowledged him.

"Yes, Merlin?" he asked, taking a knee to be more at eye level with the boy. Even more surprising, Arthur put a tender hand on the boy's shoulder and fixed his full attention on him.

Gwen's knees buckled, and she sank to sit on the topmost step. It physically hurt to again see the man she so dearly loved and had so terribly betrayed. And to see him be so fatherly toward a child, the way she'd imagined he'd be with their own children, was salt in her wounds.

 The boy (Had Arthur called him Merlin?) pointed at her and said, "The not-princess needs to talk to you. And she thinks I should get to be a bird, too. I'd be really good at it. I flew two times with the dragon."

Arthur looked up, and for a brief shining moment Gwen basked in the open warmth and adoration of his gaze. Then his expression hardened and his blue eyes turned icy. He stood abruptly and brushed past Merlin, who looked crestfallen at being so callously dismissed.

"Gwen!" Elyan exclaimed, running to greet her.

Unable to force a smile or tear her gaze away from Arthur's stormy gaze, Gwen pushed to her feet, descended the stairs and let her brother embrace her.

"I'm fine," she said before he could ask about her health. "I don't exactly know how or why, but I am."

Elyan tensed and took a step back, sensing that she wasn't in a mood to be comforted or coddled. He didn't stray far, though, obviously wanting to be there should that change. Gwen fidgeted beneath Arthur's attention and glanced at the tiny boy hovering uncertainly at his side.

"I'm glad you're well." Arthur's voice was so gentle and quiet it startled her. He, too, had turned to look at Merlin, his expression as soft as his tone, and ran his fingers through the damp, black hair. So this kindness was not for her benefit, but the child's.

Merlin, reassured by the gesture, trotted back to his room upstairs, likely to retrieve the toys he'd left behind.

"Is that--?" Gwen began, but Arthur cut her off.

"Yes, that's really Merlin."

"Long story!" Gwaine chimed in cheerfully.

Ignoring the knight, Arthur stepped closer, and his expression grew colder. "Now, why did we find you cursed in the woods just outside Camelot? You have been banished and I have not rescinded my judgment."

Gwen swallowed around the lump in her throat and clenched her fists at her sides. Elyan shifted, but Gwen forestalled any rash action with a hand on his arm. "I did not expect you to. I returned only to warn you of information I discovered when I was taken captive by a mercenary named Helios. He treated me well enough, and I was able to eavesdrop on a meeting between him and Morgana. They have been plotting to invade Camelot for some time, apparently, and Morgana had come to deliver the plans to Camelot's siege tunnels."

"Impossible," Arthur scoffed. "Those are guarded under lock and key. A key only I have."

"Arthur, this isn't about us! I would not have come back if I weren't a hundred percent certain Camelot was in danger! I don't deserve to come back."

Elyan squeezed her hand, and she calmed down. Her gaze flicked toward Merlin, who was now playing with his dragon and horse under Gaius's workbench and his mother's watchful eye. "I ran. Morgana pursued and eventually caught me. She knew I would come straight here. I thought I was going to die. I blacked out, and I had the oddest dream I was a deer, running the forest. When I woke, I was here."

"How?" Arthur exclaimed. "How does she do it? Who in my court is aiding her?"

Gwen stood and moved close enough to put a hand on Arthur's arm, a gesture that normally would have soothed him. Arthur stepped away and hissed, "Don't! You lost the right to such familiarity when you betrayed me."

"Arthur, it's Agravaine," Gwen said in solemn, quiet voice. "I heard Morgana say so herself. And she didn't even know I was listening at the time, so don't suggest she was feeding me misinformation."

"No!" Arthur roared. He kicked a nearby bucket (empty fortunately), and it crashed into the wall, narrowly missing Percival. Merlin whimpered, and suddenly every one of Gaius's candles flared to life and an entire store of bottles on a shelf across the room exploded in a violent display of magic. Gwen jumped and pressed a hand over her racing heart. Magic! Who . . . ?

The king whirled and stared at Merlin, who squatted on the floor, both hands pressed over his ears. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he rocked back and forth. "Sorry. 'M sorry. Sorry."

Hunith knelt and wrapped her arms around the distraught boy. "I'm sorry!" he exclaimed as an entire row of books flew off Gaius's shelf.

"Calm down, Merlin," Hunith crooned as she stroked her son's hair and rocked him. "Just calm down."

Without a word, Arthur stormed from Gaius's chambers, slamming the door shut behind him. Gwen gawped after the king and then her upset 'little' friend, whom everyone else, even Elyan, was trying to comfort. No one, other than herself, seemed the least bit shocked about the magic. Even Arthur had stormed out because of what she said about Agravaine, not the supernatural display.

Merlin got turned into a child, had learned magic and Arthur and his knights didn't seem to care? How long had she been in exile?

"I should go," Gwen said, backing away from the surreal scene. "I've delivered my message. I should go."

Elyan came to her and drew her into a hug. "No, you can't go. Not now that Morgana knows you are a threat to her plans. Just give him time to let the news sink in."

"I-I can't, Elyan," she said, her voice little more than a whisper. "I betrayed him in the worst way. The man I love more than anyone. I'm no better than Agravaine or Morgana."

Her brother rubbed her back. "He loves you still; that's why he is so angry. And I have faith that a love as strong as you two share will endure even this hardship."

She jumped as a set of tiny hands caught her by the thumb and pinky and tugged. Merlin gazed up at her, but quickly released her hand latched onto Elyan's leg when she glanced down. Tears stained his face, but his eyes were dry.

"Please don't be scared of me. Arthur says I'm not a monster, and he knows 'cause he fights lots of monsters. He's mad 'cause I did bad, but he still knows I'm not scary. I'll say sorry and he'll come back and tell you. Please don't go. The mean lady will hurt you again. But not me. I'm not scary because Arthur says so."

Gwen gaped at the boy. Did Merlin really think his magic would make him a monster to her? How else would she expect a child with magic feel, though, when faced with the blind prejudice against magic Uther's reign had fostered. Poor Merlin.

"Merl—" she began, but apparently she'd delayed too long.

"I'll say sorry. You'll see. Arthur will tell you." Merlin disentangled his hand from Elyan's breeches and trotted back over to his toys, looking a bit like a kicked puppy.

Elyan touched her shoulder. "He's right. I was a bit hesitant about him when I found out, but he's different from other sorcerers. Gaius says he was born like this, with all this magic coursing through him, the same as blood through his body. That he's been using it to protect Camelot and his friends since he arrived."

"I know," Gwen said, turning to smile at her brother. "I've seen a person turn evil first hand, and I'd recognize it in Merlin if that were the case. In fact, a lot of things about him make a lot more sense knowing he has magic. Why does he seem so scared of me, though?"

"He's been a bit shy around new people, but the sorceress who abducted him and Morgana who hurt him were both women. I'm guessing that's got more to do with it than anything."

"I'm a little disturbed that he thinks others see him as a monster. And I can't get used to him being so . . . little." Gwen glanced back to where she'd last seen the boy, only he wasn't there. Hunith and the others were busy cleaning the mess now, but Merlin wasn't with them either.

She stiffened and pushed away from Elyan. "Oh, no. Where is he?"

Elyan scanned the room, then went to Gwaine. "Where's Merlin?"

"He's right . . . ." Gwaine pointed to where Merlin had been playing, but only the little dragon remained.

"Hunith, did you see where Merin went?" Gwaine asked, and everyone stopped. Five minutes searching of Gaius's and Merlin's chambers yielded nothing.

"Where would he have gone?" Hunith wondered aloud. Gwen heard the fear in her voice she was trying to hide.

A sinking feeling stirred in Gwen's gut as she recalled Merlin's last words to her. "I think he might have gone to find Arthur and apologize. He thought Arthur was mad at him."

Gwaine sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Even as a child he's always running after Arthur. I'll go look for him. He can't have got far. He doesn't know the castle."

"I'll go with you," Percival added, and both knights went in search of the errant warlock.

Gwen sank into a chair and put her head in her hands. So much seemed to have happened in so little time; it was hard to process. Hunith approached, carrying a bundle of clothing. "I thought you might like to freshen up, dear. You can use Merlin's room. I'll get you something to eat as well."

"Thank you, Hunith," Gwen said, accepting the garments.

Hunith smiled and touched Gwen's cheek. "No, child, thank you for not seeing my son any differently because of his magic. You're a good friend to him."

~~~

Upon leaving Gaius's quarters, Arthur stormed through the castle, oblivious to the wake of startled servants he left behind. Before he knew it, he was back in his own chambers. He clenched his fists and paced, wanting something he could swing his sword at, but unwilling to make that much of a spectacle of himself down on the practice fields.

Was there anyone in this kingdom who wasn't a liar? His father, Morgana, Gwen, Merlin, Gaius and now Agravaine! The only liars who hadn't betrayed him were his father, Merlin and Gaius, though the latter two's lies were some of the most treasonous by law. He should have suspected his uncle, though. Just like with Morgana, Merlin had been the first to notice something off and had made plenty of hints that Arthur hadn't been willing to hear. Each time he'd followed his uncle's 'advice' instead of Merlin's had led to disaster. Did he even deserve to be king when he couldn't tell friend from foe in his own castle?

His pacing brought him to the window, and as he looked out, he saw Agravaine himself riding in as if a griffin were on his tail. Arthur had left his uncle in charge in his absence, giving Agravaine no excuse to have ventured out of Camelot on his own like that. Had he gone off to some secret rendezvous with Morgana? If the other sorceress hadn't killed her while protecting Merlin. Judging by the thunderous anger on Agravaine's face and his determined stride as he crossed the courtyard—not toward the main castle, but toward Gaius's chambers—she had most likely lived and shared the details of her encounter with Merlin as a child.

If his uncle really had come from visiting Morgana, she had probably instructed him to finish what she'd started if Arthur successfully brought Merlin back. With all their horses back in the stables, Agravaine would know they had returned. His own bitterness forgotten, Arthur grabbed his sword and belt and bolted out the door, fastening the belt around his waist as he went.

He shouldn't have stormed out like that, leaving Merlin in his vulnerable state, no matter how angry or hurt he felt about Gwen's presence and the unpleasant news she brought. Gaius had the remedy, and Arthur had learned all he could from Merlin about Morgana. Why did he always let his temper get the best of him? Even Merlin, one of the few who could get through to him in such a state, couldn't fully control the king's outbursts. Hopefully, between Gwaine, Percival and Elyan, they could protect Merlin from his uncle, but something in Arthur's gut told him he needed to get over there as quickly as he could.

Sure enough, on the way to Gaius's chambers, he distantly heard his uncle's voice, "So Morgana was right. Extraordinary! Such a tiny little thing now, aren't you, Merlin?"

Arthur flinched, any lingering doubts about Morgana or his uncle's loyalty put to rest by the man's own mouth.  

"I don't like you. You're like the mean lady who hurt me," Merlin snapped, but that only drew a chuckle from Agravaine. "You can't hurt me, though. This is Arthur's castle. He's the king, and he won't let you hurt me."

Merlin's unwavering faith in Arthur spawned a flurry of butterflies in his stomach and spurred him onward—he wanted to be worthy of Merlin's trust. The voices led down a darkened side hall to a rarely accessed storage chamber.

"Ah, but where is your dear Arthur now? Don't worry, when he finds your little body, I'll be sure to tell him about the evil sorcerer who attacked you. He's already on the hunt for one; he'll easily believe there is a second. Now be a good boy and hold still. I'll make it quick and painless."

Panting, Arthur reached the final turn. Merlin cowered against the storage room door, hugging Sir Horse to his chest as he glared defiantly up at Agravaine. The dark haired man loomed monstrously over Merlin's tiny form, his back to the hall and Arthur. He reached out with a hand large enough to snap Merlin's neck like kindling. Arthur grasped for his sword at the same time Merlin's eyes flared gold and Agravaine was lifted and thrown back into the wall by an invisible force. He dropped heavily to the ground and didn't move.

Merlin let out a startled cry and stared at the fallen man, trembling in shock and horror. Clearly, he'd lashed out instinctively in self-defense, and like with the destruction in Gaius's chambers, his own power and lack of control frightened him nearly as much as the threat. Arthur made to move fully into view, when Agravaine gasped loudly and sat up.

Arthur jumped, though he'd deny such ridiculous behavior with his dying breath. His uncle panted heavily and extended a shaky index finger toward the boy.

"You have magic!"

Merlin nodded and shifted in the way he did when he wanted to look older or important. "Mum says I was born with it."

"So it's you. You're Emrys," Agravaine said, a mixture of awe and realization in his voice.

That name frightened Merlin, who whimpered and pressed tighter against the door as if he wanted to melt through it. Arthur was about to reveal himself as neither had noticed him yet, but then Agravaine spoke again, chuckling.

"You've been at court all this time. At Arthur's side. How you've managed to deceive him! I am impressed, Merlin. Perhaps we're more alike than you think."

His words would mean nothing to Merlin in this state, but Arthur recognized the barb meant to hurt the ridiculously loyal Merlin Agravaine knew. Maybe due to the blow to the head, his uncle believed he was talking to the adult; but either way, his uncle pulled a dagger from his boot with the intent to kill Merlin, the child or adult.

Wordlessly, Arthur drew his sword and lunged at the same time Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and shouted, "No!"

Agravaine was thrown again. Arthur spun to the side, narrowly missing being struck himself. He dropped his sword to kneel beside his uncle's body, feel for breath and check for a heartbeat. This time, his uncle would not get up again. A pang of loneliness struck then. His only relations were traitors, dead, or both. A horribly selfish, small part of him was glad he hadn't been forced to deal the final blow. This immediately wracked him with guilt since because he hadn't, a four-year-old child had been forced to.

Sniffling drew his attention back to the little warlock. Merlin's eyes were still closed, thank goodness, sparing the boy from the morbid scene. If Merlin got upset about destroying a few bottles, he'd be traumatized to learn he'd killed a man.

Arthur shifted closer, using his own body to block the view of Agravaine's. "Merlin?"

The boy looked up and then threw himself at Arthur, wrapping those skinny arms tightly around the king's neck. "Sorry. I wanted to find you. To say sorry. I didn't mean to make you mad."

Sighing, Arthur stood and settled the boy on his hip. He bounced gently on the balls of his feet and rubbed his back. "You didn't make me mad, Merlin. I'm sorry if I made you think that."

"You have to tell the pretty lady I'm not a monster. She wanted to leave, but I told her I'm not like the mean lady. You have to tell her. If she leaves, the mean lady will hurt her."

Gwaine and Percival rounded the corner, breathing heavily, swords in hand. They surveyed the scene, then sheathed their weapons. Merlin started to lift his head, so Arthur spun around to keep Agravaine out of the boy's line of sight. Upon spotting the knights, Merlin's broad smile broke out, and he waved. The knights didn't notice, though, too shocked by Agravaine's body on the ground.

"What happened?" Percival asked. "We heard raised voices."

Merlin tried to turn around and point at his attacker, but Arthur pressed the boy's face to his chest and bounced a bit harder. After a brief, half-hearted struggle to get free, Merlin huffed and said in a muffled voice, "The bad man tried to hurt me. He said he knew the mean lady. Then he hit the wall and went to sleep. Then he woke up and asked me about my magic. He called me Emrys like the bad lady that took me. Then—"

Arthur cut him off. "My uncle proved his treachery, and I dispatched him."

Percival glanced at the unmarked body and then Arthur's clean sword. The king lifted his chin and glared pointedly at him. Percival offered a curt nod. Gwaine flashed a smirk of approval.

Blessed with a knack for diversionary tactics, the roguish knight said, "Well, such affairs always rouse a healthy appetite. Who wants to go raid Gaius's pantry for a snack?"

That time Merlin successfully wormed his head free and twisted toward Gwaine, both arms extended. "Me! Me! I'm hungry!"

Gwaine slid his hands under Merlin's arms and hauled him out of Arthur 's grasp. "C'mon then, little guy." He tickled Merlin's side until he shrieked with laughter. "Let's see if we can put some meat on those skinny bones."

"I'm not skinny!" Merlin tried to protest, but a few more pokes to his sides sent him squirming and laughing again.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose after Merlin and Gwaine went around the corner.

"Sire?" Percival said.

"Call some guards to take the body. I'll have to meet with the council to decide what do with him. He was conspiring with Morgana—I heard the truth from his own lips—but he was also my uncle." Arthur rubbed his face, feeling decades older and weary down to the bone. "Once that's done, rejoin us in Gaius's chambers. It's time to restore Merlin."

When Arthur opened the physician's door, the first thing he spotted was Merlin, crouched down behind a chair where Gwaine had sprawled out like a limp rag. The boy was gnawing on a hunk of bread, but his eyes were locked on the shiny red apple clutched loosely in Gwaine's hand. Suddenly, Merlin crammed the last bit of bread into his mouth and lunged for the apple. Gwaine jerked it out of reach at the last moment with a gleeful chuckle.

Merlin, though, still had plenty of tricks up his sleeve. With little more warning than an impish grin, his eyes flashed gold and suddenly the apple pulled itself out of the knight's grip and bobbed over to settle gently into Merlin's cupped hands. Giggling at Gwaine's flabbergasted expression, he darted to the far side of the room to enjoy his spoils.

"Cheeky thing, you!" Gwaine exclaimed and chased after.  

Merlin scampered around the room, biting at his prize, but unfortunately his little teeth were no match for the apple's tough skin.

"Here," Gwen said, snatching the apple when Merlin passed within reach.

Arthur noticed she'd changed out of that sexy-er-unsuitable attire they'd found her in and put on a much more dowdy-er-seemly dress. Not that Arthur had paid attention to what she was wearing before, because he certainly wasn't. She took a knife from the table and sliced the fruit. The sight of an empty plate at her elbow reminded Arthur of how long she'd probably gone without food, how scared she must have been trying to outrun Morgana and this mercenary to deliver her warning; and he couldn't quash the growing urge to hold her close and whisper reassurances in her ear.

Bouncing eagerly, Merlin leaned onto her lap and watched. Gwen handed him the slices a few at a time, fighting back a smile as he shoved them into his mouth until he could barely chew. Of course, Gwen, who'd been Merlin's friend pretty much from the day he arrived, didn't have any issue accepting his magic.

"Slow down or you'll choke," she cautioned.

The door swung open, and Arthur stepped aside to let Percival inside. "Your uncle's body has been moved to a secure chamber."

"Thank you, Percival."

Gwaine, giving up the chase now that Gwen had confiscated the apple, sidled up and asked, "Is it time?"

Before Gwen had woken, Arthur and the others had debated the best way to restore Merlin. No one wanted to force him to drink the potion. Hunith had wanted to drug him to sleep first because of how painful Arthur described the first transformation. The knights objected because Merlin had been so terrified of being put to sleep when they found him. And after what the sorceress did, no one could stomach the idea of tricking him.

So they'd settled on telling the truth. Mostly.

Arthur nodded and moved fully into the room to get Merlin's attention.

"Awfuw!" Merlin exclaimed around a mouthful of apple and promptly started choking and coughing.

Gwen firmly patted his back until he'd managed to swallow his mouthful. "What did I tell you?"

Merlin just buried his face in her lap, though the tips of his ears flushed a brilliant red.

Arthur caught Gwen's eye and asked in a low voice, "Are you okay?"

She nodded and focused firmly on Merlin's head in her lap, ran her fingers through her hair. And very pointedly avoided Arthur's gaze.

"You don't have to go. I don't want you to go." Arthur wanted to fall on his knees and beg her to stay, to love him, to let him love her, but his pride choked the words back before they could come out. "Until Morgana—"

"Thank you," Gwen said, still not looking up. "I understand. I really do. And thank you."

Gaius cleared his throat and dipped his head at Hunith. She knelt beside her son and said, "Merlin, dear, good news. We've figured out a way to make things right again so we can go home."

Merlin's head popped up from Gwen's lap and an ear-to-ear grin emerged. "Really! We get to go home to see Will and our chickens and our house? And everything will be right?"

"That's right," Hunith said. "So now we have to say goodbye to all your new friends."

Merlin pushed off Gwen and ran over to Gaius. He hugged Gaius's legs tightly. "Thank you for letting us stay here. You have a nice house. You can come stay with us soon, okay."

"I'll see you soon, my boy," Gaius said in a steady voice, though Arthur could have sworn he saw tears in his eyes.

Merlin went to the knights next, giving them each hugs.

"We're gonna miss you, mate," Gwaine said, ruffling his hair.

Percival simply smiled and squeezed Merlin's shoulder. Elyan hugged him back and said, "You take care, Merlin."

Arthur found it difficult to swallow when Merlin came to stand in front of him, head tilted back and those tiny, pale hands fidgeting with the hem of his tunic. Arthur blinked fast as the whole room took on a hazy shimmer—clearly a trick of the light and not the result of emotion. That was silly. Merlin wasn't really going anywhere. No, the thought of Merlin leaving was entirely unacceptable.

Arthur dropped to one knee, and Merlin hugged his neck.

"You can still be my friend, okay," Merlin assured him. "You can come visit me and Will. I know he'd like you, too. And when I get bigger, I'll come back and visit you."

"You'd better," Arthur said and wrapped an arm around the boy. "I'll make it a royal decree."

Merlin giggled, his breath hot against Arthur's neck. "Thank you," he whispered, in a hushed voice that was about as inaudible as a knight in full armor, "for not eggsicuting me. And don't worry. I won't tell about the Secret Sorcerer. Not even Will. And if something magic happens, tell my mum and we can come back."

Arthur cleared his throat and disentangled himself from Merlin's scrawny limbs. He tried to ignore the sappy look Gwen was giving him; she probably didn't even realize. "I'll do that, Merlin."

Gwen's goodbye was a bit milder, given that Merlin didn't really know her that well now. She did a good job hiding how the slight hurt, though Arthur could tell by the tightness around her eyes and the crease by the corner of her mouth she got when she forced a smile.

Gaius rounded the room, handing out cups. The smallest he gave to Merlin. The boy peered curiously into his cup, then sniffed it. His nose wrinkled and he made a face.

"That's a special potion Gaius made," his mother explained. "It's going to be a little painful, but it will make everything right again. And then we can go home."

Merlin paled a little at the word 'painful', but with everyone watching he merely grabbed his mother's hand and drank the potion as everyone else sipped their water.

He grimaced and coughed. "Ulck! That tastes like the stuff we found on a tree that Will made me lick!"

"Will made you do what?" Hunith demanded, genuinely shocked and incensed.

Merlin hung his head. "He dared me to—"

His words broke off in a grunt, and he doubled over, crying out in pain. Hunith tried to console him, but her touch only seemed to hurt him worse. After some of the longest seconds Arthur had ever experienced, Merlin slumped to the ground, unconscious. His mother gathered him into her arms and stood. "I'd better get him out of these clothes before he changes. I think he's been through enough. No need to humiliate him further."

No one protested as she carried the unconscious Merlin to his room and closed the door. Arthur sighed.

"How long will it take?" Percival asked, looking to Gaius.

Arthur answered. "It was less than ten minutes the first time. I suspect it will be much the same. But it was a while later before he regained consciousness."

They hovered in awkward silence, all eyes trained on the door to Merlin's room. Arthur was in two minds about how to deal with Merlin the adult. On the one hand he was hurt and a little angry that Merlin had lied to him for so long, but on the other, he completely understood why he had and felt a great deal of pride and gratitude toward his friend and servant for having stuck it out so long in such a difficult situation. Ultimately, he decided as king it was perfectly acceptable to feel both ways at the same time and would just wing it when he finally got to confront Merlin.

And what was taking so long? Hunith should let them know once he changed, and surely enough time had passed. After an interminable five additional minutes, a very sharp, masculine shout came from Merlin's room. Was he awake already?

Arthur was half-way to the stairs, when Merlin raised his voice again. Though he couldn't make out the words, Arthur recognized the timbre of fear in the young man's voice. Hunith murmured something, and then the last sound he'd expected drifted through the door: sobbing. Arthur's heart clenched as painfully as when he first learned Merlin had been kidnapped.

He hesitated, and Gaius said softly, "Merlin has known a great deal of loss and pain in his life, much of which he's been forced to keep from you. The restoration of his adult memories has probably made him relive each one in excruciating detail—as if they all happened yesterday, depriving him of the numbing balm of time that makes such things bearable. I believe for now time is the only succor we can offer. Let him come to us when he is ready."

Of course Balinor and Will, Merlin's father and childhood friend, had died, and who knew what other burdens Merlin had had to bear alone all these years. Honestly, it was a wonder he hadn't run screaming with madness out of his room upon waking.

The old man gazed sympathetically at his ward's door, then turned to finish cleaning the mess Merlin's magical slip created earlier. Arthur, his knights and Gwen, by silent consensus, acted on the old physician's advice and left, though the sounds of Merlin's heart-wrenching sobs seemed to echo down the hall after them.

Chapter Text

Between Arthur and Gwen's testimonies at the emergency session the king called that evening, the council didn't need too much convincing of Agravaine's treachery. Most had been reservedly impressed that Gwen had risked the king's wrath and broken her banishment to bring word. They were, rightly so, more concerned with the imminent threat of Morgana and the mercenary Helios. Gwen had had little tactical information to offer and soon been dismissed, along with her brother, to rest.

The meeting lasted 'til nightfall with little progress other than the decision to post hidden troops at each of the siege tunnel entrances to catch the enemy off guard. Without knowing when Morgana planned to strike, where was the only factor they could prepare to counter. Arthur literally bit his tongue each time the unanswerable threat of Morgana's magic was mentioned. He needed to talk to Merlin before he brought up the issue of his 'Secret Sorcerer' and the possibility of changing the laws against magic. Ironically, Morgana's attack could help his cause as long as Merlin could convince them he was a threat only to Camelot's enemies—and given his track record of reckless loyalty over the past years—that shouldn't be a problem. Desperation would make the courtiers a lot more accepting.

Forcing his thoughts off his manservant-cum-warlock, Arthur shifted, relieving a royal posterior that had long since gone to sleep. It had been a very long day, and he was ready to crawl into bed. Merlin was probably already out. Going through such a transformation had to be physically and mentally exhausting; watching him go through it certainly was. And not being able to do anything to help only aggravated the situation. Arthur sighed. So much for getting his mind off Merlin.

The doors swung open suddenly, admitting a rather bedraggled-looking Sir Leon. The poor guy seemed in need of rest even more than Arthur.

Leon bowed. "Sire, we've captured a sorceress involved in the recent attack on your person."

Arthur jumped to his feet, nearly tipping his chair. "Where is she?"

"In the dungeon, sire. She gave us little fight after learning her co-conspirators had been slain."

He noted Leon's shifting gaze, and the hand twisting on his sword hilt, and knew there was a lot more to the story than the knight could tell the council.

"You're all dismissed for the night. Leon, take me to her." Apparently, most of the nobles had been as tired as he. They cleared out quickly and without complaint or even any attempts to linger and catch his ear for a private word.

As soon as they were alone, Leon opened up. "We were following a lead about a band of renegade druids in a cave west of Camelot, when the Great Dragon flew overhead. I went on alone to scout out the cave and witnessed the dragon confronting the druids. It was angry about what had been done to Merlin and killed them all. When I returned to my men, they were battling a sorceress. I got the drop on her—she was tiring—and she surrendered. She was extremely upset and raving about Emrys being slain by a great beast, the dragon I believe. When I told her what happened to the other druids, she lost all will to fight and came with us willingly."

Leon glanced at him hesitantly. "It seems much has happened in my absence, and this woman believes Merlin dead. Is he . . . I mean, is Merlin . . . ?"

Arthur smiled. "He's fine. Or he will be. That sorceress kidnapped him the very afternoon you left. We recovered him just this morning when the Great Dragon brought him to our camp. Gaius gave him the remedy and he's been restored to his proper age. Unfortunately, he's still a bit traumatized about the ordeal. Hopefully, I can speak with him in the morning."

The dungeon guards jumped to open the doors when Arthur and Leon approached. They made their way to the far cell. The woman, older with long, blond hair, slumped in the far corner. Manacles secured her arms and legs to the floor, but she didn't even turn her head as Leon and Arthur stepped up.

"She's been like this ever since, sire," Leon explained.

"There was no sign of Merlin where you found her? And she said nothing of his whereabouts?" Arthur didn't want to let her know Merlin was still alive, and Leon would readily play along. He wouldn't be certain Merlin was safe from this group until she was gone.

His words roused a reaction at last. The woman keened softly and hugged herself. "It got him. Why did he run? I saved him. I loved him. I took care of him. Why did he run?"

"It got who?" Arthur demanded. "Where is Merlin?"

It was petty, he knew, to purposely add to the woman's distress, sorceress or not, but she put Merlin through hell and nearly killed him in the process. If she suffered a fraction of that before he sent her to the pyre, it wouldn't be enough.

"Gone!" the woman wailed. "They're all gone. All is lost."

Arthur didn't have to fake anger as he turned to leave. It was that or he would run her through then and there; and he refused to be the kind of king who let his temper rule. "She will face judgment in the morning. Come, Sir Leon."

Once they reached the privacy of his chambers, Arthur flopped into his chair. "I thought she'd seem more . . . ."

"More, sire?" Leon said, standing respectfully at his side.

"I don't know." Arthur ran his hands through his hair and dropped his head to the table. "Evil. Scary. All the things she did were because she viewed Merlin as some kind of savior, and she seems so genuinely broken from thinking him dead. I don't believe she understood how she was hurting him with that restraint bracelet. She honestly believed she was doing the right thing."

"Sire?" Leon asked. He'd never been one, like Merlin or Gwaine, to put words in the king's mouth. Not to mention he hadn't been there when they recovered Merlin and wouldn't know about the magical binding.

"I'm not excusing what she did, but this whole thing with Merlin makes me think. I will execute those who merit such punishment, but I never want to reach the point where I objectify them. A person in my position can't afford to do that to anyone, or I risk doing it to everyone. Much like I fear my father may have done."

Leon simply made a noncommittal sound and dipped his head.

Arthur bit back a groan. Leon wouldn't openly challenge him, help him work through his doubts, not like Merlin would. "Pay me no mind, Leon. I'm just tired, as I'm sure you are. Go, get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

"Yes, sire." Leon bowed and exited.

Not wanting the company of a servant, Arthur prepared himself for bed, but although he drifted off quickly, he couldn't stay asleep. Nightmares involving Merlin, Gwen and Morgana woke him in the predawn hours. Rather than trying to wrest a few more hours' sleep, Arthur dressed, slipped on a warm cloak and made his way out to the battlements. Crisp, clear air and a fresh perspective always helped calm his roiling thoughts.

To his surprise, he wasn't the only one there. A familiar, lanky form perched up on the edge of the wall. Merlin hugged his knees to his chest and rested his chin on top as he gazed out over the kingdom. His pale skin looked like porcelain in the moonlight, and Arthur was struck by how young the man looked.

He'd thought after seeing Merlin as a child for so long his adult form would seem so much older by comparison. Instead, Arthur couldn't stop seeing the boy in each sharp angle of his slightly fey face or in the skinny lines of his body. He fought back the overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around him, coddle him like the youth he was. And Merlin truly was young, at least two years younger than Arthur, who often felt more like a boy than a man as he fought to prove himself as a leader. Arthur had never considered it before, but perhaps that, in addition to his peasant upbringing, was why Merlin was always so affectionate.

It was no wonder, really, that Merlin also couldn't sleep. If the warlock noticed the king, he showed no sign. Arthur walked over, trying to make enough noise not to startle the lad from his precarious perch. "You're not thinking of being a bird again, are you?"

Merlin snorted. "You could have humored me, you know. I haven't learned transformations yet, so it's not like I could have actually done it."

"I've come to see that where magic is concerned there is extremely little you couldn't do, Merlin."

The lack of immediate comeback was surprising, but not so much as the darkening that crept over Merlin's face all the way up to his ears. In daylight, it would have been a brilliant crimson.

After a moment, Merlin spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Told you I'm not completely useless."

The day before, Arthur would have wrapped his arm around Merlin and pulled him into his lap, but with Merlin back to normal he wasn't sure how to react. Going with a tried and true method, he rested his elbows next to Merlin on the wall and bumped him gently with his shoulder. "Don't go getting a big head, but I suppose, on this one occasion, you might be right."

Merlin grinned and hugged his legs a little tighter. Arthur could almost see him fighting not to cling to Arthur the way he had as a boy. Clearly, it was going to be a bit confusing for them both until things settled.

They sat in companionable silence, watching as the sky began to lighten in the east. Merlin was thinking who knew what, while Arthur struggled for a way to broach the tetchy subject of Merlin's magic. So many questions needed answers, and so many emotions churned inside him, he wasn't sure how he felt. He wouldn't kill Merlin, or punish him for breaking the law, but he needed to understand him. As irrational as it was, Arthur felt like the man who'd become his friend and confidant had died and this stranger had taken his place. He wanted reassurance that, with everything that had changed, some things had not.

"How much do you remember of these last few days?" he finally asked.

"I . . . well, everything I suppose, but it's . . . I remember things selfishly . . . you know, like a child. Everything is emotion . . . things I liked, disliked, feared or loved. It's difficult trying to process it all more objectively."

"Why—" Arthur started, but stopped when Merlin tried to speak at the same time. They did this a couple more times until Arthur raised his voice and blurted, "You lied to me for so long. I understand, I really do, but . . . you lied to me."

"In all honesty, I told you the truth. I told everyone the truth. It's not my fault you thought I was lovesick for Gwen and lying to protect her." Merlin's grin faltered as he studied Arthur's face.

It always surprised him, even though it shouldn't, how well the servant could read his master. With that eerie seriousness that accompanied the young man's occasional bouts of wisdom, Merlin said, "You know me, Arthur. I'm not Morgana and I'm not Agravaine. I may be a liar, but that doesn't make me dishonest or a traitor. My lies have screamed the truth at you all these years, and for all our joking I know you aren't so dense you haven't noticed."

"Oh? What truth?" He couldn't help the sharpness of his voice. Liars weren't honest. Liars betrayed him and tried to destroy his people and his kingdom. And what was worse, he blithely let them, unable to recognize them for what they were.

"The truth that all I am and all the power I possess are for you. That I am loyal and would give my life for you and for Camelot. You are my master, my friend, my hope, the Once and Future King. And I have dreamed of a day when we would stand on equal footing, not by station—you're a king and I'm just a peasant—but as true friends with no barriers between us. When I wouldn't have to lie to tell you this truth. I'm sorry I had to lie, but I won't apologize for being born what I am."

"You . . . your . . . no one should have to grow up like that, Merlin. No child should have to fear for their life because of how they were born. For that, I am truly sorry."

Merlin hunched defensively. "No, they shouldn't. You know, until Irina took me, I didn't really want things to go back to the way they were. These past few days in Camelot were the some of the best. It was like I had a fath—" He blushed and tried to cover the slip, though it filled Arthur with pride to think he'd given Merlin such an experience.

"I, um, it wasn't anything like the terror I grew up with. My mother wasn't a king who could waive my execution." Merlin's voice rose subtly with each statement. "She didn't have a troupe of knights to defend us if I made a mistake and let slip a bit of magic. She couldn't allow anyone to help ease her burdens for fear I might be revealed. You wonder why I lied, why I was so afraid to tell anyone, even my closest friends? Well, that's why. I'm like poison. Anyone who finds out must either betray me to the law, or sign their own execution order should I ever be found out."

"That will change, Merlin, I promise. You won't have to feel that way anymore." Arthur rested a hand on Merlin's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I want to know everything. All the losses and sacrifices you've suffered in the name of destiny and friendship. I want to understand you. To understand how I, this supposedly great king, didn't notice sooner."

Merlin seemed to diminish. "I will, I promise. I just . . . not now. It's too . . . not now." He wiped at his glistening eyes. "But you won't like everything you hear. I've made mistakes."

Arthur could see how heavily they weighed on the warlock, too, even more so now that those memories had recently been restored. He'd been right to hide Agravaine's death from him. God, how had he missed the signs of Agravaine's treachery, Morgana's evilness and Merlin's magic? How long had Merlin fought a shadow war against them in this very castle, handicapped not only by the law against magic but his lack of status in the court, suffering alone in silence with decisions Arthur should have been a part of?

Uncannily perceptive, Merlin narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Arthur, you can't blame yourself for not seeing everything. That is what makes traitors so dangerous—they are trusted and very good at hiding their duplicity. If they weren't, they wouldn't really be traitors, would they?"

"But I'm the king, Merlin. If I can't spot traitors in my own court, what kind of leader am I?"

"A human one." Merlin grinned broadly. "That's what friends are for, Arthur. We're there to watch your back, and occasionally block the knife someone's trying to shove into it. And tell you when you're being a bit of an ass."

Arthur scoffed quietly. "I'm supposed to be comforting you, not the other way round. You just went through a very traumatic ordeal."

"Yes, I suppose your nursemaid skills could use a bit of work," Merlin teased, though Arthur noticed the humor didn't quite reach his eyes. "Arthur, about Agravaine. I—"

"I punished him for his treachery."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I'm not four. I know what happened to your uncle. That's not the first time I've killed, Arthur."

"You were just defending yourself," Arthur immediately retorted. 

"That's no excuse. There's always another way. If I were better, stronger, smarter . . . I could have, should have found another way."

Merlin's gaze was fixed somewhere in the middle distance, and Arthur knew he wasn't talking about Agravaine anymore. "Well, that's what friends are for, Merlin." Arthur felt a bit smug about throwing the man's words back at him. "You won't have to go it alone anymore."

Noise drifted up from the courtyard behind them, sounds of the servants starting the day. It was going to be a busy one, too.

"We also need to discuss Morgana."

Merlin started and squirmed with guilt of all things.

"She's in league with a mercenary named Helios. Gwen witnessed her handing over plans to the siege tunnels that Agravaine had given her, which is why she returned to Camelot."

"Oh," Merlin said, looking vaguely relieved. "I knew they were plotting something, I just wasn't sure what. And that explains why I've been so worried about Morgana hurting Gwen. I'd been trying to figure it out, but the child me wasn't interested enough in the 'why' to pay attention when you discussed it."

"You and Sir Horse did seem very preoccupied," Arthur teased.

Merlin blushed again. "I, er, thank you for that. I ought to get him back to you."

Before he realized what he was doing, Arthur slung an arm over Merlin's bony shoulders and squeezed. "You can keep him as long as you don't let your adventures interfere with your work."

Merlin shot him a glare, but it lacked any real heat. Arthur dropped his arm and slumped onto his elbows again. "I want you to speak to the council, help us plan a defense against Morgana's magic."

A cross between horror and excitement created an odd expression on Merlin's face. "I—Arthur, I don't know if that's a good idea. Believe me, I've dreamed of hearing you say something like that for years, but . . . the law. You can't just throw me at the court and expect them to accept me or a radical change to Uther's laws overnight."

Arthur clapped him on the back. "Nonsense. Emrys. World's most powerful warlock. Surely you're not afraid of a little recognition of your talents?"

 "What? No, I . . . I just . . . I haven't had much chance to practice. To study. Most of what I do is a combination of quick thinking, luck and brute force—I am powerful—but that isn't enough against a foe with more experience and knowledge. If it weren't for the fact that they always think I'm just your idiot servant, we might not be here today. And causing dissention in the court by addressing magic, while Morgana's raising an army against us, will only help her cause."

"Or it could help yours. Merlin, think about it. They know we can't counter Morgana's magic, and their desperation will make them more accepting of your kind of aid."

"Yes, we've seen how accepting Uther's court has been to magic users who've helped in the past," Merlin snapped. "Unless Balinor wanted to leave everyo—everything behind and live alone in that cave."

"I know who Balinor was to you, and I'm sorry. I have a feeling that word will become increasingly inadequate as a few secrets come to light." A lump formed in Arthur's throat to see Merlin's eyes fill with tears despite his best efforts to stem them. "But this isn't Uther's court anymore. It's mine."

Merlin scrubbed his face and nodded, but Arthur noticed how those slender hands went through an abbreviated version of Hunith's hand motions, probably more reflex than any conscious action on the warlock's part. Arthur relented. As impatient as he was to right the injustices against his friend, he would respect the fact that Merlin needed time.

"So you still want to be my Secret Sorcerer?" Arthur put a bit of teasing into his tone hoping to lighten the mood.

It worked. Merlin choked out a laugh and the tension in his scrawny form eased. "For now."

Footsteps pounded up the stones. "Sire!"

Arthur turned and straightened when he saw a young page jogging over. "Yes?"

"The pyre is almost ready, and the sorceress—"

"Wait, what?" Merlin exclaimed, clambering off the wall to stand by them. "What sorceress?"

Arthur waved Merlin quiet and addressed the page. "Thank you. That will be all. You may return to your duties."

After the page had gone, Merlin crossed his arms and demanded. "What sorceress? Is this how you celebrate abolishing the anti-magic laws? By burning one last witch for old times' sake?"

It didn't help that Merlin's indignant look very closely resembled his pout as a child. Arthur bit back a grin. "That dragon of yours killed the group of sorcerers who turned you into a child, but Leon caught the sorceress who abducted you. She came rather willingly since she believes you, along with her fellow conspirators, are dead. She's to be tried and executed this afternoon."

"What?" Merlin exclaimed. "You can't execute Irina."

"I thought you'd be happy." Arthur frowned.

"All she's done is kidnap a servant, hardly an offence warranting such a severe punishment."

"How can you say that?" Arthur demanded, feeling true anger. "She kidnapped you, nearly killing you in the process, all so they could use you to usurp the throne of Camelot."

"That doesn't mean you should kill her." Merlin sighed and ran his hands through his hair until it stuck up in odd angles. "Look, you can't accuse her of treason, not without exposing me for what I am, and you can't execute her for sorcery and not execute Gaius and I for the same."

"But that's . . . that's . . . ."

"Welcome to my world," Merlin said sadly. "Look, I, more than anyone, am upset with what she's done, but it's more than the legal technicalities. I don't think you should execute her."

"I don't want to kill her, but I need to. She can't plot to overthrow this kingdom and go unpunished."

 "Please, Arthur. Without her group, she's no longer a threat, and this cycle of violence has to stop somewhere. And I'm not saying you have to let her go free, just don't execute her."

"Merlin, you almost died!" Arthur brought both hands to cup the back of Merlin's head, touching their foreheads together. "You're not a monster. You're not worthless, and you're not expendable. Irina must pay the price."

"Then I'll do it!" Merlin exclaimed. He pushed away from Arthur and wrapped his skinny arms around his torso. "If you won't let her go, then I'll kill her. You can tell the court she killed herself, and given this depression she's in, it's plausible."

"I can't ask you to do that. I don't care how many lives you've been forced to take, you're not a killer."

"I am what you need me to be, Arthur, so that we can build a kingdom of peace for all." Merlin turned and leaned on the wall, his shoulders slumped. "That's the way it's always been. If you can't bring yourself to spare this woman's life, then I will take care of her myself because you cannot usher in an era of peace on a platter of vengeance. Nimueh, Uther, Morgana, Morgause and their like have shown us this. You must be the example, Arthur. This bloodshed must end and the new age begin with you."

"I'll think about it, okay? That's all I can promise." He waited until Merlin nodded, then added, "Now why don't you go get some breakfast with Hunith and Gaius. You, of course, have the day off and I expect you to rest. I'll send for you . . . for . . . later."

Merlin nodded once more and left. Arthur exhaled loudly and leaned onto the wall again, gazing out over the city. He'd come up here to clear his head and ended up with even more things to worry about.

~~~

Feeling a bit like a lute string about to snap, Merlin stormed back toward Gaius's chambers. The tenuous calm he'd finally managed to achieve on the battlements had been shattered. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he fought to re-contain sentiments his recent predicament had brought to the surface. Every little thing roused such an intensity of emotion it took all he had not to cry, cringe, throw a tantrum or throw his arms around people at the slightest provocation, as if some part of him was still four years old.

And his moods could switch almost without warning. As upset as he was about Irina and what her fate might be, he was smothering a giggle behind his hands before he'd completely fled the battlements. Arthur, the knights, Gwen—all his closest friends—knew about the magic and had accepted him. What he hadn't dared hope for had finally come true albeit through rather unorthodox means.

But what if they'd only been so nice to him because he'd been a child? What if, now that he was himself again, they didn't want anything to do with him? Arthur had accepted him, they shared a destiny after all, but the rest of his friends . . . . A sensation like melted snow trickled down his spine, and Merlin bit down on his fist to keep from sobbing out loud. Of course they would have been nice to an innocent—they were knights. And they might accept his magical help in a tough situation, but that easy camaraderie and banter they'd shared on patrols and quests would be gone. They'd see him as a useful tool to be set aside once its task was done.

He didn't realize he'd pressed his back to a wall and slid down into a crouch until a shadow fell over him and a hand clapped his shoulder.

"You alright, mate?"

Merlin started and looked up, wincing as he fell hard the rest of the way to the stone floor. Gwaine leaned over, holding an apple in the hand that wasn't squeezing Merlin's shoulder. Here was Gwaine being as friendly as always. How could Merlin have doubted him? Bombarded by the memory of Gwaine carrying him through the market, holding him as they listened to the music, Merlin wrapped his arms around his legs to keep from launching himself at the man, but he couldn't stop the tears from welling up and he couldn't speak for the lump in his throat.

Gwaine's lopsided grin faded to a concerned frown, and he dropped to his knees and his gaze flitted over Merlin as if hunting clues as to what was bothering him. The open affection only made it harder for Merlin to recover. Damn that spell!

"What's going on?" Elyan asked as he and Percival trotted over.

Great. Was there some message going around telling everyone the king's servant was flipping out in the corridor, come watch? They, too, bent to check on Merlin.

Gwaine put a hand on Merlin's head, absently stroking his hair, and said, "I'm not sure. I just found him like this. Go get Arthur." Elyan nodded and ran off.

"Percival, can you help me get him back to Gaius?"

When Percival had actually slid an arm behind his back and was about to put the other under his legs and lift, Merlin finally snapped out of it and pushed away so he could stand on his own. He scrubbed at his face and tried to force the tumultuous emotions back under control. "I'm okay. Really. I just . . . I'm okay."

He giggled and pressed his hands over his mouth. Gwaine and Percival stared at him like he'd given himself donkey's ears like the goblin gave Arthur. That particular memory caused an eruption of giggles. The king chose that moment to come sprinting onto the scene, which pushed Merlin over the edge to full out laughter so hard he couldn't stand upright.

"You broke him!" the king snapped at the knights. "When he left me, he was fine."

Merlin's fit subsided enough for him to gulp for air. Finally, he'd recovered enough to speak. "You-your ears!"

Arthur self-consciously clapped his hands over his ears and his brow furrowed in confusion. "Huh?"

Merlin closed his eyes and bent over, resting his hands on his knees. Deep breath in, deep breath out. He counted to ten, focusing on reigning in his emotions. Eventually, he didn't feel so out of control. Exhaling loudly, he pushed to stand.

"I think I'm better now. It's just . . . a side effect of being four for a while. Everything in my head is so fresh, right under the surface, but I should be fine now. I think."

"What's so funny about my ears?" Arthur demanded.

"Like I said, everything's fresh." Merlin grinned. "I was just remembering when that goblin got loose."

Arthur flushed a brilliant shade of red, which piqued Gwaine's interest. "What's this about a goblin?"

Never one to allow himself to be laughed at, Arthur immediately changed the subject. "Elyan said you were upset."

"I'm okay, really," Merlin insisted, though Gwaine caught his eye and mouthed, "Goblin?" at him and arched an eyebrow.

"You looked distraught, Merlin," Percival said softly. "It's okay to feel something other than happy. Especially after what you went through. I know you're used to hiding everything, guarding your secrets, but you don't have to do that anymore. You shouldn't. We're your friends."

Merlin blinked rapidly and another lump tightened his throat, but it wasn't the wild, roller coaster passion from before. They crowded around him with concerned expressions. His friends, who didn't care that he had magic, or might be a bit manic at the moment. It wasn't a dream or some figment of his imagination. 

"We know you've suffered, Merlin," Gwaine said. "It's time to stop bearing these burdens alone. Maybe letting them out will stop them from overwhelming you like that again."

"I . . . uh . . . I was worried that my magic had ruined everything. That you'd see me like a weapon or a tool and nothing more." He swallowed hard and dropped his gaze, knowing it would hurt them to know he doubted them. "But you're all here. All worried about me. Even though I'm not little anymore. I'd almost stopped dreaming this day would ever come." Sighing, Merlin muttered under his breath, "I just wish all those I failed—Will, Balinor, Freya, even Morgana—could have been around to see it."

"Wait, who's Freya?"

The air seemed to solidify around Merlin; he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He hadn't thought they would hear that last bit. A hand touched his arm, Arthur's. Merlin jumped and peered wildly at Arthur. Anything else—releasing the dragon, poisoning Morgana, even his part in Uther's death—he would have readily discussed if pressed, but Freya . . . .

He stared down at his hands and rubbed his fingers. Still he could feel her warmth, smell the metallic tang of her blood, taste her soft, sweet lips brushing his. Merlin touched his mouth. They'd shown such faith in him, forgiving him his deception, trusting him not to harm them with the magic they'd been raised to fear. The least he could do was reward that trust with an equal show of faith. He could entrust them with his most painful secret.

"She . . . I . . . we," Merlin swallowed again, grateful for the gentle squeeze Arthur gave his arm. "I loved her."

"Loved?" Elyan asked. "What happened?"

"Several years ago, this bounty hunter came through with a young druid girl to sell to Uther. She looked so sad, alone and frightened, and all I could think was that that could have been me in that cage, nearly had been so many times."

Arthur looked decidedly guilty at that statement and he squeezed Merlin's arm again.

"Gaius warned me not to get involved, and long story short, I helped her escape and hid her from everyone. She was so beautiful, sweet, kind. I could be myself around her. I . . . we planned to run away together."

"What!" Arthur sounded shocked, almost petulant.

Merlin ran his hands through his hair. "I was so tired of hiding what I was, living in fear. No one, not even Gaius, could truly understand how I felt, but Freya. She was like me. Had the same fears, the same desire for freedom and peace."

"Wait," Arthur interjected. "Are you talking about that cursed girl who turned into a monster and killed people every night?"

"That wasn't her fault!" Merlin snapped, glaring at them. "She didn't ask to be cursed. An evil witch did that to Freya for accidentally killing her son, who had been attacking Freya. She was defending herself. She was a victim. But none of you thought to find that out, did you? You saw someone associated with magic and just assumed she was evil. I wanted to help her. I could have helped her."

It had taken so long to build up resistance to the pain, and all it took was simple spell to wipe it all away, leaving him as raw and bare as the day it happened. Over time, he'd convinced himself there'd been nothing he could have done to break her curse and he'd have ultimately disappointed her, but that nagging belief that he might have managed something if given the chance had returned.

"Oh, Merlin!" Arthur's voice was thick with emotion. "I . . . I killed her, didn't I? We had her cornered, she transformed and I stabbed her. We never found a body. You must have . . . gods, Merlin, I'm so sorry you had to suffer through that alone."

The king fell silent, and Merlin knew he was thinking about Gwen. How he'd sent her away and what might have happened if Merlin hadn't broken the spell on her. A raw look of grief washed over his face, and when he met Merlin's gaze, his eyes shone with unshed tears. Merlin turned his head before his own tears started to fall. To his surprise a familiar set of strong warm arms slipped around him and he felt Arthur's breath on his neck.

"Promise me you won't keep something like that from me again, Merlin."

Before Merlin could figure out exactly how to respond, another set of arms, then another and another piled on, staggering him beneath the combined weight of the knights and king. Perhaps Merlin hadn't been the only one affected by the spell. Never in a million years would he have thought the knights, much less Arthur, would show such an open display of affection.

The dog-pile broke apart, though not without each offering a final shove or shoulder punch. It was almost like being four years old again with a slew of big-brother figures looking out for him for a change. Though, really, it wasn't that much of a change, was it? In their own way, they'd always looked out for him.

Gwaine ruffled his hair and threw an arm around his shoulder, guiding him toward Gaius's. "You daft warlock. We're going to get you a big, hot breakfast and then you're going to pour your little heart out until we know exactly how much we've got to thank you and apologize for. And then I'm going to make for damn sure you never doubt we're your friends again."

Chapter Text

Camelot's dungeons were many things, but comfortable was not one of them. The manacles around Irina's wrists chafed, and a chill from the bare stone had sunk down to the bone causing a lingering ache. Irina didn't care, though. Comfort was the last thing on her mind now that everything she'd ever held dear was gone. An innocent child, their one hope for a brighter future, had been lost while in her care, and the king's brief visit had only served to make her loss more painful. Long before the cell began to lighten with the rising sun, her tears had run dry, leaving her eyes puffy, itchy and aching.

At least she wouldn't have to wait long before she joined Emrys and her fellows beyond the veil. The young Pendragon certainly wouldn't put her execution off another day—like father like son where magic was involved.

The sound of footsteps approached, and a servant, accompanied by a guard, delivered a breakfast of bread and water. Irina didn't bother acknowledging the food or the men. Even had it been brought from the king's table, it would have tasted like ash in her mouth; and her appetite had all but vanished. She half wished they'd come for her and be done with it already.

~~~

It was well into the morning when Leon finished his duties and managed a bit of free time. He took his responsibilities as the king's first knight seriously, but it did mean that he missed out on a great deal. He couldn't help but feel a bit saddened to hear the other knights go on about things they'd done with Merlin while he'd been gone on the king's errand. Instead of getting to drop in on Merlin first thing that morning to ease his worry about the lad's health, he'd had to see to the knights' schedules and the prisoner so he could report to a king who'd been so distracted Leon could have said that Morgana and the sorceress were having a naked pillow fight in the dungeons and Arthur would have merely grunted in acknowledgement and motioned for Leon to leave.

When he pushed open the door to the physician's chamber, he half expected to see Gaius, Merlin, Hunith and his fellow knights sitting down to a hearty meal without him. He couldn't help the wry smile that escaped when he saw the messy remnants on Gaius's table. Apparently, the meal had long since come and gone. Hunith, the room's only occupant, looked up as he entered. She paused in her sweeping and smiled.

Leon couldn't help but smile back; clearly this was where Merlin had inherited the infectious expression. "Is Merlin?"

She dipped her head toward the warlock's room. "He's in his room. You just missed the others."

Nodding, Leon ascended the stairs and gently pushed Merlin's door open. The man sat on his bed facing a small table. A mountain of clutter had been shifted to one side of the table to make room for a toy horse and crudely carved dragon figure. Merlin ran a finger over one then the other, seemingly lost in thought. It wasn't until the frantic beating of his heart slowed that Leon realized he'd been so anxious.

Merlin looked the picture of health, so clearly he'd escaped the ordeal no worse for the wear. At least physically.

"Leon."

The knight jumped at the unexpected sound. He hadn't thought Merlin was aware of his presence. "Merlin. You look well. I was worried after what the sorceress said about the dragon that you'd been injured."

The warlock flashed him a bemused smile. "Kilgharrah wouldn't hurt me. Although I wouldn't want to be nearby when he discovers the full extent of my artistic attempts. Kin or not, that unicorn might have crossed a line."

Leon fumbled at the bag slung over his shoulder, not quite comfortable—no matter how much Merlin insisted the creature was good—at the casual mention of a beast that had tried to roast him the last time they'd met. He handed the bag to Merlin, who looked at with open confusion before flipping it open and pulling out the tunic, neckerchief and breeches inside. Those blue eyes widened comically, making the young man resemble the child he'd been for the past few days.

"A replacement for what you lost when you were attacked," Leon self-consciously explained.

Long pale fingers caressed the fabric, not fine by any stretch of the imagination, but of a better quality than the usual servants' salary could afford. Merlin blinked rapidly and huffed a gasping laugh. "Thank goodness it's not more food! I don't why everyone seems to believe I've forgotten how to feed myself."

It was hard not to laugh. "Yes, clearly a man of your girth has never skipped a meal."

Merlin rolled his eyes, but didn't seem to be particularly offended. "Seriously, thank you. But you have to let me pay you back. This is too much."

Leon lifted a hand to forestall the protests. "Think of it as a thank you. For all the times you've saved mine, Arthur's, probably all of our lives and we didn't know it. I know it's not much, but I knew you wouldn't let me do more. At least not yet."

Merlin shook his head, his eyes shining. "No, Leon, this is more than enough. More than I ever dreamed. So much more than you can imagine. Thank you."

Leon got the distinct impression that he wasn't talking about just the clothing anymore. Neither of them batted an eye when Leon put an arm around Merlin's shoulder and squeezed. If the only reward the man wanted for his service was friendship, well, who was Leon to deny him?

~~~

Sometime around midday the guards returned. Irina didn't fight as she was roughly hauled to her feet and a set of portable manacles exchanged for the set that attached her to the wall.

Irina ignored everything as she was marched up from the dungeons to the throne room. The thought of sitting through a mockery of a trial put a bitter grin on her face. As if there were any other possible outcome of the proceedings. The massive chamber was surprisingly empty—not the public spectacle she'd witnessed during Uther's reign. A small group of knights and nobles stood on either side as she was led toward the dais. The king himself sat on his throne, his head propped on his hand as he watched her approach with an unreadable expression.

Although she'd seen him last night, by the light of day he looked shockingly young (not much older than Emrys would have been) and fair-headed, but the crown sat well on him. Everything about him screamed leadership and strength, and Irina found it difficult not to admire him for it.

To his right and slightly behind stood a tall, skinny servant with black hair. He kept his hands politely behind his back and kept his head down in a submissive posture. Irina couldn't pull her gaze off him, though. There was something familiar in the sharp angles of his face and those ears.

The servant glanced up, catching the eye of a white-haired man in the audience. Irina gasped. Emrys. He was taller, back to his proper age, but she would recognize him anywhere. Relief robbed her legs of strength, and she would have fallen if the guards didn't have a hold of her. Alive, Emrys was alive!               

Emrys dropped his gaze again and stood there, a hunched and cowed proper servant behind his king, like so much furniture to be used without thought or consideration. The single most powerful magic wielder playing dogsbody to a man who wasn't worthy to lick his boots! Irina's blood boiled and she didn't realize she'd reached for her magic until she slammed up against an immense barrier of power, cutting her off from her own.

Shocked, she looked up to see Emrys's dazzling blue eyes locked on her, a slight scowl twisting his lips. The intensity of his gaze left her breathless and trembling. It was one thing to know the stories, to have seen it used against others, but to feel that awesome strength turned on her defied understanding. One thing was clear, though. She wouldn't have been standing there instead of being a greasy burn on the stones if Emrys did not will it so.

And then that gaze shifted ever so slightly from her to the king and the warlock dipped his head, almost imperceptibly. The king turned his attention back to Irina as she was forced to her knees. Something stirred in the back of her mind at the sight, a nagging thought on the verge of realization. She could feel it growing and pressing in her mind, but couldn't quite determine it yet.

"Irina, you have been accused of sorcery and of an association to the group that recently made an attempt on my life." The king's voice echoed through the hall, but she was still reeling over the fact that he'd used her name instead of calling her 'Sorceress'. "Do you deny these accusations?"

"I . . . no."

"And do you deny that the aim of your scheme was the acceptance of magic in this kingdom and to end the persecution against your kind?"

A murmur coursed through the audience. Irina sputtered for a minute. Where were the angry accusations of sorcery and wickedness? "I, um, no. That was our hope. Is our hope."

"So, despite the fact that I am not my father, you feel you could find no other means to open discussion on the issue. That the only way for this truce to happen is to kill me?"

"I . . . ." She looked to Emrys as an anchor for her confusion.

"You will face me," the king barked with such authority Irina couldn't help but obey. "And you will answer me."

"I, yes. You hate and fear magic, like your father before you."

"I hate and fear the misuse of magic, and therein lies the difference between my father and I. You want for me to accept magic, yet you only show me the evil it can do. You say you want peace, to throw off Uther's oppression, yet you employ his very same methods of death and destruction to reach your ends."

Here the king paused and looked to his servant, to Emrys, who watched him with the hint of an approving smile playing about his lips and a gleam of pride in his eyes.

"As a very wise man pointed out, you cannot usher in an era of peace on a platter of vengeance. And as king, the responsibility falls to me to be the example. Irina, you have been accused of sorcery and conspiracy of treason and do not deny either allegation. The penalty for these crimes is death. However, your involvement was not against me personally and the injured party in this case has interceded on your behalf. You are hereby banished from these lands with your magic bound for a year and a day. If you return at the end of that time and plead your case, I will consider revising your sentence."

If she hadn't already been on her knees, Irina would have collapsed. Clearly, many in the audience were just as shocked as murmuring erupted through the room. She glanced back at the king and Emrys upon the dais, the former still sprawled regally on his throne and the latter standing innocuously at his right hand. The warlock smiled down at her, his expression knowing and patient.

Suddenly, the thought that had been trying to form in the back of her mind ignited. She wasn't staring at a tyrant and his pitiful servant, but a king of legend and his prophesied advisor. Emrys hadn't forgotten his destiny, or denied it, he was living it. He was right where he was supposed to be, guiding and directing the Once and Future King toward their future—not with awesome feats of magic, but with the gentleness of his heart and bond of friendship he'd formed with the king.

How had they not seen it? How had they confused Emrys's humility and self-sacrifice for cowardice and weakness?

Do you still think me a failure? Emrys projected directly into her mind.

Irina flushed, ashamed. Uther Pendragon's son had just spared the life of a sorceress out of respect for the wisdom of his servant. No, Emrys, we were wrong. I'm sorry. How can you forgive me for what I did to you, for almost destroying this?

To her further amazement, Emrys looked visibly shocked by her question as he replied, How could I not? The kindness faded, and a cold hardness crept over his features. Although if you ever try to harm Camelot or Arthur again, I will not be so lenient.

Tears flowed freely down Irina's cheeks, but she didn't care. She would never forget the mercy shown to her this day. There would be others like her, embittered and seeking revenge, but for the first time she had a sense of true hope. The future was standing right in front of her—Magic and Might, Emrys and the Once and Future King, Merlin and Arthur—and it had never looked so promising.

~~~

"Well, that's one sorceress taken care of," Arthur said, dropping heavily into the chair at the table in his chambers, while Merlin returned the more ornamental portions of his outfit back to his wardrobe. "Are you certain her magic is bound?"

Merlin's exasperated huff was muffled but still audible. He wandered over to stand beside the table and crossed his arms. "I thought you said where magic was concerned there was very little I couldn't do?"

"Hmmm," Arthur feigned thoughtfulness. "That doesn't sound like me."

Merlin snorted and went to retrieve Arthur's jacket. Arthur groaned as he pushed to his feet and let Merlin help him into it. Then he and Merlin left for the council chambers. "This is the part I dread."

"Hmm," Merlin quipped, "I thought you loved being the center of attention and telling everyone else what to do?"

Unable to dredge up the spirit to verbally spar, Arthur just shrugged. "I hardly find discussing how to battle treachery from both my uncle and my half sister an enjoyable task."

Arthur pushed open the door to find his most trusted knights, Gwaine, Leon, Percival and Elyan, already gathered around a table where various maps of Camelot, the castle and the siege tunnels were spread out. He joined them, acutely aware of Merlin taking up an unobtrusive position off to one side, though his gaze avidly took in every detail of the maps. Arthur continued to observe Merlin while his men hashed out a detailed plan for defending the city. He could almost see the warlock's mental wheels turning, no doubt preparing his own defense strategies. For years the man had been forced to lurk around the sidelines, trying to mend the gaps in their plans instead of working with them to develop ideas that integrated the best military and magical tactics.

"What do you think, Merlin?" Arthur blurted suddenly, smirking at how Merlin jumped nearly a foot in the air at being addressed.

The warlock glanced at each of the knights, then the king before hesitantly joining them at the table. His brow furrowed and he indicated a few places on the map with his slender index finger. "I don't know much about mercenary armies, but I do know magic. Morgana will likely be their only major player, and she doesn't know about me. Well, me-me. She knows there's a sorcerer named Emrys who's been countering her at every turn, but well, that doesn't really matter. I can probably take her if came down to a one-on-one showdown, but although I've got the brute force, she's had actual training and I'd prefer not to take my chances just yet."

Merlin ran a hand through his hair, caught up in his own explanations with the same excitement he'd put into planning out their game of knights and horses. Arthur noticed the other knights stifling amused grins at seeing their friend so animated again.

Oblivious to this, Merlin continued, "I can put wards here and here and—oh! I can do one around the city to let me know if anything or anyone magical enters. Oh, I know! Like we did to Irina, I can set up something to suppress Morgana's magic temporarily if she enters the city. Yes, yes . . . ." He trailed off, chewing at his lower lip as he considered. He nodded as if satisfied with whatever it was he decided on. "I might even be able to try something against the regular soldiers as well. Not stop them outright, but maybe, I dunno, make them scared, mess up their focus. Only I'd have to make it not affect our men. And we definitely need to get you your sword."

Arthur glanced down at the sword on his hip.

Merlin looked up then, his eyes shining the way they had when he was telling the story about the hawk castle with broad, sweeping gestures with his skinny arms, and shook his head. He wasn't that far gone, but he was bouncing excitedly on his toes with an impish grin on his face.

"It's a long story with a dragon, a lake and stone with a sword in it."

~~~

"Huh, there it is. A stone. With an actual sword sticking out of it." Looking thoroughly shocked, Gwaine studied the rock in the center of the clearing Merlin had led them to. "Now normally I'd say you have a good head on your shoulders, mate, but I'd love to get a taste of what you were drinking when you thought this would be the perfect hiding spot for a powerful weapon. I mean, anyone walking by could take the thing."

Percival, Arthur, Elyan and even Leon snickered loudly at that. Merlin looked offended for a moment before his expression turned sly. "If you think it's so simple, let's see you take it then, Sir Gwaine."

The other knights cheered.

"I believe Merlin has issued you a challenge," Arthur said. "Go on, then. Let's see you take it."

"Piece of cake." Gwaine pulled off his gauntlets and stepped up to the stone. He spit on his palms and rubbed them together, then curled his right hand around the hilt. Straining and grunting and eventually swearing, Gwaine finally collapsed at the base of the stone. "I give up."

The others jeered loudly, and Elyan stepped up. "Okay. I'll give it a go myself. I've worked the forge most of my life. I think I have a bit more upper body strength than you."

Slightly winded, Gwaine stood and made room for Elyan. By now it was like a game, each of the men jeering as the other took his turn, all the while Merlin watched with a rather smug grin. When even Percival, red-faced and gasping, admitted defeat, Merlin stepped up, touching the hilt of the sword affectionately.

"I told you this sword is special. Meant only for the Once and Future King. Only Arthur can free it from the stone."

"Well, Sire, go ahead," Gwaine teased. "Let's see this Once and Future King in action."

And suddenly, the game wasn't so fun anymore. Arthur looked at the sword, inundated with doubt. It wasn't that he didn't trust Merlin, but the idea of being destined to be the greatest king who would unite all of Albion seemed so farfetched. After all, he was the king who'd been ignorant of his own servant's magic for years, who let his half-sister and his uncle manipulate him for months before being forced to see their betrayal. He'd nearly destroyed his kingdom in war with Annis almost before they'd had a chance to put the crown on his head. Was he really worthy of such an amazing weapon?

Merlin sidled up and spoke low enough only Arthur would hear. "That is your sword, Arthur. It can only be drawn by the true king. You and you alone are worthy to wield it. And I know you're ready. Believe in yourself, Arthur. Your friends do. Your people do. I do."

Arthur stepped forward, heart pounding more fiercely than it had since he was a young man taking part in his first tournament. The hilt felt firm and right beneath his hand, as if it really had been made for him. He took a few deep breaths, then pulled. For a horrifying moment, it stuck like it wasn't going to budge; then, smooth as butter, it glided out of the rock. The hiss of metal and a resounding ring filled the air as it slipped free and he held it aloft, admiring the sword's beauty.

Without Gwen and Elyan's father, Merlin, a dragon and somehow Merlin's dead love, this magnificent blade wouldn't exist. In a way, it was made up of a part of each of them.

His gaze drifted to his most trusted knights and his best friend/warlock/advisor, and it dawned on him that being the Once and Future King wasn't about what he would do, but what they would achieve together. That he, like his sword, was made great by the quality of people who believed in him.

"Long live the king!" Leon suddenly shouted. Everyone else took up the cry.

Arthur brandished the sword, struggling for kingly, eloquent words to commemorate the moment, some pithy quote for the history books. He inhaled deeply and opened his mouth, when an earth-shaking roar filled the air.

"MERLIN!"

Birds in the surrounding trees burst forth in a mad flurry of wings and feathers. The knights reached instinctively for their weapons and turned as one to look at the warlock. Merlin flinched, a look on his face that could only be described as a strange mix of glee and alarm, and searched the skies.

Noticing everybody's questioning looks, Merlin self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck and flashed a sheepish grin. "Yep, I think that unicorn definitely crossed a line."

He fidgeted and scanned the clearing. "Um, I think . . . it's not . . . ."

Another enraged roar filtered down from the sky, closer than the first, and Merlin gave the surrounding space a reassessing look.

"Um, yeah. I—" Merlin spluttered, then abruptly turned and bolted from the clearing like a frightened hare.

Arthur gaped at the vanishing back of his servant. He exchanged a confused look with his knights. "What was—?"

A dragon-shaped shadow passed overhead, moving swiftly in the direction Merlin had fled. They stared, dumbfounded, until a resounding crash and a distinctly Merlin yelp spurred them into action.

"You don't think the dragon would hurt Merlin, do you?" Elyan asked as they ran through the forest.

Merlin certainly didn't think so, but Arthur wasn't as sure. A short while later, they came across a steep drop and the very clear trail of broken branches where someone had recently tumbled down it. After carefully descending, Arthur found himself facing a comical sight. He fell back into the trees and crouched down, motioning for his men to do the same.

The forest opened onto a small lake, and none other than the great dragon crouched on the grassy shore. A very petulant-looking Merlin, with twigs and leaves sticking out of his messy black hair and clinging to his clothes, sat between the dragon's forelegs, receiving a severe tongue-lashing from the massive beast.

Merlin plucked at the grass and didn't meet its gaze. "But I was four. I didn't mean—"

"I will not have my hide marred by such a thing, no matter how innocently conceived or well-intended it was."

"Fine," Merlin said sullenly and pushed to his feet, sending a small avalanche of debris tumbling from his tunic. He untied his neckerchief, dipped it in the water and walked over to the dragon's ars—flank. An ugly, stick-figure unicorn adorned the golden scales. The warlock smiled, choked back a laugh and began to scrub.

Arthur smiled too and turned to his knights. "Go fetch the horses, then you four go on back to Camelot. I'll wait with our mounts for Merlin to finish his punishment."

The knights obeyed, Gwaine reluctantly so, and left Arthur with the two horses. Half an hour later, the dragon took to the skies, and Merlin trudged back toward the forest, mournfully examining his now filthy neckerchief. The warlock struggled up the incline, and when he got close enough, Arthur offered him a hand.

Merlin started, obviously not aware he'd been followed. "Arthur!" His eyes narrowed as he took the king's hand. "Were you worried about me?"

Arthur hauled him up. "Of course not. I'd just hate to have gone to all the effort of restoring you only have you consumed by an irate dragon."

Merlin crossed his arms mulishly and gave Arthur his usual glare. "Don't be ridiculous, Arthur. Kilgharrah wouldn't eat me."

"Quite right," agreed Arthur amiably, swinging up onto his horse. "You'd no doubt give him chronic indigestion."

Grinning to himself at his own witty rejoinder, Arthur tapped his horse's flanks and started off through the trees. Behind him Merlin huffed and struggled onto his own steed. Arthur breathed deeply and his hand closed unconsciously around the hilt of Excalibur. Morgana may be strong, but they were prepared. They had a plan—not to mention a damn powerful warlock and the best and bravest knights in the land. All would be well.

After a few moments, the familiar sounds of Merlin's grumbling caught up with him as the slender man trotted his mount up to just alongside.

"Prat."

Arthur smirked softly, feeling utterly content. "Idiot."

THE END