**Reviews are much appreciated! It keeps my motivation up, and helps me pinpoint what I need to work on when it comes to my writing! I hope you enjoy this story and where this journey takes us!**

Prologue

The sun had set behind the mountains, the red shades the sunset brought with it already having disappeared several hours ago. Above him stars littered the skies, and a full moon was in full view of the young warlock as he sat by the Lakes of Avalon, after just having suffered one the most devastating losses of his lifetime.

His gaze was aimed up towards the heavens above him, watching the moon with swollen, blood-shot eyes, and desperately wishing that Arthur was with him, whilst regretting the poor choices he had made which had led up to this very moment.

Above him, the moon begun to disappear, slowly but surely the bright orb that was the moon gradually vanished. Merlin propped himself up, observing the lunar eclipse with keen interest, unaware of the nature of this phenomena nor what was occurring. He had never seen such a thing occur in all his years wandering this earth, although he still had many years left to live.

The moon disappeared completely, only a ring of light appearing where the moon had once been.

Unbeknown to him, his eyes flashed golden, and as his magic released in a burst from the very core of his being, and not a moment later his eyes rolled back into his skull, and he fell limply to the ground with a soft thud.

He awoke the following morning, groaning lightly as he pushed himself into a seated position. Sluggish eyes trailed around his surroundings. The little camp he had made the night before had vanished, as if it had never existed in the first place, which he found rather peculiar. He dismissed the oddity of it as mere exhaustion having caused him hallucinations. That would also explain what he had seen in the skies. The moon would not suddenly disappear on it's own, now would it? Most certainly not.

His hand grazed over the back of his skull, and as he ran his hand over a bump he couldn't help but to wince. How had that happened? He couldn't remember hitting his head on anything, not even when Morgana had thrust him backwards in her attempts to rid herself of him.

He spent a few moments checking himself for any other injuries. He reasoned that perhaps he had hit his head after all, but the rush of the moment had numbed the pain and made him unaware of his injury, or he could always have literally passed out from sheer exhaustion and hit his head as he fell.

His gaze trailed out towards the Lake of Avalon, and he felt sick to his stomach as he thought of his failure. He would have to venture back to Camelot and tell everyone of Arthur's death. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing grief upon their faces, especially not when it came to Guinevere and Gaius. However, waiting any longer would not be fair on them, and thus he gathered his bearings and begun the long walk back towards Camelot, contemplating what he should say when he came face to face with Guinevere and Gaius, and if he'd still be able to call Camelot home upon his return. He dreaded the risk of losing his friends and ending up on his own. Alone.

The travel to Camelot took six days on foot, as Merlin was in no rush to get there, and yet his feet simply continued to carry him forwards. He was too absorbed in his grief as he passed through the smaller villages to notice that the people pulled their children inside their homes and barred the doors shut from the inside as he wandered through the village. He attempted to rent a room in one of the inns in one of the larger villages, but the overwhelming silence upon his entry, and the blatant lies the Innkeeper told him let him know that he was not wanted there. He couldn't understand why, but perhaps he simply didn't look like he had enough money to pay for a room for the night, given his scruffy and dirtied appearance, and his gloomy demeanor, though that didn't really make any sense either.

He ended up camping out in the forests just outside of the small villages he passed through, nobody stumbling upon his camp on any occasion. It was as if people were avoiding him. He started to wonder if he had a nasty body odor, and if he should wash before meeting Guinevere and Gaius again. He decided that it would be a good idea.

A days walk away from Camelot he stopped at a creek near one of the roads, pulling his tunic off his body, wetting his neckerchief and using it to wash himself down, taking great care in washing underneath his armpits and getting the gruff, dirt and dust off his face. He had been feeling rather rough and unkempt, and despite the gloomy nature of his circumstances being clean helped lighten his mood, of only a tiny tad.

He heard hooves on the dirt road, rapidly approaching from the direction in which Camelot lay. Could it be a patrol? It was highly likely that it was a patrol, and if he was lucky they'd send a knight riding back with him, shortening his travel time considerably. His hands grasped for his tunic, pulling the fabric over his wet hair and body, making his way towards the road whilst simultaneously pulling on his boots.

"Hey!" Merlin called out as he caught glimpse of the approaching knights wearing the typical red cloak with the Pendragon sigil. It was a relief beyond imagination. "Over here!" He called out, hope being transmitted in his voice. At that moment however, something he did not expect occurred. The knights stopped abruptly. "Fall back! Fall back!" A knight shouted. He found it strange for the knights to wear helmets on a regular patrol, but he found it even weirder at the fact that they headed back for Camelot the very moment they saw him, instead of offering any assistance in helping him get back.

"Wait! WAIT! Take me with you!" Merlin shouted towards them, but his pleads fell on deaf ears. As soon as they had appeared, they were now gone. He did his best to come up with a logical reasoning for why they would just leave him here, with a full day walk back, at best. It didn't make sense. The villagers lack of desire to have anything to do with him, the knights sudden turn around and departure.

Something was terribly wrong. He had a sinking feeling in his gut, and no matter what he tried, he simply couldn't shake it. He could understand suspicion of strangers so close to a large scale battle. Heck, he could even possibly understand the patrol turning around after seeing him, to head off in advance to relay the fact that he was returning without Arthur. But it just made to sense. They could have so easily just picked him up and brought him along with them.

Then a thought struck him. What if something terrible had happened to Camelot when he was gone. What if the remainder of Morgana's forces, although driven back had ceased the opportunity to directly attack the citadel. Seeing Camelot red just moments earlier eased his mind a little, as that would have been a tell-tale sign that Camelot had been able to hold off an attack. He could only speculate as he resumed the walk back. He'd have to get there in order to find out what had truly happened.

An occasional scout came riding in his direction, before turning around and heading off in the direction he had come from once he was spotted. The scouts only became more and more frequent the closer he came to Camelot, and he felt a knot deep in his stomach. Something was wrong, but he had no idea what it could be.

The Citadel came into view as he got closer, moving down the hillside and preparing to walk through the last stretch of forest. Camelot was still standing atleast, and the citadel was fully intact. He couldn't help but to feel relieved. Gaius and Guinevere were most likely safe from harm.

When he came to the gates, he was met by a sight he was not prepared for.

A large mass of knights, with weapons drawn. Archers on top of the walls, arrows pointed in his direction, and in front of them all, wearing a full set of armor stood Arthur. And he was staring at him with the most hateful and fearful set of eyes he had ever seen on a man before in his life. He radiated bravery, but his eyes betrayed his true emotions, as they did for all the men that stood with Arthur in what almost looked like a last stand, against something.

Arthur was alive. How could this be? He certainly wasn't complaining about the fact that Arthur was alive, not one bit, but now he found himself utterly confused. All the knights and archers with their weapons drawn, pointed towards him. Arthur himself watched him like he was a threat, a danger.

"Arthur.. What is going on?" Merlin wearily asked as he approached the mass of people. When the Archers fully drew their bows with shaky arms, readjusting their after him as he moved, he came to a halt.

"Why are you here, Merlin?" Arthur spoke, each word leaving his mouth like he was spitting poison.

"Arthur.. Camelot is my home. I don't know what's going on.. Why are you all doing this? I would never do anything to harm you, anyone." Merlin spoke, his voice portraying frustration and desperation.

"Camelot is not your home. Not after all that you've done. Leave this place, and don't come back." Arthur spat out towards him. Something was wrong, all too wrong and messed up. Arthur was alive, but everyone treated him like he was.. like he was Morgana. Like he had done all the things that Morgana had done. Nothing made sense, everything was just wrong!

"Arthur!" Merlin let out as he took a few steps forwards, he let out a gasp as the Archers released their arrows. This couldn't be happening.