Honestly, I don't know why I originally wrote this chapter present tense because it reads horribly and so I have reverted back to past...hope it's a lil nicer to read now..hope you enjoy!

It all happened so fast.

"Get away, already. Retreat!" The young Warlock flicked away arrow after arrow from his position on the field edge.

"I can look after myself, Merlin." The gods-damned stubborn prince continued crossing his sword as many times as possible, probably more superfluously than necessary, just to spite his manservant.

"You bloody masochist, for once would you listen to me?"

But, why didn't he move?

"Arthur, you need to stop this time. We can't win!" He could already see more soldiers filtering in around them - Merlin doubted he can take them all, it was hard enough trying to protect all the Knights in one on one bouts let alone an outnumbered fight. He wasn't strong enough. At this rate, he would not be able to protect Arthur.

"Don't wimp out on me, Merlin!" Arthur swung his sword into his opponents armour until the breast plate screeched and shattered; then the blade sank into a chest instead, though Arthur had already turned away before the body even hit the ground.

He's skilled; he could have saved himself. So why -

"Gods be damned, Arthur! There are too bloody -" Merlin ducked, narrowly escaping the swing of an axe, his attacker's horse rearing at the amber glinting in the warlock's eyes. Falling to the earth, Merlin hastily rolled away from beneath the beast's hooves. "…too many!" He yelled, a desperation seeping into his usually soft tone. "Arthur, please!"

So why -

The prince momentarily glanced at Merlin, his eyes creasing in concern. However, mere seconds later that damned pride was setting in his eyebrows, hardening the usually warm stare. "We will not retreat. Whether you are with us to the end is...is your own decision." Then, he was gone, dancing off into his next parry.

The idiot, why -

A nasty taste flooded the warlock's mouth, bitter and cruel; as if the crown prince still thought so little of him. With new purpose, Merlin got to his feet. His slight form rippling with anger and determination, how dare that arrogant prat insult him, belittle him, distrust him? After everything he had done - was doing! Gritting his teeth the warlock strode forward, breaking regiment. According to Arthur, the most strategic place for a non-battle trained soldier was out of the way. With a growl of frustration Merlin flung the nearest opposing knight from their horse, not sparing a glance back at the crumpled heap of metal and limbs left to his side. Merlin would show that crowned arse what's what; if the Royal clot pole thinks for even a second that, after everything Merlin had gone through, he would just desert his comrades and his charge…well then. He was just going to have to prove himself to Arthur's very eyes.

'If we die here,' Merlin seethed to himself, toppling three more riders with hardly a twitch of his fingers, 'I will resurrect us just so I can kill him myself.'

How had he known it was coming?

Half way across the battlefield Merlin's blood trembled; shivering along with the force of some other power entering the sphere of his senses. It was new, it was strong and Merlin couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. He spied an enemy approaching Arthur's unguarded back but just as he raised his hand to deflect it, a weight landed heavily between his shoulders. Merlin, thrown off balance, stumbled to his knees as a heat spread through his back, quickly followed by a searing, ruthless pain.

"Arthur; behind you!" He screamed, lifting his hand once more and gaining enough control to shatter the offensive blade before it could hit the prince. 'Arthur can deal with the rest,' the warlock thought, turning to look at the man who had managed to land a blow on him. The knight stood over him, armour scuffed and beaten from battle and as he lifted his sword over Merlin, the warlock smirked.

"Smuldre," and the metal began to creak. Warping, caving and tearing until blood ran from the newly founded creases in the armour. It collapsed in on its self until the hunk of metal and meat was nothing more than child size. "You will not take my destiny from me." Merlin hissed, the regret he would once have felt, long suppressed by his anger.

And why the hell didn't he stop it himself?

"Merlin!" Arthur's voice rang across the field and, as his friend approached, Merlin got to his feet, albeit shakily. "Merlin, your back. I saw -"

"Don't worry, sire. Just watch your own back, alright?" There was no menace in the warlock's tone and yet the prince winced. A sudden spike of energy alerted Merlin like lightening down his spine. It was coming from behind them. Merlin span toward the tree line, staring balefully toward the glint in the shadows.

…an archer? The only one he had seen all day... despite the chill tracking over the nape of his neck, Merlin raised his hand toward the concealed bow-man.

"Avvæpne," his eyes narrowed in outrage as the bow stayed firmly in hand. 'That isn't possible, that should have disarmed him,' the archer raised his bow, his arm drawn back in aim -

"Være formålsløs!" Merlin cried, willing the arrow to fly in another direction but his heart had time to stutter once before the bladed shaft was soaring toward them - "fryses!"

All became still. As Merlin had done before only for Arthur, time drew to a stop. The Knights became pictures of battle, the wind halting in the trees while the leaves pause mid shiver. Merlin's breathing was fast, laboured. Why wouldn't the arrow stop? Quickly tracking the firing line he nodded, noting a perfect alignment to Arthur's heart. He thought, for a second, of moving Arthur, but if the arrow couldn't be deterred then it must be charmed...it would only follow the new path to the now vulnerable prince. With no obvious cover to shield them, the warlock paced toward the young man under his care -

"Interesting technique, Emerys, try again."

The very moment the voice disappeared, noise erupted across the field; time was moving. Merlin stepped towards the prince, his pace quickened by magic, they're eyes met and Arthur was confused.

The only way to stop the arrow reaching Arthur was –

That bloody, useless, idiot of a manservant.