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Hope you enjoy... *Nervous*

Footsteps bounced off the walls, down the long corridors, echoing. Quiet nervous breaths sounded along with the steps. Fire from torches flickered on the walls, brightly filling the castle like morning sun. Merlin carried a spell book in one hand, and a potion in the other, glancing over his shoulders every second.

The day before had been normal. Had, in fact, been a day Arthur had wanted to go hunting. So, as he and his manservant had been in the stables, the day had switched from normal to - okay, things like this seemed to happen often, so, normal to other normal, really - an assassin hired by Odin had been seemingly come from nowhere, and stabbed Arthur with a poisoned dagger. All while Merlin had tacked the horses. He'd heard a cry of pain, and his magic shoved the assassin across the stables until his back slammed against a wall.

Gaius had tried everything. Nothing was healing it. So, there he was, walking to the princes chamber with Arthur's last hope. The assassin probably had payed someone to enchant the knife, because the way it had infected so quickly, and started shutting down the future king's organs... Merlin turned down another hallway, and kept walk-running until he reached the door.

He pushed through it, glancing jerkily around to make sure no one was already in the room, then started flipping through the book, as he stepped around Arthur's bed, only taking a moment to look down at the man drenched in illness. His face was white as a sheet, and his eyes were sunken and vaguely red, his skin looked tighter somehow, and it caused the veins to show. Veins, which, looked unhealthily smaller...

Merlin found the spell. He knew once he'd started, he couldn't stop. He'd taken that time when the guards had left to switch with others. They wouldn't be gone for long, but hopefully just long enough... Honestly, he had no idea how long it would take, or how much it would take out of him. He didn't care. He had to save Arthur.

So, he set the potion on the desk beside the bed, kneeled, placed the book before him next to the prince, and put his finger under the first words, reading them aloud. He started quietly at first, finger moving along the page as he read. He took a deep breath, looking up at Arthur's lax face, then put one hand flat against the book, and held the other up, then read it in a stronger, more accented voice. The words slipped off his tongue, and as they did, power surged down his arm and from his hand, the healing spell causing the magic to surround the dying form.

...The halls of the large castle were again filled with the sound of quiet foot-falls. The king walked slowly toward his son's room. His shoulders were slumped and his heart was heavy. He'd been given word that Arthur would likely not make it through the night. So, he was going to say goodbye to his sole heir. Already, the town's people were gathering outside the castle, holding a candlelight vigil, saying goodbye to the beloved prince.

Uther felt as though he was walking to his own death. He didn't want to watch his only son fade away and die. It might destroy him. First he'd lost his beautiful wife to sorcery, must he now lose his son to an enchanted blade, wielded by an assassin? He king coughed back a sob, and ran the back of a gloved hand over his face to rid it of tears.

He moved toward Arthur's door, footsteps dragging as if weighed down by anvils. He reached the door and hesitated. He could hear a voice coming from within the room. The guards had just switched, and were not allowed in Arthur's room without express permission.

Terror flooded through the king's blood. What if the assassin had come to finish what he'd started? Uther drew his sword and burst into the room. He didn't see an assassin; rather, something worse.

Merlin-Arthur's manservant, knelt at the side of Arthur's bed. He had one hand on a book-an old book. The book was recognizable-a sorcerer's spell book. The young servant's eyes glowed with golden fire, as only a sorcerer's would.

Uther gaped. He dropped his sword and it clattered to the floor with a loud clang. The servant wanted to kill his son. Even if that was not what he was doing-Sorcery was banned. He would not watch the thing he hated most destroy his son.

"SORCERY! GUARDS!" he bellowed.

Uther didn't wait for the guards. He lept forward, toward the servant. "Move away from my son!" he hissed angrily.

Merlin's heart pounded, out of the corner of his eye he could see Uther lunging towards him. His blood ran loudly through his veins, and when he swallowed it felt as though he were swallowing a vein. He kept chanting, he was more than halfway through, he couldn't stop now, it would make Arthur's life pass quicker if he did. And he was so... so close.

So he picked the hand off of the book, held it out to the king, and briefly let some of his magic shift towards him, non-verbally holding him back just long enough for Merlin to finish the spell. He sped up his reciting, chest starting to heave from exertion and realization of his impending doom. But it only made him more determined to finish.

And finally, he was done, and the magic was doing its work, healing Arthur's body - saving him. Merlin let his magic flee back into him, dropping whatever enchantments he had held before.

Uther yelled in frustration as he was stopped by magic. Golden light flowed into Arthur, and Uther realized he was too late. Not only was he too late, but he'd been so blind-he'd hired a sorcerer as his son's manservant, and now, Arthur may die because of his foolishness and blindness.

Finally, Uther was able to move forward again, and move he did. He picked up his sword again, just as two guards ran in to the room. They looked at Merlin, then at the king.

"Seize him!" Uther shouted, fuming and huffing in hatred and anger.

He rushed around so that he could stand between the sorcerer and his son. Merlin-the servant-would pay for his treason with his life.

Hands gripped Merlin's biceps. He was hauled to his feet, and met Uther's angry gaze. Despite returning it with a defiant glare, his eyes were accepting. Now, he sort of hoped Arthur would stay out of it until after the execution. Maybe there was a way out of this - well, there was that one, but the knights were just following Uther's command, they didn't deserve to die for their loyalty, nor did the others that would try to stop Merlin from escaping. He didn't see any options right at that moment.

He tried not to look as he felt. Because no, he didn't want to die, not like this, and not before... Everything. Albion. But, it had been his choice, he mused. To die for his friend.

Uther strode forward until he was about two feet from Merlin. He glared into the eyes of someone who had deceived him-taken him for a fool, for so long. Sorcerer's were all to be punished.

Arthur stirred. He groaned and pulled a hand to his face. It felt like lead-heavy and sluggish. He wanted that feeling to go away. Beyond that, there was a feeling of warmth-not like the heat of a fever, but rather, a comfortable warmth. He recognized it as magic-it was just like the warmth he'd felt when Merlin had healed him the first time-back when he'd almost died as a mouse.

The young prince vaguely heard voices. They sounded blurry and under water. He forced his eyes to open, despite the pounding headache. He expected to see only Merlin-maybe Gaius, perhaps even Morgana. What he saw was not that at all.

Merlin stood between two guards-both of whom gripped his arms tightly. Before them, the king stood, fuming. Arthur sat up groggily. He didn't understand what was going on. Was this a fever dream?

"Merlin?" he asked, looking past his father's back, to the worried eyes of his friend.

"Arthur!" Merlin said, and faked a smile. "Rise and shine," he said, in the same cheery voice he used every morning, as if this were just another day. His heart still banged against his chest, thudding rather loudly, so noisily that he was almost surprised no one had mentioned the sound. He ground his teeth in annoyance when one of the guards tugged him to one direction, only for it to be evened out by the man on his other side.

Arthur rubbed the sleep from his eyes and attempted to tame his unruly hair. He watched as his father spun around to face him.

"Arthur!" Uther gasped.

"Father..." Arthur mumbled in response. He didn't understand what was happening. His mind tried to come up with the answer. Why was he here? Had Merlin forgotten to wake him for something important?

Then it all started to come back-the stable. They'd been in the stable. He had been at the door waiting for Merlin to bring the horses when-he remembered a sharm pain as something had stabbed into his side. He'd turned and come face to face with a knife wielding man. He hadn't recognized him. He'd tried to fight off the man, but he'd grown weak quickly, and he'd collapsed. The last thing he remembered was the man flying across the stable-shoved by Merlin's magic.

Merlin's magic. Arthur's mind stuttered to the answer it had been searching for and terror gripped him. He'd felt the healing flowing through him. The prince jumped up, darting across the room and looking out the window. Hundreds of people stood outside holding candles. Arthur realized he'd been dying.

He spun around and looked from Merlin to Uther and back. Arthur's blue eyes held a question he didn't want to ask. He looked intently at Merlin-and he knew. He swallowed loudly. Merlin must have healed him from his wound-one which should have killed him. And... and... had Uther caught him?

"Merlin... w... Father, what is the meaning of this?" he asked, turning to his father and looking at him with what he hoped was an indignant glare.

Merlin watched Arthur warily. He stilled looked sick, but some color was returning to his skin, at least. That's when he heard Uther reply. "My son..." he walked towards Arthur, looking over him as though he were as fragile as glass, and about to be broken any second now. "How do you feel? You have to sit, the," Uther paused, looking back at Merlin and spitting out the next word with disdain, "sorcerer was doing something when I arrived."

"What?" Arthur croaked. His eyes widened. "No... No... Merlin." He looked past Uther, pushing him out of the way and clumsily moving between his father and Merlin. "I'm fine, Father! He's done nothing wrong!" he blurted. Desperation filled the prince's voice as he spoke. He couldn't let Merlin die because of him.

For a moment, he turned to Merlin, looking him in the eyes. His expression was one of dread. His father had seen. Arthur turned back to his father.

Uther roughly pulled Arthur away, a look of hatred shining in his eyes as he angrily snarled at the manservant. He looked between Arthur and Merlin. He knew they were friends, not just master and manservant, he didn't expect this to be easy for his son - but it was the right thing. He was just doing what was best for Arthur. Saving him from the pain and darkness that magic brought.

The looks the two younger men had given each other hadn't passed Uther's notice. Some emotion bubbled inside of him, anger, rage, maybe a bit of jealousy, brought by the look haunting his son's eyes. He pushed them away.

"I'm doing what is best for you. You had a sorcerer in your service - I fully regret putting him there. I am at fault for this."

Arthur frowned and shoved his father's hand away from him. "No! You think you're doing what is right by murdering innocent people-by murdering Merlin? Why should he be killed for something he was born with! What you do-it isn't right, it isn't just-it's wrong."

The prince stepped between Merlin and Uther again. He swallowed loudly, feeling a wave of dizzyness wash over him-and his side hurt, but he had to make his father understand. He had to end the bloodshed. He couldn't watch Merlin die. He shuddered at the very thought.

"Arthur, no!" Uther heard the by exclaim. Red obscured his vision. He knew, Arthur had known about his manservants magic. And he hadn't told him, he hadn't... 'Born with it'. Three little words echoed through his mind. Born with it. Is that what Merlin had told him? That he was born with it? No magic-user was born with it - that was impossible.

"Is that what he told you? And you believed him? That he was... Born with it?" Uther barked a ragefilled laugh that had taken on a sickening calm tint.

Arthur tensed. "Oh, and you've never lied to me? At least he was HONEST. Please, for once, listen to reason! What if it had been myself who was born with magic. What would you do then... tell me, Father. Would you have me hung in the courtyard?" Arthur's voice took on a similar calm.

He'd hoped this day would never come-the day when he was forced to choose between his father, and his friends. He had to not only choose between people he cared about-but honor. To side with his father was to let Merlin die. It was wrong, and he knew it. To side with Merlin was to become a dissapointment to his father, as well as cause his father shame before the whole kingdom. Yet, the prince couldn't go against his conscience-he couldn't see an innocent man killed.

"Yes," Uther answered. Even the guards seemed to be uncomfortable now, uncomfortable or shocked, or perhaps both. "Magic is evil - it would destroy you," the king argued, forever trapped in his ways.

"Arthur," Merlin sounded exhausted. Uther wouldn't listen to reason, he never would, not when it came to that subject. The one thing he held above his own kin, the one thing that meant more to him than his own flesh and blood - his hatred of magic.

Arthur took a stumbling step backwards. His expression was one of shock and betrayal. He'd known his father hated magic, but his hatred was destroying him. He had always claimed magic was evil, but what the king of Camelot was proving was not the evil of magic, but rather, the evil and pain caused by hatred.

"You're wrong, and you can't even see it," Arthur spoke in a quiet whisper. "If Merlin is to die, then you will have to sentence me as well, because I will live by the same rules as everyone else who harbors a sorcerer-and I will not stand idly by while you murder yet another innocent."

Arthur felt his heart crushed. It hurt-more than he could put into words. He backed up until he stood beside Merlin. "If I am to die, then I will die with a clear conscience, knowing I have done right." Even as he spoke, his lips trembled and his blue eyes reddened slightly as he held back tears of complete betrayal.

"Don't be ridiculous, Arthur!" Uther exclaimed, facing the two.

Merlin cringed. "Don't," he whispered to the prince. He swallowed harshly, closing his eyes. Uther's reply came.

"Yes. You do, and if you do not..." Uther's eyes brimmed with pain, "Do not change your ways, then I will have no choice." Merlin's expression changed into something else entirely. No longer the acceptance held in his eyes, he threw himself forward only to be held back by the guards. Chest rising and falling in quick rapid breaths, his disbelieving eyes started to fill with gold.

"Throw them in the dungeons! Separate cells!" Uther realized the ring no longer worked. Fuming, he ripped it from his finger, flinging it to the ground.

Arthur's arm was pulled by one of the guards. He glared at his father, unbelief still shone in his eyes. He looked back at Merlin, who actually looked angry, for the first time in-well, really the first time Arthur could remember.

His world was changing, and possibly coming to an end. He glanced once more at his father, then let himself be dragged into the hall. He could feel the knife wound in his side stretched to a painfull point. He walked a bit faster so as not to be dragged, which seemed to hurt more.

He spared a glance at Merlin. Emotions tore through blue eyes. There were too many emotions to express; betrayal, fear, pain, sadness, gratefulness, and loyalty. He didn't know what would happen from there, but he would not give up without a fight.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, the prince glimpsed Morgana as she peered around the corner from her room. She clearly had missed all that had happened. Her pale eyes looked on with worry as the guards dragged Arthur and Merlin toward the dungeons.

The doors of the hall slammed loudly, leaving only the scuffling sound of shoes on stone as the prince and the warlock were taken away.