DISCLAIMER: I don't own Merlin. I own the OC's and the story.

Hello everyone. I am back:)

As I promised I would, I have started a sequel for "To forget the future". However, this can be read separately because it's a story in and of its own. I can't say it's independent of "To forget the future", because it isn't-not entirely. It is linked with that story, but the connection isn't that big and it's definitely not that vital to the plot. The only thing it does is that it explains certain small things and certain changes in the relationships between some characters(namely Merlin and Mordred). But it can stand on its own all right. If anyone is confused later on though, all you need to do is ask: I'll PM you and explain everything that happened in "To forget the future" and why and how it's connected and... yeah, you get the point:D

Sooo... I'm really excited about this story, because it has a different structure than my other stories and I'm nervous to see if it will work out alright. Reeeally hope it will:D

Okay, enough rambling. Let's get started, shall we?

Enjoy!


Now


The torch blew shadows on the stone walls as he briskly descended the circular stairs. The fire hissed in his ear quietly as the shadows danced, swaying furiously as he hurried down and down, his footsteps ringing in the darkness that lay ahead of him and swallowed the light in his wake. A couple of raven locks fell into his eyes, and the thought that he should shorten them briefly, very briefly, crossed his mind. He remembered Gaius may have told him something like that today. Or was it the day before that?

Merlin finally reached the dungeons, and he closed his left fist around the rough fabric of the old cloak he was wearing, pulling it tighter to his chest. He nodded at the guards as he passed them by and strived towards ignoring the looks he could feel burning into his back, following him. The cloak wasn't his, it was one of Gaius' father's old cloaks that the old physician had kept for reasons that were beyond Merlin's comprehension. Similarly unfathomable reasons had also kept the cloak intact and still usable, fortunately. In any case, the fact that Gaius' father had apparently been a tall man made the hem of the cloak brush on the stone, making an annoying hissing sound as he proceeded trough the long tunnel flanked by iron barred cells.

He had, of course, tripped at least half a dozen times on the way to the dungeons, but now the way was clear and straight, so hopefully he wouldn't stumble again. Although that was the last thing on Merlin's mind right now. Merlin felt like someone had gripped his stomach in an iron fist that was harder than the bars of the cells he was passing by. And with each step the cell he was looking for was coming closer; and with each step the hand squeezed his stomach just that bit more. His throat felt pretty dry as well.

An uneasy pang of longing, of blame, of shame and of fear rang through his chest as said cell finally came into view-all too soon, if anyone asked him. He stopped in front of the door, which unlike the others wasn't made of bars: this was one of the few cells that had solid iron doors with heavy locks, blocking view of the interior.

Merlin took a moment to regain his breath, which he seemed to have lost somewhere along the way. Then his clenched his jaw and placed his palm on the cold metal, letting his magic slide down his arm under his skin, slip around his fingers and seep though his palm into the forged door. Why bother with the key? Besides, he had placed an enchantment on the door that made it impossible for anyone to go in or out, key or no key. In normal circumstances, he would've just put a spell to block magic users, or something even simpler, like a little spell to prevent anyone from magicking the door open. But he couldn't take any chances. Not with this one. So he'd put a complicated shield around the cell, anchoring it on the very walls, ceiling and floor of it: something which had been pretty complicated, as entire walls couldn't technically be used as anchors. Powerful spells usually needed an anchor if the sorcerer wasn't there to sustain them, or if they covered ranges too wide or needed to be maintained for too long. Crystals, stones, certain types of wood and metal: those were the kind of things that worked as good anchors for spells. Walls made of stone and doors made of metal didn't.

But then again. Magic would have gotten and continue to get nowhere if no one ever tried anything new, and if anyone had the required energy to experiment with things like these, that was Merlin.

So he had treated the walls and door with a special mixture Gaius had helped him make that was supposed to enhance the magical properties of stone and, respectively, metal, and then he had woven a magical thread through the center of every wall, using the mixture as a stabilizer.

He had had a hard time learning to divide the magic he was feeling around him naturally into threads, and then learning to see those threads it was made of. Gaius and even Kilgharrah had spent a great deal of time trying to get him to understand what magic was made of and how it actually worked, the dragon being a great (as much as Merlin hated to admit it) help. Now that he had mastered it, his magic awareness had increased greatly, and he could do basically any kind of spells and enchantments, whether they had been done before or not. Hence: this impossible shield.

Apparently, he could weave the threads between the stone and herbal mixture and it would hold. Really it was like sewing two different materials with his magic.

Merlin pushed the door open. It creaked. He stepped inside, the cloak swooshing in after him, brushing dust off the dirty floor. He closed the door behind him and reached inside his cloak, pulling out the bundle wrapped in a clean, white towel and kneeling in front of her.

Merlin placed the bundle down, opening it to reveal a large piece of meat that was still warm, two large slices of potato bread and an apple. The smell of food immediately filled his nostrils, and he could hear the prisoner shift her weight-she had probably smelled it, too. He finally raised his gaze.

She was glaring straight at him, her deep green eyes appearing to have been waiting for his blue ones to meet them. Merlin stared into those eyes or a long while, trying to decipher the reason behind them, but like every other time he found that he couldn't. That was what had him most intrigued with this girl: he couldn't read her. Merlin was exceptionally good at reading people, and yet she was a complete and utter mystery: a book closed and bound with strong leather straps. At the same time, something inside told him that she had a good heart. It was that gut feeling that had yet to fail him, that instinct that had always pointed to him the right direction. He had had it when Morgana had turned evil-even if he had ignored it-he had had it when the traitor Agravaine came into view. And he had it now also, telling him not to give up on her.

Merlin noticed that, despite all the food she'd been given and the relatively comfortable cot and blankets they'd provided her with, the girl still had ugly bags under her eyes, making the deep green of her orbs glow even harder with hatred. Her black hair also brought out her eyes as it fell around her face, tinged with a lighter shade at the top of her head.

After a full minute of staring, Merlin cleared his throat and recited what he'd been telling her for almost a month now.

"We're on your side, you know" the words somehow felt empty now, after all those times he'd said them. She kept glaring, not appearing to have heard him.

Merlin sighed and stood up, brushing his knees off. He turned around and put his hand on the door, knowing she wouldn't touch the food until he was gone. At the last moment though, he turned around and looked her in the eye.

"I'm sorry" And then he stepped out of the small cell, closing the door after him and reveling in the loud clang it made as it shut, his hand lingering there to act as a conduit for the magic that slithered around the door again. He could barely see the almost invisible threads reaching out from the main one at the centre of the door to mingle with the others, creating an impenetrable golden web only he could see. Merlin quickly retraced his steps, passing the guards in a blur and only allowing himself to breathe when he opened his eyes and saw that he was up on the battlements. He noticed he'd got there really fast. The warlock could feel the cold biting into his skin, but made no move to pull the cloak tighter around himself this time: the sensation felt relieving somehow.

The whole of Camelot stretched before him, a white layer of powder that glistened and sparkled in the red light of the dusk sun covering everything from three branches to rooftops. Already shivering wisps of smoke could be seen drifting from in-between houses, and the crowd that always bustled during the day had thinned considerably. To think that only a few hours ago he would have barely been able to see the muddy snow on the streets, now almost gone from all those people stepping on it. Merlin watched as the sun melted into the white that stretched beyond the lower town, the red getting darker and darker and the sky splitting into an inky blue. So enthralled was he by the view that he nearly fell over when someone suddenly spoke from behind him.

"How did it go?"

Merlin turned around and put a hand over his heart, feigning a panic attack.

"You nearly killed me!" he gasped, clutching at the brown cloak. Arthur snorted loudly, coming to stand beside him and resting his hands on the frozen stone railing.

"Good riddance, that would have been" he smirked at the setting sun, sending him a playful look. "Would have thrown a feast"

It was Merlin's time to snort. "You wouldn't have had the time-without me you'd be dead in the blink of an eye"

"Yeah, right"

Silence settle over the two as they both looked at the houses of the lower town huddled together, rather than looking at one another. Even their usual banter seemed frozen, dulled by the question hanging above them in the air.

"How did it go?" Arthur finally asked quietly, and Merlin watched the king's impassive face as he stubbornly watched the sun. The warlock sighed, lowering his own eyes to his fingers, which were white from the cold. He could barely feel them.

"It went as it always does" he replied. "She still won't speak to me"

Arthur sighed too, and the tension dissipated into a layer of defeat. Merlin locked his eyes onto Arthur's. He looked like he had already given up.

"We're going to make her see, Arthur. She's only been here two weeks-not even that" he told him, not sure if he was trying to convince Arthur or himself. The king threw one last look at the town, pressing his lips together. Merlin tensed: Arthur looked ready to protest. Surely he wasn't ready to give up just now, right?

Then Arthur's shoulders sagged and he started to turn away, back towards the warmth and cover of the castle. "Maybe" he glanced back.

"Come on. You have a room to clean" he added half heartedly, and Merlin grunted in response, following him. Despite that, the walk to the king's chambers was a quiet one, each of their thoughts drifting towards the girl in the dungeons.

Merlin wasn't quite sure himself why he didn't just give up. It had been, as he'd told the king, two weeks. Two weeks and she didn't waver, didn't seem to be inclining towards them. Sure, he could say they kept her because they needed information about Morgana, but that would be a lie: they had already gotten all the info that she owned-and it hadn't been that much to begin with. After all, Morgana wasn't known for telling ordinary soldiers about all of her plans, and that was what this girl was: a soldier.

Maybe that's what it was: the fact that she was just a soldier. Just another one of Morgana's pawns, just another lonely, desperate person who the witch had taken advantage of and dragged into her plots. This girl probably wasn't even evil. She was just another mistreated magical person, who had clung to the first one to show her any affection: and unfortunately that seemed to have been Morgana. Just like Morgause had been for the witch. Merlin clenched his fingers into fists at his sides.

The warlock had let one too many persons slip right through his fingers, waiting and doing nothing. And although this girl, this sorceress meant nothing to him, he would save her. He would be on time. She wouldn't turn out like Morgana, or like Freya, or like Lancelot, Mordred and countless other druids he hadn't managed to save in time.

No, he shook his head, staring at Arthur's back. No, he'd be damned if he let this girl fall into the same pit the others had.


So what did you think?

Okay, the next chapters are probably going to be longer-just to let you know.

My guess is that I'll update once a week-at least now, because I have a lot of work on my plate what with school coming to an end and finals and all that. I might update earlier-and here I am talking about the next chapter in particular, because it's already half written-but we'll see. I'll always mention at the end of each chapter the update date-or possible derivations from that date.

Thank you all and see you next week on Wednesday(or tomorrow with the second chapter, if all goes according to plan)^^