Hello y'all! Slow clap for the fandom that never dies.

In all seriousness, though, you guys are amazing. That being said, you're probably wondering what I'm doing around here again. I happen to have two very good reasons.

1. I finally can write something other than a 30 page long thesis. *cue choir of angels singing hallelujah in C minor*

2. I got a request from the lovely searchingforangels and of course my brain decided to go all out and make me write a freaking long fic because Merlin and Arthur are still my children and I'm still full of feelings.

As always, you should have music in your mind when reading this. I recommend 'The Chain' by Fleetwood Mac on repeat.

With that, I give you what's probably the most 'out-there' thing I've ever conceived. I'm still feel kinda guilty- I never got around to finishing that child! Merlin Golden Age AU that I swore I would ( I think it was supposed to be a series of drabbles?) and I'm still fascinated by the idea of a child Merlin and an adult Arthur interacting. Secondly, I've always wanted to do something with this kind of style- the kind of stream of consciousness third person omniscient awesomeness that Joyce is known for (he-yo!) and time travel is always fun to mess around with. This is supposed to be confusing at first, and if you find that everything seems non-sequitur then I've done my job. So buckle up for feels and an 8 year old Merlin.

"Meeting your soul mate is like walking into a house you've been in before (…) you could find your way around in the dark if you had to."

— Jandy Nelson, I'll Give You the Sun

I. Time and Sound.

The world fades into dusk before him, like charcoal thrown upon a body of water, and for a moment Arthur cannot breathe.

The place that re-surge around him is familiar, terribly so, and yet it isn't. Gaius' small bed, which always is set in the center of the physician's chambers in the life he's known, is nowhere to be seen and two roads of makeshift coats replace it. Even with the poor light that filters through his keen, trained eyes can see that some of them have small speckles of blood the diligent servants have not been able to wash away.

He wonders how much innocent blood has been spilled already.

He hears the creak of the back door opening before he takes another breath and inevitably finds himself staring at the newly-installed Court Physician, wearing robes too big for him-now, he realizes suddenly, he must have lost so much weight since it all begun….

Nervous fingers part the mane of red hair that kept Gaius' eyes hidden away and oh, Arthur almost wants to hug him but knows that he cannot. Gaius doesn't know him.

The Court Physician stares at him for a moment, probably assessing his long dark cloak and unshaven cheeks. Arthur has no doubt that the medic in him is silently probing the King's tired, red-rimmed eyes and chalked lips, questioning his sanity perhaps. Arthur's filled with an improper urge to laugh. He has questioned it himself, multiple times.

"Who are you?"

And it is then that Arthur thinks it wise to lower his hood and stare back at Gaius' questioning gaze, knowing that he will sound like a madman when he lets his old, dear physician know…

"Gaius..."

The man before him lets out a low, strangled sound and takes a step back to what one day will end up being Merlin's-

But Arthur cannot think of it. Not now.

"How do you know my name?" Gaius asks. His hand fumbles around until he finds and grasps a small kitchen knife that lies besides a buttered bun. "Are you a sorcerer? A druid? Speak!"

The fear in his eyes- Arthur fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut when he sees it. How long has it passed, he wonders, since Gaius has last heard of a friend of his being killed?

Is it still happening with regularity? Gaius are you-are you trying to save some of them? Is that what these chambers are set up for?

Gaius looks tired and worn before him and he doesn't say anything but oh, Arthur knows. He knows it with instinctive ease, that good people have died in that room, perhaps even been dragged away to be executed. He's seen it, too.

He sighs before he speaks, "My name is Arthur." When he looks up Gaius ' eyes are wide with wonder and fear because he must have- surely he must have started to notice the similarities between the growing son of Uther Pendragon and the broad-shouldered King standing in his chambers. "King Arthur."

.

.

.

Gaius doesn't believe him.

Not until The High King shows him the Pendragon seal, rusty and faded but still in his right hand. What follows after is a stuttering rush of questions- of how and when and why….

"It's… complicated magic, Gaius." He says, sitting down and running a hand through unusually long hair. He realizes with a growing pit on his stomach that he's surprised ….surprised he has not noticed it before- (and yet emotions that are not 'cold determination 'have been unknown to him recently…)

It is longer than it has ever been. Some of it tickles his ears. For a small moment he wonders what Guinevere would think of it.

"There's been a-a disturbance in the time frame." he continues, "Morgan…ah, a sorceress has made her way back in time. She's- she's trying to get rid of the Camelot that will be." He hesitates before he adds, "The druids, they sent me back to find her and try and stop her." He feels his jaw tighten as his mind recoils at his use of the word. Not to try, he rebukes himself, to get it done.

Gaius' brows are almost touching and Arthur wants to groan out his despair. Don't ask me who she is, Gaius. Please…

He does not ask for the sorceress' name but stays silent for entirely too long. Arthur wonders briefly if he's broken Gaius.

"Dear gods, boy." The man says finally, pushing back coarse reddish hair. "What will you do?"

Arthur knows he looks nothing like a king at the moment- he's caught his reflection of Gaius' tall glass cabinets and cannot believe what he sees for the spam of a silent, hoarse heartbeat-his heartbeat. They're gone, the neatly kept golden hair and the crown that usually rests upon it, and the cloak-it looks as if he's made his way through mud and high-water- he has. All that is left is a man that has been trained, since infancy, to succeed in battle. A seasoned warrior- without Merlin, he knows now, that's all he truly is.

"I need to find her." He finally answers. It had been so easy before; to close himself to the world and act according to what needed to be done. But now, after everything…"I must find her and then I'll-I'll force her to go back. She'll have no choice."

"How will you do that?" Gaius' question is one Arthur has asked himself and though he knows the answer there's a selfish part of himself that still denies it because gods, no….

"You need magic, if what you say it's true." Gaius continues, relentless, almost as if the man that will one day be his ward is speaking through him. Spiting him, taunting, Arthur knows his eyes have softened already at the thought of him..."Powerful magic. Where will you…?"

Arthur wishes his knuckles were steel to stop his knuckles from digging into the wood because maybe if he doesn't say it Gaius can find another way- . Any. Other. Way.

But the words come out of his mouth. Dutifully. Tonelessly.

You want to see him. Admit it. You're selfish enough to go and find him.

"Gaius." He gives in to it because deep down he knows there's no choice. There has never been any. "I need Hunith's boy. I need Merlin."

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.

.

Though Gaius has barely gotten over his shock, in about an hour Arthur's already sneaked out of the castle and taken a horse from the royal stables. He catches a glimpse of a child that would be Morris, the manservant he had last before Merlin came along and memories awash over him. For the first time in months, now that he has a goal in mind and a target in sight, he lets them.

The horse is sturdy and stout, a battle horse, and Arthur is so very thankful for that old horse breaker he met once or twice when he was a boy. The man has done a good job, and that means that he'll be able to reach Ealdor in a shorter span of time.

Merlin will be there. The thought alone makes Arthur's strained heartbeat lessen its pace.

Merlin will be there, he reminds himself as the horse races through blurring trees and muddy riverbanks, He'll be there… and he won't know me.

Though this is something he knows he must not do, though the stallion runs like if it has never been tamed, though the wind threatens to put him out of balance Arthur can't stop his pale eyes from closing and his mouth from trembling when another thought strikes at his heart.

He's a child. He'll be in danger if I go through with this and yet deep down….I don't regret it.

Since when had his need for his best friend being so great that he's willing to jeopardize a mere boy's safety?

This is not for you. The thought has surged before, time and time again, throughout all of these months, and it never lessens its intensity. Arthur thinks that it is almost as if he's pleading with himself. It's for the kingdom. For Camelot.

Not for the first time since it all begun the King reaches down to touch a piece of worn cloth tied around his wrist.

He's tried to convince himself before.

.

.

.

"Help!"

He could never ignore the sound of someone in need. Not even now.

Damn it all! And that is why he forces the horse to a clean stop before turning the reigns in the direction of the near river. Arthur can hear the water run and soon enough a second cry pierces through the air, spurring his resolve.

"Help me please!"

He's tearing through the foliage, breathless, with Excalibur in hand, when he feels it. His heart falls silent in an effort to hear it too and he welcomes avidly the sensation of near lightning igniting his blood.

Merlin. The King's soul can see him. You're here.

In his exultation he almost cuts his palm open with a stubborn branch but unending years of training help him cross through towards the river with just a few scratches on his cheeks and, as he leaves the underbrush behind, Arthur can't help but think that he has not been this clumsy in a while. His hands tremble, hands that have gripped Excalibur firmly and taken out indescribable foes, and he cannot bring himself to care.

Wide-eyed, he searches around without truly knowing what he'll find. Not surprisingly, a woman clings to him almost instantly and Arthur wonders, in a distant, hazed, unimportant part of his mind, how can you be desperate enough to fling yourself at someone that's so damn-near a vagabond?

The answer is not one he's happy of. "My child!" the woman wails, her grip tight in the High King's forearms, "My baby! He's g-gone into that cave and h-hasn't come back! What if something's happened to him? My boy! "

The thought of a child in danger freezes the blood in his veins even though his heart's still warm with Merlin's presence, which lingers around him as if it has recognized him. "It's alright, my Lady. I'll go in and find him. He couldn't have gone far-"

Something shifts then and his core, his very soul cries out. Though many years ago he would've hardly paid attention now, now that he knows what it means he can hardly stop his heart from racing to the point of paroxysm as his neck cracks in an effort to see all that surrounds them because Merlin needs him. His wizard had needed him before in battle, in drought seasons and senseless wars and now, now-Arthur can feel his body rearrange itself to face towards wherever he might be…

The woman lets out one last distraught cry and Arthur's searching eyes see it, a little red-haired boy standing in the very edge of the cave, looking relatively unharmed but reasonably shaken. Beside him a small but lithe figure pushes him over, obviously encouraging the boy to climb down the rocks and get to his mother.

The world stops for a moment and the King's whole being shivers with warmth when his eyes find those of the little hero. Merlin stares back at him and something full of light and heavy with meaning clouds the open, joyful innocence of his smaller self.

You're here. His thumbs wipe at his sunken cheeks but a few tears make it to his bearded chin. He lets them. It's been long since those days he'd given a damn about them. You're actually here. Merlin. Dear gods.

Though Merlin doesn't know him-should not know him- he smiles at him and it is that smile he reserves just for Arthur, the one that no one else ever sees, the one that says a thousand unspoken things between them. It's impossible. But it is. Merlin doesn't know him, Arthur realizes with a joyful, sobbing hiccup, but his soul does. Emrys welcomes him.

If you only knew how much I want to hug you, he thinks deliriously, still staring at the boy, entranced, Gwaine would have a field day but you-you would have understood. You always do.

Merlin staggers back and a spike of ice-cold worry threatens to numb Arthur's spine when his old friend shakes his head in clear distress, perhaps trying to dispel the sudden war between his mind and heart at the sight of what a druid woman had once called his other-half. Arthur knows Merlin is no seer but he feels it when Merlin's eyes search his own once more. The boy seeks support in the walls of the cave and gingerly places his hand on the rocky surface.

A low, terrifying rumble resounds and Arthur knows what will happen before two full seconds have passed. Merlin stares back at him, eyes wide with fear and something deep in Arthur recognizes that it's not fear of the cave- in that has barely started but fear of being found out by the mother and son behind him- by me, Arthur's heart trembles, he's terrified of me. If he saves himself with magic and I-I see him….Merlin….

"Merlin!"

He doesn't realize he's shouted one of the names dearest to his heart until Merlin's young face morphs from terror to complete incomprehension. Perhaps a few hours before he would have cared but not now, not now with Merlin almost out of reach forever. In a distant, well-trained part of his mind he wonders what the implications of his actions will be but at nothing matters more than Merlin and seeing him safe-

Merlin, oh gods, please….

In an instant he's surrounding his best friend's small frame with his arms and crushing him against his leathered-armor, forgetting, for once in many months, about Morgana. His sister, who has single-handedly destroyed his Camelot, is the furthest thing from his mind as he curls around the boy he will one day call his best friend and uses his body to shield him.

This just had to be the way I'd find you. The next best thing after bandits, he thinks with clenched teeth as the palm of his hand flattens against soft black hair. Merlin… even as a child you have terrible luck.

He tries not to think of what could have happened if Iseldir had not sent him back but the fleeting idea that rears its ugly head in the depths of his mind sparks a dormant protective instinct inside of him and, as the rocks begin to fall upon them both, the world around him has fallen silent and everything he's ever really had is right here in his arms, small and fragile but whole.

And I intend to keep it that way. Arthur swears vehemently, Lords Merlin, I know you joke about keeping me on my toes but you might just give me a heart attack one day.

Not that any blame is on you, of course, he amends sadly when memories begin to block the roaring of debris around them, it seems that I just can't stop worrying about you. But…what would you say to that, old friend? Part of the soul-bonding experience, eh?

Small fingers suddenly clutch tightly to the loose straps of his jacket. The High King pushes through the surprise and elation when he feels Merlin's head shift from under his hand to rest on his cloaked shoulder and pulls the boy closer with instinctive ease.

Though the cave collapses around them both the weary, battle-worn King of Albion hardly feels any fear. His soul sings within him.

Merlin might not know him but for a small moment Arthur has his sorcerer back.

I've always wanted to do some sort of time-travel fic for Merlin. There are so many infinite possibilities/au's AND JUST THINK OF THE ARTHUR AND MERLIN CUTENESS. IT IS A'COMING AND WILL ROT YOUR TEETH.

Searchingforangels gave me a prompt around the May so not only is this terribly-horribly-unfathomably late, it is also way longer than the one-shot I intended. I'll do my best to upload really quick.

In other news, I recently finished up Vikings and let me tell you...I cannot get enough of Ragnar's and Athelstan's bromance. I will possibly be writing them next so, you know, that's where you'll find me.

Though I am about to start my last year of college and graduate with a title in Literature and Linguistics I still love this fandom and everything's it's given me. Please do not hesitate in PM'eming me or sending me a request. I ALWAYS love to come back to these two dorks.

With love, as always,

Ocean.