Now, here's another full-length fic appearing here. It's co-written with a wonderful author named MerlinStar. Go look her up.

Updates on this thing might be slow, they might be fast. I really have no idea.

Disclaimer: As much as I may want it, I do not own it. Neither does MerlinStar. Really, we'd both love to, but we don't.

Enjoy!

Now and Again: Stuck On The Slow Path

Chapter 1

The wrinkled brow of twilight seemed to frown down on Camelot, as daylight slipped from the sky's weakening grasp.

From one of the castle's many shadowed windows, a handsome young blonde man watched the cobbled courtyard below, where perhaps two hundred figures stood, silent as ghosts, each holding a single lit candle.

The sea of dancing flames below Arthur threatened to ignite his inner anger and sadness. To show his hidden fear. The people, they had come to pay their respects to the great king, the most powerful man in all Albion. Uther Pendragon. His father.

Unable to face the sorrowful scene any longer, Arthur turned back to the gloom of his father's chambers. By the dim halo of light from a wall torch, the prince could just make out his father's face. Though sleeping, Uther appeared still in great agony.

Uther had been sick for some time, but the illness had come to this climax a few days ago. Gaius had said it was cancer, and that there was nothing he could do.

Gaius, the humble court physician, sat at the king's bedside. But the old man was not watching the sleeping king, instead he stared straight across the dimly lit room, his eyes seeming to penetrate the stone walls and glimpse the twilight sky beyond. The years showed in his posture, a bone-weary slump that meant that time had not been very kind.

By the door stood Merlin, Arthur's manservant and most loyal friend. His naturally pale face seemed almost pure white by the lamplight, while his ebony hair faded into the haunting shadows. Blue eyes shone; a hint of colour against the black and white.

Merlin had proven himself to be so much more to the prince than just his servant. Over the years, the boy had been a great source of advice and support to Arthur, and the two had grown to become good friends. Even in the darkest of circumstances Merlin had helped the prince.

But now, Arthur refused to let anyone comfort him. His father was dying, and he was quite at a loss of what to do. Though father and son had never been very close, Uther was the only family that Arthur had, and while losing him meant that Arthur was to rule Camelot, it also meant that he would be alone. The rest of his family would be gone.

As Uther shuddered on his bed, Arthur was jolted out of his murky pool of thought. The death rattle had started. Death wasn't quiet. The body, even in the end, fought to cling to life. Uther struggled, took his last few breaths, and stopped. All in the room froze, silent in the shock of his passing.

"Out! Everyone out now!" Arthur said, gritting his teeth. He waited until the door had shut behind Merlin, and then dropped to his knees. He wailed a sound that one can only make when a loved one dies. Uther Pendragon was dead.

*

The morning of Arthur's coronation dawned glorious and true, the sunlight hailing Camelot's golden prince, and king-to-be.

"Are you nervous, sire?" Merlin enquired as he helped Arthur dress and prepare for the ceremony.

"Moderately," Arthur admitted, and the two shared a brief smile. Though still decidedly arrogant at times, Arthur had matured a lot recently, and was increasingly becomes less afraid to show his true feelings, be them positive or negative.

"... and do you solemnly swear to govern Camelot justly, using your power to wisely to benefit the kingdom, and to help all those who live here?" Geoffrey of Monmouth intoned.

Arthur nodded. "I do,"

"Then Camelot welcomes her new king, the mighty Arthur Pendragon!"

As the glittering, golden crown was placed on Arthur's head, the crowds that congregated the great hall burst into applause, nobles and servants alike eagerly welcoming their new monarch.

Though he would never admit it to anyone, Merlin felt very proud of Arthur: the man would be a brilliant and just king, he was sure of it. The warlock would have been perfectly happy, had it not been that he had still not told Arthur about his magic. He was afraid doing so might spoil the friendship that had grown between the two of them over the years, and was still unsure if Arthur would enforce his father's laws on the matter.

"Tell him," the dragon had said. A voice he had come to know well recently, once that seemed determined that he should live a lie no longer.

"I will tell him," vowed Merlin. "Soon,"

*

A month or so later, standing in the same hall, two men - one dark haired, one blonde - stood pouring over maps of Albion. The surrounding kingdoms had heard of Uther's death and were becoming restless. How would this new king handle things?

"Arthur," Merlin said. The king looked up in surprise; he had been deep in thought, and neither had spoken for a time.

"Yes?"

"I need to talk to you," Merlin was no longer interested in the maps spread over the large, circular table in the centre of the hall.

"Can't it wait? This isn't exactly a good time to talk."

"No, I'm afraid it can't wait, Sire," Merlin replied to Arthur's astonishment.

"Get on with it then," the king muttered gruffly.

"Arthur, I've been meaning to tell you for a while, but I didn't know how to..." Merlin glanced around nervously.

"Icandomagic" He squished the damning words together, getting it all out at once. "I'm a warlock." he finished.

"If this is some kind of mad joke..." the king began through gritted teeth. Merlin expected shouting - fury, raging anger - but Arthur simply sighed, and put his head in his hands.

"Somehow, Merlin, I think I already knew." he muttered.

"I'm sorry, Sire, I... I was born like this, I didn't choose it, please, I didn't ask for it to be this way..." Merlin was nervous, but he wasn't going to shatter into pieces if he was to be killed.

The silence between the two was shadowed and painful, almost accusing.

"Merlin," Arthur's voice was surprisingly strong as he addressed the young warlock a short while later.

As Merlin looked up, Arthur turned to him. "Why did you not tell me sooner?" But, but as soon as the question left his lips, he knew the answer: his father. Merlin didn't reply, so Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder and said gently "I trust you would never use it against me,"

The wizard shook his head. "I would only use it to protect you,"

"I wouldn't punish you because you were born like this," mused Arthur, "and..."

"What?" Merlin immediately sensed Arthur's unease.

"I'm thinking of letting magic back into Camelot."

"You are?"

"Yes. Father's ban against it was understandable, but too strict. Magic is not always used for evil." Merlin nodded, very much agreeing with that. "But it won't be immediate. I have to do it slowly. People caught doing magic will be questioned, and if their intentions are kind, they will be let free. After a while, I will lift the ban completely." Merlin smiled.

"One last thing."

"Yes, Arthur?"

"I'm firing you."

"What???" Merlin was shocked. So because he was magic he was going to get sacked?

"Well, you can't be my manservant and Court Advisor at the same time, can you? Or does your magic enable you to be in two places at once?"

"Thank you so much Arthur... Sire, I mean," Arthur chuckled as the warlock grimaced at the term of respect. "For goodness' sake, call me Arthur! Since when were you one to respect me?" And he waved away a grinning Merlin.

*

Time passed. The first evidence of magic was another small group of druids coming into Camelot to gather supplies. Originally, the druids would have immediately been arrested and then executed, simply for walking into Camelot. With Arthur's rise to the throne, that changed. There were three women, a boy, and a man, and they had stopped at a stall. The stall owner saw them, spooked, and called over the guards that were patrolling the city. They didn't put up a fight, and went with the guards calmly.

Arthur came to interrogate them himself after their stay in the dungeons for a couple of hours.

"Why were you in Camelot?"

"Supplies, Sire." Answered a woman. She was older, and looked to be the matriarch of the group.

"Supplies. Well then. Guard!"

The druids flinched. They knew the reputation that Camelot had for magic-users.

The guard arrived. "Yes, Sire?"

"Open the door and let these people go. They did no wrong."

"Yes, Sire."

*

More time passed. It had been five years since King Uther had died, and both the current King and Merlin were thirty years old. It was early spring, and enough of winter remained that there was a brisk wind outside, enough to make all that went outside want a cloak. The flags waved on the tops of the turrets, proudly showing the Camelot colours, a gold dragon on a scarlet background.

The air tingled, making many people sneeze and wonder if they were coming down with something. There was magic in the air. Merlin sensed it, and knew, something was going to happen today. It would change everything.

He'd been tense and edgy from the moment he woke up that day, unable to enjoy the sunlight that was streaming through the clouds.

"Merlin, what is wrong now?" Arthur asked at breakfast, when he noticed that his friend and advisor was barely eating his food, and pushing it around the plate. Ever since Merlin had been promoted to advisor, and received all the perks with it, he only skipped a breakfast when something was really irritating him.

"What?" Merlin blinked, coming out of his musings. "Nothing's wrong. 'M fine."

"No you're not."

Merlin only raised an eyebrow.

"You're not eating your breakfast." Merlin pouted at this. Was he really that easy to read?

"Something's gonna happen. I can sense it, and I can't figure out what it is. What's really annoying is that it's powerful magic. Something big is coming. You've probably noticed it too, though you wouldn't know it."

"Oh, how so?"

"Have you felt like you've constantly wanted to sneeze all day, and have more often than usual?"

"Yes..."

"That's the magic. It only affects those who really can't use magic like this when the casting is huge. And I can't find the source! It's driving me mad!"

"Merlin, calm down. I'm sure whatever it is will come around sooner or later. It always does."

Speak of the devil, and he will appear. Arthur sneezed hard enough to make the resounding 'achoo' echo through the Great Hall and Merlin stood up, tense and ready for a battle. A voice called, and reverberated through the whole castle.

"I call out the King of Camelot and the Warlock Emrys to the courtyard of this castle! I am the High Priestess of the Old Religion and Queen of the Blessed Isle! You will come and hear me!"

Both men rushed to the courtyard, ready to face the self-proclaimed 'High Priestess of the Old Religion.' The last high priestess was Nimueh and she had caused nothing but trouble for them. Behind the two followed a small group of Arthur's knights, Lancelot included.

The sight that awaited them was odd. While the figure was rather short, the aura she commanded was enough to make them take notice and get every other person in the courtyard to stand at the edges, in effect creating a ring, in which the woman, Arthur, and Merlin were in the centre.

"Come, Chosen Two, and hear me."

"Who are you?" Arthur demanded.

The woman answered. "I told you. High Priestess of the Old Religion and Queen of the Blessed Isle."

Merlin's eyes flashed gold, and his hands began to glow the same colour; he was preparing for a battle. "Nimueh was the last Priestess, and she caused nothing but trouble for us. Are you here to do the same?"

"No, Emrys, I am not. Nimueh had personal reasons for her revenge against the last king. I know better than to get too involved."

"And don't call me Emrys! My name is Merlin!"

"All right, Emrys."

Merlin fumed.

"Getting back to the subject," Arthur trailed off, reminding Merlin to reign in his temper. "Why are you here, what did you want us to hear?"

Without preamble, the priestess launched into prose, to be forever etched into the minds of all that could hear, which was quite a lot of people. The high priestess could project her voice very well even without magic.

"Hail, hail, King of Camelot and Knights of Round,

The Time of foretold has been found.

The young Dragon will roar

And his Kingdom soar.

Glow gold,

In Time so bold.

The Once and Future King is finally found!"

Her face softened, losing some of the hardness from the first prophecy. Almost as if she pitied the next person she spoke to. "Emrys, I am sorry, but yours is nowhere near as bright."

"Swing low, sweet Phoenix.

Kind and wise your words are,

But for you, Time is an odd mix.

You hear it's a fix.

Summer does not forever last,

Your time here closes fast.

Legend you may be,

As the facts flee.

Time is your map.

Travel true, travel swift,

Travel as fast as a snap.

Here and gone without a trace,

But a memory will be your face.

Sweet wishes guide you,

And keep your path true."

Then, she bowed. "My blessings to you, Dragon and Phoenix." From behind the blue cape she was wearing, the priestess lifted large, brown wings, and flew off.

Shock kept everyone still as she left. The magic she had summoned faded, and the tingling sensation in everyone's nose disappeared.

"What was that?" Arthur asked gobsmacked.

"I'm not quite sure, Sire." Merlin said, just as confused.

*

Again, time passed, but not nearly as much as before. Things were good for Camelot. Magic had returned and the land was flourishing as never before. Crops grew better and hardier than before. Even though an evil sorcerer came through every now and then and obliterated a village off the map, they were quickly dealt with and peace returned to the land.

This was the Golden Age of Albion, with Camelot at its centre.

Now, Merlin had a habit of leaving the castle for periods of time. Every now and then, the King would accompany him, but more often than not, Merlin went alone. His reasons were usually to hunt down some source of magic, or to solve some magical problem he had heard of in the kingdom.

One day, though, Merlin did not return.

This was not unheard of, but Merlin would have sent some sort of message back to the king telling him not to worry. Nothing of the sort came.

The kingdom went into a frenzy. The court advisor and warlock was loved just as much as Camelot's King was. Arthur himself held many search parties over the course of a year searching for his friend.

Proclamations were made. Large rewards were offered for any information aiding in the search for the missing warlock.

On the other end of the spectrum, threats were released. If anyone had harmed the man- as unlikely as that was-there would be no safe haven, no sanctuary for that person. The whole land of Albion was searching for this one person, and no cost was too high.

Unfortunately, after a time, the searches lessened, and then ceased all together. It had been three years, and yet there was no sign of the man.

Merlin was proclaimed dead, an empty grave created, and mourned.

This was the hardest on Camelot's king. Merlin had been his advisor for years, and more importantly, his closest friend. Even though the searches had been called off, and that he had been proclaimed dead, King Arthur had hoped against all hope that his former manservant and best friend would come back. Arthur just couldn't shake the feeling that Merlin was not dead.

The land of Camelot began to slowly fail.

It was slow. Agonizingly slow. No one noticed at first, but then treaties between Camelot and surrounding kingdoms began to become strained. Small skirmishes broke out on the borders; raiders would attack border villages, that sort of thing. And the decay was within Camelot as well. The crops began to drop in the yield of food; royal stores in case of disaster became smaller, little things that were barely noticed.

But then something happened that hadn't happened since King Arthur was a prince.

There was a disastrous blight in the crops.

Just to top things off, a kingdom across the channel attacked Camelot. They had heard of the small problems surrounding Camelot, and wondered if Camelot was weakening. They were right. The kingdom was beaten off, but not without a price.

Life became much harder for the people of Camelot than was ever in memory. Only the oldest wise men in the villages remembered a harder life. Food became scarce, and the people depended on the King more than ever. The surrounding kingdoms saw the weakness and decided to take advantage of it. Camelot, once a golden beacon of light, was now knee-deep in war and had no way out.

The years began to show on Camelot's king. Worry lines etched themselves around his eyes and on his forehead, there were noticeable bags under his eyes, and his temper grew a shorter and shorter fuse. Camelot was crumbling, and everyone knew it.

There came word one day that a force was growing within Camelot itself, which would take down the king and bring peace once more.

The leader of this force? Mordred.

Then Mordred attacked and Camelot was no more. Arthur was taken into Avalon, for what purpose was unknown, and the idea of peace disappeared.

Camelot, King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, Merlin, Queen Guinevere, Lancelot, all faded into legend and myth.

And that's just the first chapter.

Thanks for reading, please review! You'll get a response from both of us!