The Red Priest

by Hela's Hand

(slow Merthur, strong T) Five hundred years has passed since the Others disappeared into obscurity once again. Rulers came and went, houses rose and fell into the dirt, war raged before being cooled by time. The world kept moving as it always did, with circumstances pushing people who would normally never met together. At least, most meetings were circumstances.

Author's Note – Yes, this is a crossover. No, this won't have characters ASoIaF or GoT, mostly because the books/show isn't finished and I don't know who lives and who dies (it bugs me when I get/predict things wrong).

So I started 500 years into the future, where whoever won the throne is long dead and the world only talks about them in stories (and not in everyday conversations so dodged a bullet *swipes hands together*).

Warning – Blood, strong language, hetero and homo relations, a bromance that ended in tragedy, terrible storyline, a writer's own tears and poor grammar skills. You know, the usual.

Parings – Merlin/Freya, Arthur/Merlin, Lancelot/Gwen.

Disclaimer – If I owned either I wouldn't...yeah I would still be writing fanfiction. But I don't own either works of art.

* ~ "I was looking for a breath of life, a little touch of heavenly light, but all the chorus in my head saying 'no...' " – Karliene Reynolds {cover}: Breath of Life ~ *

The farmers were starting to plant their seeds and the air was getting rid of its winter feel when the red priest came to Camelot, fabric flowing like watery fire behind him as he walked into the throne room.

Arthur didn't know what to think of the masked man when he first saw him, with his strange red robes and tiled mask that resembled a skull, polished so the person would see their faces when they talked with the red priest.

He spoke with the strange accent from the Shadow Lands, or Asshai, as he introduced himself as a priest of the red god. When the man was asked why he came so far, he said that he saw a vision in fire that ordered him to come to Camelot.

Arthur fully expected his father to order the death of the strange man from Asshai at those words, but the masked man spoke a few words in a familiar language to him, hands laced on his stomach. His father looked startled for only a moment before he smoothed his face and dismissed them all. He had watched with the others as his father rose from his throne and walk out of the room with the man, the two speaking in low voices.

He was as confused as all the rest as the masked man would appear in meeting, welcome with a nod by his father as if they were acquaintances and not strangers. The foreign man spoke clear at times when an opinion about the city rose, not fumbling at their dialect though his accent was thick, and was seen walking around with the king, talking about taxes, the food supply, and how to fortify certain areas from invaders.

Arthur wondered if the strange man cast a spell on his father after a while, seeing their interactions with each other. It wouldn't be the first time someone has tried and succeeded. But his father acted the same as before, even executing a sorcerer who dared came into Camelot.

The masked man spoke to his father about that with a calm yet warning tone, "you continue down this path and you'll alienate any allies you have left."

His father had barely glanced at him as he passed. The foreign man turned to his father and spoke in what he thought was the language of Valyria, his voice still calm yet Arthur could hear the edge to them. He tried not to show his surprise when his father spoke back in that language with anger before continuing down the hall, waves of anger coming from him telling no one to approach.

The red priest said nothing but turned and walked away, his shoulders slightly tense. Arthur remembered sharing a look with Morgana before she walked away as well. He learned later that she went to speak to the man, wishing to apologize and possible let out her own anger at Uther.

They acted as if they were childhood friends afterward, with hidden meaning inside their words. His father didn't seem to have much of a problem with it, until the masked man and Morgana came to him and talked about her taking a trip to Braavos.

"I'll not have my ward become one of your servants."

Arthur tried not to flinch at his angered voice, fingertips moving on the handle of the cup.

"Uther," Morgana began with steel in her voice, "I'm not going to be anyone's servants. I'll just live in the city, learn their culture, so I won't disrespect any of their people who visit. Something a King is suppose to do."

He heard a soft, tired sigh from the Asshai'i as his father looked ready to retort, "your grace, I'm not asking to bring her all the way to Asshai, it is only Braavos. All gods are honored there, and it would be good for someone to know how not to anger a king who is tolerate of magic in his kingdom in this very hall."

"I'll hear no more of this," his father said through his teeth at the masked man.

"Your grace – "

"And I'll hear no more of your mummer tricks."

Morgana stood up with his father but the masked man grabbed her hand before she could follow him, "let me talk to him alone. Nothing good ever comes from trying to forcefully push a Pendragon."

She sighed in defeat after a moment and watched him leave to find his father.

"Why do you want to go to Braavos?" he asked her.

Morgana looked at him with steel eyes, "for all the reasons I said. Besides, when I leave there will be someone left in Camelot to talk sense to Uther."

She left him alone in the throne room with a fierce swirl of her dress, which he left after a few moments to train his knights.

He saw the masked man in the hall the next day, walking alone for once and without a visible weapon on his person, a small rust colored book in his hands. He was in different clothes this time, robes the color and texture of red earth that seemed to hug his body instead of flow away.

'He has the figure of a thin woman,' he thought as he neared him, resting his hand on his sword. "What are you reading?"

The masked man stopped walking and looked into his eyes, "Valyrian history."

"Strange, I thought you would be reading hymns."

The red priest tilted his head slightly, "I have been known to do other things instead of praising R'hllor with every breath. Besides, as long as I do as he commands of me when he commands it he is pleased."

"It sounds like you follow him blindly."

"As you do your own father. Not all the time I suspect, as I've heard tales that suggest that you have your mother's gentle heart."

Arthur paused, "you knew her?"

The Asshai'i shook his head, "no your Grace. But I heard stories from those that knew of her."

"I see...Well, I'll leave you to your history book."

Arthur started to walk away until he heard the red priest turn on his heel. He tightened his grip on his sword and turned his head in question.

"You distrust me so?" the masked man asked with a slight head tilt.

He turned fully, "pardon?"

"You know that those of my religion practice magic, and you suspect I practice it since I see visions in the flames."

"Is that not magic?"

"R'hllor shows me visions in the flames," the foreigner explained, "it does not mean I practice magic. Even Uther knows the difference between someone who practices magic and what a God grants them to see."

"And yet you say nothing about whether you practice magic or not."

The masked man didn't so much as blink, Arthur was willing to wager he never did.

"You hate those who practice magic, or affiliates with them. I know why your father does what he does, not to say that I agree, but I've yet to figure out why you hate them with the same ferociousness."

Arthur felt some tension rise at his memories, "I don't expect someone like you to understand."

"We are not so different, you and I."

He almost scoffed, "really?"

"I've lost a parent too," the priest began, "well, lost is not the right word. He fled with my mother to Asshai, but this land called him back once more, and I've never heard a word of him since."

"I don't see how that makes us similar."

The masked man shiny eyes almost closed as he walked a bit closer, seeing his own face looked back at him from the shining metal pieces.

Arthur heard some emotion climb in the priest's voice, "I don't know if he's alive or dead. I don't know if he would be proud of what I've become, if he would despise me for coming to the one place where my death could come at any second by a single word a noble speaks, or the king's son, and working with the man who started the war that killed his friends.

Would he even care if I was killed? Does he care if my mother were to die? Would he mind that a hobby of mine is reading book from different lands, and I know useless..." The red priest kept his eye contact as his voice drifted and Arthur blinked. The masked man took a breath, "so yes, Arthur, I do understand. Even if it's only a little."

He paused at his voice, realizing that this was the first time he's said his name.

Arthur responded the only way he could, "you asked why I hate your people."

"Don't read me wrong your Grace," the priest said, his voice back to its normal tone, "it's reasonable to hate the person who tries to kill you on a regular basis. But why do you hate the others? Ones who haven't attacked you and probably never will, those who were granted sight without their permission, ones who were born with magic."

Arthur kept his stare, "you can't be born with magic, every child knows that. And all of your people attack and plot against us."

"Do you honestly believe that a person can't...because you attack us," the masked man said with a calming, lecture tone, "and because we attacked you, you attack us once more. A vicious, never ending cycle, where whatever trust either has turns into fear."

Arthur paused at the man's words, the priest's shining blue eyes staring out at him from his mask, his own reflections looking back at him with a puzzled look. The foreigner glanced away first and seemed to shake his head in defeat before bowing to him, brushing his bare fingers against his own in passing.

A heat came from the masked man's body that Arthur shivered at, an unnatural fire that seemed to be buried under his skin. Arthur only felt that sort of heat on someone with a fever, yet the man wasn't sick. As far as he knew, at least.

He went out of his way to stay far away from the Asshai'i and his words, which wasn't hard, since the priest seemed to have caught on and gave him proper space. Arthur was amazed to see how it looked like he was blending into the shadows and disappearing quickly behind corners when he would notice the other.

'He's as quiet as a snake,' he mused, 'with fangs hidden in his mouth.'

He was throwing knifes at his servant's target when he saw the red priest again, his eyes looking up the rust colored boot on the target board and into the masked man's eyes.

"It's a little too dangerous to be throwing knifes at your servant when their protection is gone, don't you think?"

"I have the utmost confidence in my servant's ability to dodge my knives, red priest."

"What if your hand slipped?"

"My hand wouldn't slip."

The foreigner stared at him before saying with a clouded tone, "of course your Grace. Given your status you have been trained to kill since birth, no doubt."

Arthur narrowed his eyes, wondering if that was a slight.

"Will you be training again tomorrow? I would love to see more of your footwork, since it's so different from how I was taught."

Arthur gave a smirk at the barely veiled challenge, "I'll be in council and doing paperwork all day tomorrow. Perhaps the day after?"

The priest smiled at him with his eyes, "as long as we finish before noon."

"It shouldn't take long to show you my footwork."

"Of that I have no doubt," the masked man said before motioning to something over his shoulder, "we shall leave you to your practice than."

Arthur watched him turn and walk away with a man in leather clothing, the citizens giving the two a wide berth. He kept his thrill down as he finished letting off steam for the day. The council had nothing new to grab his attention away the following morning, and the paper work was the same as always.

When he awoke the day of the challenge he wiped the dream from his head and tried to think of what he should do to the foreigner, but he still saw the white stage he was hunting inside his mind, getting further and further away.

He let out a frustrated sigh as he walked into the training area. A few servants were getting everything ready for when the knights appear, bowing when they say him. He tried to find the priest but he didn't seem to be anywhere.

'You are early,' a voice that sounded like Morgana said in his head.

Arthur tsked and glanced once more, seeing nothing.

He started to go to the rack before he felt his body tense and moved on its own. He heard the arrow plunge into the ground and turned to where he felt it came from. The Asshai'i was on top of inconspicuous crates, drawing his arm back to notch another arrow. Arthur rolled out of the way and kept dodging the flying arrows until they stopped coming.

He looked up at the masked man and controlled his anger, "are you trying to kill me?"

"I have the utmost confidence in your ability to dodge my arrows, you Grace."

He stared at him while trying to catch his breath, barely catching the familiar words. He watched the masked man take the quiver off and put the other one on. Arthur tensed and got ready to move again.

"Let's see how well Bede does, shall we? Bede!"

Arthur turned to looked at who he spoke to and saw a man walk over who looked like he works with fabric, too delicate to be in the training fields. He had dark, smooth skin and auburn, almost brown, hair that was curled around his head and part of his neck. His hands stayed at his side as he walked.

"Stand over there," the Asshai'i ordered before raising his bow at the unsuspecting man.

Arthur let out a yell as the arrow zoomed by. Bede let out a yip sound as he no doubt felt the arrow slide over his lower back. He was sure that the only reason his clothes weren't torn was because he wore leather instead of cloth.

"What are you doing?!"

"Target practice," the masked man said as he let out arrow after arrow, "or do you not have the same confidence I have for you?"

"Let him catch his balance first!"

"He's not going to slip."

"You don't know that!"

The foreigner drew an arrow but didn't release it.

He turned to look at him, "and here I thought I had the same foresight as you."

Arthur paused as the words sunk in and glared at the masked man. He said nothing, trying to push down his anger. The Asshai'i demeanor didn't change, but he saw his fingers shake a bit before releasing. '

Both of their eyes widened when they heard a short shout. Arthur turned and ran over to the man, who was holding his gloved hand up, trying to take the arrow out. He started to grab the hand but the man pushed the hands away, "don't worry about it."

He looked at the man's face and saw that he wasn't panicking as he decided to break the arrow and rolled up his sleeve. Arthur saw him unlatch buckles and the hand came off.

"I sometimes forget that I don't have that hand anymore," the man said, holding his stump up for him to see.

Arthur stared as he heard the masked man say, "I thought I aimed wrong and hurt you."

"No," the man said, "but you came close. I think you scratched my back a bit, though."

"Well, I hope I took care of an itch in the process"

The one handed man laughed deep and the foreigner gave a sort of short chuckle, causing Arthur stare at him. His blue eyes looked over to him and he walked over to the darker man.

"This is Bedivere, the one handed knight from Dorne. Sir Bedivere, this is Prince Arthur, and over there is another Sir Bedivere. I hope that you two don't fight for who keeps their man and that you get along."

"Depends," the man said as servants came to pick up the arrows, "is his favorite weapon a sword?"

He swore he saw the masked man's lips twitch behind the tiles, "I'm sorry for the deception, Arthur Pendragon, but I usually go too far when teaching royals a lesson."

"Lesson?" he asked.

The Asshai'i stared at him, as if wondering if he was worth his time.

The priest turned from him, "I'll leave you to get along with Sir Bedivere, my brother. I have to meet with King Uther about the courtyard."

The Dornishman said a few words in Westerosii before the two separated, leaving Arthur alone as the servants left with the arrows. He scoffed and took a sword from the rack, embarrassment and anger filling his veins.

He didn't see the masked man, or the Dornishman, after that, and he was only slightly curious when Morgana asked if he's seen the priest the night of the feast. She seemed worried about something as she left down the hall, and unfortunately he had no time to question her.

Arthur went to his room and let his temporary manservant dress him before going to the feast, wondering where the masked man was as he talked with the knights before going to the table when the horns blew. He paid attention as his father introduced the singer, but still moved his eyes to search for the red priest when the woman stood in front of them.

He blinked his eyes and yawned as the woman's words made him tired, thinking nothing of it. He sent a glance to the door to his right, swearing he saw a moving shadow. He gave another yawn as his bones started to ache and he brought his head down to rest on the table. A thought went through his mind that his father would berate him for sleeping before he succumbed to slumber.

Flashes of a man dressed in black and a pale woman in red went through his dream before his tired eyes snap open on their own, blinking rapidly as he caught sight of the cobwebs as he sat straighter.

His eyes moved to the front and stood when he saw the woman under the chandelier. He had a slight thought that he'd seen her before as she raised her hand and he saw a knife fly towards him. He started to move as his body reacted but warm hands yanked him over and he felt his body hit the ground hard.

He let out a short gasp from shock more than pain before he looked to see that the red priest was laying top of him, the heat seeming to meld into his body. The priest wasn't looking at him, however, but to the woman. His arm was outstretched, fingers poised in a position that told he threw something from them.

He felt the foreigner's nails dig into his shirt for balance, not painfully but strong enough that he knew he would feel phantom nails for a while, before the priest seemed to relax. Arthur tried not to shiver as the Asshai'i looked back to him, his covered nose grazing over his unprotected own. It was the only part of him that was cold.

His face was far too close, he could actually see the waves and circles in his blue eyes. Arthur was musing how they were like a fire being pulled into an abyss when the priest got off him, holding out his hand to help him up, which he accepted. He noticed that the other man was wearing almost ordinary robes, the color a dark purple that suited his pale skin.

"Sorry I was late," the Asshai'i said aloud, yet Arthur knew it was directed at him.

He saw a hand land on the priest shoulder and they both looked to see the king. His father said something quietly in Valyrian and the red priest's eyes gave an almost unnoticeable smile.

"It seems I am in your debt," the king said loud enough for all to hear.

"I've done what anyone else would have done," the priest said at the same volume, "however, if you wish to pay me, I've been craving Pomegranates for the passed few weeks. One or two would service."

"Nonsense, you'll have enough Pomegranates that you'll become sick of them."

His father patted his shoulder and left the two to see to the dead woman underneath the chandelier, catching a glimpse of a knife in her head. The two looked at each other and Asshai'i seemed amused.

"He says that now, but I doubt he knows how much Pomegranates cost."

Arthur gave a slight scoff, the adrenaline working out of his system.

"You don't know my father that well," he told the red priest.

The masked man smiled at him with his eyes, though he saw a hidden emotion behind them.

"Hopefully he keeps the kingdom's pay in mind when he makes the purchase," the priest said before leaving his side as well.

---

"...The fair hunter's bow was made of polished oak and it's arrows were straight and true...The fair hunter's bow was made of polished oak and it's arrows were straight and true, Ho Oh."

The children clapped when they saw he was done, almost yelling and begging for another song.

"No more," the matron said sternly, "you had enough already."

They gave a melodic group groan before they all stood and walked at a snail's pace to the doors.

"Thank you again," the younger woman said sincerely.

"Anytime, my sisters."

He walked through the archway and into the streets, stepping over the puddle the two men were avoiding. The civilians gave him glances but didn't stare at him as hard as they once did, which he was grateful for.

The servants were walking fast with barely concealed panic in their eyes, weaving out of the way before he had a change to let them pass. There was no fear, though, so he guessed that the talk of peace went smoothly.

He breathed easier when he was in the room, seeing his familiar items from home. Merlin immediately went to stared at the fires, wondering if he would be granted with a vision. They gave him nothing informative, only a slight flicker of Morgana wearing his choker on her slim neck.

He gave a sigh and left to check on the ward, but not before taking a treat that the chef made from Pomegranate for him from the bowl. 'That daughter of the Drowned God's shriveled testicles,' he thought as he took a vicious bite at the memory of her.

As the visions told him long ago, the ward and him had become good friends. They could even becomes lovers, if they so wished. However, he liked her friendship too much to wish that upon her, for he would be focused on keeping the prince alive and unable to give her devotion.

'He's a strange one,' he thought as he neared the ward's room, 'he has a good heart yet is as arrogant as a peacock'. He knocked on the door and saw her servant open it, staring at him in question.

He smiled at the girl politely, "hello again Guinevere. Thank you again for fixing Sir Bedivere's armor." 'You are as kind as the visions said,' he added in his mind.

"You're welcome sire," the gentle girl said, "what is it you wish for?"

"Is Morgana in there, I want to give her something."

"I'll – "

"Let him in Gwen."

The gentle girl looked behind her for a long time before allowing him in. Morgana was in a green dress, one that he was sure would turn heads and make Uther want to chop off the heads of those that were unworthy of her being.

'That man.' "You look as beautiful as always."

"Resulting to flattery," she said, "what is this about?"

Merlin opened his mouth but paused, wondering if this was the time. In half of the year he has been in Camelot, they have spent enough time together that he could tell her. 'If I say it too late...' He glanced at Guinevere, "if we could speak alone, my sister. But if you don't feel comfortable Morgana I'll just – "

"Any other man and I wouldn't be comfortable," she told him, "if you would wait outside Gwen."

The gentle girl bowed and Merlin watched her leave before his eyes caught the ward's dresser.

"May I?" he asked.

"Looking to borrow one of my dresses?"

"Red is more my color, Morgana."

The ward let out an innocent hum and went to her dresser and pulled out a maroon, revealing dress and brought it to him. He gave a small snort of amusement before declining.

"Well if not to borrow, what is it you want with my dresses?"

"I wish to find one that would match what I wish to give you, since this is your last feast before you leave for Braavos."

Morgana brighten at the name, moving the dress back to her dresser. She motioned to the opening and he glanced at all of the dresses before picking one that seemed to be squished to the back. It was a bluish green and a light blue, covering more than the maroon dress.

"I haven't worn that in years," she commented.

He nodded, feeling anxiety for a moment.

"I wish to know if I could trust you," he said slowly.

She stared at him for a while, glancing at him up and down before looking at the dress.

"Of course you can."

He blinked at the implications of her train of thought before touching the red dress first and speaking a spell, hearing only a small gasp from her. Than he moved his hand to the dress in his hands and the fabric started to stretch to fit her new size, before he spoke another spell to change the color and design. When he was done, the colors were dark red and gold, the sleeves gone, and the hips slightly exposed.

"Before you ask I learned the spells for my mother," he said as he moved one arm under the dress and presented it to her.

He saw anger there and became frightened, wondering if he read the fires and her wrong the entire time.

"What are you doing in Camelot, Uther could kill you at any moment!"

Merlin sighed in relief, closing his eyes for a second.

"I had to come," he told her, "the visions told me I must protect Arthur."

Morgana leaned back as she thought behind a mask.

"Is he worth it?" she asked after a while, curious.

"From what I saw, his gentle yet stern heart grows, and we become great friends. We are even willing to sacrifice ourselves to save the other, multiple times."

"Arthur? Willing to sacrifice himself for a priest?" she asked before looking away to think behind the mask again. She looked back at him with kind eyes, "thank you for trusting me. You've done so much for me, and for the people who would see you hang."

"Only because they believe what their king says," he corrected, "and they only see those who practice magic that violently hate Uther."

"They're starting to warm up to you, after that incident with the water and what you're doing for them."

"As long as they don't warm me up I don't mind what they think of me."

Morgana gave him a look, "don't joke about that."

Merlin bowed his head, "forgive me, Morgana."

She seemed to accept it and took the dress into her hands. "I'll tell Gwen you have a liking for sowing and was embarrassed to present it to me in front of someone."

"Thank you," he said honestly, before moving his hands to his neck.

He took off his choker and handed it to her. "Make sure that they never forget you."

Morgana gave a small smirk, "how could they?" He gave a smile back before starting to leave. "Wait," Morgana called, "you never told me your name."

Merlin looked at her, wondering what name to give her.

"Merlin," he decided.

"Merlin," she tested before smiling.

He smiled back and left, nodding to Gwen as she went back inside.

---

Arthur made his way to Morgana's room, meaning to escort her to the feast. The servant girl, Guinevere, opened the door and told him to wait a moment. Morgana appeared after a while, her hair done that was a mix of the latest fashion and from across the seas.

'Westeros', he thought, 'not surprising.'

Her dress looked to be Westerosii made as well, flowing yet showing just enough skin on her hips, though her arms were bare. He smiled and offered his arm, which she took. Morgana smelt of roses and flowers, not too overbearing to cause someone to choke, but just enough to get a man curious.

"I don't think I remember this dress," he commented.

"The Red Priest made this dress for me," Morgana explained, "and gave me his choker to wear for this feast."

He looked up at her neck at her words, staring at the familiar choker.

"The red priest?" he asked curiously. 'I was beginning to think it was sewn onto his skin.'

"Yes, our mutual friend."

"A friend that gave you jewelry and a dress?"

"Yes," she said, than spoke again before he could question some more, "has the ring arrived yet?"

"Came this morning," he said as he raised his hand.

The rose gold ring shined on his finger, the torchlight making the red stone glow.

"Why didn't I notice that?" Morgana mused as she stared. "It's simple and modest. He'll love it."

"Will he take it as a gift of gratitude is the question."

"Just because he doesn't wear a ring doesn't mean he won't wear this one."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's, as you said, a gift of gratitude. It's not like you're trying to court him. Unless you are in the guise of gratitude, because if you are I won't get in your way."

He let out a noise, "whatever the visitors of Highgarden told you not all young men think about having a tumble in the sheets with other men."

"I thought you were rather friendly with that one lord."

"He's a worthy fighter and was great at talking politics with, doesn't mean I wanted to sleep with him."

Morgana all but rolled her eyes, "you keep saying that you have never been struck by a man's beauty but I don't believe it for a moment. Or do you not remember when we went with the traders into the Dothraki lands?"

"I haven't," he answered honestly, remembering the climate and the nomadic people. "But I only had eyes for their women."

"You must have admired a man's body at least once in your life. Don't lie to me, Arthur."

"Morgana would you..." he stopped with a sigh, "please drop this conservation."

"There are only so many things we get to try out before we are married off and turn old and gray," Morgana told him with a soft tone, "no one knows what they like until they've tried it."

Arthur stared at her, "you've...with other..."

She gave him a look but said nothing. They neared the doors and put on their political masks, and he felt his muscles tense a bit. His ears caught the words of the Elegy for the Starks and smiled at the guests as they turned to stare when they walked in. Many looked at Morgana, complimenting her as they passed before they separated to mingle.

'Father must have gotten some foreign musicians for tonight,' he thought, 'and the other ladies must have been told by their handmaidens.'

Arthur paused and saw the red priest as the Dornishman's Wife played, but he only caught a glimpse of him in the thick crowd before he seemed to disappear completely. He couldn't even see a flicker of light from his metal mask.

He frowned, a sinking feeling filling his gut when the musicians started to play the Rains of Castamere, the words echoing in his head as he remembered the many tales behind the song. Air flowed more smoothly into his relaxed lungs when the song stopped, fiddling with the ring as the feast went on, feeling it's cold, smooth texture on his fingertips.

'I need more wine,' he thought as he saw a passing servant and took a glass from the plate, hearing the drums beat as another song ended. 'And I need a new manservant,' he thought as he drowned the cup, 'soon.'

He heard his father call him over and sighed at the faint buzz, dreading this part of the feast. He walked closer anyway, seeing the cups being handled by the Mercia servant. One of the cups was filled for him as he sat and took it, going to drink but Bayard started his speech.

'I didn't drink enough for this,' he thought as he kept his mask on, 'someone make this night end quickly.'

Bayard finally ended his speech and they raised their cups. Arthur brought the cup to his lips and paused as he heard hurried feet behind him, the pit in his stomach growing. He moved it away and saw the priest, though something was off about him.

"I'm sorry for the interruptions, my lords," the red priest said before looking at Arthur. His eyes were wide as they flickered to his hand, "did you drink?"

Arthur shook his head as they two kings asked, "what is the meaning of this?"

"I'm sorry but I saw a vision in the flames, sires. The cup meant for Arthur Pendragon was poisoned by an enemy meaning to cause strife to this union that balances on the edge of a blade."

Arthur looked at him before staring at the cup, blinking as it was taken from his hand by the masked man, who walked away to the front of the table.

"Who is this?" he heard Bayard ask his father with iron under his voice.

"I am a priest of R'hllor, your grace," the Asshai'i said, and Arthur saw how some of the knights of Mercia seemed to look wary at the mention of the red god's name, "and he has sent me a warning."

The red priest reached a hand behind his head and watched as he undid he mask, "this cup will destroy whatever trust the kingdom of Camelot and Mercia is trying to build, containing a poison put there by a woman with pale skin like milk and eyes bluer than the sea. I have tried to find her myself but she eluded my search."

He thought he heard a name being spoke but it was swallowed by the shocked noises as the Asshai'i stood still in front of them, free of his tiled mask and cloth. The first thing Arthur noticed was how young the priest was, younger than him at least. The younger man had large ears and a narrow face, with sharp cheekbones protruding out of his face. His lips were full like a woman's, and the color of a pale pink rose.

His hair was odd, a deep black and brown with the faintest hint of blue that showed if he moved his head a certain way. The priest's eyes now seemed strange and somewhat beautiful, holding the wisdom of a man who lived through a thousand wars yet the innocence of a young child.

'He looks like a young man who is afraid,' he thought, knowing that the Asshai'i believed the cup was poisoned. "While I don't completely dismiss what you saw," Arthur said as he stood up from the table and walked over to the younger man, "I don't believe that the cup is poisoned."

He made to grab the cup again but the priest held it away from his grasp. Arthur looked over to him and saw his eyes. "A Pendragon to the very depths of your bones," the young man whispered with a voice that seemed somewhat smaller than his usual deep voice, "willing to believe nothing until you've seen it with your own eyes."

A pressure pushed on his chest before the Asshai'i took a large gulp from the cup. Arthur could only watch as he swallowed the liquid, his limps hanging like weak, useless twigs at his side.

The red priest moved the cup from his mouth and say, "my choker."

He looked over and watched Morgana take the jewelry off her neck as the pressure was moved away from his chest, the younger man grabbing the links as he turned. The priest walked over to the front table and held out the choker for Bayard to take.

Arthur walked closer as the king took it, staring into his eyes with steel eyes. He clasped it on his neck and it seemed to closed into his neck like a tight collar, the red jewel stayed the same size.

"What are you doing? Will it tell you if he's lying?" Arthur asked with a stronger voice than he felt.

The younger man said nothing as he held out the cup, which Bayard took and drank without hesitation. As he put the cup down Arthur saw how the jewel seemed to glow from the inside with moving sparks. He looked to the boy for an explanation, and saw how he was gripping the table so hard that his whole hand was white, shaking from tremors.

"There is your proof that he did not poison the chalice Uther," the priest said with a voice that was growing tighter by the second, "find the pale wo – "

The Asshai'i suddenly stopped speaking, his body suddenly tensing. Arthur reached for him and caught him before he could fall to the ground.

"Gaius!" he heard himself call with a calmness that he didn't feel.

The warmth that the boy usually gave off was gone, leaving his body as cold as a corpse.

'The poison moving in his body. He's not dead.'

He tried to be as calm as he acted as he carried the red priest to Gaius' chambers, aware that the servant Guinevere was following them with the cup in her hands. He laid the younger man on the bed and felt hate for how small he looked, how fragile. He told himself that the Asshai'i wasn't like this, that he was stronger than this, annoyingly so. He saw the priest's eyes move beneath his eyelids, his skin starting to shine with sweat.

'At least his chest is moving,' he thought. "Can you cure him, Gaius?"

"I'm looking, sire."

Arthur accepted that answer, watching Guinevere move to place a wet cloth on his head. He felt him take the priest's hand and rub his thumb on his sickly cold skin. The younger man's fingers curled around his hand lightly.

"I'll have to tell the children he can't go to them tomorrow," Guinevere said with a low voice.

He looked over at the servant girl, seeing the grief on her face.

"You two are close?"

"We spoke a few times, but I could see how nice he..."

"I found what the poison is," he heard Gaius say, "but the cure would be hard to get."

Arthur stared at the small priest before letting go of his hand as he stood, "where?"

---

Merlin fluttered his eyes open, flashes of a cave and spiders flashing through his mind, the bitter taste of potion on his tongue. He felt strange, not all together there. The other side that he saw glimpses of with what he had seen of Arthur merged into one another, the darkness swallowing the latter. He tried not to shiver at the memory of the abyss, how empty and black it was.

'Perhaps I really did die?'

He looked to the side and saw Gaius and Guinevere come into focus, her grief coming from her in waves. He smiled at the her, touched that she cared for him even though he spoke to her sparsely.

"Got a hug to spare?"

He saw them both turn before he watched her rush up and felt a heavy weight on his chest. He blinked in confusion as he felt her hair fall on his face before the young woman moved back in embarrassment and tried to apologize to him but stuttered a lot. He waved it off with a few words as he touched his face, wondering where his mask was.

"I had a servant place the mask in your room."

Merlin looked over to Morgana, trying to ask but the remaining flashes of what happened while the poison flowed through his veins appeared before his eyes once more.

"Arthur?" he heard himself ask after he sort out his mind.

Morgana let out a breath of frustration, "Uther. He had him locked up in the dungeons after he disobeyed orders and went to find the cure to save your life."

Merlin hummed, "of course."

He started to stand but was pushed back down by Gaius.

"You need to rest – "

He pushed the hands away and stood, "I need to save Arthur from his father's stupidity. Does someone have a cloak I could use? I feel naked without my mask."

"You were almost tried and executed," Morgana suddenly said.

Merlin paused before looking at her, "why wasn't I?"

"I'm not sure. Uther raged about how you used magic openly in his presence, despite me arguing that it was to save the alliance with Mercia, and paced like a raging animal all over this room. When he finally calmed down he stared at you for a very long time before cursing someone named Baelor. Did he mean the Westeros king or someone else."

'That's not who he cursed,' he thought before he answered, "I'm not sure. I'll ask."

He stood up and made for the door, taking the offered cloak as his legs felt like grass in the wind.

"He gave me the flower," he heard Gwen say as she approached to help him walk in the hall.

"What?"

"When I was going to sneak into the cells. I heard some servants whisper how Arthur was back and how they saw him being lead to the cells. I passed the king on the way and he ordered me to give the crushed flower to Gaius before he stormed off."

Merlin thought for a moment, "I suspected he was, possible still is, angry. Which means he'll be in the empty council room, burying himself in paper work instead of his room. I believe you know a fastest way from this hall?"

Gwen nodded and he let her take him to the council room, limps shaking. The door was closed with two knights guarding the way, who eyed them. He let go of her hand and walked forward, ignoring how they felt like phantom legs.

"I wish to speak to Uther," he said.

"He wishes not to be disturbed, Red Priest."

"I hope he won't mind to be disturbed by me, so if you'll please tell him?"

The two knights stared at him before the older one turned and opened the door.

The knight walked in but blocked the narrow opening, "the Red Priest wishes to speak to you, sire."

He heard the scrapping of a quill on paper as he waited for an answer, "send him in Sir Ulric."

The old knight pushed the door further open and watched him pass as he walked into the room before the elderly knight walked out and closed the door.

Merlin glanced at the books and papers, "I trust the buyers paid well for the fabric?"

"Some people in King's Landing will be walking the streets with our designs soon and construction on a lower town's courtyard begins in a few weeks."

"Mothers and children will enjoy it immensely," he said as he sat at the table and took the book that Uther handed him. He opened the book and felt his head tilt, "wheat? I was poisoned, Uther, I didn't get a concussion."

"I rather not take that chance."

Merlin hummed before taking a blank paper and one of the extra quills and ink pot. He went to the most recent page and studied it, his hand writing on his own.

"So how long are you going to keep Arthur in the dungeons?" he asked after about a half hour. 'I hope Guinevere isn't waiting.'

Uther didn't answer right away, making Merlin antsy.

"Until he learns to not disobey orders," he finally said.

"Might be a while, since he has your stubbornness," he commented. "What orders did he disobey anyway? The order to not save my life?"

"I would have sent knights to get the flower, but Arthur was set on getting it himself."

Merlin stared at him, seeing no lies.

He leaned back into the chair after a moment, "why was he set on getting the flower himself if you were going to send knights?"

"He said it was his fault that you were dying."

"His fault...survivor's guilt perhaps?" he mused.

Uther nodded in agreement after a moment before looking back down to his papers, "when you're done you can get him out of the cells."

"I'm sure he'll be gladdened to see my face," he joked. "Now, I wanted to talk to you about the protection of this city. Have you heard about the watchmen of King's Landing, the gold cloaks?"

"Yes."

"I was thinking of something similar, except with volunteered civilians."

The king's quill paused, "civilians?"

"Yes, they would only need minimal training to protect the – "

"You want me to have civilians protect my city?"

"While your knights protect the borders from those who wish your kingdom harm."

"I'm not hiring untrained – "

"I propose for them to be watchmen, or women, not soldiers. Give them the option and you'll be surprised how many would rise up to the call. Even some nobles might rise to protect their city."

Uther looked away as he placed a hand on his chin as he either thought or tried to control his temper. Merlin went back to the book as he waited.

---

Arthur looked up as he heard footsteps, then stood as he saw a cloaked figure in dark blue unlock his bar door.

"Your father said you can come out now," the familiar voice said as he swung it open.

He felt his lips twitch to smile before he walked out, staring at the priest. He grabbed his bowed chin and saw bright eyes staring at him as he tilted it up. The Asshai'i moved his head to cover his face after a short moment. His skin had the familiar kind of heat again, the choker snugly on his neck once more.

"I thought I was too late," Arthur heard himself say.

The red priest gave a half blink and searched his face, keeping his thoughts and emotions hidden from him. Arthur couldn't tell him that when he saw him, small and pale on the bed, that he felt that he was losing something important, like he was watching his childhood friend slowly die.

How could he explain the feeling since they rarely spoke, and when they did it was in a tense atmosphere which sometimes went where they wanted to bite the other one's head off? How could he explain that he didn't want to lose the one person who saw him as a prince and a person.

The priest stopped searching and stared into his eyes, "you were."

He felt his heart stop as he caught the reason he said those words, "than I'm dreaming?"

The Asshai'i smiled at him softly and placed a hand on his shoulder, "no Pendragon, you're not dreaming. Forgive me, I'm still recovering and my mind is muddled. You were somewhat late, but I managed to fight the poison with the cure inside me."

Arthur stared at him in confusion, "but I thought that – "

"I'll answer you tomorrow," the younger man said. "For now, let's go to our rooms and sleep this adventure off."

He stared the barely taller man down when he tried to move him, "why aren't you resting now?"

The young man gave him a goofy smile, so full of innocence that Arthur found it hard to believe that he was a priest from Asshai.

"I had to save you from your father's clutches," he said as he turned him around.

"Save?" Arthur asked as he noticed how the priest's limbs slightly shook as they walked.

"Yes, kind of like one of those princesses in those songs I hear from Westeros."

"If anyone was a princess it was you," he argued as he hooked his arm around his waist and helped him walk up the stairs, "you were even in some sort of deep sleep."

"No, you're the princess. With golden hair and the unblemished skin of someone of highborn birth."

Arthur scoffed at the foreigner, his heart giving an odd jolt at his words.

He thought to ask the masked man about what he meant the next day, but he decided he would rather not know. If his father caught wind of what he suspected, he didn't show it, for the two seemed to be back to having an alliance with the other.

'Though this might strain it again,' he thought as he knocked on the door.

The red priest opened it and kept them from entering, "I'm busy."

"We need to check your rooms for – "

"I don't care, I'm busy."

The masked man made to close the door again but Arthur grabbed the door. The foreigner gave him an intense stare, his blue eyes hard.

He didn't show any weakness, "there is a Druid boy – "

"Druids are harmless, in case you lack that common knowledge. I'm in no trouble."

"He is here, illegally and needs to be put into custody."

"Well, when the time comes where a pregnant druid woman is found traveling through Camelot's lands completely by accident, I'll know that you were the one who plunged a sword through her belly."

Arthur winced, memories that he wanted to forget coming into his mind. The red priest's glare lighten slightly before glancing at the men behind him.

"You can come in and search," the younger man said when he returned his gaze, "but not them."

They stared at each other before he looked at his knights, "I'll meet up with you later."

Arthur went inside before they could argue and shut the door. The Asshai'i was already at his table, his shoulders hunched as he did something. The room was earthy, decorated with reds, browns, orange, and the occasional yellow. It felt homey, and something that his father probably wouldn't approve of.

He started to smile at the blatant rebellion as he walked down the cobble steps, more than likely made to look as if it was magically crafted, and felt his lips twitched at the thought of him asking for this specific room. He looked over at the fire burning in the fireplace and saw a few shields of Camelot hanging proudly above it. A soft smile grew on his face at the sight.

'I wonder if he sees this as his home,' he thought as he continued to look, 'it's only been a year though.'

His eyes moved over to the large bed, most of the colors red, and the child laying on it, surrounded by pillows. The boy was small, had curly dark hair, and odd eyes.

Arthur looked over at the Asshai'i, "who is this?"

The red priest sent a small glance, "a boy I saved from your father's guards. Boy I saved from the guards, this is Prince Arthur of Camelot."

Arthur gave the wary boy a smile, "hello. Why is he here?"

"I'm trying to heal his wound, clotpole, or can you not see from the shadow your big head gives?"

Arthur felt his eye twitch at the name and gave the younger man a glare as he came over with glasses and jars. The priest handed the boy a vial and told him to drink, which he did without question, before smearing some strong smelling ointment on his wound. The boy's eyes started to flutter before he slipped into sleep as the Asshai'i started to bind his shoulder with a clean bandage, Arthur helping to hold him up.

"Does the Druid have a name?"

"He didn't say. Not surprising, given his condition. Can you watch him or do I need to call in a favor to Guinevere and risk having the guards called on us both?"

He looked at sleeping child, the druid symbol visible on his shoulder.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'll try to save the man who was with the child, but I might not be able to. Your father is still hateful against magic of all kind."

"He hasn't killed you yet," Arthur said, hoping for an answer.

The red priest finished bandaging the boy's wound and placing him softly down on the bed before looking at him, "there is a history there that I rather not say. If you'll excuse me."

He stood and walked out of the room without a glance back.

"I didn't say I'd watch him," he told the empty room.

Blinking his tired eyes he looked over at the child, watching his little chest rise and fall with every breath he took in his drug induced sleep, looking as if he would shatter like fragile glass. Arthur sighed as he waited, cursing the priest in his mind in every language he knew.

'I need to learn his name,' he thought after a while of building silence.

He heard commotion coming from the open window and went to it. The courtyard seemed to be filling with people and a man was brought forth.

"Damn," he swore softly.

He looked to the child, but he was sound asleep. He heard his father's voice, but not the words, and then they stopped. He closed his eyes with a soft sigh as the man was executed, than whined as he heard something break behind him.

He turned quickly to see that the mirror was shattered, cracks thin and thick spread out from the middle dent. He heard heavy breathing and looked to the child, seeing that his eyes were wide. Arthur saw his grief clearly and wonder what he should do.

He glanced at the mirror again before making his way towards the boy slowly, hesitant for a moment before placing a leg on the bed and a hand on the boy's small shoulders. The child looked up at him, blinking his shaded eyes.

Arthur climbed further onto the bed and hugged the boy to his side tightly, minding his injury. The child's tiny fingers clenched his shirt after a while as he laid his head on his chest, neither saying anything. He heard the child's breathing slowed again before, after a long while, he seemed to fall back asleep.

He sighed, than looked at the door as he heard footsteps. He hurried off the bed as lightly as he could and closed the curtains surrounding the bed. He quickly made his way to the desk and opened one of the books before the door was opened, fingers itching for his sword before he saw that it was only the red priest.

"I'm going to kill your father," the Asshai'i told Arthur as he closed the door.

"Careful, someone might mistake your words for treason."

"It's only treason if I'm caught."

Arthur scoffed and stopped when his eyes moved to the bed.

"He woke up," he told the priest. His blue eyes looked at him before staring at the mirror for a moment, than making his way to the bed to check on the child. "He can't stay in Camelot."

"Really? I was going to offer him to Uther on a spit." Arthur gave a sigh and looked away. "I was thinking of sneaking him out tonight. I'm hoping you'll come with me, as a show of good faith to the druids."

"My father won't let me leave while the child is still on the loose, not unless I plan to go hunting for him. And he'll want me to bring some knights."

He heard the foreigner hum, "then we wait a few days, a month if need be. Uther wouldn't dare enter my room, and since you were here long enough to give it a good search he'll be safe here. I can contact the druids and talk about a safe place to meet."

"My father hasn't been thinking that kindly of you since Morgana left," he reminded him.

"You'd think he'd changed his mind when he got her excited, joyful letters. However, considering he's more stubborn than a bull...Though they both seem to have a gentle side, I've found."

"You're calling my father a mindless animal?"

"No, for he's shown to have some intelligence in that foggy mind."

Arthur shared a look with the priest, seeing how his eyes shine as they shared smile, before he awkwardly excused himself out of the room to find his patrolling guards.

He paid more attention to the priest's duties and didn't know how the younger man did it all. The red priest would visit the lower towns to help in whatever way he can, play with some of the orphans and take those who have trouble sleeping on walks a small group, though they both knew that some of them just wanted to stay up longer.

The priest would check in on Arthur while he is practicing with his knights, letting him check on the small boy by himself or with him, talking with his father, talk with Guinevere about what people need that were too afraid to ask him for, and disappearing back into his room before he does everything all over again, all without making his father suspicious.

'He's a brilliant liar,' he thought with doubt growing in his heart.

"Arthur?"

He looked over at the little child, "yes Mordred?"

"Why are you doubting him?"

He frowned, confused, before he understood.

"That druid thing is an invasion of privacy," he told the child.

"I read it on your face," he said while staring at him with his strange wide eyes. "He is devoted to you, didn't you notice?"

"Hmm...what do you mean?"

"He almost died for you, didn't he?" Arthur paused as the memory came into his mind. "He could have saved himself by not drinking the poison at all and giving it to a servant," the child continued, "yet he laid down his own life. To make sure you have your allies and that you live."

"His god told him to do it," he argued, before remembering that he was trying to fight with a child.

Mordred showed the first childish emotion he saw on his face, squishing up his nose in a motion that Arthur would never admit to thinking adorable.

"His God told him to heal the fragile alliance, but he didn't have to drink the poison, did he? You look like you are the kind of man who would drink 'poison' to prove your point, or to keep someone else from drinking."

Arthur stared at the child before looking over at the opening door, seeing Mordred standing straighter as the masked man walked in.

"It's time," he told the child as he held out his hand.

The child smiled and took his offered hand. The red priest, who was wearing a dark red, friendlier wooden mask. The younger man looked at him with his shining eyes before taking the child out of the room.

Arthur followed them out and watched them go before going back into the priest's room. The secret door open smoothly and he walked into the corridor, stepping into the hallway that he could start his patrol.

He paced the halls, waiting for the bells to ring and his father to come storming down the halls like a raging bull. But all was quiet. Not even a servant was in the hallways. If he was of faith he would be thanking his god, but since he wasn't he only sent a few words to the red priest's god in thanks, fiddling with the other ring on his hand.

At the end of his watch he started to walk to his room but paused. He glanced down the corridor, swearing he saw the shadow of a person. But it was only a cat, who passed in a trot with a rat in her mouth. She barely even turned to him as she left with her prize. He scoffed at the image and his imagination, turning to look at the courtyard before going to his room, thinking enough time has passed.

He opened his door and tried not to jump at the servant inside, instead closing the door and letting the new servant undress him and help him into his nightclothes. Arthur dismissed the manservant after he stoked the fire.

He climbed into bed, keeping his ears out for the bells even though he was tired. He barely closed his eyes when they opened slightly, swearing he felt something enter his room.

"Arthur?" a familiar voiced whispered.

It took him a moment to figure out it was the red priest, "is the boy safe?"

"The Druids met us in the forest," the Asshai'i whispered, closer this time.

He turned over to look at the younger man, "so he's safe?"

"Yes but...the child wishes to travel to Braavos."

Arthur moved his head back, "why? He's with his people again."

The red priest stared at his face, looking at both of his eyes.

"I told him tales every night, tales from Essos and Westeros. Of knights, warlocks, and blonde princesses in need of rescuing."

Arthur glared at the younger man as he smiled down at him, "so lies."

"Not all," he said before he grew serious, "he has a notion in his head that he could escape his destiny."

"His destiny?" Arthur asked, trying to hide his mocking tone.

The younger man searched his eyes again, "I might have let something slip about his future during our walk through the forest, and he wants to prevent it by becoming a faceless man."

Arthur felt a chill at the name, the meaning appearing faintly in the surface of his mind.

"What is a faceless man?" he finally asked.

The red priest stared this time before moving closer, "a guild of assassins, who worship the many faced God, who you know as Death, the God that all worship to in the end. So the faceless men say, at least. They discard their true names, identities, memories, whoever makes them who they are and become no one, faceless."

He stood up in his bed, "it sounds terrible...is Mordred's destiny really that bad?"

The priest stayed silent for a moment, blinking fully for the first time since they met.

"More than you can imagine," he said with an unidentifiable emotion in his voice.

Arthur believed him, "what does his people think?"

"They didn't say, but when we leave tomorrow I believe Mordred would find us and beg us to take him to a port so he may travel to Braavos."

"We're still going on the hunt?"

"It would be suspicious if we don't," he told Arthur. "Besides, from all the hunts you go on I thought you liked it."

He frowned at the displeasure in his voice, "I see you don't."

The younger man's demeanor changed immediately, "mud gets everywhere and there isn't a bath in sight. We have to piss and crap on the ground – and we are no doubt stepping on other people's piss and shit while we walk on foot to hunt the animal – If we find one, might I add – quietly and to not make a single move or the damn thing bolts. Not to mention the insects and animals that are just waiting to kill us or the plants that give us itching rashes. So no, I don't like hunting."

Arthur looked at him in surprise, both at hearing him talk so much and at the human irritation in his voice.

"It just seems like you don't like outdoors," he suggested.

"I love outside, just not hunting." Arthur gave him a look. The red priest narrowed his eyes and said with a dry tone, "Goodnight Arthur Pendragon."

He kept the smile off his face until the masked man closed the secret door behind him, leaving the scent of burn wood behind. A hazy, well–aged, enveloping scent that sunk deep into his body. He slept soundly, cursing the manservant who woke him up to get him ready for the day.

'Maybe I should ask him what the stag could mean,' he thought as he let the servant dress him.

He saw the red priest in the courtyard while his father finished telling him what areas to avoid, and was glad that his hounds weren't there and that the only knight was Sir Leon, seeming to be uncomfortable with the red priest but polite all the same. He said goodbye to his father and walked to his horse.

"Have fun," he heard a familiar voice say behind him.

Arthur turned to see the one handed knight from what seemed like a lifetime ago, who smiled as he turned fully before patting him on the shoulder.

"What are you doing here?"

The Dornishman motioned behind him with his head, "come to wish the friendly Red Priest a safe hunting trip. But as to why I'm in Camelot, well, I've grown to love this backwards city so much that I asked for the red priest to get me a job here before I returned.

So now the former knight of Dorne works as a part-time baker and metal worker, and I also sometimes help the matrons in the orphanage in my free time. I didn't think you'd let me into your knights group from how our last meeting went, so I didn't bother to ask."

He watched the one handed knight wave to someone behind him before giving him a strong grip on his shoulder before another pat. The Dornishman left with a slight bounce in his step, the women in the courtyard turning to gaze at him before whispering among themselves excitedly.

Arthur blinked slowly before turning to get on his horse, glancing at his manservant, wondering what the plan would be if Mordred does come find them.

"Shall we go, your Grace?" the Asshai'i asked, effortlessly getting on his horse without help.

Arthur stared for a moment, looking for any kind of signal.

"I'm ready."

He glanced at the steps and nodded to his father once they flickered to him from staring at someone next to Arthur, giving him a nod back. He saw how his father's eyes were slightly narrowed, as if remembering something, and wondered for a moment with some panic in his veins.

The three hanged back as he urged his horse forward before following him. They rode out the gates and into the forest, galloping at a leisurely speed. He kept his eyes out for bandits, signs of prey, and the druid boy.

He saw neither as the day started to end. The red priest gathered the wood while George gathered the water. He went to roam for a bit, alone, armed with the crossbow and his sword, to calm his nerves, and he managed to find and catch a few rabbits. Only one of them was fat, but he was sure George would be able to make do.

"You've skinned a rabbit before?" he heard the Asshai'i ask his manservant as he built the fire.

"Once or twice," the servant said, struggling to rip the fur off.

He watched the red priest get out the flint as he said, "want me to teach you an easier way?"

George looked like he offered to make a gold statue for him, which was the same look he had when the red priest said he'll gather the wood to make the fire.

"There is no need to, sire – "

"Please don't start that 'I'm just a lowly servant don't waste your attention on me' speech. We all serve, some just serve those on a higher plane than others." The foreigner watched the fire as it started to rise, than went to his manservant's side. "Now here, take the knife and cut here...Now grip this part tightly, like that, then grip here and rip this bottom part off."

Arthur watched the manservant yank the skin off with a hard motion, the skin barely snagging.

The red priest brought the manservant's hand to the head of the rabbit, "now grab hold of the rabbit's body before twisting the rabbit's head off. No harder. Now rip it off as well. See, my brother, it's easier right? I'll take the rest of the skin off this one and you take the last one."

He caught the masked man's eyes and felt his mouth spread into a smile. His blue eyes returned the favor as he took the skin off the rabbit without looking. The red priest glanced away to give his manservant the rabbit.

"I'm going to take a stroll," the Asshai'i said as the food cooked.

"And we won't see you till dawn," Arthur finished for him.

He looked at him again, "precisely."

Arthur gave another smile and watched him walk into the forest before blinking at the strange feeling in his chest.

"Everything alright, m'lord?"

He gave his head a slight shake to clear his thoughts, "yes George."

Arthur didn't look at Leon as he shifted, or George as he came over to serve him the food when it was done. The smell of the burning wood was nauseating as he laid on his back long after eating, listening for any signs of footsteps from friend or foe in the dead air.

'You've never had this kind of friend before,' a voice inside his head spoke, 'someone who isn't afraid to tell you off. And Morgana doesn't count.' He gave a short snort at his own mind. 'The strange feeling means nothing.'

The night passed slowly before he finally rested his eyes, waking on his own to the two's soft breathing. Arthur frowned as he felt something shift in the air as he laid. He looked around subtly into the forest, noticing the blue that told the sun would rise soon.

He saw something move in the forest and looked to Leon, noticing that he was up and alert as well. Arthur moved his eyes to George and saw that he was sleeping, or at least looked like it. He motioned for Leon to look after George since he was closer and waited, hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

The attackers came nearer and he stood with his sword, blocking the two who attacked him. He felt Leon stand as well while shouting at his manservant. The attackers looked to be only bandits, from their clothing and how they attacked him.

'No patience and quick to let their anger take control,' he thought as he disposed of both of them easily.

He felt someone came at him with a yell and turned to block. Arthur felt the blood splatter on his face as the knife went through the man's eye, the other widening in surprise. The eye looked around for a moment before it became lifeless. The stained blade was taken out and the corpse fell to the ground when the hand released its hair.

Worried blue eyes examined him before glancing around them, "are you alright?"

Arthur let out a light scoff and turned to look as well, "course I'm fine." 'I just didn't expect you to be so violent and ruthless when you kill.'

The red priest hummed, "if you say so. I want you to meet someone." He glanced at him when he passed and looked at the commonly dressed man, with dark hair and dark, kind eyes. "This is Lancelot. He saved me from the Griffin."

"Griffin?" Arthur asked as he examined the man when he was closer.

"It was attracted to my prayers to R'hllor."

"I was tracking it when it decided to find him," the one called Lancelot said.

"You're a hunter?" Arthur asked.

"No sire, I'm no one."

"A citizen with the heart of a knight," the Asshai'i said. Arthur felt something clench inside of him at the words of praise. "We should report that bandits are so close to Camelot," the red priest continued.

"Leon, you go tell my father."

"Sire?"

"Me and the red priest will continue and see if there are others on our hunt."

"George, why don't you take Lancelot's shirt to Gwen to get it patched up while Leon takes him to Gaius. The Griffin managed to take a large chunk of that and his flesh."

Arthur glanced at the spot that was mentioned and felt that side of his body cave in on itself, the cloth covering the wound doing nothing to stop the sight.

"George I want you to make sure the wound doesn't make him bleed to death before he gets to Camelot."

The manservant didn't even protest, "yes sire."

He watched the group leave with a short goodbye after they divided the supplies before he looked at the Asshai'i. He nodded to him and they got on their horses. They went in a gallop, in no particular hurry, waiting to see if Mordred truly would find them. They camped for the night with no signs of the boy or game.

"Maybe he's not coming," he said.

"Perhaps," the red priest mumbled looking at the campfire before getting up.

"Leaving again?" Arthur asked.

"I don't think you would like to see me pray to R'hllor to bring the dawn."

"Actually I'm curious," he leaned back on the stone, "show me the ritual of one of Rh...the Red God's followers."

"It might attract beast and bandits."

"I'll protect you if need be."

Arthur watched as he looked at the fire, then over it to look in his eyes.

"Are you certain you won't become scared and attack me?" the Asshai'i asked.

"Nothing you do will frighten me."

He heard him hum as he looked down. It was quiet for a long time, the fire crackling in the still air.

"You don't have to do it," Arthur told him.

"No, it's fine, I was just wondering which style of the ritual I should do. I don't want a sword threw me, after all."

He watched the red priest bring his hand to the back of his head and take off the mask, than the cloth. Dark hair stood in odd angles before the priest tame it back to a normal shape. He moved the pot further away from the fire before wringing his hands nervously as he turned.

Arthur watched him go to his horse and reach into his pack before bringing out a brown pouch, sitting up more as the red priest looked up at the starlight sky before moving to a spot.

The younger man started to speak in the tongue of Asshai, putting his thumb and two fingers into the pouch. He pulled out some sort of sand and threw it into the flames, his shrill, flowing, howling voice lowering as he seemed to concentrate.

The fire consumed the sand and seemed to reach for the red priest for more in hunger. Arthur felt his heart leap when his two fingers and thumb caught fire, almost getting up from the ground when he began to sing loudly.

The Asshai'i moved them in the air fluidly, the flames seeming to stay in whatever form he was making, stagnate for a moment before disappearing, leaving behind wisps of dark smoke. The red priest's voice seemed to wrap around the cackling of the campfire as he continued to make shapes, the line of flames varying from thick like a tree to thinner than a strand from a spider's web.

The priest stopped making runes and move to another side of the fire, his whole body almost turned from Arthur. He watched him stick his burning fingers into the pouch and take a pinch of sand out again, the digits dark and flaky. He threw it into the flames and once more the fires reached for him.

He watched him draw in the air while admiring how the light seemed to make his skin glow like pale gold, otherworldly and somehow looking colder, his eyes reflecting the flames he was controlling. Arthur swallowed and stared as he repeat the action two more times, each more flowing and more natural as he seemed to get more comfortable with him there, his eyes flickering to his at times over the flames.

The Asshai'i walked away from the dying fire and went to his horse, his steps slowly becoming timid. When he put the pouch away he walked over to him, his skin capturing the light of the moon and stars.

The priest bent down next to him, "well?"

Arthur opened his mouth but couldn't say anything. He looked down at the younger man's hand and took it, staring at his black fingers and thumb. He brought his fingers to them and rubbed over them, 'they feel like ashes.'

"Arthur?" He looked up. His blue eyes were bright, the fires inside seeming to draw him closer.

The red priest's lips spread into a smile, "did you enjoy it?"

"I've never seen anything like it."

"I'd suspect not, or the person who was doing the ritual would have been put into the fires."

Arthur felt his heart grow heavy, "they would. All because they were worshiping to their god for the sun."

"It would be considered magic."

"Other rituals don't have such beauty," he admitted after a moment.

"I'm not sure you've seen other..." he paused before he smirked at Arthur, "are you talking about me or the runes?"

He let out a breathy scoff as he gave him a look, "and you called me big headed."

The Asshai'i gave an amused smile.

They said nothing after that, sitting while staring at each other. An awkward feeling was growing in the pit of his stomach, along with something else as his eyes flickered to his lips. The younger man tilted his head slowly, giving a good impression of a blinking owl, and his heart leaped in his chest.

His lips parted and Arthur swallowed, "Mordred's here."

He blinked as the red priest straightened, feeling something sink in his stomach as he watched him stand. He looked over and saw the boy walked out of the forest, moving his eyes between the two of them.

"Still want to go to Braavos, Mordred?" Arthur asked, trying to keep whatever he felt from reaching his voice.

The boy looked at him and nodded, seeming to want to make himself smaller.

"Come," the priest beckoned the druid boy, "I brought some of those sweets we both like and I'm willing to share."

Mordred glanced at him before going over to him. Arthur leaned his head back and laid it on the cold boulder, hearing the two whisper to each other.

'Where you wishing for something to happen?' a voice that sounded like a smug Morgana asked in his head. He growled quietly at it.

He felt something tap his shoulder and looked to the child, who held out a bag. He looked inside to see what looked like white balls inside. Arthur glanced up at the druid boy, who seemed like he was giving him a peace offering and expecting for his hands to be bitten off.

He wiped the ashes off of his fingers before taking one, feeling its glossy texture between his fingers as Mordred took one and put it in his mouth. Arthur did the same.

"Don't bite down on it," he heard the red priest warn, "they are known for breaking those who've tried jaws."

Arthur paused, both at the taste and his words.

He saw Mordred sort of shift and turned to him while moving the ball to the other side of his mouth, "you tried before, haven't you?"

The druid boy kept his gaze, "no..."

Arthur gave a small smile before rolling the ball around his mouth.

Mordred slept on the red priest's blankets while said priest kept watch the rest of the night, seeming to be alright as they rode to the port. However, Arthur saw how he would try to hide his yawns from them.

After the third time he rode closer to grab the reigns, "go to sleep before you ride your horse into a tree."

He looked over at him, seeming like he was going to argue before he yawned again.

"Make sure he doesn't let me fall," he told the druid boy in front of Arthur before he fell unconscious almost instantly.

He snorted before he made sure to pick a smooth path. He woke him up before the sun set and found a place to camp. Arthur tried not to smile wide at Mordred's face as the red priest performed his ritual.

For a week the routine continued, the air seeming to get cooler the closer they came to the port. Before he did his ritual the priest bend down to the flames to stare. Arthur found himself trying to read them as well and looked away before the red priest stood.

"I have to go," the Asshai'i said in a sort of trance, messing with his fingers.

"I won't stop you," he said after a moment of silence.

The younger man nodded, seeming to have a fit of anxiety as he pack enough only for him.

"I'll meet you at the Green Trident," he said before asking, "and can you make a traveling pack for a woman when you get to the city, preferable with clothes as well? She'll be about Morgana's size. I'll be only a few weeks, maybe less."

He agreed without asking, watching him ride off without a glance back. Arthur felt his stomach twist as his figure disappeared.

"He didn't leave me any sweets," the druid boy mumbled to himself.

Arthur blinked slowly before glancing at Mordred, who avoided his eye.

---

Merlin looked at the girl who was cursed, feeling emotions that he was warned about in the flames. In the few weeks he spent with her he felt himself growing close to her, and she him. He knew that if he succumbed to those feeling the bright future was lost, and grew fearful when he found that with each passing day he didn't mind if he never saw the day.

He dreaded the sails on the horizon, sails that would take her away from him, but he knew that had to put her on a ship to Asshai, knowing that his fellow priests could completely lift the curse. It was the only thing the two sides of himself agreed on.

"Red priest," Freya spoke, "I don't think I could thank you enough for what you have done."

Merlin closed his eyes as he felt her gratitude shine from her body, her hair tickling his bare face from the sea breeze.

"You don't have to thank me anymore," he told her, "my ears are almost falling off."

"Those large things?" she joked.

He smiled with her as they galloped into town, making for the inn he told Arthur to go to. Merlin stopped his horse and smiled at the little druid boy who dragged Arthur outside. Mordred looked up at him with those eyes, admiration in his light eyes.

"You're late," Arthur said as a greeting.

"Barely a day," he told the prince.

He hummed and held the bags up to show him.

Merlin smiled in thanks, "I'll meet you both at the ship."

He urged his horse to make down the road and to the port, the ships growing larger the further they went.

"Who was that?" Freya asked.

"Arthur," he said, looking at the people who might be listening. He moved a bit to whisper in her ear, "prince of Camelot."

She looked at him in surprise, "does he know?"

"No," he told her, "but the boy is a druid."

"He's helping willingly?"

"Yes."

Freya looked away, "maybe there is hope."

Merlin smiled, "I believe there is."

The ships lined the harbor with different flags, all with different sigils or colors. He got off his horse and tied it to the post, glancing at the stable boy before paying him. He led her to the ship, searching for the captain of the Sea Devil.

"Looking for passage?"

He looked at the foreign voice, glancing at the dark woman.

"Yes, for two of my friends."

"We make for Pentos before sailing to Qarth," she said with a faint accent, "if their passage is near there we'll take them."

"The boy is for Braavos, she is for Asshai."

The woman whistled before addressing Freya, "long way to travel. You'll be sick of us before long." The woman looked back to Merlin, "they'll be a ship in Qarth that would no doubt take the girl to Asshai. The boy, however..."

"Too much hassle."

Merlin felt his finger twitch at Mordred's voice, looking down to see that he was right next to him.

"We make to go around," she explained, "not straight down."

He glanced at the boat again, "is the old captain dead?"

"Yeah," she answered, "old one eye died in his sleep all peaceful like."

"He's cursing right now in the afterlife for not dying in battle."

"I would bet on it. He was a friend?"

"Acquaintance...Your accent is familiar, are you a native of Braavos?"

"Yes," she said slowly, a flicker in her eyes as she questioned.

He sighed in relief quietly, 'finding another boat would have been expensive.'

He watched Arthur walk up and give the woman the pouch of coins, "for the girl. Come one Mordred."

"If you have the right payment he can come on board."

Arthur turned towards the woman, a look on his face.

Merlin glanced at Mordred as he walked up, placed the coin in her hand, and whispered quietly to the woman in Valyrian, "All men must die."

The woman looked down at the coin and responded, "All men must serve. Welcome aboard little one. Thorys! Come get these bags and find room for the girl and child."

A muscular man came off the boat, covered in coarse red hair. He examined at Freya and Mordred before taking the bags and going back to the ship.

"Say your goodbyes, we leave soon."

The woman left them on the docks, her hand resting on her thin sword.

"I'll...just take Mordred and walk around."

Merlin looked at Arthur and watched him leave with the druid boy, smiling at him even though he didn't turn around. He looked back to Freya and felt his heart tear itself completely in half, fighting itself for his vows to obey R'hllor and her.

She smiled sadly at him for a long time before it fell and her face turned serious, "I want you to stay."

"I know I have to, but I want to go with you."

Freya put a hand on his shoulders, "you have a duty. Don't forsake it for me."

"You'd be worth it."

She smiled sweetly at him, "and I would cherish every moment. But I would rather you stay and save as many lives as you can than run away with me and condemn endless numbers."

Merlin swallowed, knowing she spoke the truth. Freya moved her hand to his face and stroked his cheek.

He reveled in the feeling before taking her hand and kissing it, "thank you."

"I should be thanking you."

"Again?"

"Until I'm old and gray."

He smiled at her, than took both of her hands.

"I don't want you to wait for me," he told her. "If you find someone in your travels or while in Asshai, don't think about me. I don't know how long my destiny with Arthur will be, and I don't want to hold you back from any sort of happiness."

"I want you to be happy as well," she told him. "So if you find someone, don't feel guilty. Be with whoever makes you laugh and rage – "

"Pardon," he heard a deep voice say. He looked over and saw the man called Thorys, "the ship's ready to leave."

Merlin felt his grip tighten before he let go, "are you ready?"

She nodded at him before giving him a short kiss, it was as soft and as sweet strawberries. She leaned back and smiled at him before turning away to glance at Arthur when he walked up and took her hand.

"Safe travels, my lady," he said before kissing her hand.

She let out a laugh at the title lady, "to you as well."

'Farewell Emrys.'

He looked over at Mordred and motioned for him while going on his knee. "May we meet again, my brother," he said before whispering, "but hopefully on friendly terms."

The druid boy looked away slightly and Merlin took his tiny head and kissed the middle of his forehead. He let him go and stood, smiling down at him. Mordred smiled back.

"Goodbye Mordred," Arthur said with a tight voice before ruffling his hair.

"Goodbye Arthur," the boy said, smiling wide but with a sad look in his eyes.

'Like a father saying goodbye to his son,' Merlin thought as Freya offered her hand to the druid boy.

Mordred took it after a glance and they both followed the red hair man to the ship. He felt someone walk next to him and knew it was Arthur, who said nothing. They both stood and waved goodbye to Freya and Mordred, who seemed to have wet eyes, watching the ship sail out of the port and move further into the sea.

---

"Who was that girl?" Arthur asked softly when the red priest sat next to him, the fires dying from the ritual.

He seemed like he was going to ignore him before he looked at him with shining eyes, "her name is Freya."

He swallowed as he saw all of the younger man's emotions laid bare. Arthur raised his hand and put it on his clothed shoulder, the priest closing his shaking eyes for a moment.

"Why didn't you go with her?" he asked quietly.

The red priest took a deep breath, "because I have a duty to my Lord of Light and to the kingdom."

He took his own breath, "you love her. I still see it in your eyes. Your duty to a...it isn't worth it."

"My duty is worth it," the Asshai'i argued before saying, "you're worth it."

Arthur felt his heart both lighten and fall ill, "you would have been happier with her. There's still time, you can catch a smaller, faster boat."

The priest hummed as he glanced to the side, "and who would help you when you become king if I'm gone?"

"I'll be fine on my own when the time comes. Here," Arthur said as he took the rose gold ring off of his finger, "a fool would mistake this for something fake. Take it," he placed the ring in his hand, "ride hard, get on a boat and be with her."

The younger man stared down at their hands, the tears staying in his eyes.

"This isn't like you," the Asshai'i said with a slow voice, "why are you talking like a princess obsessed with songs of love?"

"Because – " he felt the words stop in his throat. He swallowed, "because according to you I am one of those princesses." The red priest seemed to smile but he couldn't tell in the darkness, "this duty that you tied yourself to so fiercely is..."

"Hurting me? Causing distress? Perhaps," he told him, "however, if I go with her I condemn thousands to die and millions to suffer. Without her, I am the only one that is suffering. I remember being told that it is a pain that goes away in time."

'My heart is aching to see you this way,' he wanted to say but instead said, "I wouldn't know."

The red priest started to give him back the ring but he pushed the hand back.

"Keep it," he told him. "I made it for you a long time ago and forgot to give it to you."

The younger man brought his head up, "why?"

"For saving my life."

The Asshai'i blinked and some tears fell, "for saving your life I got a ring?"

"It was as much of a pain as you, the stone and gold I had to get shipped from Westeros."

The younger man smiled before asking, "when did you buy it?"

"After you saved me from the witch's knife but before Sir Valiant was found dead in his room by a snake bite."

"That long? Must have been expensive," he mused as he stared at the ring in his hand, "why rose gold?"

"Because it was red without looking tasteless, and that color suits you. Not as well as purple, I'll admit."

The red priest said nothing before putting the ring on his ring finger, "I do look good in both of those colors."

Arthur scoffed and placed a hand on the younger man's head, his fingers immediately playing with some of his locks. The Asshai'i hummed and leaned further into his hand and closed his eyes. Arthur felt his mouth twitch before he clenched his jaw, running his fingers out of his hair and standing.

"We should get some rest," Arthur said as he went to his spot, "and if you leave during the middle of the night I won't go looking for you."

"You should, I would have been kidnapped."

He forced a smile and turned to lay on his side. Arthur tried to force himself to sleep, hearing the younger man's breathing slow with his own.

His eyes fluttered open quickly, his ears listened for what woke him up. When he heard nothing he stood up and looked around, noticing that the red priest wasn't anywhere in sight.

Arthur closed his eyes for a long time before opening them again, letting out a breath when he saw the Asshai'i walking out from behind far away trees. He looked away before he could notice and started to pack.

They spoke normally again rather quickly, not speaking of the subject but not completely ignoring it either. Arthur was even able to hunt down a stag on their way back, though the other man had made faces in the still silence as he did so, using his tongue to mess with his teeth, making hunting the stag harder than it needed to.

He hated how his eyes drunk in the sight of the red priest's face as he rode the rest of the way home without his mask, only putting it on when Camelot was in sight with something similar to his choker around his neck.

"Was that the only one you had?" Arthur asked, motioning to his own neck.

"Yes," he said, "hopefully one day she will be able to give it back to me."

He looked away, making it look like he was admiring the setting sun.

"She'll come back. She would be wrong to pass someone up with such fierce loyalty."

"Thank you, Arthur."

"Than again, that is your one redeeming quality...that and your cheekbones."

The red priest started to look at him but he turned away, riding over the drawbridge first. He felt something was wrong when they stopped at the courtyard, and from how fast the priest dismounted he felt it too. He saw George come and take his horse and stag, waiting for him to give him an order.

"Where's my father?" he asked, the uneasy feeling growing in his stomach.

"I think he was walking the grounds, but I'll go look for him sire."

"Where's Lancelot?" the Asshai'i asked next to him.

"He was tried as a sorcerer and hanged, sire."

Arthur felt winded, "on what charges?"

"Uther."

He almost flinched at the growl from the priest, his lower stomach tightening in a familiar feeling. He turned and tried to grab the red priest's arm but he was already making for the stairs where his father was walking down, knights behind him that eyed the priest with hands on their swords.

"I see the hunt was somewhat successful," his father commented when he glanced behind them as they approached.

"Calm down," Arthur whispered to the other man when he finally managed to catch up and grab his arm.

He saw how the priest seemed to freeze before he took a deep breath, blinking slowly before he walked up a few steps, "I've heard you hanged the man who killed the beast. May I ask why?"

"Gaius told me how the beast can only be killed by magic," Uther explained, "and he told us all that it was him that dealt the killing blow."

The younger man suck in a breath as his eyes shined more but his voice stayed calm, "he did deliver the fatal blow. Using my knife, that was blessed by my mentor. If anyone is to be accused of magic, it's my mentor, who no doubt saw in the flames that I would need a magical blade to take down the beast. And you would have known that, if you would have waited until I came back!"

"I won't be accused for protecting my city from threats, by you."

The whole courtyard seemed to be holding its breath as the two glared at each other, a dooming threat looming over them.

Arthur interrupted their glares before one killed the other by moving his hand to the red priest's shoulder, turning his back on his father, "it's done."

He heard and felt the priest take a deep breath before looking away, surrendering.

"What have you done with his body?" the younger man asked with a softer tone.

"Buried in a shallow grave outside the city," Uther said with a slightly not as tense tone as well. "Ulric will show you where. And welcome back."

His father walked back up the stairs followed by the knights. The old knight who stayed back walked down the stairs and led the two out the gates and into the forest, saying nothing the entire way, hearing only the sound of night creatures scurrying by as they passed through.

"Here, priest of R'hllor."

Arthur examined the grave. The ground had tracked made by wild dog and fox, and a few holes were dug in the ground.

"I'm surprised, Sir Ulric. Many say my God's name wrong. Have you heard it often, before the Purge?"

"Uther and I had a Red Priestess in our camp, during the 'Great Tiff' as she called it."

The red priest gave a short snort, but Arthur saw him lean his head slightly forward. The Asshai'i bent down and began to dig up the shallow grave with his own hands. Arthur went to the other side and bent down to help him with Sir Ulric.

"What was she there for?"

"To bring the Dragon Lord Balinor to Uther's side and create an alliance."

Arthur noticed how the red priest's fingers seemed to clench the dirt harder as he stated, "which I'm sure went sour once the Great Purge began."

Sir Ulric hummed, than seemed to glance at him while his head was bowed.

"Was the Dragon Lord and my father close?" Arthur asked, sneaking a glance at the red priest.

The old knight bend back and Arthur winced at the cracks that came from his stretches.

"They went together like a whetstone and a sword," Sir Ulric said with a hidden emotion in his voice as he recounted old memories, "they were mistaken for brothers on many accounts, and sometimes Balinor was called Pendragon by passing soldiers.

Uther would tease him until Balinor punched him either in the gut or shoulder, never lightly, however. I swear to all the gods out there that they were children put in grown bodies. They even spit in their hands when they made that bloody promise."

"Promise?"

"That they would teach the other one's children how to ride a dragon or a horse."

Arthur smiled at the thought, from imagining himself on top of a dragon to his father acting like a child.

The smile slid off his face quickly, "my father hunted him down when the Purge started."

The old knight looked over to him, his eyes dark and hidden. Those eyes glanced to the grave, but Arthur kept his eyes on his face.

"King Uther – "

"The truth, if you will, Sir Ulric."

He watched the elderly knight bring a hand to his face, glance at his dirty hands, than ran his hand from his chin down to his neck anyway with a tired sigh.

"Yes," the red priest answered, "but not before tricking him with a false hand."

Arthur glanced at him but his eyes betrayed nothing.

"What one side says," Sir Ulric said carefully, "but those who know what really happened are either dead, too scared to tell the truth, side with King Uther, or just rather forget."

"And you, Sir Ulric? What side do you fall on?"

The old knight looked at him and Arthur knew the answer.

"Can you two help me?" the priest strangled voice asked.

He looked over before glancing down. He tried not to gag when his nose caught the scent and his eyes the sight. Instead, he helped them pull the body out and laid it away from the hole.

He saw that Lancelot's arm up to his elbow was gone, and he had a gaping hole where his wound was that was wider and deeper. He could actually see that he was missing a few ribs from the gap.

"Can you go back to get a shovel, one of you?"

"Not a few shovels?" the old knight asked, standing up smoothly.

"I'll bury him myself."

Sir Ulric left without another word, only giving a gesture to Arthur that seemed like he was telling him that he would take his time, so he could comfort the red priest.

"It's my fault," he heard the younger man say to himself quietly when Sir Ulric was long gone.

Arthur looked over at him, "you didn't know that my father – "

"I thought since all of these changes were going so well I could bring his meeting forth a bit, it was only a few days after all...all the tracking and spell work, waiting to change his fate, and I was the one who sent him to Camelot like a lamb for slaughter..."

Arthur stared at him, "what did you say?"

The Asshai'i stared at the ground, seeming to tense up at his tone. His head seemed to grow stiff as he looked at him with wet eyes, wide and unmoving. Arthur was reminded of a startled deer, ready to bolt at any moment with fearful poison in their heart.

"Did I mishear you?" He offered him. The red priest opened his mouth before closing it, his eyes not leaving his as something flickered in them. "You do have magic," he stated into the thick air. "The visions in the fires are not sent by your God, you use your magic to see into the future."

"They are sent by R'hllor," the Asshai'i whispered with a shaking voice.

"Stop lying to me."

"They are," the red priest said louder with a slight crack in his voice. "R'hllor sends me the visions, and I interpret them as best I can, using whatever I can for whatever the situation...and yes, sometimes I must use magic to achieve what he wishes of me."

Cold, that was what he felt, calm and cold. It was what he already suspected, wasn't it? The red priest was a sorcerer, he has been using magic ever since he stepped into Camelot. No doubt he put his father under a spell in the court.

'He is devoted to you, didn't you notice?'

"All the magic I used was for the peace of this kingdom," the Asshai'i continued. The crack of his voice was more noticeable the longer he talked, "I'm trying to strengthen the friendship between the five kingdoms, I'm creating bonds where once was bloodshed, I'm birthed alliances instead of wars...And you look at me as if I'm the enemy..."

Arthur blinked his burning eyes slowly.

The boy's voice came into his mind again, 'He almost died for you, didn't he?'

"You don't even have the decency to deny it? After everything we've – "

"Shut up." The red priest closed his mouth, staring at him with his shining eyes. Arthur took a deep breath, "just...all this time you've lied to me."

"If I didn't lie about my magic you would have drowned me."

He never hated his mind more when it showed him looking down at the struggling chained red priest as he disappeared beneath the waters.

Arthur took a sharp breath, "you're wrong. I wouldn't have drowned you. I would have taken your head."

The Asshai'i let out a strange noise from his throat, "that's a lot messier."

"I wouldn't have been about to stand seeing you suffer for air, just like I couldn't stand to see you suffer from a broken heart," he heard leave his lips. The red priest blinked and the water left his stone eyes, "if the only thing you lied to me about was your magic, than I can't kill you. I just couldn't."

"You're forcing me into exile."

"No," he said quickly, "yes – I don't..." Arthur took a breath slowly, "I couldn't...not after..."

The Asshai'i stared at him, "so what now?"

"It's up to you."

The younger man blinked slowly, turning his gaze to the body.

He saw through the cracks in the tiled mask that the red priest bit his lips, "I want to stay. I can help you and the kingdom, and it would be easier this way than in the shadows."

Arthur felt his insides warm at the words, "than I'll...keep it secret. As long as you don't harm the people or the kingdom."

"I would never."

He stared at him for a moment, "and I believe you."

"Thank you Arthur," the Asshai'i said after a long pause with barely hidden emotions behind his voice.

Arthur thought of making a quip as he watched him pick up his head, the retort dying in his throat. The stars seemed to have collected in his smiling eyes, the moon giving his pale skin a sort of glow. He swallowed and smiled at him, ignoring the feeling in his body.

They said nothing else as they waited, moving when they heard Sir Ulric come back. They picked up the body and moved it to the open plain, where the red priest told them to go back home to rest. Arthur didn't want to leave him, but knew that he had to.

"Thank you," he told the elderly knight as they reached Camelot.

"I'll be grateful if you don't tell anyone what you're thankful for, sire."

He nodded and watched him leave after he got off his horse, wondering if the old knight will disappear into the background once more. Arthur made his way to his room and saw Guinevere in passing, her head down as she walked.

"Are you alright Guinevere?"

She turned around, startled, her eyes swollen.

"I'm fine sire. It's nothing."

"Your face says otherwise. Did something happen to your father? Or...were you close to Lancelot?"

She looked away while pulling her clasped hands, "a bit...maybe more. He was so kind and...I'm sorry sire I shouldn't be bothering you with this."

"It's alright, Guinevere, you can bother me. It must be hard to not have someone to talk to."

She nodded her head, seeming to hide in her own mind for a moment.

"I'm sorry sire but Lady Gwendolyn needs – "

"It's fine. The red priest could show you where he properly buried him tomorrow, and I'll see if I can get you a ship to take you to Braavos. She must be missing you as much as you miss her, and I think the Dornishman won't mind taking your place as your father's helper."

Arthur found himself grinning at her sweet smile, "thank you sire."

He watched her leave before making to his own room, his dreams filled with a strange new nightmare along with the elusive white stag. A faceless man who appeared in and out of the shadows, strange colored liquids dripping from his fingers. When the droplets hit the floor, it would eat up the stones until nothing was left but the smell of decay.

'Every single night,' he thought with a tired sigh as he rested on the castle stones, 'what the priest told you horrified you, that's all. Nothing in that dream is prophetic.'

"Is Gwen back yet?"

Arthur looked over at the red priest as he walked up, his pale skin capturing the moonlight as it always did.

"She and Morgana will be back in a few weeks," he said. "Why do you keep asking?"

"I'm sick of hanging around sweaty men that do nothing but beat their swords on each others bodies and go on hunts for game."

"That sounded oddly sexual."

"You took it as sexual, that had nothing to do with me."

Arthur hummed as the priest leaned on the stone, stopping his eyes from following the curves of his back.

"I suppose it is my fault."

"Thank you for admitting your faults," the Asshai'i said cheekily. "Do you still wish to participate?"

"I lied to my father, didn't I?"

The younger man smiled and stood to leave. Arthur followed, feeling excitement and caution start to fill his bones. They rode out of the castle and went the wrong way for a while before they were out of the site of Camelot. He put on the bear mask the red priest made for him as they rode, watching the other man put on an animal mask, glad it didn't block his vision as much as he thought it would.

The plain was far and wide, the middle seeming to be made entirely of burning coals. Drums were playing loud enough, along with flutes and string instruments. People in different animal masks were dancing barefooted on the coals like wild children, some kicking high like prancing horses, others twirling like windmills.

He got off his horse and tied it to a tree before walking over with the priest. He saw some look towards them and saw others gather things before walking over. Arthur looked at the plates of food and stared at the liquid being poured into the cups.

"Here," he heard the younger man say.

He felt his hands on his mask and heard a click. Cool air caressed his mouth as the red priest took the lower half of the mask away. "Now you can eat and drink to your hearts delight...I believe I heard your stomach roar in happiness?"

Arthur snorted softly and took the offered cup, glancing at the food before taking a turkey leg. They turned as he bit into it, moaning at the taste. It wasn't juicy enough to drip down his chin, nor was it dry enough to clog his throat.

'And the spices...'

"Should I give you some alone time?" Arthur glanced at the amused man, his blue eyes sparkling from the fires lining the burning coals. "I'm kidding. Come, let's rest a bit before dancing."

"Dancing?" he asked, following him.

"Of course. What, were you just going to eat and drink for the rest of the night?"

"Perhaps," he said while sitting down.

"You're going to dance," the Asshai'i said. Arthur took another bit of the turkey leg, "you wait until you start dancing on the coals. How free you will feel, how alive. Breathing in the sparks of the fire, feeling his flames caress your skin..."

"Do I need to give you some alone time?"

The red priest looked over at him, his eyes alive and sparking.

"Just wait, Arthur. You'll feel what I am talking about once you dance on the coals."

"Which has me thinking, did you or they spell the coals?"

"Me...did you think – of course the coals are spelled, Arthur, else we would all get blisters."

He hummed before taking a sip from the cup. It tasted like honey mead, yet stronger and somewhat sweeter. He took another sip before taking another bite as he watched the dancing druids.

They didn't seem to have a care in the world, though he could see some of the older ones not in the pit looking to the forest to see if they would be attacked.

"Finally done?" he heard the priest ask as he swallowed the last of his drink, the bone lying on the ground.

"You could have danced without me," he told him when he put the cup down.

"I wanted to dance with you first," the other man said as he leaned forward to put the bottom half of the mask on his face. "Now, take your boots off."

"What – No!"

"It won't be as much fun if you dance with your boots on," the red priest said. When he didn't move, the priest sighed before twisting over and taking his leg. Arthur was too focused on trying not to react to his fingers to stop him.

He felt the cool grass between his toes and the younger man's warm hands on his thighs after a while, curving around to get a good grip as he stood up to lean forward.

His blue eyes smiled down at him, "there. Not bad, right? Now let's go."

Arthur swallowed and let him take his hand, phantom hands still gripping his thighs. All thoughts left him as he felt burning on the bottom of his feet. He started to jump back but the Asshai'i gripped him tight and pulled him further in. He remembered what he said before and relaxed, letting him lead him to the middle of the pit.

"Now," the younger man said, "let the music guide your body."

"I know how to dance," Arthur said.

"You know how to dance when you have an image to obtain. But here, the dance is only for your pleasure."

"And yours."

The red priest let out a soft scoff, "if it will get you to move that body of yours."

'If I could move it against yours,' his thoughts betrayed him as the priest started to dance.

His legs moved with a grace he couldn't describe, dancing further away before coming back, circling around him in a whirl that caused sparks to float into the air.

The Asshai'i stopped in front of him as the embers caressed them both, "you're still not dancing."

"I would rather watch you dance."

He tsked and grabbed his arms, speaking with an almost childish whine, "come one."

He smiled at the younger man as he tried to force him to dance. He listened to the music and finally danced with him, still watching his every move. They moved together as if they knew what move the other would do, feet moving with the beat of the drums.

The red priest disappeared and in his place was a woman with a horse mask, her foreign light eyes friendly as they danced together. He gave her his attention and chatted when she spoke to him, but would glance around to look for the younger man when he could.

A black creature seemed to grow out of his shoulder as he watched the Asshai'i dance with others, growling and spitting venom when others dared to touch the priest. Arthur was glad when he was back at his side, and he made sure to not let him leave his side again, even though his thighs burned and sweat coated his skin, the other gave no sight of that he was going to stop soon.

Arthur ignored his fatigue and twisted the red priest around, holding him close to his chest. The younger man gave a small squawk before he squirmed, laughing as Arthur danced with him in that position.

He finally let him go with another twirl, pulling him back again while he turned. The Asshai'i kicked one of his legs in the air, all of his weight on Arthur's chest. He felt his back crack and gave a moan, than panicked that the priest would take it the wrong way, but he gave no sign that he heard.

He placed him down with a spin, the younger man still holding his hand. With an asking twist of his wrist, the red priest made Arthur start spinning at an angle. He could feel the embers on his wet skin, the heat seeming to cool his body like a breeze instead of bringing him discomfort.

When he stopped he wrapped his arms around the priest's waist and pulled him to him, the Asshai'i laughing with mirth. He smiled and moved his head down, frowning when he felt him bump into something before he remembered that they were wearing masks.

"Tired?" the younger man asked with a worried tone.

"Yeah," he admitted after he placed him on the ground.

"Let's go rest then."

Arthur let out a breath, his heart pounding in his burning chest as they walked out of the pit. He plopped down on the ground and leaned on the log, trying to control his breathing, wondering how the red priest still had energy.

"You can keep dancing if you want, don't stop on my account."

He glanced at him, "if you're sure."

"Go ahead, I'll just stay here and watch you. To make sure that nobody steals you into the forest."

"Don't worry, I would only take someone into the forest that I love and cherish."

"That what are we waiting for?"

The Asshai'i widen his eyes in shock before giving a small laugh and mocking, "no wonder some noblewomen speak of you with such passion."

He felt condemning words reach the tip of his tongue but he didn't let them out. Instead, he watched the red priest make his way back to the pit, finding that his eyes were traveling down before he stopped himself. He closed his eyes for a moment before he looked back to him, watching the Asshai'i dance amidst the druids.

The red priest moved like the flickering flames, smooth and confident in his movements, begging to be watched by all. He was like a wildflower, exotic and beautiful. However, he could see that the red priest's porcelain skin looked like it held scorching fire underneath that caused his skin to glow, threatening to burst out and attack at any moment. If that was true, Arthur was willing to walking into that inferno and stay for as long as possible, willing to burn to ashes, if he could just be by his side for a moment.

'You fallen hard,' Morgana's voice resonated in his head.

"Would you like a cup?"

He looked over at the small girl, a cup of mead in her hands.

'This fucking drink is causing these condemning thoughts.'

He gave a sigh before he took the cup, taking a sip of the mead as he felt the girl sit next to him.

"You want him, don't you?"

He cleared his throat as the liquid went down roughly, looking over at the girl, her fox mask close to his face.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb, I've seen how you looked at him, Arthur Pendragon, and how Emrys looks at you."

"Is that his name?" he said, mostly to himself, his heart beating fast at the thought of the red priest returning his feeling.

The girl shrugged, "that's what Old Nan calls him. Thanks for helping Mordred, by the way."

"You knew him?"

"He's my friend," she stated, "which is why I'm helping you."

"Helping me with what? And how, you're a child."

"I'm helping you stop being a stupid boy and getting with your mate."

"He's not my mate."

Arthur found himself leaning back at the intense glare she gave him, calling him an idiot silently.

"Your bodies mimicked with the other while you danced, even when you were dancing with others. And your hands intertwined when together, though by your eyes I can tell you weren't paying attention to what your body was doing."

Arthur stared at her for a moment, "you were watching us?"

"I was watching you," she said, "seeing what kind of person you were. You're not like your father, from what I've seen so far."

"I try not to be like him when it comes to what people worship and their religion. I admit he can be unjust when it comes to those matters."

"He can be an asshole."

He opened his mouth to correct her, than closed it.

"Emrys loves another," he finally said.

She looked confused for a moment, "why isn't he with them then?"

"Because he sent her on a boat to Asshai."

"And stayed with you."

"To protect the kingdom, and yes, to inadvertently stay with me."

"So he chose you."

"No he – " he sighed in frustration. "Don't you have someone else to bother?"

"I'm not bothering, I'm trying to get through your thick skull."

"Than allow me to get through yours, child. We are both men, meaning if we do get together, we can't produce an heir. Which is my duty as a prince to produce with my wife, which will be female."

The girl was silent. Arthur gave a sigh of relief and turned away, leaning back into the log while closing his eyes.

"I heard rumors that priests of the Red God can produce shadow people, so that could be your heir." He gave no sign that he heard her. Instead, he took a slow, deep breath before letting it out. "You just don't want to be heartbroken, is that it?"

"Could you please just go away?"

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"Kara!" He felt the girl tense and he opened his eyes to see a hunched woman with withered hands walk over towards them. "I thought I told you to stay near the middle with the other children."

"Arthur's not going to harm me, Old Nan."

The old woman's brown eyes looked over at him, "were you bothering him, child?"

"No..."

The old woman let out a sigh that Arthur could relate to, "come Kara."

The girl looked like she was going to protest before she slumped her shoulders and stood, taking the old woman's hand and walking away. He leaned back and closed his eyes, enjoying the music for a while.

"So I saw you talking to someone before," the priest said as he walked over, his bare arms and legs glistening.

"An annoying child that tried to argue with me."

"What was it you argued about?"

'She thought that I want to be with you, that we should mate. Possibly take you into the forest and have my sinful way with you.' "She thought your mask was a lion," he said finally. "What is that animal, anyway?"

"It's called a Mongoose, it's a creature that I would see sometimes in my homeland. Was that really what you two talked about?"

"Yes."

The red priest tiled his head slightly, "you're a terrible liar, you know that?"

"It's was stupid, childish talk."

He gave a half blink, "alright...do you want to have one last dance before the sun rises?"

Arthur paused, looking at the black sky.

"Sure," he said, downing his drink.

The Asshai'i took his hand again and walked with him to the pit. The music was not as energetic as before, more like the soft waves of a slow moving river.

'Damn mead.'

"What's wrong with the mead?"

Arthur looked at him, confused for a moment.

"I'm think poetic thoughts, is all."

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if there were some sort of hallucinogen in the mead."

"That's why my heart feel like it has a fluttering butterfly inside?"

"Possibly," he said, leaning closer to look at his eyes as they moved. Arthur moved his hands to rest on his waist, his thumbs moving on their own as he smelt his scent.

The red priest didn't seem to notice, "what else is going on. You're being awfully – "

"I want to take you."

"Take me? Where?"

"Everywhere."

The younger man tilted his head, "I don't...we can't just run off and explore the world, Arthur."

"Let's go back home before I do something stupid," he finally got control of himself, moving his hands.

The Asshai'i looked like he wanted to say something but thankfully didn't. They got their horses and left the place, the music fading the further they rode. The courtyard was empty when they rode in, yet George seemed to materialize out of the shadows to take his horse and accept orders.

"He creeps me out sometimes," Arthur admitted as they walked up the stairs, their masks in the packs that they carried with them.

"But he is a very capable servant, you must admit."

"He makes jokes about brass."

"So he's dull and boring. Well, you should have had someone like me as your servant."

"You, undressing and bathing me?"

The red priest gave a scoff before pausing, turning to stare at him.

The dread recognition flickered in his eyes, "I don't think that was hallucinogens in your drink."

"You don't seem to be affected by it."

He hummed in thought, looking away from him.

"My body has a delightful buzz, but I'm not thinking of jumping on you and having sex in this hallway. I just hope you don't act awkward with me tomorrow. I've grown to love your company."

"I've grown to love you."

The Asshai'i snorted hard, causing Arthur to smile.

"Whatever is in your body is making you rather humorous."

"It's not a lie," he said, taking his arm. The younger man looked over at him, his eyes staring at him. "I've grown to love the way you smile, the way you give this half blink with your eyes, the way the lights and shadows caress your face in ways I wish I could.

I would love nothing more than to take you to my room and make you scream so loud the people of Westeros would hear them and think me as some new god to fear. These feelings have made me mad for months now. I'm starting to suspect it's been more than a few months, actually."

"Arthur," the Asshai'i said with a deeper voice, "don't. Let's just go to our separate rooms and laugh this off after a good nights rest."

He stared at him, his head resting against the red priest's. He had the younger man pinned on the wall, his hazy scent filling his nose and coaxing him to draw closer.

He closed his eyes and heard the words repeat in his head, 'let's just go to our separate rooms and laugh this off after a good night's rest.' With a hard swallow he forced himself away, "I'm sorry I..."

The red priest smiled understandingly at him and placed his two hands on his shoulders, his arms locked straight as his fingers gripped over them.

"It's alright – "

Arthur shrugged the hands away roughly as he backed up and left for his room, his heart beating in pain and panic. He threw his clothes to the ground and sat naked on his bed, unable to muster the will to dress himself.

'The mead is making me act like a mad man and a spurn woman,' he thought as he grabbed a fistful of his hair. He heard someone walk into the room and glared at the person, "what is it?"

"I came to help you into your nightclothes and tidy up whatever I've missed," George said.

"I don't need your help, now get out!"

His manservant blink, "as you wish."

He watched him leave, feeling only a twinge bit of guilt as the door closed.

'I'll make up for it in the morning,' he thought as he got under the covers.

His dreams were again filled with the faceless man in black and the white stag, who was rarely in his view.

The red priest seemed to be wary around him the days after until he finally built up the courage to talk to him, as if he didn't remember what he said. Arthur was glad, he didn't know what he would do if the Asshai'i isolated himself from his life.

'Right now I wished he'd go away.'

"At least let me come with you."

"No."

The red priest sighed heavily, "please. The fires are dull and cold as they tell me to stay away, they never told me to stay away before. I...it isn't right. I don't think you will survive this quest."

Arthur gave a snort, a dark bile growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Your confidence in me is astounding."

"Damn it Arthur, I'm being serious!"

He looked over at the anger and panic in his voice.

He softened his face, "I'll be fine."

"I'm not so sure you will...I'm..."

Arthur watched him leave, finding no words to offer him comfort. He toss in bed for the longest time before he fell asleep, and his dreams were horrible.

Flashes of the faceless man always in the corner of his vision, his fingers holding sharp nail daggers that grated on the stone walls as he barely touched them while walking, the poison dripping from the points eating at the stones. His presence was void of any emotion, making it hard to tell if the man was friend or foe.

The ground where he hunted the white stag on was slippery and muddy, filled with rocks and reaching vines. The very trees seemed to want to hold him back from his prey. He managed to trick the trees, however, and chased the stag in an open field. But before he could draw his bow, the stag burst into flames.

Arthur watched as the stag turned and looked at him for the first time, his coat black and red like burning coals. He remembered dropping the bow and walking to the creature, touching his head and feeling his warm, flaky skin before he woke.

Arthur blinked and looked at the one handed knight standing next to him in the courtyard, who touched his shoulder and brought him away from his thoughts, motioning in the direction of the steps. He glanced over and saw the red priest standing with his father. The Asshai'i was gazing at him with shrouded eyes, only giving him a glimpse of his internal struggle.

'I'll come back,' he promised silently before they rode off.

---

Merlin looked out into the courtyard again, looking for signs of Arthur, for something. The flames had become unresponsive, a sign that he should let it go and help the city. Perhaps, he wasn't sure.

He was able to help the kingdom during the daytime without much hindrance from his mind, but at night he found himself wondering the halls and glancing at the courtyard when he could.

"He'll come back."

Merlin turned to look at the familiar voice, feeling that touch of guilt when his eyes saw the color of his skin and glanced down at his arm.

"I know he will," he replied, "but will it be in one, living piece?"

He gave a hum, a slight vibrating sound at the end of the note. He walked closer, the yellowish beige cloak caressing the ground behind him.

"He'll come back," Lancelot repeated, "I've seen how he looks at you. He'll find a way back to you."

Merlin gave a frustrated sigh, "I just wish I knew why R'hllor is not responding and only told me to not interfere."

"Perhaps it's not R'hllor?"

He glanced at the once dead man "you mean another God is interfering with my visions..."

"Or someone who wanted the prince to be without protection. This beast that he is hunting might just be his death. Have you thought of that, priest?"

Merlin watched him walk away with a bow, than looked back to the courtyard.

'A God or enemy, possibly both. But who...'

"Red Priest."

Merlin turned, noticing how the torches were dimmer than before.

"Your Grace. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing, except that we were suppose to discuss taxes and the pay of the city watch."

"I thought we already discussed pay? Fine, let's discuss pay – "

"Two days ago."

Merlin stared, "pardon?"

"We were suppose to discuss taxes and the pay of the city watch, two days ago."

Merlin blinked his eyes, looking away as he tried to remember.

"Sorry, your Grace I must have lost track of the days."

"This isn't like you," the king said, "have you seen something that I should be worried about?"

"No it's...nothing."

The king looked away from him and moved besides him to look out to the courtyard, "you and Balinor have the same tick."

Merlin blinked slowly, "tick?"

"You both try to avoid direct eye contact before you come up with a lie, and you try not to blink when you're upset. I saw him do it a lot when he tried to act as if the death of Ambrosius didn't affect him."

"...Ambrosius?"

"A man who acted as his father when his own died of the pox."

He glanced at the courtyard before asking, "I never heard of him. How did he die?"

"He got the pox."

He winced in sympathy, "my father must have felt horrible."

Uther hummed, "understatement..."

Merlin turned his head, "I always forget that you and him used to be good friends."

The king showed no emotion, didn't even look at him.

"He's still out there," Uther said with a flat tone, "isn't he?"

Merlin looked to the courtyard and saw a black cat slink by, "possibly." He looked at the torch to his right and walked to it, "but we both know what will happen when he does die and I'm still in this kingdom."

He brought three fingers to the flames and put them inside, feeling them burn his skin as he let the fires affect him. He took them out after a while and walked back to Uther, feeling the sting as the air brushed against the burns.

"Don't we?" Merlin asked, showing him his fingers.

Uther stared at the burns, flicking his eyes to his when he closed his hand.

"Let's talk of taxes and pay tomorrow, when we're both well rested."

He brought his hand to his chest as he gave a short bow before turning and leaving the hall. He put the king out of his mind and thought about what Lancelot said as he retired to his room to rest, almost forgetting to pray for the dawn. He took a potion so he could rest soundly, curling up with his hand underneath the pillow.

Images flashed though his dreams. A burning sea, a boat with someone in armor laying inside, a faceless man in black armor with pale fingers that dripped poison stalking the halls, a huntsman with a crown of antlers that was chasing something in the forest.

He woke up with a dry mouth and a feeling of bile in his throat. He looked to the window and saw sunlight streaming through the glass.

He laid his head back down, 'I slept too long.'

He stayed there for a while, wishing he could stay for the rest of the day. However, he knew that he had a city to help keep afloat. Sighing, he got up and dressed in the purple outfit he rarely wore, placing his dirty clothes in a basket so the servant could carry them to the wash with easy.

He walked out of the door and saw Sir Bedivere running down the hall towards him, feeling the blood fall down his face at his expression.

"Arthur was poisoned by the beast, he needs a cure."

He felt like the one handed knight had stabbed him with a spear, "there isn't a cure for that kind of beast. Only..." Merlin went into his room and started mixing herbs, "I read that only the Old Religion can cure him if...I have to go to the Isle of the Blessed.

I'm making enough to last a few weeks. It's not a cure, understand? It will only slow the poison. Place it on the wound and cover it for a few days, than uncover it for a few hours before putting a fresh batch on. The wound must breath, understand?"

Sir Bedivere hummed, "I'll be sure to tell the king that. The beast is dead, I forgot to mention. I apologize, if you were thinking of taking revenge on the creature..."

"Did anyone see you perform magic?"

"I was careful."

Merlin finished making the batch and separated them into piles before packing, nabbing a passing servant and telling him to tell the stable boy that he needed his horse ready. He took a pile of fresh cloths and packed it before following the one handed knight to Arthur's room, ignoring Uther as he placed the mix of herbs on the wound and bound it, letting Bedivere tell him what he said, omitting the Isle of the Blessed.

"I'll bring back the cure," he told Uther after Bedivere walked out, "I swear by all the ancient gods and new I'll save his life."

"You haven't failed me yet," the king said with no emotion.

Merlin paused at the words before leaving the room. He went over the old text in his head as he rode out of Camelot, going over everything he read about of the Old Religion.

When he reached the Isle of the Blessed, he knew what he would have to offer. It didn't matter, though, Arthur was worth the price. Though if he could divert the price...

He looked at the ferryman and went into the boat, not surprised that the man said nothing. As the boat landed on the shore he walked on the land and let the magic inside of him guide him to where it was most prominent.

The area was beautiful, yet it held a certain coldness to it that made him shiver. He looked at the High Priestess, her very being familiar and seeming to call to him. For what, however, he didn't know.

"What may I call you, my sister?"

"I am called Nimueh, Red Priest. And you are Merlin."

He felt his jaw lock for a moment, "how do you know my name?"

"Do you want to waste precious time, or do you want to save Arthur?"

He swallowed, "what life do you want in exchanged for his? My own?"

"Any life will do, it does not have to be your own."

Merlin paused, wondering.

'No, it's too early for him to rule.' "As long as it's not anyone in Camelot, or the kingdom as a whole, for that matter. I have grown quite found of them."

"So you exclude yourself?"

"I would gladly give my life in exchange for Arthur's. But I would rather live so that I may continue to serve him."

"At the cost of another?"

"Yes."

She smiled, though he thought he saw something behind it, something threatening yet alluring.

'She doesn't like me, though that is unsurprising,' he thought as he took the vial and left, his skin crawling even as he got further and further away from the island.

He left his horse in the courtyard and ran to Arthur's room, barely knocking on the door as he barged in. He ignored Uther's words and took out the vial, forcing the water down Arthur's throat.

"Did it work?" he thought he heard Morgana's voice ask behind him after a while.

"If it didn't I'll burn the woman to ashes," he mumbled as he waited for Arthur's eyes to open.

Merlin brought a hand to his hair and brushed it out of his face, than moved a hand to hover over his wound. He examined the herbs before undoing the binds and moving the dried herbs out of his wound, letting it breath.

"Morgana could you go to my room, my hands are becoming unsteady and I need – "

"Stop talking so loud," he heard Arthur's voice mumble.

He looked over to him and saw his beautiful eyes flutter open, the candlelight in the room creating shadows on his face.

"Arthur," he heard himself say in relief as he brought his hand to his face, his fingers curling in his hair.

He blinked at him with clouded eyes, "did I die?"

"No," he said breathlessly, "you were close though. I was almost too late."

Arthur hummed before bringing a hand to his head, moving his head around a bit when he gripped his hair and rubbed his fingers on his scalp. They let out a laugh at the same time, staring into the others' eyes.

"I remembered being wounded," Arthur mused.

"I hope that isn't the only thing you remembered, I told some great jokes while with you."

"I would never forget you."

Merlin laugh as he laid his forehead on his, "I can be obnoxious at times..."

"You finally admit it."

"I said at times. You, however..."

"A prince that you are not worthy of, I know."

Merlin felt his lip twitch before he spoke in his tongue, "are a dollop head."

"What did you say? It's not honorable to curse someone in a language they don't know."

"I called you a dollop head."

"Dollop head? That isn't even – "

They both looked over at the person who cleared their throat, his blood seemed to freeze when he realized Uther was there the whole time.

"It – "

"I rather not hear about your nightly activities."

"No father it's not – "

"Your grace it isn't – "

Uther raised his hand and the two stopped talking.

He put his hand down, "I'm glad your healed, Arthur, and I hope you stay that way."

The king stood and walked out without a glance back.

Morgana started to follow with Gwen behind her, "we'll talk later."

Merlin swallowed as he watched the two walk out.

He blinked his eyes before looking at Arthur, "well..."

"Well?"

"I...don't think your father will look me in the eye ever again."

"I won't be able to look him in the eye ever again."

"We'll tell him later that it's a misunderstanding."

Arthur's eyes were suddenly veiled, "of course we will."

Merlin felt his eyes start to blink but he didn't want to lose eye contact, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

He moved back at his harsh tone, "you only get like this when you're trying to hide something from me. So stop lying and tell me. Are you hurting somewhere, do you have a lover I need to hide from the king?"

"And you called me dense," he heard Arthur mumble to himself.

Merlin watched him sit up and give a soft hiss, looking down at the wound. He tried to make sense of what he said as he helped him sit up, and couldn't help but move further away from the prince when he did. Arthur looked up at his sudden movements, catching his eye. He locked his jaw and looked back to the wound.

"Everything you said...I...we...I..." Merlin couldn't form words. He couldn't say that they were just friends, he didn't know if he returned the feelings or not. He didn't even consider having a relationship with the prince. He swallowed, "I need time to think about this."

"What is there to think about?" Arthur asked with hidden spite, "nothing can come from this. I have to marry and produce an heir with someone of royal birth, and you must have someone who your god wants you to be with."

Merlin ignored the slight at him and R'hllor, "what if I want to be with you?"

"I told you nothing can come from us being together, so don't even get those thoughts in your head."

Merlin swallowed hard and said with difficulty, "alright."

Arthur looked up, his eyes still veiled.

"Alright," he repeated with no emotions. "I hope this doesn't ruin our friendship," he said in the tense air.

"Whatever road we take ruins our friendship, one way or another."

The prince stared at him. Merlin couldn't stand to look at him anymore and left to the sanctuary of his room. The smell of spices and home did nothing to calm his mind, and he had to forcefully make himself put his feelings on the matter away or he wouldn't be able to sleep.

His dream was filled with a burning sea, and he stared down as the wildfire spread. He saw a boat start to be swallowed by the flames with a single passenger inside, clad in armor.

Flashes of him saving the man, a golden comet, Arthur staring up at him as his being captured the sun's rays, the taste of his skin and tongue on his lips, grazing his skin lightly with his teeth, feeling Arthur's hot mouth on his neck and stomach.

"Merlin...Wake up."

He frowned at the voice, moaning when Arthur's mouth disappeared and he felt his body wake from whoever was shaking him.

He sighed in anger before opening his eyes, quickly grabbed a pillow to cover his lower body, "Morgana!"

"I apologize for waking you from your...pleasant dream," she said with a smirk, a pouch in her palms.

He looked down at it, "are those my sweets?"

"Yes, I had a craving for them."

Merlin glanced at the window, "this early in the morning? Why would you...is that all you wanted? I have some strange dried oranges, and I think I have a potion somewhere."

"Yes to both. I didn't want to wake Gaius so early, and figured it would be better to wake you. If I knew you would be dreaming of Arthur, however..."

"Please don't tell him," he asked as he went to his cupboard, his body calmed down.

"I won't," she promised, "it'll just be another secret I'll keep from him."

"...He knows."

He turned and held the potion for her to take, "what do you mean he...he know? For how long?"

"About five months."

Morgana stared at him before taking the potion, "he hasn't told Uther."

"I would be dead if he did."

She downed the potion, giving the vial back to him.

"And he hasn't tried to kill you?"

"No, he hasn't."

Morgana hid what she was thinking before smiling wide, "he must care for you a lot."

Merlin sighed as he turned, "I don't know how much he cares. He might not care at all for all I know."

"He hasn't killed you even though he knows, how can he not care?"

"He is pushing me away because he knows he has to marry someone royal and produce an heir."

Morgana all but rolled her eyes, "oh course he's pushing you away because of that. Doesn't he know that he could keep you on the side while he's married to another? Though he'll have to pick either a smart princess who'll know or an idiot. The latter options will have more numbers, however."

"I want to tell him all of that but he's...I'm sure he won't want to talk to me anytime soon. About anything..."

"I'll take to him."

"What did I tell you about pushing Pendragons? I'll give him enough room before talking to him."

"Hopefully not too much room, or he might actually find someone else to love."

"I'm not letting him go that easily," Merlin promised, a feeling growing in his chest and the phantom taste of the dream on his tongue. "Unless he truly doesn't love me."

"I can't wait for the secret wedding," Morgana said, "and who knows, maybe it won't be a secret for long once he's king."

Merlin smiled, his mind wondering about how their wedding would be like. He shook himself out of his fantasy and looked at Morgana, who was sucking on one of the hard sweets.

"I'll be sure to invite you if we do have a wedding," he promised, "secret or not."

She left after he gave her an assortment of sweets in his room. He put his lighter pouch in the cabinet and locked it, both with a key and magic. He dressed in loose red robes before leaving his room, knowing he was familiar enough with the civilians that they wouldn't attack him.

The orphans all ran to him with cries of joy, the matrons seeming to sigh in relief. After exchanging pleasantries with the women he left with them to the lower town's courtyard, an area that was close to the size of the royal courtyard yet not as clean.

The civilians seemed to enjoy it just the same, which he was glad for. Some children who were with their mothers seemed to feel his presence and called out to him.

"Red man!" they cried as they stood and ran over.

The people looked over and seemed to sit straighter, craning their necks to see him. He smiled and looked over at the burning torches that were still lining the courtyard. He looked at the older children and gave them each a pouch with sand inside, knowing that they knew what to do with them.

"So, what do you want to hear first?"

"A quest, a quest!"

"Alright," he said with a laugh. He motioned to the older children and they went to the torches. The flames grew on the dust and the first drew a knight.

"All quest start with a knight," Merlin began, "and this was no different. Except this one was a woman."

"Why a girl?" he heard a boy ask.

"Why not a girl?" he asked back. The child squished up his face and said nothing more. "This knight held a magical sword that she pulled from a stone that was in a river," he continued as he put together what the older children drew. "She was traveling to get a...cup. A holy cup, that said to grant eternal life to anyone who was worthy..."

He continued to tell the tale, keeping his eyes on the children in front of him and what the older children drew behind them. He took a drink to signal when that tale was over, and for the children to come up with something else.

"Love!" a girl yelled.

Some boys started to groan as most of the girls agreed.

"Tragic love," a slightly older boy said, clearly trying to compromise.

Most of the girl started to shake their heads as the boys seemed to think on it.

"I'll tell a short story from my land than," he said before telling the older children, "you can rest your minds for now." They sat where they were, "and is there a bard to play some music? We are surely lacking in background music for these tales."

He looked and gave some gold coins to the approaching bard, listening to what he was playing for a moment.

"This is an old tale from Essos," he began, "as old as the earths that formed in the seas. It tells of how once, we humans had four legs, four arms, two hearts, and two separate heads. All the Gods at the time could agree that we were too powerful this way, so they worked together to tear us into two. We were given two arms, two legs, one heart, and one head.

How sad we were when we were separated, and raged against each other, hoping that in the chaos we would find our other self, not caring that we were killing someone's other half. And to this day we hope to find that one who makes us feel complete, though with such a large world, that seems highly unlikely that we would ever find the one that makes us whole."

The children stared at him as he took a drink, silent for a moment before weaving a story from what the older children drew with what the children offered.

"After this you'll return back home," he said when they finished.

"A tale and a song!"

He gave a short sigh.

"A tale and a short song," he agreed before spinning another tale with what they gave him, a strange tale about a green knight who turned out to be a god.

They waited after the tale, thankfully quiet.

"I'm going to assume you want something from Essos?"

They almost nodded together.

He glanced at the bard, "do you know The Fairy Queen?"

"Of course," he said before playing the tune.

Merlin smiled before started to sing in their language, "a little fairy comes at night. Her eyes are blue and her hair is brown. With silver spots upon her wings, and from the moon she flutters down..."

The children behaved by his side as they made their way back to the building after the song, the pouches back in his possession. They yelled goodbye as the matrons led them inside. He smiled at them before turning. He tried not to flee into the crowd when he saw Arthur down the road.

"Your grace," he greeted politely.

Arthur blinked slowly, "red priest. Shall we?"

Merlin smiled politely and walked side by side with him, quietly and awkwardly.

"Is this a conversation you want to have with me privately?" he asked at the courtyard steps.

Arthur nodded stiffly, "it's about what Morgana talked to me about."

Merlin sighed, "of course. Permit me to change and I'll come to your room later."

The prince nodded and Merlin left. He changed into simple clothes and ate an apple as he checked the fires, hoping that they will show him something after a long absence. The fruit fell from his lips at what he saw, dimly hearing the fruit roll on the floor after it fell from his hands.

He barged out of his rooms when the vision stopped and ran to the stables, requesting the horse he always rode. As the stable boy worked on saddling his horse he went to the kitchens to get enough food for the trip, then back to his room to put on his tough leather robes before going to the courtyard.

He put his packs on the horse as he heard, "where are you going?"

He glanced at the prince before turning back to his horse, "why aren't you in your room?"

"I had a feeling...why, are you fleeing?"

Merlin checked to make sure that everything was fine on his horse again, "I saw a vision in the flames."

"What vision?"

"Why do you care?"

"I'm your friend," he said tightly, "why wouldn't I care?"

"Friend?" he asked, turning to look at him, "you still think I want to be your friend?"

Merlin knew to onlookers that the words would be hurtful and spiteful, and to a point it was, but he saw how Arthur's eyes lit when he caught on.

"I would like it if we were," the prince said with something hidden in his voice.

"I don't know if I can be your friend anymore without hurting myself in the process," he whispered honestly before getting on his horse, "we'll talk about this later, your Grace."

He thought he saw pain enter Arthur's eyes as he turned his horse and rode away. Merlin didn't turn to look back, even when he was well away from the city, his tired horse forcing him to rest for the night.

The routine continued for the whole trip to the Isle of the Blessed, knowing his horse was glad when the shoreline was in sight. Merlin didn't show his surprise when the golden dragon landed in front of him, his horse panicking before he soothed it.

He got off his horse and walked up to him, "if you start saying that my mother's life is not worth jeopardizing Arthur's I will slit your throat from the chin down."

"As amusing as it would be to see you try, that is not why I'm here."

Merlin rolled his shoulders as he looked away, feeling soft cracks on his back.

"I didn't free you so I could hear your riddles every time you felt like giving them to me."

"If you are dead you won't be able to help Arthur in – "

"Alright I get it! You want me to be one with Arthur and create Albion, which I'm sure is just a codeword for 'having sex and finding a way to birth his children'. I'll go 'create Albion' after I save my mother's life."

"I wonder if you know how closely bonded the two of you are," the dragon said with laughter in his voice.

"Let me guess, two bodies sharing one soul?"

"Two sides of the same coin," the gold dragon said with a correcting tone.

"What's the diff – hmm...I'm going to right the exchange and go back to Arthur, so fly off to Westeros or Essos or wherever before an enemy sees you."

"I wish for you to know the bond you two share, so you know that his heart hears the beating of yours, for it is the same rhythm in his chest."

Merlin straightened his head, "your point?"

"A half will never truly hate that which makes it whole, nor will it stop its search to be with that half."

Merlin ran his tongue on his tooth as his heart skipped a beat, "fascination. Now would you please excuse me?"

He tried to walk around but the dragon swung his tail into his path. He turned and glared up at the dragon, cutting off the sigh he wanted to let out.

"You are the shrouded side of the coin," the gold dragon began, "the one who has and will slaughters lambs without them ever seeing the blade. Arthur is the one the sun shines upon, who blinds the world with his golden light."

"Don't let Arthur hear you say that," Merlin said, "he has a big enough head as it is."

"As do you, young warlock. Your God will only do so much, and your powers are not unlimited. Keep that in your mind, always."

"Are you going to – No don't you start to fly away! Son of a..."

Merlin looked away to let out a growling sigh as he watched the dragon's large form disappear into the sky. He stood there for a moment before clicking his tongue in his mouth. He looked at his grazing horse before making his way to the shoreline on foot.

The ferryman let him on but didn't move the boat. Merlin thought that the man was refusing to bring him to the island but he motioned to the horizon.

Merlin closed his eyes for a moment as he said, "oh for fuck sake now what?"

The ferryman said nothing, just continued to stare. Merlin looked, seeing nothing for a long time. He was about to protest with the old man when he saw someone on a horse riding hard, seeming to slow the nearer he got.

"Arthur?" he asked, somehow not surprised. He got off the boat, "what are you doing here?"

The prince slid off his horse, "stopping you from doing something that would bring Camelot to her knees."

Merlin felt his head tilt slightly, "...what?"

"I'm not an idiot, I've seen how the people adore you. They used to look at you in fear and distrust but now there isn't a man or woman in the city who doesn't speak of you with love in their hearts. Every time the poor civilians see you their hands wanting to reach out to touch you as if you were some god that graced them with your presence."

"What are you going on about? But besides that I think you're exaggerating just a little – "

"Camelot would fall if you go. She need you, I need...your guidance."

Merlin left himself sigh and explained to him, "you underestimate yourself, you don't need me that much. You have grown a lot from the time we spent together, I can tell. Your heart can guide you from here on, if that is what destiny calls for, despite what others and you think. You are stronger than you – "

"My heart won't be about to do anything if you're gone."

"You don't give yourself enough credit," he said, turning from him, "you'll be fine without me if I ever leave."

"I don't want you to disappear because of this...attraction we have for each other."

"I would never leave because of our emotions," he told him, "not forever at least. I might take a month or two to gather my mind but I would never – wait, you think I was leaving forever?"

Arthur's jaw locked for a moment, "I...why did you leave at all than?"

Merlin saw him swallow back his suspicion, "because I saw that the life I offered for yours was my mother's."

The prince stared at him, "you offered your mother's life."

"No, but the Old Religion decided it wants to take hers, and I know why."

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, "I'm coming with you."

"Arthur – "

"You have no say in this matter."

Merlin watched him pass and get on the boat. He tried not to show emotion as he got on as well, keeping his face turned away from his. They reached the island and Arthur followed him to the center. Merlin looked at the high priestess when she got into view, seeing that she was still as beautiful as when he first saw her.

"You took something that I didn't bargain for Nimueh," he began.

"You said to spare anyone who was in the kingdom," Nimueh said, "I did just that."

"Out of all the people outside of the kingdom, every man, woman, and child, in Westeros, Essos, and Sothoryos, you target my mother. I'm starting to think this is rather personal..."

"It is personal, Red Priest."

Merlin stared, surprised she was so blunt.

"What have I even done to you?"

"I wanted to make Uther suffer, but you killed my creature. And when I wanted to dispose of you, Arthur took away that pleasure."

Merlin paused at her words.

"Stay back Arthur," he told his prince.

"I already warned him," she stated," his death is not to be by my hands. You, however, can be killed by anyone."

Merlin felt his lips twitch in anger, "you dared threaten a priest of the Lord of Light. I'll have your head for that, and for the other attempt on my life. I'll think I'll crystallize your heart to send to my mother when she's healed as a gift."

"You," she mocked, "you aren't even on the same level as me, one who dares thwart the plans of the Triple Goddess."

"How is risking Arthur's life with this petty action of yours thwarting your Goddess' plans? In case you haven't noticed he is not like his father. If anything, you are ruining our chances of finally being able to walk this kingdom as free people once more by trying to kill him."

"All we are doing is making sure he is strong enough, and that you are strong enough."

Merlin stared at her, "are you saying our plans intertwine? Tell me, High Priestess, doesn't your Goddess know that R'hllor is extremely possessive of what he considers his? He has laid a claim on Arthur's destined path, and unless the Goddess wants to help start another war about who should rule humanity instead of coexisting, I suggest you don't sink your teeth any further into him and get your filthy hands off my mother's life and pick another life. Someone with no relation to me or Arthur."

"Arthur belongs to the Old Religion, as do you."

A spark went through his fingers, "I was raised under the light of my Lord, you and your goddess have no claim to me."

"You are both ours to begin with. He was born with our help, and you were born with the gift of the Goddess. You both were always ours."

He felt an anger go through him as he felt Arthur's stare.

Merlin had to take a breath before he turned to his prince, "step further back."

He became aware that his God's gaze was on him, the thrill of battle filling his veins and making his heart pound. He felt he should turn and flick her spell away and he did, feeling the drain on his magic and the rocks tumbling besides him.

'This is the Triple Goddess' territory,' he thought as he rubbed his fingers to feel the spark and sent a stream of fire to consume her. She swiped it away and he felt a strong gust of wind take his body before throwing him hard to the wall to the side of him, breaking his arm in the process.

He gave a curse before using the shadows in the archway, watching as it grabbed her and pulled her to the wall behind her, a few stones crumbling down as they held her there, pushing on her body to pin her.

He created a stronger fire, strong enough to burn her where she was pinned. He made sure not to looked directly at the white flame as he shot it towards her, cursing when the shadows let her go.

'I'm not strong enough for this,' he admitted as he watched the fire consume her, feeling weak.

Merlin stared as his fire was adsorbed into a ball of green fire, a smirk on the woman's lips. He started to chant a blocking spell before he recognized the spell.

'Arthur,' he thought before the ball came towards him.

He swallowed before making sure Arthur was protected, using the little he had to block the spell. The fire plunged through his protection and shattered it, brushing against his hand to pass through his fingers, hitting him over his heart. The skin on his chest was burning in a cold flame, each spark sinking in like daggers, spearing through his clothing as if it was only a thin membrane.

He felt cold metal arms hold him and looked up at Arthur, his blond hair dangling from his head with the sunlight behind him. Blinking, he reached a hand to move the hair back, his chest aching as he saw smoke rise from his chest.

Merlin started to look down but Arthur grabbed his face, "don't look. Just stare at me, alright Merlin? Can you do that for me?"

He blinked his eyes again, curious about how bad it could be if it made Arthur act like this.

"Does it look fatal?" he asked. He hissed as the daggers moved to his heart, starting to breathe harder and moved his hand to his mask, trying to ignoring the pain. Arthur's hand moved to take the mask off for him, "cause it feel fatal."

The mask was off and he tried to suck in as much air as he could when he felt some of the cold fire move to his lungs.

"Just keep breathing," Arthur's calm voice said.

He heard Nimueh said somewhere in front of him, "the Goddess is willing to sacrifice a life for his, prince Arthur. Despite his unwillingness to succumb to us."

Arthur turned to glare at her, but he saw the temptation in his eyes. He felt a flicker from his God and Merlin nodded as he heard Nimueh walk away, possibly to the slab.

"Arthur," Merlin said. His blue eyes looked down at him with those eyes and he tried to make him smile, "when I do die I hope you burn me and take my ashes to the mountains. I want the wind to scatter my ashes wherever it pleases."

"You're not going to die," he said with such fierce certainty that Merlin couldn't help the tears that started to form in his eyes.

"All men must die," he told Arthur, "as we all much serve."

"But not you," Arthur argued, "not...are you even in your twenties?"

"Should I die when I'm old and gray and done it all? Do I wait until you command me to die?"

"Yes."

Merlin smiled at him, bringing a hand to his head. He felt Arthur do the same, his gloved hands gripping his hair firmly. He prayed that his prince wouldn't push him away or hate him for what he was about to do.

"Let His fires be birthed in mortal flesh," he said in his native tongue softly.

It was a gamble, but his God's attention was on him, if only for a short while. He glanced at his lips before looking back up at Arthur. Biting his lip, he nudged Arthur's head forward a bit, thinking of a way to tell him that he needed skin contact for the spell before he felt his head being pulled forward.

He felt their lips meet with a smack, Arthur's hot breath smelling sweet as he tilted his head a bit to the side so their noses didn't clash as much. Merlin closed his eyes and moaned as he felt the magic he could spare move into Arthur, his prince's lips moving against his own and the light feel of his tongue against his own.

He started to move his hand in his golden hair to clench it before hissing in pain. Arthur moved his mouth away, breathing hard as his eyes darted everywhere. Merlin licked his lips as his vision started to darken and the pain lessening, breathing slower as he saw Arthur's eyes flicker red.

He gave a small smirk as the dark and coldness set in, "and you didn't want this?"

---

Arthur stared down at the Asshai'i, starting to move his hand to his cheek before staring at his glove. He violently started to undo the buckles, ripping it all off as the dark fire in his heart seemed to burn brighter, spreading across his chest.

He tore the glove off and placed his hand gently on the younger man's cold cheek, finding himself unable to move his hand to his neck to check his pulse. His words echoed in his head, making him smile slightly and cooling the embers.

"I was an idiot wasn't I?" he spoke with a tight chuckle as he stroked his bony cheek. He heard whispers and felt a fire ignite in his veins, remembering the woman with anger. 'Control,' his mind told him as he lightly laid the cold young man's head down on the ground.

He frowned when he felt hard drops fall on him, looking at the woman and kept her eyes as he stood up. He saw the cup in her hand and knew that it was filling with water.

"Does it matter what life is taken for his?" he asked as he drew closer.

"No Pendragon," she said, "the Old Religion doesn't care who lives or who dies, as long as the balance is restored."

He looked at the cup and reached up to grasp it with his ungloved hand, his fingers touching hers.

'The woman is icy cold', he noticed as she started to move her hand. Before the contact was gone he swore he felt a spark leave his fingertips. All rational thought left him as sudden, pure, pounding anger took a hold on his mind.

'She killed him, why would she bring him back? He's dead and gone, perhaps forever. He died in my arms and there isn't a cure to find, no monster to kill, nothing but this woman in front of me, she took my love's life so take hers...let me consume her...soul and heart...let me spread...I will consume...consume...consume everything...until nothing remains...'

He stared as the ashes was washed off his hand by the drizzle of rain, feeling what was left of his rage wash away with it. His breath flowed out of his lips as his heartbeat slowed with the pounding in his head, blinking his eyes slowly before he turned away from the altar.

His shaking limps brought him back to the red priest, his cleared eyes seeing how his chest moved up and down slowly. He took his face as joy spread through his veins, seeing how the hole in his chest was healing into a fresh scar. He held him until his blue eyes fluttered open and focused on him.

"Welcome back you lazy priest," he heard himself say.

The Asshai'i stared for a moment, "lazy am I? I'm not the one with grippable fat."

Arthur paused, "I don't have grippable fat!"

The younger man smiled that goofy smile of his before he felt something pinch his stomach, "yes you do." He tore the hand off as the red priest laughed, "I still love you Arthur. Even if you become the size of a cow I'll still love you."

"I'm not fat," he told him.

"Alright," the younger man said, rubbing his belly as if he was a dog needing to be soothed.

Arthur scoffed but enjoyed the feeling for a while, "you said you loved me?"

The red priest paused his hand, "I think I have been in love with you for a while and just didn't realize."

He swallowed, "I'm sure I've been in love with you for a while too."

The priest took his hand away, "...now what?"

Arthur paused before saying, "you can start by telling me your name."

The Asshai'i blinked, "I never told you my name?"

"Not once."

"Oh...I'm Merlin."

"Merlin," he tested the name. "I swear I heard it somewhere before."

"Did you hear it in a dream?" the red priest asked with a mocking smile.

"Depends, did you dream about my name?"

Merlin's cheeks turned a light shade of pink, "I think it's time to go back home."

Arthur smirked but stopped when he saw the red priest's legs shake as he started to stand, his mask and cloths in his hand.

He picked up the light Asshai'i in his arms, "I think we can take our time going home, seeing as how Morgana is in Camelot."

"We might arrive to find Camelot burned to the ground from one of their fights."

"Merlin," he said while carrying him to the boat, "you almost died. We're taking our time, perhaps a vacation."

"You say my name strangely."

"I do?"

"There's nothing wrong with how you say it, I'm just not used to hearing it that way." Arthur hummed as he put him in the boat before climbing in. "So...where would we go for our little vacation? Pentos?"

"Pentos? What would we do in Pentos?"

"A lot of things. Eat, drink, try out various ways of saying the other one's name."

"That sounds boring." Merlin gave him a look. Arthur stared at him before catching on, "not so boring...you had many experiences of trying out variations of other people's names?"

"Jealous?" the Asshai'i asked. "I've been too focused on doing as R'hllor commands of me to partake in strong 'name calling', though I had only two somewhat lovers. Also I was not about to have my first time with a temple prostitute, however talented they may be, because they were strangers. Does that quell your jealous rage or make it worse?"

"I'm not jealous," he told him.

Merlin gave him another look, getting off the boat first. His steps were slightly wobbly but he managed to get to his horse after he called the animal over and got on with little to no difficulty.

"I loved this outfit," Arthur heard him mumble as he got on his own horse.

"I did too. I would rather had seen them ripped and thrown on my stone floors than from that sorceress' spell."

"If you ruin these clothes anymore than they already are I'll break your nose," Merlin said before urging his horse into a comfortable gallop.

Arthur caught up to him, "threatening a prince is treason, Merlin."

"How about threatening an ass?" the Asshai'i asked before he turned his face to give him a smirk.

Arthur felt his eyes narrow before Merlin spurred his horse to ride hard. He tsked before doing the same.

* ~ "There's a holy bond between us no one can erase. Like silken thread it holds us fast. It's unbreakable..." – Leaves' Eyes: The Holy Bond ~ *

End

Fun Info #1 – I got Merlin's scent from 'what Tree do you smell like' quiz. Just look up Snarly Conifer and it should be there (I hope)

Fun Info #2 – I got the 'Old Essos Tale' from Greek Mythology, about how Zeus cut soul mates in half because he feared their power.

Fun Info #3 – The last song Merlin sings is called 'Queen Mab' and it's by Donovan.

Fun Info #4 – The song that I have Merlin sing the first time is a song I made up on the fly one day and decided to use it, because why not?

I'll probably do a revisit in six months or so (and cringe all the way through from mistakes and the like) but for now I'm done.