So. I still don't own Merlin. I have never owned Merlin. I probably WILL never own Merlin. That's all I have to say about that.

Magic.

In one kingdom, the very word angered millions in the kingdom of Camelot. Inside of the walls, it had been used in both it's best and it's worst ways. It had lived in its purest and most corrupt forms.

Balinor. Nimue. Morgana. Uther. Merlin. Morgause. Igraine. Hunith. The druids. Mordred. Arthur. These people all had influence over a prophecy that had been told from the beginning of time. Their deaths had already been woven by the Fates several hundreds of years before these people were even concepts in their parents' minds.

But what if the first decision that had sparked off this series of events had been changed? What if a woman destined for evil did the right thing instead of causing the deaths of thousands of innocents? What if the first decision in the prophecy written thousands of years before had changed because of one woman and her kindness?

Nimue saw what she was supposed to do. She knew that to give Igraine and Uther the child that they had always wanted, the heir to the throne of Camelot, a life must be given in return. She knew that this child would be the Once and Future king, with his most trusted adviser, Emrys. She knew that Igraine should be the one to die, sparking a rage in Uther that had never been seen before. She knew that all of these events should happen.

But the High Priestess of the Old Religion would not accept her part in the prophecy. She would not be the one to kill her best friend. She was in control of the cup of life. Instead of Igraine's death being the starting of a new era, one of pain and destruction, her life would spare so many people the harshness of her grieving husband. Oh yes, she would give her friends the child that they wanted, but at the price of something...less important to them.

Prince Arthur Pendragon was born on the starting of a new month. Igraine was so tired that she fell back upon the pillows, exhaustion taking its toll. Uther picked up the baby boy and smiled proudly at the child. The baby grabbed his fathers nose and giggled and the king, looking extremely confused and awkward, put the child back into the midwife's arm.

"Nimue!" Uther called to the sorceress, who was trying to slip out of the door without the happy couple noticing. "Would you like to hold him?"

She paused, fear glistening in her eyes for a moment before walking over to the bed and sitting down next to Igraine. The midwife smiled at the sorceress, who smiled unsurely back before awkwardly taking the baby. The instant that he laid in her arms, the little boy smiled happily and snuggled into her touch. Nimue's face lit up as she slightly bounced the child in her arms, sining soothing druid lullabies to him as his quiet giggles turned into the soft breathing and gurgling of a sleeping child. Even after he fell asleep, the court sorceress sighed and smiled at the boy, humming softly to him.

"What will his name be?" She asked the queen, a beautiful smile gracing her face.

"Arthur." The queen whispered as she fell asleep, just like her son.

"Well, Arthur," she addressed the sleepy child, "I'm sure you will make a great prince and king."

"All thanks to you." Uther kissed the top of her head in gratitude.

"Yes. Now, I do believe I better get going. I have an appointment with a friend, later."

The king waved his hand. "Of course."

The sorceress reluctantly gave the baby back to the midwife and swiftly exited the room.

"See you tomorrow, Court Sorceress!" He called to her. "My friend!"

Nimue paused in the doorway, her body tense as she gripped the edges of the door.

"Good night, sire. See you, tomorrow." She said over her shoulder without looking back at the occupants of the room. She couldn't be the executioner of her friends, not even for the famous druid prophecy and would rather pay the price than have to go insane. So, that was what she did.

The next day, Nimue was found cold and dead in her chambers, tears still wet on the pillows, fear still shining in her eyes.

TWENTY YEARS LATER

CAMELOT

"Arthur!" Igraine called to her son, her hands on her hips, marching towards him, angrily.

"Yes, mum?" He asked, turning away from his point of amusement. She had a long wooden stick in her hand which she had picked up as soon as she saw limbs flying as her son stood by and watched, laughing. She slapped him soundly across the face and got into the fight, whacking his friends away from their victim.

"What! Do! You! Think! You're! DOING!" She accentuated each word with a blow that knocked each friend, one by one, away from the boy who was huddled pathetically on the cobblestones. The queen recognized the boy as the Court Physicians' apprentice. "Standing on the side and watching an innocent getting beaten senseless by YOUR OWN FRIENDS?! What kind of cruel joke is that?!" The furious woman shook her head so fast that her dangling earrings hit her strong jawline. "You think that's strength, but you're wrong." She cradled the injured, unconscious boy in her arms and began to carry him inside as the prince stood on the side in shock. "Sometimes, I wonder if you were worth my best friends' life. You have disappointed me, my boy." And with that cold, stinging note, she carried the boy and disappeared inside the walls of the castle.

The prince was still frozen. He could understand if his father had said it to him because it was nothing new that that was the way the king felt about his son, but his own mother? She had always been who he ran to after his fathers' beatings, but his mothers words cut deeper than any cut his father could inflict upon him. The stung more than any of his fathers slaps. He was just having fun! How was that wrong?

Arthur put his hand to the place where the queen had struck him, and tears began to prick the backs of his eyes. He bit his lip to stop himself from whimpering as he bolted inside to his chambers, where he locked the door from the inside and felt to the ground, silent, painful, hot tears falling down his face, his cheeks burning in shame.

He tried to think positively. What he had done wasn't so bad that his mother would never forgive him, right?

Right?!

ESSETIR

Prince Merlin of Essetir ran through the castle, his famous neckerchief covering his nose and mouth, his ripped cloak trailing behind him. The ground under him shook and he stumbled into a wall before resuming his sprinting. His eyes streamed with the tears that kept on trying to rid his eyes of the putrid stuff. He had to defend the throne room at all costs. His mother and father, the king and queen, needed protection.

He got to the end of the hallway and took a sharp right turn, attempting to make his way to the throne room, but there was too much smoke. He coughed and grabbed his chest in pain, only to stumble back into the wall and crack his head so hard that his ears were ringing. When he fell down, he felt fire lick at his arm and he screamed. Warmth instantly crept up behind his eyes as power flowed from him and extinguished the flames with a flash of his eyes. The boy grabbed his arm in pain, groaning in agony. Something trickled down his face and onto his neck, and he had a horrible feeling he knew what it was. The prince stumbled out into the courtyard, his eyes stinging and his lungs filling with smoke. With a cry, he began to run clumsily towards the door which led directly to the throne room, but smoke poured out from around the cracks and billowed out into the open air. When he pressed his back to the door to try to open it, the metal door-knocker burned his back, but he jumped away before it could do any serious damage. He stumbled into the center of the court yard and could see hoards of people streaming out of the back exit, which was just a few meters away from him.

"MERLIN!" A familiar voice called to him. He whipped his head around, trying to find the source of the sound.

"WILL!" His voice cracked as he screamed his friends name. The fleet-footed servant barreled out of the smoke and threw the prince over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"We have to get out of here!" Will told Merlin as he struggled and protested against the other boy. The prince could see Lancelot (The brave, loyal and kind knight), Percival (the silent giant knight), and Gwaine (The drunken, yet charming and loyal knight) trailing behind them.

"It's your mum and dad's orders I'm following. Take it up with them if you object."

"NO! GET OFF!" He squirmed and screamed, kicking and punching his servant. "UNHAND ME, PEASANT!" Merlin spat as he pounded on Will's back with his fists. The servant boy flinched at the derogatory term, but his grip only grew tighter. "LET ME GO! I HAVE TO PROTECT MY PARENTS!"

"Shut up, Merlin," warned Lancelot, gripping his sword so hard that his knuckles shone white, "or I'll have to knock you out. You have no right to talk to people like that, even when you're unhappy."

"I don't care." He growled his throat raw and scratchy. "You can't DO THIS TO ME! I'm the PRINCE!"

"Please, sire, calm down." Will's eyes filled with tears as his friend finally stopped struggling in his arms.

Merlin watched as smoke curled away from the castle. His home was gone. He remembered the faces of all of his friends and family, and prayed that they were relatively unharmed. That they had gotten out alive.

A terrifying scream rang out of the smoke, half animal and half girl. He saw a large cat-like shape fall out of the air and he froze in shock before kicking Will in the gut and falling off of his shoulder. The prince tried to crawl away from the small crowd, tears falling down his cheeks.

"FREYA!" He screamed in anguish, pain filling his chest. His hand shot out, as if trying to catch her, but it was too late. He knew she was gone. "No." He whispered, trying to talk through the gigantic lump that had formed in his throat.

Then, he could feel nothing. He watched from afar as the family flag of Cenred was flown above Essetir for the first time in decades. His friends dragged him onto his feet and he walked with them with the feeling that a hole was just torn out of his chest.

"We need to get to Camelot." Gwaine said with a hollow voice, "It's our only hope of survival. The other kingdoms are months away. Uther's kingdom is only a few days of hard, non-stop walking."

Lancelot held his head high, his shoulders square, and his back straight. "The last of the Ambrosius's must be kept alive at all costs. If that means walking to Camelot, well, so be it." He bowed at Merlin's feet. "I will protect you with every last breath in my body."

The boy prince just walked passed his old friend, which made Lancelot's speech just sound kind of tacky. His eyes were empty and tired as if he was already dead. Will nodded at the knight, grateful for his support of his friend. Gwaine unscrewed his flask and took a long drink. Essetir was the first place where he had felt he had belonged. He had so many friends, but now they were gone. All he wanted to do was lie down and die next to them, but the prince was still alive and he needed help. Fast.

"There's nothing like ale to clear the mind." He laughed quietly to himself as he felt he amber liquid burn his throat.

Will trudged along beside his master, watching for any signs of awareness or recognition in those cold, dead eyes that used to be so happy, so full of life. There was none.
They walked on through the days and nights, through forests and fields, through swamps and grasslands, never stopping for a break. The whole time, the five friends remained silent for the rest of the long walk to Camelot.

"Boring, isn't it?" Tristan turned to his friend, who sat against the stone wall, his legs to his chest, his arms draped over his knees. "During a battle it gets pretty intense, but now there's nothing to do except make sure the people aren't going to kill others. If they have a sword that was not bought inside of the city, we report them. Over and over again. It's so boring." The guard smiled at a pretty woman, his eyes wandering a bit lower as she passed by. "Except for the women."

Tristan sighed. "You say the same thing every day, Ganymede. Why don't you just quit?"

The other guard held up his hand, rubbing his forefinger, middle finger, and thumb together.

"Money." He drew out the word as if Tristan was an idiot. The younger guard threw a well aimed stone at Ganymede's head. It bounced off with a nice thunk, like someone stomping on a table.

"Ow!"

They laughed and Tristan let his gaze wander to the horizon. The sun was setting, and the sky was painted with blue, red, gold, and black.

"Someday, I'm going to be out there. I'm going to be a knight one day, and do the most extraordinary things."

"Riiiiight..." Ganymede laughed at his friend. Tristan only rolled his eyes, turning back to the setting sun. Five black figures emerged from the forest and stumbled onto the hill in front of him, a few meters away. Three of them were dressed in knights armor, except unlike Camelot, their torn and sweaty shirts were a deep, royal blue. The largest knight and the long haired knight were helping a man dressed in a slightly less impressive garb, like a better versions of a servants clothes. The boy in front wore royal blue, a golden circlet placed carefully on top of his dark hair and was stumbling and shaking. Finally, he collapsed, but the other knight caught the boy before he hit the ground. They all looked exhausted, filthy, and starving, yet the knight carried the boy in his arms.

Then, he saw the guards and his eyes filled with hope.

"Help us!" he cried.

The young guard's mouth dropped open.

"Wh-What the-"

"The prince of Essetir!" Tristan cried as he bolted over to help them. He helped the knight carry the prince as Ganymede helped carry the servant.

"We need a physician, and quickly!" The knight helped Tristan put one of the prince's arms over his shoulder and balance the weight between them. The boy prince groaned in pain as they put the weight on his shoulders. The guard could see a huge burn which wound up his arm and wrapped around his bicep. Beads of sweat lined his pale face as his breaths came shakily in and out of his chest, making wheezing sounds as they passed though his throat, more severe than any of the knights quiet wheezing. "The prince is fading. He was injured before we started the journey. I think they might get infected if they haven't already."

"But you're hurt, too, sir knight. You need to get that leg wound treated. You need help!"

"I only got mine a few days ago. It's healing nicely, I think, but the prince's burns or head wound haven't healed in two weeks. I'm sir Lancelot, by the way."

"I'm Tristan."

"Nice to meet you."

"Just let me direct you guys to the physician's quarters, then I'll run and tell the king and queen you're here." But Gaius will insist on treating your wounds, so secretly, I'll be helping you as well.

Sir Lancelot nodded. "Of course."

He let Tristan drag him into the castle and hoped with all of his heart that they were ready for the prince.

Hey again! I'm BAAAAAACK with another fic. I just miss Merlin so much, the fics make themselves. They practically BEG to get on the pages. It's not MY fault if this project runs over into school time, so don't blame me. I just really love writing the characters and the scenes and... IT'S STILL NOT MY FAULT! So, I know this chapter is lacking in Morgana and Gwen, but I think I got the major knights in. If I missed anybody, feel free to tell me!

So, I know I wrote a pretty whumpy fic last time, and I know some of you guys are thinking, "Really, REM?! ANOTHER Merlin whump?! Didn't we have enough in PoD?" Well, sorry. I didn't have enough. I don't know what it is with Merlin, but somehow, his character seems like he's just ASKING to get hurt! It may be because of his seemingly childish innocence. Or maybe he just didn't get hurt enough during the show. Am I right or am I right? ;)

Anyway, this fic might not be updated every week. Most likely, it's gonna end up being updated every MONTH, because SCHOOL IS HELL. I'll be extremely busy with my new classes and all of my other crap. I hope you can forgive me.

Tell me if I've improved, or if I'm still crap. Please don't keep it to yourself! I love helpful criticisms. Plus, the review button will start growling at you if you don't click it. It's kinda lonely.

Thanks for reading!

REM

PS: I fixed a few of the bugs in this chapter b/c I reread it and realized just how many spelling mistakes I have made in this thing. EXTRA POINTS TO ANYONE WHO FIGURES OUT WHY I CHOSE GANYMEDE! (12/10/14)