7 days ago...

Merlin walked beside Llamrai, Arthur's steed. The mare was a thoroughbred, but she was still young and fairly inexperienced. Arthur's previous horse had torn his legs to pieces trying to jump out of his paddock, and so a replacement had to be made. Merlin liked Llamrai. She was well tempered, and was not easily fret. And, most importantly to Merlin, she did not bite.

Arthur was in a bad mood. He and Merlin had been out for two days, hunting, and they hadn't found anything. One of the things that Arthur hated was returning to Camelot with nothing to show for his efforts. He had nothing to show his father, nothing to earn even the tiniest scrap of praise, or a morsel of a compliment.

It wasn't until Llamrai suddenly reared, whinnying in distress, that the boys realised that something was wrong.

A rustling in the nearby bushes grabbed the attention of the prince. Guessing that this was the cause of Llamrai's disquiet, he dismounted. He drew his sword and slowly advanced. At the call of his name, Arthur spared a glance back to Merlin.

"We don't know what it is," Merlin pleaded, he wanted to get back to Camelot. "It could be a bear, or something."

Arthur was about to scoff his servant's cowardice, but stopped himself. It was late autumn, and if it was a bear, then it was late in hibernating. That would mean it would be a very grouchy bear, very tough to bring down. But, that would also mean that it would be a greater prize to bring back to Camelot.

He had to admit that Merlin probably knew that the bear would be in a foul mood, and was merely being careful, if not a little protective. He allowed himself to feel grateful for his servant's concern, at least he cared.

"I'm just taking a look," he promised, reasoning that if it did attack him, then it meant he had no choice but to fight and kill it.

Merlin watched the prince wonder deeper into the undergrowth. Finally, realising that his master was being serious about investigating this creature, he sighed. He tied Llamrai's reins to a nearby branch and ran after Arthur. He silently prayed that the man's stupidity wasn't going to get them into trouble, again.

Arthur stopped and waited for Merlin to catch up with him. He felt a little more secure knowing that there was someone there to back him up, if there was trouble. But as he thought along those lines, he noticed that Merlin wasn't exactly in any state to back him up; he didn't even have a weapon. Also, a riled bear, if this was what it was, would most likely lash out. While he was more than happy to take a swipe, since it would mean more proof that he had killed a fighter, rather than a sleeping bear, Arthur wasn't sure if he wanted Merlin to get hurt if the bear made a pass at him.

But he'd come this far, and Merlin had followed him. Although he doubted Merlin would speak of this, he didn't want to be thought of as a coward for backing out of a tough fight.

Then, the creature moved out of the bushes, and Arthur felt more than a little disappointed. It wasn't a bear. It was a person, wearing a deep blue cloak that obscured the face. He could tell that this was a woman, since he couldn't imagine any man wearing a red dress that showed off a pair of thin legs.

But before he let that get to him, he paid attention to the warning that was silently screaming in his head. He knew this woman, but he could not, for the life of him, place the name, or the face.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "Show yourself, or I'll run you through," he threatened.

He knew that this was probably the best action in a forest. If it was a friend, like Morgana or Gwen, then it was quite easy enough to apologise, and he could rebuke them for sneaking around. If not, and he's encountered a foe, then the day could take a turn for the worst.

Merlin looked at the woman. He couldn't see her face, but he didn't need to. Her power was almost buzzing off her. And, whilst this could be awe-inspiring, it filled the young warlock with nothing but dread. With Arthur at his side, he was powerless.

What will you do, Merlin? A foreign thought entered his brain, sending chills down his spine. Will you protect yourself and reveal what you are, or will you do nothing and watch him die?

Finally, the woman lowered her hood, revealing long dark hair that framed a pale face with shocking blue eyes. The boys felt their bodies go cold as they recognised the woman. They'd walked straight to Nimueh.

Arthur had never felt like such a fool. Merlin had told him that neither of them knew what the creature was, and he had been an idiot and disregarded his friend. He knew that they were no match for the sorceress, but he was determined not to let Merlin suffer for his idiocy.

"Merlin…" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "Get to Llamrai, and get out of here."

"Arthur!" Merlin protested, instantly knowing what the prince had planned.

"Don't argue with me. Get back to Camelot, and get help," Arthur ordered.

Merlin stared at Nimueh, glaring at her amused face. Then he conceded, and began to step backwards, back to the horse. But as soon as Nimueh moved, he froze.

"Will you not ask me- no! beg me- to spare your life, Prince Arthur?" she jeered.

"I do not beg, especially to a sorceress," Arthur spat.

"No?" Nimueh smiled, her eyes turning to focus on Merlin. "Then would you beg me to spare him?"

Before either of them could move or speak, Merlin found himself landing flat on his face. And, as he tried to stand, weeds and roots snaked over him, first covering his legs so that he was unable to stand. As he became more covered and engulfed by the flora, Merlin realised that breathing was becoming a difficulty.

Arthur stared in horror as the undergrowth was quickly crushing Merlin's body into the ground. The outstretched hand of his friend was desperately clawing at the earth, futilely trying to do anything. The tendons in Merlin's hands were visible as the poor man strained to save himself.

Arthur turned back to Nimueh, her face smug, and gloating.

"Will you not beg me to spare him? Will you not get down on your knees and beg?" she asked

"Arthur... don't..." Merlin gasped.

While he did not want to die like this, Merlin refused to let Arthur subject himself to this. But, at the rate the weeds were constricting his body; it wouldn't matter for much longer. He could already see his vision darkening and blurring. His thoughts were fuzzy and he only just registered that his extremities had gone numb. He didn't have the strength left to even try to fight, his outstretched hand merely twitched.

Arthur watched, dismayed, as Merlin's body gave up. Knowing that it was the only chance of saving his friend, he faced Nimueh. It took a moment for him to beat down his pride, and then he knelt before the sorceress.

"Spare him..." Arthur pleaded, realising what words she wanted him to utter. "I beg you."

A violent gasp and frantic coughing made Arthur sigh in relief. He hazarded a glance behind him. He felt a small amount of elation as he saw the roots relax around Merlin, allowing him the space to breathe.

The younger man looked at Arthur, his lips were tinged blue and his skin was disturbingly pallid. While gratitude was evident in the servant, Arthur could also see shame and another emotion that icily gripped the prince's heart: disappointment. Merlin was disappointed with him, obviously thinking that a prince should never have to beg. He instantly rebuked himself. His father would think that, not Merlin. Merlin was never disappointed in Arthur; it was one of Arthur's most favoured qualities in the man. He reasoned that Merlin was disappointed in himself, for being unable to do anything, for be so helpless, useless.

Arthur redirected his eyes to Nimueh, without moving his head. He could see that she was a lot closer now. He glanced down to his sword, resting by his side. He slowly inhaled, steeling himself for the dumbest thought that had ever taken his fancy.

Nimueh jumped back in surprise as Arthur suddenly sprang up. He unsheathed his sword as he advanced on her. This was all in one movement, and he made no inclination to slow himself, and she was not prepared to defend herself. As she focused on avoiding the frantic prince's slashes, she was once again caught off guard when a small object entered her peripheral vision, which she flinched at.

Arthur spun round to see what was also attacking the sorceress. He saw Merlin tearing the remnants of roots around his ankles with one hand, whilst in the other had small stones, fallen chestnuts and anything else the man had found to use as a weapon. Finally, he had freed his ankles.

"Let's get out-" Merlin cried before being cut off.

He stopped as a fireball struck him on his right shoulder, flaring upon impact. Merlin fell back from force. All projectiles, which he had been holding, fell harmlessly from his limp hand. It took a moment for the flames to dissipate, and once they had, the damage was revealed.

Arthur's stomach turned as he saw the burns on his friend's chest, shoulder and face, although on second inspection, they were not as bad as first thought. Though his skin was red and was showing signs of blistering, it didn't look like it was going to worsen any more than that. But Merlin was severely weakened from his imprisonment beneath the roots and weeds, and did not appear to be conscious anymore.

Suddenly, a foot made contact with Arthur's back, sending him sprawling. His sword landed a small distance in front of him. Arthur pushed up, with the thought of scrambling to it, but was pushed back down by that same foot.

He stretched his head upwards, to stare hatefully into the eyes of Nimueh. She was also gazing spitefully at him, all pretence of playfulness had left her face. She had allowed the game to run its course, and it had run away from her. Now she was going to finish this encounter.

"It's time to learn how to show proper respect to people, Arthur Pendragon," she stated viciously. "Chyfnewid hon hun at chi!"

As soon as she had spoken, a light appeared around Arthur. It was a blinding white, and Arthur instinctively buried his head in one of his arms and scrunched his eyes tightly shut. But he couldn't escape the tingling feeling that was coursing through his entire body.


It was dusk by the time Merlin regained consciousness. At first, only a dull throbbing registered in the wiped out warlock's mind. The throbbing slowly became a more distinct pain. He winced when he finally felt what seemed like thousands of sharp needles were digging into his shoulder and face.

As Merlin became aware of the pain, he also became aware of where he was, what had happened, and then, at long last, came the terrifying sensation that gripped and froze his heart. Only one thought was in his head: Where is Arthur?

Merlin propped himself up, before hissing as he collapsed. His right arm didn't want to work for him; it was more interested in sending pain signals to the poor man. Merlin ignored the pain, and propped himself up using only his left arm and hand. He scrunched his face in pain as his right shoulder and the right side of his face began to sting furiously, but continued to sit up.

With that small feat accomplished, he kept himself propped up with his left arm locked behind him as he looked around the ever darkening woodland. There was nothing about him, nothing to indicate a fight or a struggle. It was then he saw something.

He struggled to his feet, and ran over to the object. Upon examination, he discovered that it was Arthur's sword, and it was fairly deep in the soil. Arthur had never left the thing, unless he was nearby. Merlin looked around hopefully.

"Arthur?" he called, but for some reason, he knew that it was a futile attempt.

He was not surprised when he received no response. He turned his head, hearing a horse whickering, but realised that it was Llamrai. From what he knew of Arthur, Merlin was certain that the prince wouldn't just leave his sword, his horse, or his servant/friend alone or behind. It was clear that the prince wasn't here, and was probably with Nimueh.

Merlin turned back to sword, to pull it out and return to Camelot, to report what had happened. He gripped it, when a piece of red caught his eye. Not far from the sword was a red cloak, with the Pendragon emblem on it. Beneath the cloak was chainmail, leggings, a shirt, and a pair of boots. Merlin realised with a shock that he was staring at Arthur's clothes, and his clothes were devoid of the prince.

Merlin stared at the clothes dumbfounded. He could not believe what he was seeing. He could not believe what he was thinking... and yet he was thinking it. Had Nimueh... completely obliterated Arthur? Destroyed him so utterly that there was no trace of him left?

Merlin carefully collected Arthur's clothes and yanked the sword out of the earth. He trudged back to Llamrai, who seemed disgruntled at apparently being forgotten. He ignored her touchiness, and stored Arthur's belongings in her saddlebag. Once sure that it was secure, he untied her reins and walked in the direction, although it would have been quicker to mount the mare.

Llamrai was slightly disturbed by the appearance of her handler, but recognised his scent, and followed without hesitation. However, she did wonder about her rider and the reasons to why he was not with them. Regardless, she knew her handler, and she knew that he was right in what he did, and she placed her trust in him handling the situation.


By the time he reached Camelot, Merlin looked a mess: his shirt had a gaping burn hole on the right shoulder; there were burns across his chest, shoulder and face, some of his hair looked singed as well; his right eye looked slightly clouded and he was missing some eyelashes, not to mention some of his eyebrow; and his face was vacant of any expression apart from pain.

He left Llamrai at the royal stables, relieving her of the saddle bag. He didn't notice the stable boy who wondered out and called to him, saying something about putting the horse back.

Every step was agony, it stretched the burns on his body and he could feel some of the skin ripping, peeling. But he refused to think about himself; his one and only thought was seeing Uther.

Servants would step back and allow him space. They would stare at him in shock once he had walked past, all aghast at the horrific sight. He had been in Camelot long enough for all the servants to know who he was and who his master was. In his wake were shocked whisperings, all theorising how he had been harmed, and all voicing worry for his master.


Uther lowered his goblet from his lips, wondering what could be so important that the doors would be opened mid-feast. He had been in the middle of a conversation with a noble who had already had too much to drink.

When he saw a young man stagger in, covered in blood and burns, he set the goblet down and straightened up to take the youth's appearance in completely. For some reason, he felt that the man was familiar, somehow.

A sudden gasp to his left grabbed his attention. It had come from his ward's handmaiden, who had raised her hands to her face to hide her shocked expression. Morgana seemed equally disturbed, as she also raised a hand to her mouth.

It wasn't until the young man had walked the entire length of the Great Hall, and stood before the royal table that Uther realised who he was. It was Merlin, his son's manservant. Upon this realisation, the king couldn't help but feel concerned. The manservant had arrived, but where was his son?

Merlin was vaguely aware of Gaius coming to stand beside him, but all he could focus on was reaching the king. He had to tell him of what happened in the woods; he had to show him all that he'd found, and persuade him that he had looked hard.

"Sire... I have to speak to you," he stated, panting.

The Hall had fallen deathly silent, all those at the feast were horror-stricken at the sight of Merlin, who looked like he'd just walked off a battlefield. Uther was certain that Merlin was about to collapse from pain, and was astounded that he hadn't felled yet. In fact, he had to admire the determination Merlin had shown by making it this far. He knew of very few knights who could have achieved such a feat.

"What is it?" he asked gently, respecting all the pain the manservant had endured. "What's happened?"

"Arthur..." Merlin gasped, shuddering as he struggled to keep his thoughts focused. "Sorceress... I looked, I looked everywhere," he stared up at Uther desperately. "I... I couldn't find him, only," he turned and looked down at the saddlebag that he had practically dragged to the Great Hall. As he reached for the bag that was lying on the floor, a dark hand reached down and picked it up first.

Gwen had quietly joined Merlin's side. She had been careful not to touch him as she feared the extent of the burns that lay beneath his shirt. She looked at the saddle bag apprehensively, wondering what could be contained inside it. As she placed the bag on the table, she realised that it was compressible and could feel some kind of metal inside.

As the bag was opened, Uther found that he was staring at cloth. It wasn't until he noticed the Pendragon emblem on the largest piece of red cloth that he understood what he was handling. He observed the items, and saw a shirt, cloak, a pair of leggings, a pair of boots and chain mail. His stomach clenched as he recognised the size of the clothes was that of his son, Arthur.

He returned his gaze to Merlin, whose eyes had glazed over completely in pain, though it was obvious that the young man was not completely overrun yet.

"I didn't… didn't know what else to do," Merlin pleaded, gasping as he fought the pain. "I couldn't find him… didn't know what to do… couldn't find him…"

"Do you know who this sorcerer was?" Uther asked, hardly daring to breathe.

"Not a sorcerer... a sorceress... Nimueh," Merlin mumbled, trying to remain lucid. "It was Nimueh."

Uther felt his whole world shatter at that one name: Nimueh. The sorceress that had brought Arthur into existence at the cost of Igraine's life. Had she taken that life away? He suddenly felt desperate to know what had happened.

Gaius looked over Arthur's clothes.

"Sire," he spoke softly, breaking through Uther's paralysis. "I do not believe Arthur has been seriously harmed. If you'll look, Sire," he gestured to the clothes and then to Merlin. "If he had been harmed, then it would have damaged his clothes. But they are completely intact."

Uther could understand Gaius' point. If Arthur had been hurt or killed, then his clothes would have been damaged along with him. But he was unsure as to what was meant by his clothes lacking their owner.

Uther looked in awe at Merlin's spirit, even if tears were now flowing freely down his face. He had not seen this amount of dedication to duty for a long time. He showed a comforting smile to the manservant.

"You've done well, Merlin," he praised, as Gwen lightly laid her hand on the man's back.

Merlin suddenly scrunched his face in pain. Unable to catch himself this time, he yelped out whilst recoiling from the woman's touch. His whole body trembled.

Gaius gently reached out to pull back Merlin's shirt collar, revealing lines of bruises and blisters that traversed his entire back. He found that he could not stop his face falling as he saw his ward's condition. He turned gravely to the king.

"Sire, I need to tend to Merlin's injuries," he stated.

"Of course," Uther agreed. "If you require any aid, merely ask," he assured the physician. "Let me know the moment he is able to recount the events," Uther ordered.

Merlin heard no more of the conversation, as he finally gave in to the pain, and allowed the comforting darkness to take a hold of him. He was only vaguely aware of someone holding his arms as he felt himself fall.