I just realised I forgot to tell you I do not own Merlin... so now you know.

Chapter 2

He knew. Arthur knew. Too many things ran through Merlin's head at once for anything to actually be coherent. Anything outside of one question.

It was a moment before Merlin found the will to voice it, "W-why?" The word was faint. Arthur had to lean towards his manservant to hear it.

"A voice came to me in my dreams last night. It told me of Emrys and his treachery. He's a sorcerer. So, I must run him through, in order to save Camelot." Arthur nodded his head slightly, trying to convince himself of the words which flowed so freely to his most trusted friend. Dreams weren't the kind of thing the average person put their faith in, but he felt he needed to, and Merlin wouldn't tell his father out of fear. Merlin wouldn't ridicule Arthur for his trust in silly dreams.

"No..." Merlin muttered, drifting off into thoughts of himself facing Arthur's blade, shoved into a fiery pit upon the price's order, quartered by the guards strongest horses...

"Merlin?"

"Hm?" Merlin murmured, his mind still lost in the fiery pyre built specifically for Merlin... The sorcerer... Emrys.

"We're going on a hunting trip," Arthur said, his prat-ness clearly evident. Merlin gulped at the warm air around him, trying to gain his bearings, and not vomit.

"You're a prat," Merlin blurted before he could catch his tongue.

"Merlin." Arthur's tone suggested it was less of a question, and more of a warning.

"I mean..." silence ensued as Arthur waited for Merlin to defend himself.

"Do I have to come?"

"Merlin." The warning was lower this time, kind of like a growl.

"Well, that's a yes. How long will this torture last?" Merlin was off his game. Where had his tact gone? This was when he needed it, to keep his butt out of the stocks! Out of... Out of the fire. He shuddered again.

"Merlin..." this time his name was a growl.

Merlin swallowed. "Yes, sire?"

"Go pack. Enough for a week," Arthur said, looking vaguely amused by his manservant's antics.

Merlin bowed his head sheepishly, "Yes, sire." and made for the sweet escape of the hallway.

"And Merlin?" Arthur said, a smirk marked his smug face. "Don't screw up."

Merlin bowed his head to hide his grimace, "Yes... Your royal... Pratness." And he was gone, as fast as his legs would carry him.

Arthur grumbled something about Merlin being an idiot as he sheathed his sword, hiding the word Emrys beneath the creased leather.

Merlin packed his own things, then rations, and then everything the prat would need. He bid a wary goodbye to Gaius, who watched the boy go with a concerned expression.

The hunting party consisted of the Prince, three knights, and Merlin. Merlin prepared the horses and led them into the yard, where his Royal Highness and the knights were waiting impatiently.

"We haven't all day, Merlin." Arthur snapped, quickly mounting his horse.

Merlin followed suit, nearly falling off the other side of his mount in the process, silently thanking his patient steed for not bolting. Arthur rolled his eyes.

That day's hunt went by, ultimately uneventful. Merlin was able to scare away much of the game unintentionally; by tripping over rocks and roots when they were on foot, and simply by talking too loudly when they were not.

By the time they set up camp Arthur was infuriated with Merlin and Merlin had a terrific headache from the many swats he had taken to the back of the head.

"Merlin," Arthur said, his voice exasperated, but still slightly amused.

"Yes, sire?" Merlin muttered, his eyes darting quickly to the sword ordained to penetrate his heart, the sword with his name on it. He shuddered for the hundredth time that day.

"Go fetch the firewood and start preparing the meal," Arthur quipped, he didn't like how pale Merlin turned every time Arthur glanced at him. His pallor was extraordinary in the best of circumstances, but this was a little much. Arthur really hoped Merlin wasn't coming down with something. Merlin was enough of a handful without an illness thrown into the mix.

Merlin created the fire and prepared the meat without much trouble. It seemed he could still function, as long as Arthur didn't look his way, that wretched sword hanging menacingly at his side. He then set to the task of laying out Arthur's bed, which was much more challenging than it might have seemed. A single pebble and the royal prat would complain at Merlin like Merlin'd somehow placed the rock there intentionally, and then gone off to cause all the injustices of the world.

Once Arthur was satisfied with the location and general comfort of his bedding, Merlin would set up his own. He set his bed up against a large log a little ways off. This insured both warmth from the fire and quick access to Arthur should someone attack. Just because Arthur didn't know how often Merlin protected him didn't mean Merlin was free of the duty when the prat fell asleep.

They all hungrily ate their portions of the meal, though it was substantially less than they would have had if Merlin wasn't a bumbling idiot.

Once everyone was tiring and finished sharing exaggerated war stories by the crackling fire Arthur declared that Merlin would take first watch. Merlin thought it was an unjust punishment for his stumbling earlier that day, but in all honesty Arthur knew Merlin was less likely to fall asleep if he took first watch.

Merlin spent the duration of his watch staring into the fire flickering flames of orange and blue, pondering Arthur's recent obsession with finding and killing Emrys, finding and killing Merlin. It was as sudden as it was unexpected, and he couldn't help but wonder what kind of dream could have brought it on. Then his mind drifted for an inordinate amount of time to how Arthur would choose to kill him. When Merlin was discovered would Arthur use the sword which carried Merlin's name like a crest? Or would he choose to make Merlin suffer the flames of a blazing pyre, maybe forcing Merlin to build the pyre himself? Would Arthur be the one who bound Merlin to the stake? Would Arthur be the one that dropped the burning torch onto the dry wood, propelling Merlin into a fiery abyss? Merlin was absolutely sure all these macabre thoughts were going to give him nightmares, but he couldn't get it out of his head, it just hung their taunting him. Merlin glanced at Arthur's peaceful features and then to the sword clenched tightly in his large fist. Again violent tremors racked Merlin's body, both tiring and causing him to whimper. Arthur turned in his sleep.

Merlin woke Arthur the moment he became too exhausted to keep his eyes open. Arthur took up his post silently and within moments Merlin's breathing had evened out and he'd become still.

Arthur couldn't help but evaluate his manservant's appearance. He was thin, but not outlandishly so. In fact, he could have even been considered handsome, if one wasn't thinking too hard about throwing something at his skull. Arthur was idly thinking about the height of Merlin's cheekbones when the servant's features severely contorted. Arthur could barely suppress the gasp that tried to slip through his lips and he watched Merlin twist against the ground, moaning almost silently.

Merlin's dream began simply enough, he was cleaning Arthur's chambers, and of course, he didn't realise he was dreaming. He jumped and dropped a pile of dirty laundry as the door banged open and countless guards stormed Arthur's chambers, followed by the prince himself.

"Traitor!" the guards called out in unison as Arthur reached out to the trembling Merlin. Then suddenly Arthur was behind him, holding the blade of that dammed sword to his throat. Merlin could see the letters of his own name shimmering, taunting him.

"Arthur..." he moaned pitifully. "Please... you don't understand. I had to!"

TBC

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