Thank you again to everyone who reviewed and who had added this story to an alert or favorite list. I really appreciate it and am glad to read that people are enjoying the story.

I am sorry to have taken longer to post this chapter. Our family dog passed away last week, so I didn't feel up to finishing it. It's a bit shorter than most of the chapters will be. I cut out some more Gwaine banter and silliness (perhaps I will write it and supplement the chapter later on) but I decided to put something up rather than make everyone wait another week.

I'm excited to get to the next chapters (Merlin will be showing up very soon). I've been hopping around a bit in the story, so I have most of chapters 8-15 written. Once I get to them, I may post more than one a week.

Please read and review!


Arthur sat on the trunk of a fallen tree, staring into the fire in the middle of the campsite. The night was mild, though the wind added a bit of a chill to the air. He paid it no attention as he mulled over the troubling thoughts in his head.

He and his men had made camp just before nightfall. In Merlin's absence, they'd divided his usual tasks amongst the knights and had learned that Percival's unfortunate cooking was no substitute for Merlin's — a fact Gwaine had bemoaned rather obnoxiously. The men had teased Percival relentlessly and declared a reluctant Leon to be in charge of their breakfast the next morning.

Arthur had kept mostly to himself while the men joked around and went about their tasks. At the moment, Gwaine and Percival were off to clean the dishes while Leon and Elyan took care of the horses. It offered the king a welcome moment of quiet to consider the next step of his admittedly half-baked plan to rescue Merlin from a terrible fate.

He did not know how they were to even find Morgana. Various attempts in the past had proven unfruitful, even with tips and sightings, and the last time his men had found her, she'd imprisoned and enslaved an entire patrol.

So what hope did a king and four knights have of locating and defeating her now? Even if she was weakened from the wound Mordred had delivered, she still had incredible powers and a dragon on her side.

"Sire?"

Arthur looked up to see that Leon had come to join him on the fallen tree trunk. He hadn't even noticed the knight approaching him.

"Is something bothering you?" Leon asked. "You seem troubled."

"A great many things weigh on my mind." Arthur sighed. "I worry."

"What about?"

"The decisions I have made as a king... and decisions I have made as a friend."

"Is this about leaving Merlin behind?" Leon wondered. "I take it he was unhappy with you — Heaven knows the boy is always at your heels."

Arthur pursed his lips and shook his head. "He pitched a right fit about it."

"Just give him some time and he will understand. You are only concerned for his safety, Arthur. These are dangerous times and a patrol is no place for an unarmed servant."

Leon had no idea just how on-target his guess had been, Arthur thought. Of course, he could not know the extent of the threat to Merlin. After all, no one would expect that Morgana sought to harm the king's servant of all people.

"Do you think ill of me for dragging him along every other time we leave Camelot?" Arthur asked. "We've been attacked many times."

"I think Merlin is much better in dangerous situations than most people would expect," Leon said. "He always comes out alright, Sire. He's even saved our necks from time to time."

"It is strange how he always pulls through... even in the most dire situations. In fact, I often forget to worry about him. I suppose I take for granted that he is always alright. Sometimes it's easy to forget that he is just an ordinary citizen of Camelot."

"Merlin is far from ordinary."

"How do you figure that?"

"Do you know any other servants who would willingly follow their masters to face a dragon? Or brave the Dorocha? His courage and loyalty to you rivals that of even your most worthy knights." Leon added a piece of wood to the flames and wiped his hands on the front of his trousers. "Strange man, that Merlin. Good man."

Arthur chuckled. "Don't go telling him that or he'll get a big head. He's insufferable enough as it is... But you are right."

"I do wonder what trouble he will get into when he is not following you around," Leon sighed.

"Probably wasting his time in the tavern," the king joked, though he knew Merlin would not be there. He often wondered if Gaius was lying every time he accused Merlin of spending the day drowned in a tankard of ale, but he had never questioned either the physician or his ward on the matter. He had far too much fun criticizing and punishing the servant for his supposed trips to the tavern, and he was more than a little wary of finding out what could possibly be worth lying to him.

Of course, that was the problem now, wasn't it? Merlin's secret keeping could lead to his death.

"Merlin will be fine," Arthur said. "He always is."

He knew he was probably trying to assure himself more than Leon.


The world was strangely dim and gray as Arthur tried to assess his surroundings. His head felt rather heavy where it rested on the ground and his limbs tingled as they roused back to life. Everything sounded a bit like he was hearing with his head under water, but that couldn't possibly be right — he was breathing and decidedly dry.

Just as he was about to resign himself to sleep, a cry pierced through the haziness of his mind.

Merlin. He was in danger. He was in pain. He needed Arthur.

The king pushed himself up with shaking arms and gazed around at his surroundings. Color slowly seeped back into the picture and he saw Morgana crouched over a body a few meters away. The witch held the hilt of a dagger embedded in the shoulder of her unfortunate victim.

It took Arthur a moment to connect the screams with the body, but then he saw a familiar pair of boots and looked around his sister to see Merlin's bloodied face.

Merlin seemed even less alert than Arthur — whether due to the pain from the dagger or the head wound that leaked blood over his right temple, Arthur did not know — but his cries of pain were sharp and loud. His eyes were squeezed tight and his arms were fighting against an unseen force that pinned them to the ground. If Arthur had to guess, Morgana was using magic to restrain Merlin.

"Does it hurt, Emrys?" Morgana sneered triumphantly.

Merlin's eyes opened just a fraction, but there was plenty of defiance in his glare. "Go... to... hell."

Morgana laughed into the air and leaned closer to him. Her words were lost on Arthur, but Merlin's bellow as she twisted the dagger was not.

Arthur pushed himself upright and reached for his fallen sword. "Do not touch him, Morgana," he warned.

The witch turned to face him with a cruel smile. "Arthur. So nice of you to join the party." Her eyes flashed gold and the scene changed.

Arthur found himself in the familiar scenario of Merlin trapped against that tree. Instead of the dagger impaling Merlin, it was Excalibur, and Arthur was the person harming him.

"Arthur," Merlin gasped, blood dribbling out the corner of his mouth.

"No, this isn't supposed to happen!" Arthur shouted. "We are changing this. You won't die. I refuse to accept this is our future.

"Remember your promise."

"No, I will make you no promises, Merlin," he stubbornly told his dying servant. "There will not be a need for them. You'll see soon enough. We are going to save your scrawny hide and you can keep your promises to yourself!"

"Arthur..."

"No! Shut up, Merlin!"

"Arthur!"

Arthur shook his head like a petulant child. "You are going to live, you idiot. That is the only promise I will make to you."

"Arthur, get up now! Bandits!"

Arthur's eyes snapped open and he reflexively reached for his sword. The knights were all springing to action around him at Leon's warning and the sound of someone running through the brush seemed to be getting closer to them.

In a short moment, they were all prepared for a fight, their swords pointing into the darkness beyond the trees. Arthur indicated for Gwaine and Percival to flank the intruders on either side.

For all the ruckus that was made, it did not sound like a large group of bandits coming there way. Rather, it soon became obvious that only one set of panicked, clumsy footfalls could be heard.

And Arthur had a bad feeling about it.