"A Fresh Perspective"

Summary: De-aged!Merlin, Caring!Arthur, Caring!Knights, Reveal!Fic. If that doesn't say it all, Merlin is turned into a child by ex-druids bent on raising "Emrys" to be their weapon to free magic. (Plot is actually just an excuse to write Merlin as a kid fluff.) SPOILERS for S4. Set during S4, after episode #whatever, when Elyan is ...

Rating: K+ for mild swearing, Morgana being mean(briefly), and Merlin being scared(a lot). Mentions Merlin getting hurt, but not graphic and he gets better quickly!

Word count: Approx. 44,000 so far.

Disclaimer: I don't own BBC's Merlin. I'm just playing with their characters and world.

A/N: Thanks again to the readers supporting this story. I know last chapter didn't have much Merlin in it, but this one will definitely make up for that. The whole thing is Merlin-centric.

CHAPTER 9

Birds were singing when Merlin woke the next time. He opened his eyes and watched patches of blue sky winking through trees overhead. Irina was carrying him through a forest. Tears sprang to his eyes, but he fought them back and didn't try to move. If she heard him, she'd make him take something, and he would go back to sleep. Merlin didn't want to sleep again. He wanted his mother and his own home and his best friend Will.

Too soon, though, she glanced down and noticed him. "Oh, dear, it's wearing off faster, and I've only one dose left."

Merlin squirmed as Irina stopped and laid him on the ground. His body still wouldn't move properly, though. She bent over him with a little bottle in hand.

"I don't wanna go to sleep again," he begged. "Please."

"I'm sorry, Emrys, but we're only trying to help you," she said as she forced the last of the bottle's contents into his mouth, clamping his mouth and nose shut so he couldn't spit it out.

Upon hearing the name Emrys, Merlin tried even harder to fight. Irina was with the scary man with the light from his dream. She must have taken him from his mum and Arthur like the other man tried. The drug's effects were inescapable though, and within minutes his eyes fluttered closed again.

The next time it was dark, and Merlin didn't have to take anything. He lay quietly, watching the woman sit on a stump near a fire as the fuzziness slowly started to lift. Irina looked back at him, very sad, and she held something shiny with a rag. Whatever it was, she didn't seem to like it because she held it out as far from herself as she could and shuddered every now and then.

Finally, just as he got enough control of his arms and legs to sit up, the woman walked over and knelt beside him. "I'm so sorry, Emrys. I really hoped I wouldn't have to use this, but Tibalt insisted. I'm out of the drug and our camp is still too far away."

Merlin tried to crawl back, but his arms and legs wobbled and shook. His magic eddied and swirled inside him, but he couldn't make it respond, as if it, too, wasn't quite awake enough to move. With whispered apologies, she removed his left boot, easily overpowering his struggles, and put the shiny thing, a circular band with strange markings that made Merlin's stomach turn, on his ankle. A single word passed her lips and her eyes glowed gold. The band tightened until it fit flush against his skin, and she slipped his boot back on.

The world vanished, or it seemed to. Merlin could still see the woman, the trees, the campfire; smell the smoke, the pines, the moist dirt; hear the logs crack, Irina breathe, the night creatures move; feel the chill air, the rough pallet, a sharp rock poking his back. But the world wasn't there. No, not the world, Merlin wasn't there. He reached out to touch a stalk of grass, half-expecting his fingers to glide through it like he was made of smoke. They didn't, but he couldn't feel it like normal.

Deep, down inside his magic burned and writhed, same as when he tried to stop for his mum. Soon the itching would start, and his mum would be so mad and make him wear rags on his hands again. No, he wasn't a baby and Arthur had made him Secret Sorcerer. He could use magic.

So Merlin tried something simple, making a leaf float, and nothing happened. He tried again and again, tears spilling when nothing happened. His magic just seemed to ghost through everything, like he'd expected his hand to do when he touched the grass a moment ago.

Apparently Irina knew he was trying magic. "I'm sorry, Emrys, but I had no choice. I have to take away your magic until I can get you to your people. You'll thank me when you're old enough to understand."

"No, you don't understand!" he snapped. She didn't take away his magic. Gaius said he was magic, and she couldn't take away what he was. All she'd done was make his magic stay inside, stop it from touching the world. He sniffed, relieved that he could finally move enough to rub his face. "Why do you want to hurt me?"

"Oh, dear child, we don't want to hurt you!" she exclaimed. She drew him into her lap and dried his tears with her sleeve.

Merlin pushed and fought to get away. He didn't care if he was acting like a baby. This lady kept trying to hold and cuddle him, and he didn't like it. She wasn't his mum, she just pretended to be. Well, he didn't want to pretend with her.

"We want to save you. Return you to your own kind where you can nurture your gift, not hide it."

Merlin tugged at his left ankle. "Hurts!"

"I know it's uncomfortable being cut off from magic. To feel so empty, only half-alive." She kissed his forehead. "But it's only temporary, little one. A few days or weeks at most. Just until you understand that we want to help you."

"No, that's wrong! It's too much. Inside. I itch and bleed and then I die! Die is when you don't wake up." He pawed at his chest and then the boot covering the band, trying to show her. Mum knew. Mum understood. And Gaius. And Arthur. But they weren't there to help. "It can't stay inside. It has to come out."

His pleas fell on deaf ears. This woman didn't understand. She offered him some food, but Merlin couldn't eat no matter how hungry he felt. "Can't."

"You haven't eaten more than a few sips of broth in two days, Emrys. And you're too thin as it is. Come on, now. It's good and warm."

When he refused, Irina held him still with magic and fed him like a baby. He threw it up a few minutes later all over her. Merlin felt awful and his mouth tasted yucky, but her horrified reaction more than made up for it.

"Told you I can't," he muttered and looked down at himself. That was when he noticed he was wearing something long and flowing. He glared at her, knowing if his magic could get out she'd probably burst into flames. "This is a dress!"

"Stay there," Irina said a little sharply. Merlin huffed. She wasn't nearly as concerned about what he was wearing as she should have been. People might think he was a girl!

Magic pinned Merlin in place, and she disappeared out of his line of sight. When she came back, she wore a different dress and had a water skin.

"Let's get you cleaned up and get some sleep."

He opened his mouth to tell her he wasn't sleepy at all, then closed it. If she went to sleep, maybe he could run away. Will had taught him how to sneak really good. He wasn't sure where he was, but anywhere would be better than with her.

The woman washed his face and made him rinse his mouth and spit several times. Then she tucked him into some blankets, tied a short tether from his wrist to hers, and lay down behind him. Merlin hid a grin behind his hand. He and Will used to tie each other up all the time and take turns escaping. Only Will could tie better knots, and Merlin still got loose, without magic.

In no time at all, the woman's soft snores filled the air. Snickering to himself, Merlin slipped his hand free and stumbled away into the forest. It was a lot scarier in the dark by himself. Every sound seemed louder, and each shadow hid a monster. With the traces of the drug still in his system, no magic and a queasy stomach, the going was even harder. Not to mention the stupid dress kept tripping him! Eventually, he got fed up and stopped to take off the dumb girly thing. He'd rather walk naked.

Worse than wearing a dress, he discovered, was not being able to get out of one.

Merlin had gotten the hang of breeches (ones that only tied, not laced) and almost could do a tunic by himself (Mum only had to do his arms through the sleeves and his head through the top, but that was it!), but a dress was something foreign. He'd managed to get himself hopelessly trapped, when a girl laughed and suddenly a pair of gentle hands started to untangle him.

"How did you get all the way out here like this?" the girl asked, clearly amused.

Merlin's heart stopped racing when he didn't recognize the voice. It wasn't the lady who took him. And then he was free of the cursed dress. Fortunately, his breeches and tunic had been underneath, but the tunic was twisted, exposing most of his tummy to the cool night air, and one of his breeches legs was stuck above his knee.

His savior was one of the prettiest ladies he'd ever seen, with dark, messy hair and bright, pretty eyes that almost glowed in the moonlight. She straightened his clothes, then smoothed his hair and nodded her approval.

Merlin grinned. How lucky he was to find someone to help him way out here. "Thank you. A bad lady brought me out here. She made me sleep all the time and put me in a dress!" He kicked the offending item for good measure. "But I got away. She tied me up, but Will can tie better knots and I get out all the time. What's your name? I'm Merlin. I'm four."

The woman inhaled sharply and narrowed her eyes at him. She seemed almost angry, though Merlin couldn't imagine what he might have done to upset her. She'd helped him, after all. If she didn't like him, she wouldn't have. Merlin bit his lip and looked down at his feet.

"That's okay. You don't have to tell me. Do you know where Camelot is? That's where my mum is. We're visiting Gaius. I—I don't know where I am and I want to get back before the bad lady finds me."

Merlin remembered the coins Gwaine had given him, thrust into a pocket when he'd gotten the sweetmeats. He fished them out and held them up to the lady. "I have this. Mum says you have to pay for stuff when people help you. Like when Will's dad fixed the water that fell on my head when it rained. He had to climb on top of the house and mum gave him eggs and milk because we didn't have coins. But I have coins. See."

The woman crouched to be at his eye level and stared at him. "What did you say your name was?"

"Merlin."

She smiled, though it made her look scarier rather than prettier. He hugged his coins to his chest and took a step back.

"Well, well, Merlin. My name is Morgana. And I know how to get to Camelot."

Merlin perked up. "You do?"

Morgana nodded. "I even know your mother, Hunith. We met several years ago. You don't remember that?"

He shook his head. "I'm four. Maybe that was before me. Mum says that's why I don't remember my dad. Because he was gone before I came." Excited chills raced up his spine. Merlin bounced on his toes. "Do you know my dad? Can you tell him to come home 'cause Mum and I miss him?"

Morgana looked startled for a second. "No, I didn't know your father. Sorry."

"Oh." Merlin's shoulders slumped and he tried really hard not to let her see how disappointed he was. He didn't want to make her mad and be left there alone. "That's okay."

The pretty Morgana took his hand in hers (It was very soft and warm.) and tugged him into motion. He trotted alongside her and held out the coins again. "Here."

She accepted them hesitantly, then grimaced. Merlin remembered he'd been eating sweetmeats when he put them in his pocket and they were probably sticky. He waited for her to say something, but instead she tucked them away, wiped her hand on her skirt and kept going. "Quickly now."

A funny feeling fluttered in Merlin's chest, aside from the tingle and burn of his caged magic. Morgana had helped him and even knew his mother's name, but there was something not right about her. She remained silent while they walked, not even complaining at Merlin's frequent stumbles. He was still weak from his captivity and the band around his ankle itched. He tried to bend down and reach into the boot to scratch, but Morgana yanked him along, hurting his wrist when he almost fell. Merlin tried to rub it with his other foot and met with the same result.

"Can we slow down, please? You're hurting me," Merlin said, certain she just hadn't noticed his struggles.

"No," she answered sharply and gripped his wrist even harder when he tried to pull free.

The flutter in his chest grew stronger. Morgana scared him, he realized. And then his situation sank in. He was all alone in a forest at night and had trusted a strange lady who appeared from nowhere.

"You're not a nice lady, are you? You're not going to take me to my mum."

When she ignored him, Merlin dug his heels into the ground, forcing her to trip that time. He opened his mouth to tell her he didn't want to go with her anymore, but an open hand struck his cheek with a resounding smack. Pain exploded across his face, blinding one eye momentarily and his jaw ached. His eyes watered, and he pressed a hand to his cheek. No one, not even old man Simmons, had ever struck him like that.

Morgana bent, her face hovering inches from his, and took him by the shoulders. She seemed to be searching for something, but Merlin couldn't possibly figure out what. Irina had taken him and trapped his magic, but she liked him. Morgana seemed to hate him. He met her gaze, tears flowing freely, utterly confused.

A very animal growl escaped her lips, and she shook him. "I know you're in there somewhere, you meddling imbecile! I will make you pay for what you've done to me and mine. Don't think this" –she gestured vaguely at him— "will save you from me."

She released him so suddenly, Merlin fell back. He tried to catch his fall with his left arm and something inside popped. He screamed in pain and hugged the injured wrist against his chest.

"I didn't . . . do . . . anything," Merlin protested between sobs. "I don't . . . know you. I just . . . want . . . my mum . . . and home . . . and . . . and . . . ."

"Shut up!" Morgana snapped. "Useless fool, I should just kill you now."

Morgana extended her right hand toward him and drew herself up, tall and terrible and beautiful. Then suddenly, she was flying through the air as if an invisible giant had swatted her. A tree halted her flight and she slumped, unmoving, at its base.

"Emrys!"

Merlin turned to see Irina puff, red-faced, toward him. One hand held her skirt and the other was still lifted from doing magic. Merlin didn't spare either woman a second look as he bolted in the opposite direction. His body itched and trembled, his face ached and his wrist throbbed, but he had to get away.

Miraculously, Merlin managed not to fall again despite the darkness and numerous tree roots and rocks. He couldn't keep running forever, though. And the sobbing only made it harder because he didn't have room for air. And then he did stop—very suddenly—when he ran full force into something tall and hard and bounced back and onto his backside. Shock silenced his crying. He sat, clutching his hurt arm, and blinked up at what looked like a giant boulder, or pile of boulders. The boulders shifted and a pair of large, golden eyes blinked down at him. A voice tinged with the faintest rumble of amusement asked, "I did not imagine I would run into you here, little warlock. Or rather, you would run into me."

With a single, wordless shout of relief, Merlin sprang to his feet and threw himself at one of the dragon's large, clawed feet. He rubbed his tear-streaked face on the warm scales and hugged as tightly as he could with one arm. Instinctively, the dragon seemed to sense his need. A large, scaled head pressed gently against Merlin's back, holding him against his paw in a kind of hug. "Peace, my little warlock. We are kin. My strength and power will keep you from harm."

Merlin wanted to tell the dragon what had happened, ask it to take him home, but all he could do was tremble against the dragon's strength and sink into the warm comfort of knowing he was safe.


Kilgharrah felt the tension drain from the little warlock beneath his touch. For all their troubles in the past, he was fond of the boy and didn't wish to see him suffer. But he was suffering, that much was clear. Human herbs tainted his scent, probably forced on the boy to keep him submissive. He radiated weakness, far more than the fading taint would indicate, which meant exhaustion, possibly malnourishment, and injury, though he wouldn't be able to properly assess the latter until morning. And aside from the curse that had returned the warlock to this vulnerable form, an aura of dark magic surrounded him. Kilgharrah sniffed. Likely that was what had prevented him from sensing the boy was in trouble. With his magical senses he probed the foulness. He snorted smoke when he realized some fool had dared bind the warlock's magic.

Not much later, the noise of whoever pursued the warlock drew closer. The dragon longed to confront them for their affront against his kin and dragonlord, but that would only add to the warlock's distress. Instead, he would retreat and take the child to safety. Mindful of his razor talons, the dragon scooped Merlin up with his paw. The warlock wordlessly accepted the change and burrowed deeper into his grip.

The dragon sprang up and churned the air with mighty beats of his wings, carrying them off into the night. Merlin shivered as the altitude increased, but Kilgharrah's body heat would protect him. Though he didn't speak, the boy shifted to peek out between the gaps of his claws.

"Careful, little one, don't lean out too far."

Merlin said nothing, but obediently scooted away from the opening. His young warlock had always had a rather busy tongue, even more so now. This silence concerned the dragon. He needed to get the warlock back to the care of his mother, the young king and the old traitor. Unfortunately, he could not readily return to Camelot, and it was likely the young king had gone in search of his missing half.

Sighing, Kilgharrah made his way to a system of nearby caverns he frequented. He could keep his young charge there until morning, then they could search for the king. The dragon paused outside the cavern. It was spacious enough to fit him comfortably and relatively free of debris, but the little warlock didn't share his excellent night vision. Likely it would be pitch dark inside, something that disturbed young humans even more than the adults.

He gently set Merlin on a nearby patch of grass. "Stay put, little warlock, and I will get something for light."

A felled tree became kindling with one blow from his paw and he carried the pieces to the back of the cave and breathed fire over them. The wood burst into flame and the stones around it creaked beneath the heat. When he deemed it cool enough, he called for Merlin to join him.

The boy tottered in, holding his left arm as if it pained him. By the light of the fire, the dragon could already see nasty bruising forming along the right side of his face where someone had struck him. Kilgharrah positioned himself between the boy and the cave entrance and lay down.

"I can tell you are injured, Merlin. Let me see your wounds."

Still quiet, Merlin very slowly extended his arm. The dragon could see the wrist was swollen and the pale skin darkening. With the warlock's lack of flesh, he could clearly tell nothing was broken or out of place. Kilgharrah opened his mouth and breathed healing magic onto the boy, but to his surprise it didn't work.

Merlin didn't seem too surprised. He sat down and removed his left boot. A wicked band of metal glinted around his ankle. Already the surrounding skin was raw where the boy had tried to get it off, probably unconsciously. Kilgharrah's eyes narrowed. He recognized it as the work of a long dead priestess, of a similar make to the chains that once bound him beneath Camelot, meant to contain powerful creatures of the Old Religion like himself and the young warlock.

Merlin clawed at his ankle with his good hand. "Hurts," he finally said.

"I am sorry, child. I can do nothing for you until the binding is removed. You will need a druid or a priestess for that task. Would you like to tell me what happened?"

Merlin nodded and looked up at him through his eyelashes. "Can I sit with you?"

Recognizing the child's need for comfort after his ordeal, Kilgharrah conceded, "You may this once."

The warlock flashed a half-hearted grin and nestled down into the space between the dragon's foreleg and his chest and idly stroked the scales of his leg with the uninjured hand. "Gwaine took me to the market. It was fun and kind of scary, but mostly fun. I got sweetmeats from a lady, Irina. She was nice at first, but I got a stomachache and went to sleep. And then every time I woke up, she was there and no one else and she made me go to sleep again. Then I woke up and we were in the woods. She didn't make me go to sleep. Instead she put this on me."

He clawed at his ankle again. "I don't like it. It hurts, inside, because the magic can't get out and that hurts me because I'm different. Oh, and she put me in a dress like a girl! I tried to take it off, but I got stuck. And a pretty lady named Morgana helped me, but then she got angry and hurt me. I don't know why she hated me. Irina, the one who took me, she liked me a lot. She kept trying to hug me and pretend to be my mum. But Morgana said she wanted to kill me. Irina stopped her and I ran away again and found you. I like you. Thank you for helping me. I had coins, but I gave them to Morgana before she hurt me. When we find my mum, I can get you some because you're supposed to pay people who help you."

"I am not people, Merlin. I seek no monetary compensation."

"Huh?"

"You don't have to pay me, Merlin. We are kin. And you do not remember, but you have already done my kind the greatest service."

"Oh, okay," Merlin said.

Kilgharrah closed his eyes and drifted back to the sleep that had been so rudely interrupted earlier.

"Thank you," Merlin said, startling him awake again. The boy shifted so that he was lying on his back and walked his feet up and down Kilgharrah's chest.

"You have already said that, little one."

"No, I mean thank you for the flying. I wanted to fly before, but Arthur wouldn't let me. It was lots of fun. Can we go flying again?"

"Merlin," the dragon said, allowing a bit of a growl to deepen his voice. "I am glad you are feeling better, but you should rest. And I, too, must rest."

"But I'm not tired," Merlin said. "I slept a lot. And I hurt. I can't sleep when I hurt and I'm not tired."

"Then you must find a quiet way to entertain yourself while I sleep. Do not touch the fire and do not attempt to leave the cave. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Merlin said, getting up to explore the parts of the cave lit by the fire. Kilgharrah watched with one eye long enough to make sure the boy would obey and then slept.

Morning announced itself with a swath of warm sunlight on the scales of his side and back. Kilgharrah yawned and stretched, forgetting for a moment why he was in a cave and not on the lovely patch of grass he'd found yesterday. He remembered upon hearing the shallow, labored breaths coming from by his right foreleg. Merlin.

The child warlock lay listlessly against the crook of his forearm, a stick with a blackened point in hand. He gazed up at Kilgharrah with glassy eyes. His pale face was unusually red, and the dragon could see raw patches peeking out from the collar of his tunic where he'd likely been scratching. If the dragon's morning stretch had disturbed him, he showed no sign. Other than his blue eyes tracking the dragon's movements, he seemed nearly catatonic.

Kilgharrah examined their cave, surprised to see infantile drawings adorning the wall. That explained the blackened stick. He recognized a crude stick figure that looked like the young king and what was likely Merlin's mother, holding a smaller figure by the hand. Illegible scribbles, likely intended to be labels, were directed to each drawing by arrows. The only one he could read was a poorly scrawled "Merlin" beside the small figure. The drawings grew less and less distinct as they continued around the cavern, the final one abandoned mid-sketch.

His obedience had been rather surprising, though likely that was a sign of his ill health more than improved behavior. Kilgharrah nudged Merlin gently. "Good morning, little warlock."

Merlin huffed a slightly deeper breath in acknowledgement, but otherwise didn't move. The boy's condition was deteriorating quickly.

"Come." He stood and gingerly gathered the boy into his palm again. "It is time we find your king."

As soon as he took to the skies, Kilgharrah sent a mental message to the druid chieftain encamped in the forest near Camelot. He knew the man had assisted his warlock in the past and would no doubt do so again.