Merlin!

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, praying, begging to gods he was not certain he believed in, that someone would save him.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

The familiar voice drew Arthur's attention, his eyes snapping up to land directly on Merlin. The young man was mounted on his black horse, and even had his cat perched on the front of the saddle. In his right hand, he held the reins, in his left, that staff he was so good with.

Arthur did not think it would save him, here. He had seen guns. Merlin could not fight guns. One part of him, a small part, screamed internally for Merlin to run, to have his friend save himself. That voice screamed and raged that sacrificing himself for Merlin would be worth it. Something about that felt...important.

It was not what passed his lips.

"Merlin...help," he pleaded, his voice sounding shaky to his own ears.

"Oh, and who are you to tell me what to do or not to do?"

Merlin sat his horse like a rock, the youthful expression he wore so often completely hidden behind a cold, hard mask that Arthur had only seen once before, when Merlin had run over that person the first day. And even that had nothing on this.

"Merlin," he said flatly, "though I am also known by the name Emrys."

"Well, Merlin...Emrys. It's good of you to join us. Perhaps you can help incite our friend here," she jabbed the knife hard enough to draw blood, making Arthur whimper, "to speak."

"Oh, I don't think so." And there were those cold, hateful eyes.

Arthur tried not to let out a sob as he noticed that the woman's cronies had been slowly surrounding Merlin, guns raised and pointed straight at him. "Oh, I do think so."

"Don't you know the legend of Emrys? The immortal sorcerer," What? "who waits always for his king?—there's more truth to those legends than most would believe. Now unhand him."

Three things happened at once. The woman laughed, Merlin raised his staff, the stone at the top suddenly glowing a brilliant blue, and a blinding flash lit the area, accompanied by a deafening crack. The light left Arthur momentarily blinded.

As he blinked the spots from his vision, the first thing Arthur saw was Merlin furiously wrestling with a spooked mount.

The second was the charred corpses surrounding Merlin.

The knife fell from the woman's nerveless fingers. With a cry, she shoved Arthur away and tried to crawl backwards. "Y-y-you...take him! Take him!" she shrieked, her fear obvious.

Arthur just felt numb, his brain unable to keep up.

"Better," Merlin said, voice cold, "but too late." He raised his staff again, and a second clap of thunder followed, this one striking behind Arthur.

Shakily, Arthur turned. Of the woman, nothing remained save ashes.

"Mer...lin?" Arthur asked, unable to keep the note of terror from his voice as he gazed at his friend.

With the threat gone, Merlin slumped forward, his shoulders sagging and the staff dropping to the ground. After a moment, Merlin looked up, the expression in his eyes almost...scared? Whatever he saw on Arthur's face clearly did not comfort him, as Merlin flinched and looked away again.

"What...the hell was that?" he finally ventured. The air stank of burning hair and flesh. He wanted to vomit, but could not bring himself to look away from Merlin, partially from awe...but mostly from fear, if he was entirely honest.

Merlin did not answer right away, but he did look up again, and this time there was some of that hardness back in his gaze. "Stop...stop it! Stop looking at me like...like that! I can't do this again. I can't...I just can't."

Couldn't what? Somehow, Arthur did not have the courage to ask, not of the man who had just fried ten men without taking a single step.

"Why...didn't you tell me?" he finally asked instead. With the shock wearing off, he found himself feeling a touch...hurt that Merlin had kept such a secret from him. He was reasonably certain a more civil display of his magic, and a calmer explanation, might not have fried his brain quite so badly. Probably.

"Because I hate when you look at me like that."

Well, that was cryptic.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm evil. Like the magic I was born with somehow changes me. Like you don't trust me anymore. Like...like we have to change."

The accusations enraged him. Merlin had lied to him, and then had the audacity to blame Arthur for it? Not a chance. "...well, I mean, forgive me for feeling a little deceived! Tell me, could that trick have saved Perce? What about everyone else who died? What could you have done but you haven't?"

"I lost one," Merlin muttered, "but I saved everyone else. Do you honestly think I haven't been doing everything in my power to keep you alive? Here's the thing, magic attracts them! Badly. Why do you think so many started gathering outside the store? I was using magic to protect the building, and it was luring them in. I could have dropped the spell, but then they would have seen us and attacked. Don't...don't ever say I wasn't doing enough! I'd do anything for you, Arthur. That includes lying to you to keep you alive."

Arthur's brow furrowed during the tangent. Should he believe it? Could he believe it? Or was this all Merlin's game? He was...magic! Magic! "How...can I trust you?"

Merlin looked like he had been kicked in the gut. Swallowing, he ran a hand through his hair.

"Aithusa was right," he said softly. "You aren't him. I wanted...I tried to force you to be Arthur, but you aren't him."

"Merlin...?"

"The Arthur I knew would never have begged for his life. He would have told me to run. To save myself—I wouldn't have, but he...Arthur never liked when I was in danger. I was always the first thing he took care of when danger hit. He never looked to me to save him. He jumped in front of me. He shoved me behind him. He cleared a path for me to escape. He protected me as much as I ever protected him.

"You don't do that. You watch out for your own neck. Oh, you want your friends to be safe, but you would have given up there location with the right torture. Arthur never cared what happened to himself. His friends and subjects came first, always."

"...what are you—Merlin, who are you?" he asked around a lump in his throat. The words stung, but more than that they confused him. What on earth was he going on about? The man had magic. Maybe he wasn't fully sane.

"I am who I told you. Merlin Balinorson, the personal manservant to the Once and Future King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot. To the druids, I was Emrys. I have waited nearly fifteen hundred years for the return of my king...and I waited in vain," he muttered, the hurt in his voice painful to hear. "Kilgharrah promised me he would return. I suppose reincarnation is just not the same thing." That last was whispered with such loss that Arthur would have wanted to cry, had he not been so, so confused.

"...maybe you need to lay down."

Merlin glanced at him, then sighed. "Perhaps. Come on, we should be off. That magic will attract the dead."

That was all Arthur needed to hear. Still reeling from the bombardment of very strange information—Merlin was not right in the head. Too many years studying history?—he climbed onto the horse behind Merlin. Without another word, Merlin dismounted and collected the dagger that had been used to threaten Arthur. Well, he supposed they should not waste weapons, he decided as Merlin remounted. With the weapon safely tucked away, they rode off.

Is it a warning, or is it advice?

Those words haunted Merlin as they rode. There was no chance it was the latter. None. The dreams had always been warnings. Why would that change now? If it had been a suggestion, why not send it directly to him? Morgana's dreams had always been visions of the future. It did not make sense for that to change.

...and even if this Arthur was different, he was still all Merlin had.

"So...what's in the bag, exactly? You never go anywhere without it."

Merlin glanced back, eyes slightly unfocussed as he glanced at Arthur. "What bag?"

"The knapsack you never go anywhere without," Arthur said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He even patted the bag, which rested on his back between them, for good measure. "I can tell you, it's not comfortable to cuddle."

"It's Arthur's crown," he said at last. "His crown, signet ring, and ceremonial cape."

Behind him, Arthur shifted uncomfortably. "Merlin,..do you really...believe all this? I mean, really? Yes, you have magic, I can't deny that, but...but having magic doesn't mean you are some mythological figure, even if you do share a name—if...Merlin is really your name."

Merlin felt his blood boil. "Merlin is the name my mother gave me!" he snapped. "And look inside if you're so inclined."

"Merlin..."

"Go on, look. They're yours anyway."

Arthur sighed, but finally did as told when Merlin heard the hum of the zipper. He sat still while Arthur rooted through the bag, and gave no reaction at the man's soft gasp.

"Is this...real gold?"

"Yes."

"Where did you get this?"

"I was given it at the end of Queen Guinevere's life. She requested that I safeguard it, lest it ever be needed again."

"That's...wow. It's heavy."

"The burden of ruling a kingdom isn't a light one," Merlin said, voice cold. "If you'd just remember that."

"That isn't fair," Arthur snapped right back. "You come and tell me I'm some reincarnated hero and now you blame me for not remembering something that may or may not actually be true!"

"Arthur, Gwen, Lancelot, Merlin, Morgana, Percival...you never questioned?"

"...we joked about it, once or twice," he admitted, "but never gave it serious consideration. We just said like...we were friends because of the names, because it would be a shame to let that chance go to waste."

Merlin let out a long sigh. "Well, whatever your reasons, I was around to watch you properly."

"...you were really my servant?"

"The worst one you ever met, as you told me. Many times. For some reason, you kept me around anyway."

"Well, I mean...you were like my...lover? If I married Gwen?" The disbelief in his voice was obvious.

Merlin stiffened, angry. "Nothing of the sort. I had nothing but respect for my king. I would never...!" He let out a long sigh. "I acted as Arthur's advisor, and his bodyguard though he never really knew about that. I was his best friend, but nothing more."

"You were quick enough to jump in bed with me."

"Not being anything more...doesn't mean I never wanted it. I just never even considered acting on those desires. He was my king!"

"And what am I?"

"You aren't my king, if that's what you mean. Kilgharrah always insisted that my duty was to protect you, and I will protect you...but I'm not your follower. You aren't my king."

Arthur fell silent then, though whether because he was hurt, or if it was something else, Merlin had no idea. He was content to let the silence stretch, Aithusa's words still troubling him. Whatever he told himself, after the disaster his heedless disregard for Kilgharrah's advice had meted out last time, he vowed to be less hasty when making decisions.

Aithusa had given him one other thing to consider, as well: why was this happening? Merlin had been prophesised in the past to protect Arthur, and Arthur had been prophesised to die. In the end, that prophecy had been self-fulfilling...

Ragnarok jerked to a stop as he yanked on the reins, a sudden, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He had spent many long years reflecting on his actions during his decade in Camelot, and how each choice had ultimately led to Arthur's death. If he had killed Mordred, Arthur would have lived. Had he killed Morgana, Arthur would have lived. Had he been there for Morgana, Arthur may have lived. Had he left Aithusa's egg alone for a few hundred more years? Lived.

Every choice had just dug Arthur's grave deeper, and every choice had come because of advice and visions...the prophecy had used him to fulfil its own goals. Who was to say it would be any different this time?

"Merlin, as much as I love sitting here, why did we stop?"

Reining Ragnarok around, Merlin booted the stallion into a gallop, forcing Arthur to grab on tightly.

"Merlin! Asking why we stopped does not mean try to kill me!"

Merlin ignored him, galloping straight back towards the field where he had met with Aithusa earlier. It was a ways away, but he rode hard until they were forced back into the trees, slowing to a trot and then a walk.

"Well, now that that's over with, mind telling me why you were so keen on breaking our necks? As eager as I am to get back, I would prefer to do so intact."

"...the prophecy," he finally offered after a long while. "It foretold that when Albion's need is greatest, the Once and Future King, Arthur Pendragon, will return. If I have learned one thing about prophesies, though, it's that they're always self-fulfilling."

"...meaning?"

"It's entirely plausible that your return is the cause of this...apocalypse."

"...you're...kidding, right?"

"I wish I was," he muttered, as he finally reined in within the clearing. Sliding from the horse's back, he motioned Arthur down, then, in a moment of foresight, knocked the horse out with a sleeping spell.

"Wha—?"

"He'll be fine, but I don't want to lose him." Then he turned to the heavens and called for Aithusa.

The dragon appeared more quickly this time, likely staying nearby in expectation of being summoned again. As she swooped down, Merlin heard Arthur swear, turning to run for the trees. Merlin caught his arm and held him fast.

Emrys.

"I need to know, Aithusa. Is the magic causing this mess happening because Arthur was reincarnated?"

The man in question was looking between the two of them, his already-pale skin two shades lighter. "Merlin...Merlin that's...that's a..."

It is not implausible.

"That isn't an answer!"

That is because I do not have one, Emrys. I can only theorise, the same as you.

"How can I know for certain?"

You cannot. You must make your choice, and then live with the consequences, whatever they may be.

"So...if I'm wrong..."

You will doom us all, for there is only one correct path.

"How can I choose, knowing that?" he shouted.

You had no troubles in the past.

"In the past it was simple! Protect Arthur. I did whatever it took to do that."

Did you?

"Of course I did! I destroyed two armies for him! I killed Morgana! I fought Mordred. I let Lancelot die! What more was I supposed to do?"

No one is questioning your devotion then, it is now that I question.

That gave Merlin pause. Uncertainly, he glanced over at Arthur, who was staring at him with wide eyes. "Mer...lin? What are you...what are you?"

"What are you saying, Aithusa? I order you to spit it out," he said, not looking away from Arthur. Memories of Camelot or not...he was all he had.

"That you mussst...ssserve your...king," she said aloud, rocking back on her haunches and spreading her wings. "How you...choossse that...isss for you to decccide." With a flap of her wings, she was gone.

Merlin felt numb, too numb to call her back, too numb to move. She had all but said what she thought was causing the undead to rise, but her solution was...a risky one.

But she was right, and he knew that. For once in his life, he needed to take the advice he was given, no matter the cost. Closing his eyes, he reached to touch the dagger he had taken from the kidnappers' camp.

"I've made so many mistakes," he finally said softly, turning fully away from Arthur. "So many. It was my actions that got Arthur killed in the past. He died in my arms not far from here, and I sent him away to Avalon to await the day he would return. But he never did. Back then, I had such a clear picture. When did it change?" he asked softly. "When did Arthur returning become Arthur reborn?"

"I...don't know?"

"When you came. I kept my eye on the world, and first I saw Uther, and then you came and I knew I had been watching for the wrong thing...but was I?"

"Merlin...what are you saying?"

"You may have Arthur's soul, but you aren't him. You aren't the king we need." He clutched the dagger. "The magic...it's not trying to revive the undead, it's trying to resurrect Arthur. But it can't...because you're in the way."

"...Merlin, what the bloody hell are you going on about?"

"I'm sorry, Arthur...but I think you have to die."

Arthur didn't say anything for a long, long moment, and then he laughed. It sounded forced. "Magic, dragons, resurrection...you do realise how insane you sound? You're overtired and stressed out. Let's put this behind us and get back to camp before we do something we regret. The others are waiting."

It would be easier if Arthur would just hate him, Merlin thought, feeling almost detached from his body. Everything was wrong, it was so, so wrong, but what could he do? He had no answers, only theories, and the world...he knew that the Arthur from the past would want him to take this chance.

It was that thought, and that thought alone, that led to him drawing the dagger from his belt.

"Merlin...please, you're kinda freaking me out." Arthur was trying so hard to make light of it, but the fear in his voice was real. "Mer—!"

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Merlin spun, driving the dagger up, hard and true, into the soft flesh just below Arthur's left ribs. The man convulsed once, a pain whine escaping lips that quickly started frothing blood.

Merlin caught him as he fell, lowering Arthur to the ground, as he once had so, so long ago. Distantly, he was aware of the tears soaking his own cheeks.

"Mer...lin? Why?" Arthur choked out, bloody spittle trickling down his chin and dripping onto Merlin's hand. He could see faint tears prickling the corners of Arthur's own eyes.

Merlin clutched him tighter, not bothering to stifle his own sobs. "Because I have to," he choked out. "I'm sorry. It...I never thought it would come to this." And the worst of it was, he was acting on a theory. He had no proof this was going to work. "I'm sorry, Arthur, I'm sorry."

Arthur convulsed again. Merlin could feel blood soaking into his own shirt. He did not care as he reached up to stroke Arthur's stubbly cheek. "I promise, if this...if this doesn't work, if this doesn't stop it...I will be following you shortly." He leaned down to kiss his brow. "If Arthur doesn't return..." And he meant it. Completely.

Arthur made no reaction as his eyes drifted closed, and the pained gasps for breath died off.

Merlin held him long through the rest of the day.

This was hard to write. It was the make-it or break-it chapter from the very beginning. I hope it...well, we'll see.

Preview:

"What...what is this?" Morgause demanded, her normally-confident voice carrying the faintest hint of fear. "What's going on?"

"To most, this is just another forest," Merlin muttered, "because most are not permitted passage. Stay close. They will not harm you so long as I am here."

"Where is...here?" Gwen asked, her brown eyes wide.

"Avalon, the last remaining home of magic."