Author's Note: So sorry for the second long delay! I will try to do better! Anyways, I finally decided on whether this would be a reveal fic or not. I'm not telling you though…you'll just have to wait and see. Please review and I hope you like the chapter!

Arthur Pendragon was sitting in a hole in the ground feeling rather foolish. He knew that there was little reason for him to feel foolish. After all, sitting in a hole in the ground was all part of the plan, but the idea of twiddling his thumbs in the bandit's hastily built trap while Merlin remained at the mercy of his captors seemed slightly ridiculous.

"How sure are you that this is going to work?" Arthur called up to the young man peering at him from the top of the hole.

"Not as sure as you'd want me to be," Ryker replied with a grin. "Why? Are you scared, my lord?"

"I'm not scared," Arthur said testily. "I just don't understand why you can't simply show me where Merlin is."

"There is more at stake here then your precious servant," Ryker told him quietly. "If Coran even suspects that I was involved he'll kill Amara and that is unacceptable to me. So we do this my way or not at all."

"Seems rather selfish to me," Arthur told him.

"My lord," Ryker grinned. "I'm a thief, remember? If I wasn't selfish I would be out of a job. Besides, don't tell me you wouldn't do the same exact thing if you were in my shoes."

"I would," Arthur agreed. "But, I wouldn't like myself for it."

"Alas, that is the nature of our world, is it not? We are constantly forced to go against our better nature in order to guarantee the safety and happiness of those we love. You would know that better than most, I would think."

"No," Arthur disagreed. "I don't agree with that at all."

"No?" Ryker asked mildly. "Interesting."

"Why do you say that?"

"Amara hates you," Ryker told him, squatting down at the edge of the hole. "Do you know why, Arthur?"

"Many people hate me," Arthur replied tonelessly.

"No," Ryker said. "Many people hate your father, my lord. Their hatred for you is simply because of the blood you carry in your veins. Amara hates you specifically. Do you know why?"

"No."

"You killed her family," Ryker said quietly. "Her entire village was slaughtered by you and your men. Peaceful Druids who had done nothing to deserve the fate you set upon them. You may not remember, but—"

"I remember," Arthur whispered, closing his eyes against the memory. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You say you don't agree that we do horrible things for the ones we love," Ryker said, staring down at Arthur. "That we don't put our morals aside when it comes to making others happy. But, I have to wonder. Was is it your desire to kill Amara's people or was it your father's?"

Arthur glanced up at the young man, unable to answer. It hadn't been his desire to kill those people. He'd never wanted it, but what had that mattered? Uther was his father, his king. In those days, Uther's words were law and Arthur would have been a fool if he hadn't obeyed. It didn't matter that the Druid's screams had haunted his nights for years, didn't matter that the memory still brought tears of shame to his eyes. It didn't matter that he'd fallen to his knees after it was all over and cried, didn't matter that he'd thrown up like a little boy in front of the men he was supposed to be leading. Arthur had been sickened by the approval in his father's eyes, haunted by the glee his men had found in the bloodshed, but none of that had mattered. He'd done his duty to Camelot and to his father. He'd done what he was supposed to do.

"I thought so," Ryker said sadly. "You are not an evil man, Arthur. Amara is wrong about that, I think, but I have yet to figure out what kind of man you are destined to be."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you the weak prince that listens to his father's orders regardless of the pain and bloodshed they will cause?" Ryker said. "Or are you the brave and selfless king that will risk everything to save his servant?"

"I'm not risking everything to save a servant," Arthur replied quietly. "I'm risking everything to save a friend."

Ryker smiled, but Arthur couldn't discern what the young thief was thinking. Their entire conversation reminded him of Merlin and Arthur's stomach tightened in worry. He hated having to wait, hated feeling useless in his ability to protect his friend. He'd always considered Merlin's safety his duty, even from the beginning, and he was failing. Miserably.

Ryker's head snapped to the side as voices echoed off the trees from some distance away from them. Arthur could tell from the look on the young man's face that it was the men they had been waiting for. Arthur closed his eyes and steadied himself. He had to play his role well or the whole plan could fall apart.

"Remember," Ryker hissed down at him. "You keep your hands off of Coran! Kill him and Amara dies."

"I remember," Arthur hissed, watching as the young man disappeared into the trees.

Arthur leaned back against the dirt wall and listened as the men's voices came nearer. They were talking excitedly and Arthur strained to hear them over the sounds of the forest.

"Did you hear his screams?" one cackled with glee. "The little rat will be squealing Arthur's secrets by the time Coran is done with him."

Arthur grit his teeth against the wave of fury and nausea that churned in his gut. They were talking about Merlin. Merlin's screams. Merlin's pain. Arthur would rip them apart if they so much as bruised his skin. For every scream they drew from his friend Arthur would draw a hundred from them.

"Maybe," another man said softly. "But, personally, I think Coran will kill the man before he gets anything out of him. He's got a pair of balls on him, that's for sure. Makes you wonder if—"

"Quiet," the other voice snapped suddenly. "I think we got something in our trap, Hagan."

Arthur looked up as soil spilled down the edges and was greeted by the leering grins of two bandits. One was large, bigger than Percival if such a thing were possible, and his huge arms bulged from the sides of a dirty tunic. The other was small and had the same shifty eyes of a rodent. His greasy hair was tucked back in a slick rat's tail and a brilliant shock of white hair stood out profoundly against his black locks.

"Badger," said the big man excitedly, nudging his companion with a beefy arm. "Do you know who that is?"

"Indeed I do, Hagan," Badger said with a raucous grin. "That is the royal prince of Camelot."

"Release me at once," Arthur demanded angrily. "If you know who I am then you know what my father will do to get me back."

"My humblest apologies," Badger told him. "But, I'm afraid there will be no releasing you today, my lord. You see, there is someone who would very much like to make your acquaintance and we would be fools to disappoint him. Hagan, be a dear and get our guest out of this dreary hole."

"My pleasure," Hagan hissed, holding down a hand for Arthur to grab. Arthur stepped back and glared at them.

"Don't be a fool," Badger told him quietly. "I know why you are here, Arthur Pendragon. You came back for your servant, did you not? You thought you would rescue him. A noble thought, to be sure, but being noble rarely gets a man anything but an early grave. We don't call them the seven deadly virtues for nothing, my lord."

"Where is he?" Arthur hissed. "What have you done with my servant?"

"We'll take you to him," Badger said with a smile. "But understand this, my lord. If you try and escape it will be your servant that pays the price. His screams will be your punishment. Do I make myself clear?"

Arthur nodded, his features ugly with an anger that was not faked. Hagan reached out a hand to him once more and Arthur took it, his skin crawling at the contact. Hagan pulled and Arthur felt his shoulder nearly pop out of his socket with the strength of it, but he was able to scramble up the side of the hole and onto the steady dirt above. He attempted to break the large man's grasp, but Hagan was too strong and he pushed Arthur down into the dirt. Badger searched him and pulled his sword and crossbow from his belt before tying Arthur's hands behind his back.

Arthur held his breath as they searched him, but they didn't find the dagger tied around his chest. He sent a quick prayer of thanks to the gods before being yanked bodily to his feet. Hagan kept a tight grip on the back of Arthur's neck and when he struggled the large man simply squeezed until Arthur felt he was about to pass out.

"What did I say?" Badger growled, sinking his bony fist into Arthur's stomach. "Do that again and I'll take a chunk of flesh from your servant, you understand?"

"You touch him and I'll kill you," Arthur wheezed, doubled over from the blow.

"You hearing this, Hagan?" Badger laughed. "The prince still thinks he's in a position to be making threats."

"Coran will take the fight right out of him," Hagan said, pushing Arthur forward. "Just like he did with his friend."

"You ever heard a little rat scream?" Badger asked, his breath foul in Arthur's face. "It's enough to make your heart break, you know. Little Merlin screamed and screamed and screamed, did you know? He screamed for you, my lord, but you weren't there to save him." The bandit shook his head in mock pity. "Coran will kill him and he'll make you watch. How does it feel knowing his death was because of you? That it's your fault?"

Arthur stopped in his tracks. It took everything he had to stick to the plan instead of putting a dagger through their throats. He was not a violent man, but in that moment he wanted nothing more than to spill the blood of the men who dared speak about Merlin as if he were nothing more than a plaything. A toy to be used for their enjoyment. Hagan pushed him forward again and Arthur swallowed his fury. He would have plenty of time for bloodshed and revenge later. For the moment, he had to concentrate on the plan and rescue Merlin.

They walked for what felt like hours, but Arthur knew it hadn't been more than thirty minutes. Arthur attempted to tune out the bandit's merciless teasing, but every time they mentioned how beautiful Merlin's blood looked against the dark leaves of the forest or how tears of pain left dirty track marks across his cheeks, Arthur found his anger growing. He was all but shaking with rage when they finally breached the edges of the camp.

"I'll go let Coran know," Badger told Hagan as they neared a large tent in the center of the camp. "You keep hold of the prince and bring him when I tell you."

"Where is Merlin?" Arthur hissed.

"You'll be reunited with your long lost love soon enough," Badger told him, spitting at his feet. "If I were you I wouldn't be so eager."

Arthur watched the man enter the tent with baited breath then turned to eye the surrounding forest. He couldn't see signs of his knights or of Ryker, but he knew instinctively that they were there. That they were ready. He puckered his lips to whistle the signal, but before he could get the tune out he heard a noise that made his heart stop. It was an anguished cry of rage and bitter disappointment. It was weak, it was pained, and it was Merlin's.

"Merlin," Arthur breathed. "Oh gods."

Arthur didn't think about what he was doing or how it might get him killed. The only thought running through his mind in that moment was saving Merlin, was ending that horrible noise coming from his friend's throat. Arthur's head snapped back and he heard a satisfying crunch as the back of his skull cracked into Hagan's nose. The large man cried out and lifted his hands to his face, releasing his hold on Arthur in the process. Arthur ran forward, towards the mouth of the tent. He had almost reached his goal when a tall man came from inside and held his hand out.

One moment Arthur was on his feet and the next he'd been hit by a wall of power so fierce that ever muscle in his body seized with the force of it. He shouted in pain and fell to his knees, unable to move or draw in a breath. He could feel the magic burning through him, working its way through his veins like fire in his blood, like the spell that had hit him two nights previous. The tall man grabbed him by his collar and dragged him into the tent, forcing him to his knees once more. Arthur knew who the man was even without the bandit leader introducing himself. This was Coran. This was the man Arthur would—

A low groan interrupted Arthur's thoughts and he slowly looked over at the nearly unrecognizable young man tied to a long table in the center of the tent. Arthur swallowed past the lump in his throat and tried to take stock in what he was seeing. The young man's clothes were drenched with sweat and he was shivering uncontrollably against his bonds. His eyes were feverish, glazed, and Arthur could read his friend's agony in their depths. Numerous bruises stood out profoundly against the chalky white pallor of his skin and Arthur could see a ragged, bloody wound where his shoulder met his collarbone. His chest rose and fell far too rapidly for Arthur's liking, like he was fighting to breathe. Arthur didn't see any other flesh wounds. He would be grateful for whatever mercies came his way. His servant could have been hurt far worse.

Then Arthur's eyes swept down to where the ropes crisscrossed across Merlin's legs. His eyes closed in horror at the sight that met him there and it was all he could do to keep breathing. Burned. Horribly burned. The flesh of Merlin's calves all the way down to the edges of his toes was blackened by heat and flame. He opened his eyes once more and tried not to be sick. He could see the red, blistered flesh lying just beneath the blackened, dead skin and he shuddered with the thought of how much pain it would be causing his friend.

"You son of a bitch," Arthur hissed, looking at Coran. "I'll kill you for this."

"You should be proud of your servant," Coran said with an unconcerned grin. "He's been nothing but loyal to you. I offered him a chance to free himself. All he had to do was give me information on you, but he refused."

"Merlin," Arthur whispered. "You idiot. You should have told him what he needed to know."

"I couldn't betray you," Merlin said hoarsely. Arthur's heart broke as he began to cry. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm sorry I got you into this. You should have left me…you should have—"

"I would never abandon you," Arthur told his friend sharply. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Merlin. I promise we'll get you out of this old friend. We''ll—" Arthur had to swallow to continue. "We'll get you fixed up and you'll be back to your old tricks in no time."

"I don't think so," Merlin said weakly, attempting to smile for his friend. "I think I'm broken beyond repair, Arthur. You'll have to get a new servant."

"Don't say that," Arthur snapped. "Don't you ever say that. I wouldn't want anyone else but you. You're more than my servant, you know. You're—you're my friend."

"I know," Merlin replied with a small smile. "I think I've known that longer than you have, sire."

"Probably," Arthur snorted. "You just hold on, Merlin. Promise me that."

"I'll try," Merlin whispered.

"This is all very touching," Coran said. "The prince and his servant reunited once more. It almost makes me regretful, you know. Almost." He ruffled Arthur's hair derisively before Arthur could pull away. "I don't have much use for your servant any longer, my prince. He's served his purpose well, but now I have you. It will be just as fun pulling your kingdom's secrets from your lips as it was trying to pull them from his."

Arthur watched as Coran walked over to Merlin and put his hands on Merlin's chest. Merlin closed his eyes and whimpered. It was clear that his friend was trying to be brave for him, trying to save Arthur the hurt of having to watch him suffer, but the expression on his face would haunt Arthur for years. Merlin knew death was coming for him. He knew it and had accepted it.

"What are you doing?" Arthur snarled even though he already knew. "Leave him alone. You said yourself you had me. Let him go."

"Oh," Coran pouted, his lips curling in a mock pout. "I'm afraid I won't be letting your servant go, my prince. When I said he served his purpose I only meant that its time for his days on earth to come to an end." He grinned and pressed down harder on Merlin's chest. "Shall I show you? Do you want to see a demonstration of what awaits you on my table? It's only fitting that your servant's life ends while in your service."

"Don't," Arthur began, watching Merlin's eyes flicker open and meet his lifelessly. "Please, just leave him alone. Don't—"

Arthur's pleas were lost in Merlin's sudden agonized scream as Coran's magic pulsed through him. The young man seized up, his back arching off the table, eyes fluttering as the power ripped through him. Arthur looked away for a moment, but his eyes were forced back again when he heard Merlin's screams catch in his throat. He coughed, dark blood spattering his tunic and running down the sides of his mouth.

"Merlin," Arthur screamed. "Stop this, you bastard! Leave him alone!"

Coran released the magic for a moment and Merlin collapsed on his side against the table, muscles jerking and twitching uncontrollably. His eyes met Arthur's and Arthur nearly threw up at the pain he saw reflected there.

"Arthur," Merlin wheezed out, his voice wet and harsh in Arthur's ears. "I'm so—sorry."

Coran leered at him over Merlin's twitching body, hands pressed tightly against his friend's flesh. The bandit leader hissed out a word and Merlin groaned, his eyes fluttering closed. Arthur knew instinctively that this was the end. His friend was going to die and there was nothing Arthur could do but watch. Merlin was too weak to even scream.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Merlin lay still. He was barely conscious, struggling to breathe, but Arthur took comfort in the simple rise and fall of his friend's chest. No matter how weak it was.

"Merlin," Arthur yelled at his friend as Merlin's eyes threatened to close. "Merlin, open your eyes." The young man's lids flickered open and Arthur tried to smile encouragingly. "Remember your promise, Merlin. You said you'd hold on for me."

"I believe his exact words were 'I'll try,'" Coran said gleefully, watching as Merlin's eyes slipped shut. "And I believe he's failing you, my prince."

"No," Arthur shouted, tears spilling across his cheeks. "Merlin, don't you dare close your eyes, you hear me? You still owe me years of service, you clotpole. You don't get to get out of this that easily!"

Merlin didn't answer him and Arthur felt his heart rip in two. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Merlin was everything to him. Without Merlin, Arthur was nothing. He was—he was lost. And so was the world Arthur had dreamed of building with Merlin at his side.

"Merlin," Arthur whispered. "Merlin, please. I can't do this without you."

"You won't have to," Coran told him with a serpent's smile. "The same fate awaits you, Prince Arthur." He turned to face someone in the corner of the tent. "Amara, dear, would you be so kind and inform Badger that I will be needing my iron boots again?"

It was only then that Arthur realized there had been another person in the tent with them. He glanced at the young Druid girl he'd met earlier and when she met his eyes her face was pale, but determined. She nodded quietly to Coran then slipped past Arthur on her way out of the tent. Her back was to Coran, but Arthur watched as her lips moved and her eyes flashed gold. There was a gush of warm air and a slight presence that tickled against Arthur's skin like butterfly wings. The ropes binding Arthur's wrists loosened and he had to fight not to grimace as the blood rushed back into his hands.

"It should bring you comfort that he died believing in you," Coran told Arthur as Amara disappeared. "Even though you betrayed him he never stopped believing in the man he thought you were. It is a shame that you and I know the truth, hmm?"

"I would never betray him," Arthur spat, looking up at Coran in hatred.

"No?" Coran asked, smiling impishly. "Are you sure? I have a letter that would prove otherwise."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked darkly. "What letter?"

"A letter from a devoted son to his father," Coran grinned. "A letter accusing your supposed friend of magic." He held up a piece of parchment and Arthur glimpsed his own untidy scrawl. "A letter agreeing to the death of said friend if that is what your father deemed fit."

Arthur paled. He knew what letter Coran was speaking of. He'd written it almost two years ago, but had never sent it. It had sat on his desk for weeks, a constant reminder of the choice Arthur would one day have to make. At first, he had believed it had come down to loyalty. Who did he owe more allegiance to? His father and the kingdom he'd worked so hard to build? Or the servant he'd come to view as friend and companion? What would it mean if he chose Merlin over his father? What would it mean if chose his father over his friend?

It had taken months for him to realize that he didn't have to choose. His father had often told him that following one's heart was a luxury only ordinary men could afford. As a future king he was meant to follow the path laid out for him by his ancestors, by his father. But, Arthur didn't want to follow a path his father had laid out for him. He wanted to create his own, to be both man and king. He wanted to follow his heart and his heart told him that Merlin had a part to play in his future. Arthur hadn't sent the letter, but he hadn't destroyed it either. Now he was wishing he had.

"You showed it to him," Arthur said quietly. "You made him think I had turned against him."

"You would have eventually," Coran told him. "You are a Pendragon, after all. You would have betrayed his trust in the end. Killed him for what he was…for what he could do."

"No," Arthur spat. "He's my friend and he makes me a better person. That's all I care about."

"Coran," Badger said, throwing the tent flap open. "The boots are nearly ready and—" The bandit grunted as an arrow suddenly exploded through his chest. His eyes opened wide in disbelief before he toppled to the ground.

"What the hell?" Coran snarled, turning to gaze at Arthur.

Screams erupted from the campsite and Arthur grinned. His knights had begun their attack from the safety of the trees and would soon work their way inwards to the camp itself. He hadn't given the signal, but the Knights of the Roundtable were highly adaptive and worked beyond the hierarchy of knighthood and the rules that governed them. It was why Arthur had chosen them, why he trusted them with his life every moment of everyday.

"You made a mistake in harming my friend," Arthur told the man as he stood, letting the ropes pool at his feet. "I don't abandon the people that I love, Coran. I am not my father. It's time you learned that."

"You insolent little fool," Coran snarled, throwing his hand out.

Arthur braced himself for the magic he was sure was going to hit him, but it never came. He opened his eyes in shock to find Amara standing in front of him, hand raised with fingers spread. A wall of pulsing energy spread out from her fingertips and separated them from Coran.

"You protect him?" the bandit asked quietly. "You choose the murderous prince over members of your own kind?"

"I am nothing like you," Amara hissed. "You twist magic into an evil, soulless thing, Coran. You are the reason men like Uther Pendragon hunt us down like animals."

"Amara," Arthur began. "You don't have to do this for me. I—"

"I'm not doing this for you," Amara told him quietly. "I'm doing it for Merlin. He is more important to the survival of my kind then you could possibly realize, Arthur Pendragon."

"But he'll kill you," Arthur pleaded. "Ryker said—"

"Ryker underestimates me," Amara replied with a small smile. "Now, stay behind me like a good little prince and keep your mouth shut. You're mindless prattle is distracting me."

"You always were a foolish girl," Coran hissed at Amara, pulling a dagger and a doll from his coat pocket. "Ryker should have warned you of what I was capable of." The man brought the dagger down, its tip disappearing into the doll he was holding.

Amara gasped and pressed a hand to her stomach, face creased in pain. Her hand came away scarlet and she looked at the blood on her palm with sickened fascination. She glanced up at Coran in disbelief and the bandit smiled down at her, pulling the dagger from the fabric depths of the doll. Amara cried out in pain, her knees buckling. Arthur barely had time to catch her before she crumpled to the dirt. Her hands clutched at his tunic in desperation, but her eyes remained steady and calm. Almost too calm for someone who was supposed to be dying.

Amara grinned and winked. Arthur was so surprised by the gesture that he nearly dropped her, but he managed to keep both of them on their feet. The Druid girl put her lips to Arthur's ear and smiled.

"Things are rarely as they seem," she whispered to him. "Ryker taught me that." The girl turned to face the bandit leader and her blue eyes met the grey gaze of the man standing behind him. "Do it, Ryker."

"My pleasure," Ryker snarled, thrusting the blade of his sword deep into Coran's belly even as the bandit turned to face him. Coran grunted as the sword entered him and he looked down at it in disbelief.

"She should be dead," Coran groaned. "I bound her to me…she should be—" Ryker pulled the blade back and Coran gasped, falling to his knees as blood began to stain his tunic a bright crimson.

"My charms," Amara said, stepping around the bandit to link hands with Ryker. "You've always scoffed at the power they held, Coran, but you were foolish to do so. I may not have powerful magic at my fingertips, but I have kept to the old ways. The spirits of the earth are my guardians and no power is greater." She glanced over to where Merlin lay motionless on the table. "Except, perhaps, one."

"Arthur?" Ryker asked, holding the sword out to him. "Care to do the honors of ending his miserable life?"

Arthur took the sword from Ryker's outstretched hand and raised it high. He could not allow the bandit to live, but he would grant him a swift death. The man didn't deserve it, but its what Merlin would have wanted.

"Mercy," Coran gasped out. "Grant me mercy, my lord."

"I am," Arthur said coldly. He brought the sword down.

He thought he would feel relieved at the bandit's death. Thought he would be pleased, but he wasn't. He merely felt drained and more exhausted than ever before. He stared at the man's body for a long time attempting to come to terms with everything that had happened.

"Arthur?" Ryker asked quietly. "Are you alright? You don't—"

"I'm fine," Arthur replied, shaking his head to clear it. "Stay with Merlin."

"Where are you going?" Amara demanded as he walked out of the tent.

"I won't abandon my men," Arthur called back to her, wiping his sword clean on the grass. He ripped the dagger from off his chest and tossed it to her. "If anyone but me comes near him don't hesitate to use that."

"Arthur," Amara began. "You don't need to—"

"Keep him safe," Arthur told her. "Do whatever it takes."

"I think the pretty lady is trying to tell you there's no need," Gwain said suddenly, coming up from behind Arthur and patting him on the back.

"What?" Arthur said.

"We got them all," Gwain snorted. "Typical bandits, Princess. They like to act tough, but they scatter at the first sign things may not be going their way."

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked. "They could be regrouping for a counter attack and—"

"We're sure," Gwain said, rolling his eyes. "How smart do you think these men are exactly, Princess? I doubt they have a single complete brain between them."

"You'd fit right in with them then," Arthur teased, but his heart wasn't in it. The words were simply instinctual. He didn't feel much like laughing and he didn't think he would for a long time.

"Princess?" Gwain asked, sensing his prince's mood. "What is it?"

"Merlin," Arthur whispered. "Gods, they—" He choked and had to shake his head. "I've got to go to him, Gwain. Find the others and tell them to make a pallet out of the softest materials they can find."

Arthur didn't wait for his knight's reply. There was nothing else he could have said to him anyways. He walked lifelessly back into the tent, stepping over Coran's body without even really noticing it was there. Merlin was the only thing that mattered to him.

"I'm sorry," Arthur whispered, wiping the blood from Merlin's face with the bottom of his tunic. "I'm so, so sorry, old friend. You tried to warn me, but like a fool I didn't listen. How many times have you told me to turn back? How many times have you begged me to trust you?" A lone tear spilled down his cheek, but for once he made no move to wipe it away. He collapsed to his knees as the emotion hit him and he clung to Merlin's limp hand with all the desperation of a drowning man. "I have been such an idiot, Merlin. And you're the one who paid the price for it. Please, just open your eyes. Please, please, please. I swear I'll do anything if you just open your eyes."

"Brighid," Arthur whispered, calling upon the only goddess of the Old Religion he could remember. "I know I am probably the last person you would ever want to hear from, but please—" His voice broke and his shoulders hitched with the force of his sobs. "Bring him back to me. I am nothing without him, don't you see? He—he makes me a better man and I know that you don't give a damn about me, but Merlin believes in you. I know he does. I beg of you…bring him back. I'll do anything. I'll—I'll bring magic back to Camelot. I swear. Just…please…"

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and felt hot tears course down his cheeks to pool at the hollow of his throat. Who was he kidding? The gods of the Old Religion probably hated him. Why would they answer his prayer? Why would they deign to listen to him at all? He was nothing to them. He was—

"Did you really—really mean what you said?" a weak voice rasped from above him.

Arthur's heart stopped and he looked up at his servant slowly, unsure if what he'd heard was real or if it was simply a figment of his imagination. When Arthur's eyes met Merlin's feverish gaze the prince nearly fell over in shock. Had the goddess heard him? Had she actually answered his prayers?

"Would you—would you stop looking at me like that?" Merlin said, beginning to shiver again. "You're beginning to—to scare me, Arthur."

"I thought you were dead," Arthur whispered, holding on to Merlin's hand for dear life. "I saw what he did to you, Meriln. I thought…gods, there was so much blood. And you—"

"Everything is okay now," Merlin told him tiredly. "I'm okay."

"Like hell you are," Arthur rasped. "I don't know if you've seen yourself lately, but—"

"Spare me the details," Merlin groaned. "Feeling them is enough, I think."

"Are you in a lot of pain?" Arthur asked.

"Not at all, sire. I feel like a warm summer day. Like flowers and kittens and—"

"Don't be funny, Merlin."

"Not being funny, sire. Being sarcastic."

"Don't be sarcastic then."

"Then don't ask stupid questions," Merlin said, grinning up at his master weakly. Suddenly, the young man's muscles seized and it was all Merlin could do to hold back a scream as his legs shifted against the ropes.

"Here," Arthur whispered, moving down and cutting the ropes wrapped tightly around Merlin's legs.

"Thanks," Merlin said, gasping as his muscles relaxed. "You have no idea how good that feels, sire."

Arthur pressed a hand to his friend's forehead and swore at the heat that seemed to radiate off of Merlin's flesh. He ripped a strip of fabric from his tunic, wet it in a bucket on the floor, and pressed it against his servant's flesh.

"You've got a bad fever," Arthur said, watching as Merlin closed his eyes as the cool relief of the press took effect. "But, it doesn't look like any of your wounds are infected."

"They aren't," Merlin told him. "It's not the wounds that are causing it."

"Do you know what is?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?" Arthur snapped. "If I know what's causing it maybe I can help you."

"You can't help me," Merlin murmured.

"Merlin," Arthur argued. "You can't possibly know that. I'm smarter than you think I am."

"Apparently," Merlin said, his teeth chattering as he shivered. "But, what's wrong with me goes way beyond your comfort zone, Arthur."

"You mean it's magical?" Arthur asked. "Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes."

"What's affecting you is magical? Or…it's affecting you because you…because you're…because of what you—"

"Don't hurt yourself, Arthur. You don't have to say it."

"I'm sorry," Arthur whispered.

"I know."

"I don't know if I'm ready for this, Merlin."

"I understand, sire."

"Will it—will you die?"

"Most likely."

"And is there anything I can do to stop it?" Arthur asked quietly, looking away from his friend in shame.

"I don't think so," Merlin told him, voice shaking as his muscles seized up again.

"That can't be the answer," Arthur snarled. "You can't give up on me like that, Merlin. There has to be a way to save you. There has to be a cure for whatever they poisoned you with. We just have to—"

"It isn't poison," Merlin said quietly. "At least…not poison like you're thinking, sire. It's far more complicated than that."

"I don't understand," Arthur whispered. "What are you trying to say to me, Merlin? Why won't you tell me what it is?"

"Because," Merlin grimaced. "Because if I tell you what it is nothing will ever be the same for us, Arthur. I can't do that to you. I won't. Not until you're ready."

"I won't watch you die, Merlin. Not again. Sacrifices have to me made in every great friendship, you know. You've already made yours. It's time for me to make mine."

"You don't know what you're saying," Merlin rasped. "You don't know what it would mean."

"Yes," Arthur replied steadily. "I do know, Merlin. I think I've known for years now and I've been running away from it like a child. It's time I acted like the king you've been preparing me to be."

"Arthur—"

"Shut-up, Merlin," Arthur said quietly. " I ask the questions now. You answer."

Merlin stared at him wordlessly from the table. His expression was hopeful, but Arthur could see the fear lurking beneath his features. Gods, the man was as terrified as Arthur was.

"The poison they gave you is magical?" Arthur asked, closing his eyes.

"Sort of."

"Merlin," Arthur began, opening his eyes in frustration.

"Verbana," Merlin said softly. "They gave me Verbana, Arthur."

"But, Verbana only affects people who have—"

"Yes, Arthur."

"So—so—you—you have—" Arthur swallowed hard and met his servant's eyes. "You have magic?"

"You don't have to do this," Merlin whispered. "I'm okay with that, you know."

"I know you are," Arthur said softly. "But you shouldn't be, old friend. I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid of you," Merlin replied.

"But you were?"

"Yes," Merlin said honestly. "But, you were a different man back then, Arthur."

"Do you think I can do this?" Arthur asked his friend. "Do you think I'm ready?"

"I can't make that decision for you," Merlin whispered. "This is your moment, Arthur."

Arthur swallowed again and set his jaw. Merlin was right. This was his moment. This was the moment he could decide the type of man he was going to be. Was he the weak prince that obeyed his father's every command or was he the king Merlin believed he could be? The king that would live to do great things, the king that would bring peace to the lands of Albion. If he took this step then his life would never be the same, but perhaps that was for the better? Perhaps this was his destiny. Merlin's destiny.

"Merlin," Arthur whispered, taking a deep and steadying breath. "Do you have magic?"

"Are you sure?" Merlin asked after a moment.

"I'm sure," Arthur replied with a small smile. "Do you have magic, old friend?"

"Yes," came the steady reply.