A/N: Wow! I was completely gobsmacked (hehe I love that word) by the amount of reviews I got for the last chapter! They make me want to dance round the room like a 5 year old! – but obviously I don't actually do that, because I'm not five. Yeah. Totally.

Anyway, here is the result of your wonderful reviews! Another chapter, which I hope you like as much as the last one!

Previously…

Arthur turned with a murderous expression on his face, unsheathing his sword with a roar of anger. And he ran towards Merlin, lifting the blade high, preparing to slash any part of the other man that he could get to…

Merlin watched, frozen, as Arthur ran towards him. Part of him was screaming to move, to get out of the way, but the other part was firmly chanting Arthur won't hurt me Arthur won't hurt me over and over.

He knew which one he wanted to listen to.

But the truth said otherwise, and at the last second Merlin stepped back, just as the tip of Arthur's sword cut into his arm. He grabbed at the wound, reeling, feeling the colour drain from his face. Arthur looked stunned by what he had just done.

"Merlin—" He stepped forwards, reaching out, but Merlin stumbled backwards away from him.

"Don't touch me!" he hissed, his face a mask of shock and pain. Arthur's expression tightened as he looked down at the sword still in his hand. The blade was red with blood; Merlin's blood. Slowly, so slowly, Arthur opened his hand and let Excalibur drop to the floor with a clatter.

Just at that moment, there was a yell from outside and the doors to the hall were thrown open. Lancelot and Gwaine leapt in front of Merlin, both their swords pointing unflinchingly at Arthur's chest. Immediately, any urge Arthur had felt to help the man he had just injured, albeit superficially, was replaced by fury and disgust.

"What do you think you are doing? Lay down your swords!" he ordered. Neither of the knights moved. "I am your King! You cannot disobey me like this!"

"Merlin, run, get out of here!" Lancelot barked roughly. Merlin had never seen his friend so angry before. He stayed rooted to the spot, clutching his injured arm and staring wide-eyed at Arthur.

"Merlin!" Gwaine yelled. "Go!"

At last the warlock began backing towards the doors, his eyes never leaving Arthur's.

"I thought you were my friend," he whispered, and then he was gone. Arthur struggled against Gwaine and Lancelot, shouting for the guards, but no one came, and eventually he became quiet. His eyes never left the place where Merlin had stood, the words he had spoken running through his head again and again.

I thought you were my friend.

So did I.

Merlin ran out of the room, past the motionless bodies of the guards and Sir Leon, still holding his bleeding arm. It was only a small cut, but it was quite deep, and it hurt. It wasn't nearly as painful as the fact that Arthur had done it, though, the fact that he had been prepared to stab Merlin; to hurt his best friend. As he reached a door (a very familiar door) he realized he had been unconsciously heading for Arthur's chambers. Cautiously, he pushed open the door.

"Gwen?" he called out, but the room was empty. It took him only a moment or two to do what he had to do. Then, with a last look at the room where he had spent some of the best times of his life, he left Camelot for the final time.

When Gwaine and Lancelot finally allowed him to leave the hall, some hours later, Arthur went back to his chambers. He slammed the doors shut angrily. Why did it have to be so complicated? Why had the look of shock and betrayal on Merlin's face when Arthur's sword had caught his arm made him feel so guilty? If only he hadn't let Merlin get so close to him, if only he hadn't trusted him with so much, if only, if only, if only… Arthur threw himself down on the bed with a groan.

"Guinevere?" he called out hopefully. She was just what he needed right now; a kind and soothing voice to tell him everything would be okay. But no – she hadn't been sleeping in Arthur's chambers for days, ever since he had thrown Merlin in the dungeons.

It was just about then that he noticed the neckerchief lying on the table.

"Merlin," he growled. Did the man – the sorcerer – have to leave his things everywhere?

He walked over to the table and picked up the soft red fabric, turning it over in his hands. A small piece of paper fluttered out. Arthur had to hold it up close to read the tiny writing on it.

I have never betrayed you, and I never will.

I will not return to Camelot to your knowledge,

and you will never see me again,

but I will always be there, protecting you.

Like I always have.

Don't forget me.

Merlin

Arthur gave a cry of frustration and ran down to the courtyard. He grabbed the arm of one of the guards and roughly turned him to face him.

"Has the sorcerer left the castle?"

The man looked at the ground. "We tried to stop him, Sire, but he was on horseback, and he galloped straight towards us. We had to get out of the way… I'm sorry, Sire, but I fear he is long gone."

Arthur let out another wordless cry and tossed the neckerchief to the ground. He stalked back to the castle. The guard hurried away.

It was dusk when it began to rain. The red scarf was soon lying in a puddle, soaking wet. So nobody was there to see the small hand that reached out and picked it up.

Gwen looked up as the door to her private chambers opened. A dripping wet red-cloaked figure stood by the wall panting slightly.

"Faye!" Gwen cried, moving towards her. "Are you alright? I thought you'd be here when I got back, but—" she broke off as she saw the girl's face.

"Merlin's gone," Faye said flatly. "I don't know what Arthur's said, but I saw him ride out of the gates. And I found this," she opened her hand to reveal the wet neckerchief. Gwen stared at it for a moment, then sat down hard on a chair that she could have sworn wasn't there before.

"He's really gone, then," she whispered. Then she looked up at Faye, curiosity burning in her eyes. "So how do you feel about all of… well, y'know… Merlin?"

Faye's green eyes were hard, and for a second Gwen saw not her maidservant but Morgana standing there. "He killed my mother."

"He didn't have a choice."

"He could have just – he could have let her go!"

"Oh, yes, and let her destroy the rest of Camelot!"

Faye's eyes filled with tears and Gwen immediately felt guilty. "She never told me any of what she'd done to you. I thought you were the bad ones…" the girl whispered.

Impulsively, Gwen stood up and pulled her into her arms. "If I've seen anything about Merlin in the time that I've known him, it's that he hates having to hurt anyone. If there had been a way to save Morgana, then he would have taken it. But he'll be back, I know he will; he'll never stop protecting Camelot."

Just at that moment, however, Merlin was not doing very much protecting at all. He had abandoned the horse at the border of the forest and now he was running. He didn't know how long he had been going for or where he was heading, or at what point the tears had spilled over onto his cheeks, he only knew that he had to get as far away from Camelot as he could. It didn't matter what he had put in that note to Arthur; there was too much pain and hurt inside him to be protecting anyone just now. Part of him could see that he wasn't thinking very clearly, but he chose to ignore it.

Some time later, Merlin became aware of wing beats in the air and glanced up to see the Great Dragon flying above him. He groaned to himself; the last thing he needed right now were more cryptic riddles, but before he could think of a way to get out of talking to the dragon, he was landing in front of him.

"Running away, Merlin?" Kilgharrah growled. Merlin shrugged half-heartedly. "What are you doing here? Where is Arthur Pendragon?"

Merlin stared up at him sullenly. "Leave me alone. Arthur doesn't need me any more. He hates me."

"You fool!" the dragon snarled. "Have I not told you before that a half cannot truly hate that which makes it whole? You and the Pendragon share a destiny together!"

"He tried to kill me!" Merlin yelled furiously.

"And that will be the making of Albion! You are only one man, Merlin, you cannot see into the future and know how your actions will affect the rest of the land!"

"And you can, I suppose!"

The dragon fixed Merlin with a baleful yellow eye. "You could never understand the extent of the power of a creature of magic such as I, Merlin. You do not even understand your own power! But enough of this, it is time I returned you to Camelot."

Merlin seemed to crumple at his words. "Don't. Please don't. Take me anywhere but Camelot."

"If you will not climb onto my back, I will carry you there in my claws."

"No! Please. Take me… take me to the druids! Please, Kilgharrah, you have to listen to me – I need a break from Arthur, from everything in Camelot. I will go back one day, of course I will, one day I'll go back, but just for now…" the warlock pleaded.

The Great Dragon eyed him thoughtfully. "I can feel destiny on the brink of shattering," he said at last, "and I fear that if I return you to Camelot now your destiny will be destroyed forever. Very well, Merlin, I will take you to the druid camp, but I will not forget that you are one day to return to Camelot and make your peace with King Arthur. I will not forget, Merlin. Remember that."

A/N: Thank you again for all your amazing reviews, alerts and favourites, you really make my day! So if you enjoyed this chapter… or if you didn't… please tell me! I would love to know! Next update soon hopefully :D