I disclaim.

Chapter 12

Ironically, Merlin woke up last. He thought this was ironic because he was younger and should naturally have recovered a little more quickly and because he was definitely not going to able to escape both Arthur and Uther's swords. He sighed, looking at the empty spaces beside him and tried to stand. Mistake.

A moment later he was retching, same as when he entered the dream but this time, unlike before, two comforting hands were on his back and neck. "Easy my boy. Not too fast now." Gaius helped him up, allowing him to slouch on the table. This was the second time he had been allowed to sit at the noble mess and he allowed himself to admire the sanded wood before pushing off. He glanced around, worried and anxious that the royals themselves were nowhere to be seen. His mentor saw the look and answered softly. "Uther stormed out moments after he woke. Arthur followed him—most likely to make sure he wasn't ordering a pyre."

"Or helping to build it himself." Merlin responded glumly, remembering the betrayed look on his master's face. They may have built up a comradery in the memories, but that was only because Arthur had been unable to do anything else. The dreams made him think of Iana and he stumbled away, back to the wall, throwing up bile again. He saw her smashed head and torn face, smiling—his daughter. "I have to save her Gaius."

The old man nodded, "of course. She…" he thought for a moment, "she will be a great young woman, Merlin. You should be proud."

But the young man ignored him, instead stumbling to the exit. "I have to live long enough." He walked out, almost expecting Sir Leon, who was still outside, to arrest him. But apparently neither Pendragon had said anything to the even tempered knight, because the man simply nodded and spared a slight smile at the two servants before heading off, his job done now that the last two exited the room. The two magic practitioners's skulked to the physician's chamber's, sure every turn would be their last. When they finally arrived, Merlin rushed to his room and began throwing items into his knapsack, carefully stowing magical items in the hidden compartments. "I have to leave Gaius—before Uther shakes off the memories and orders me killed."

"I understand." The older man gathered the little food they kept on hand on wrapped it up as quickly as he could. "Just let me get together some essentials." Merlin actually stopped moving, froze for a moment, and then turned to his father figure. Images of Gaius hurt, missing, killed, sick flashed through his mind and he thought he'd be sick again.

"You can't come with me Gaius."

The man didn't stop, continuing to bundle some rare herbs. "I meant what I said Merlin. Uther is out of control—and if you're going to run, he's going to chase you. And I won't stand by and allow you to be hurt without me."

Merlin threw his arms up, eyes wide. "So you're going to be hurt with me! Gaius," He moved to the grey man and put a hand on his should, stilling the busy hands. "Don't do this. Uther will leave you alone if you stay—say you tried to stop me. I couldn't take it if you…"

"So I'm supposed to sit by as you leave your home, your friends! Are possibly killed!" The physician looked furious. "I won't allow it. Arthur won't either, Merlin." He warned, "he'll go looking for you-"

"Arthur will be happier if I'm gone Gaius. The prat… even if he does forgive me lying…" he trailed off, looking pained. Could Arthur ever forgive him? "…he can't condone an accused sorcerer. His father-"

"Isn't me." The door swung open slowly and the prince himself stood there, expression a mixture of hurt and anger. "How dare you!"

Merlin backed up, looking longingly at the pack he'd abandoned in his small room. "Arthur-"

"Shut up! Shut up Mer-lin!" He prince slammed the door behind him and pointed to the table, where two chairs waited. "Sit!" Too afraid to do anything else, Merlin sat, glancing anxiously at Gaius. "Don't look at him Merlin! Look at me!" Now Merlin was getting a little pissed off, being treated like a criminal the prat was interrogating.

Even if he was a criminal…

"Gaius, if you would excuse us." Not breaking eye contact with Merlin, Arthur ordered the old amn from the room, disguising it as a request. But Gaius didn't seem to notice, bowing and backing from the quarters, face trying to tell Merlin something, although the younger man couldn't quite understand. "You lied to me."

"Well, technically-"

Arthur slammed his hands on the table. He still hadn't taken the other chair. "Did I say you could speak?" He paced a little and Merlin sulked in silence, now determined not to speak even if Arthur asked nicely. "I should have known really," He seemed to almost be talking to himself, "an idiot like you, surviving all those battles, all those quests. You can barely polish armor!" He looked him in the eye. "I did know, if I'm being honest—I've known—but it doesn't matter! You should have told me! Confessed!"

Now Merlin had to say something. "I tried-"

Arthur slashed a hand through the air, cutting off the words. He slumped into the chair. "I know." He watched Merlin through his blonde fringe. "You tried. Which by the way, was very stupid! What if I'd turned you in!"

"Are you scolding me for trying to tell you what you're yelling at me for not having told you; despite the fact you already knew what that thing I never told you was?" They glanced at each other, and then broke into unmanly giggles, which they tried to cover with extremely manly coughs. Merlin looked at the ceiling. "I'm sorry."

"So am I." He responded, because prince's never actually say that they're sorry, just imply it. Arthur cleared his throat. "I'm almost positive that my father is going to try and kill you."

Merlin jumped to his feet. "I should go—I've been enough trouble, I-" He stopped, looking at the door. "Gaius, he-"

"Can't come. He'll slow us down."

"Exactly he'll slow me down and get hurt- Wait… us?" Merlin tried to cover the hope in his eyes but couldn't quite manage it.

Arthur stood, rolling his eyes. "Of course you moron. You think I'd let you go wandering the woods alone? You're a danger to yourself and others just wandering the castle. Besides," he looked slyly at his friend, "you've got to survive. Your kid has to marry my handsome son—didn't you pay attention? I'm not going to let the boy marry some substandard female because you can't manage to walk in a straight line."

Despite the levity of the words, a sort of serious feeling passed through the room. Merlin remembered the end of the adventure, when harsh truths had been revealed. Hard truths about Arthur… and Gwen. "Do you want to... talk about it?"

The prince snapped up to his feet as if someone had pulled invisible strings. "No!" He looked around. "No… I don't really think…"

Feeling extremely uncomfortable Merlin pressed on, "…because if you did…"

"…that's alright, I just think…"

"…good." They finished at the same time, smiling again. And Merlin turned to get his pack. Arthur moved to the door. "I'm just going to…pack."

Merlin smirked, "Without me? Do you think you can actually manage to find your own things?"

"I'm sure I'll manage Mer-lin." Arthur glared half-heartedly, adding, "meet me in my room in ten minutes." Then he was gone, as quietly as he came.

The servant continued packing, heart lighter. Arthur was coming with him, which meant Gaius could stay. Could stay safe, because even the mothering physician couldn't argue that Arthur wouldn't look after him. Five minutes later, he slipped out of the room, leaving a good-bye note for his surrogate father, giving himself plenty of time to sneak around the guards to Arthur's room.

Except only a few turns into his journey disaster struck; a hand snaked from around a column, jerking him off course and putting him nose to nose with Uther. The king looked suitably disgruntled and wary, his hands trapping Merlin's own and covering his mouth. The boy supposed that the king thought that he was like every other sorcerer, and couldn't cast without hands or voice. It wasn't true of course, but Merlin wasn't about to say anything to set the cold man straight.

Because Uther looked unhinged. Mandrake under the bed, crazy. And this time, the crazy was focused on Merlin.

"Is it true?" Merlin couldn't speak and didn't know what the hell the man was talking about, so squeaked from under the hand, figuring that could go either way. "Morgana?" the blue eyes focused, looking less crazy now that Merlin was less panicked. "I'm going to let you speak sorcerer—and you will speak the truth. Or I will kill you."

Slowly the fingers peeled away from Merlin's mouth.

Quietly, Merlin answered the question. He answered the rest of them too, because after he told Uther Morgana was evil, the man had quite a few more. They seemed to flow out of the king. Questions about magic and Merlin and Arthur and Morgause and dragons. And then finally, THE question. "Do you mean my son harm?"

Merlin didn't answer right away. He wanted Uther to know he was serious—was more serious than ever before. "I would never harm Arthur. Never. We are two sides of the same coin your highness. He will live to be a great king, I will make sure of it." His hands were released and the older Pendragon stepped back, looking as sane and calm as he had been before Morgana's evil. "Sire?"

"I am not-" He started, but seemed to change his mind. "My son is packing." He looked pointedly at Merlin's own bag. "I assume you're planning a trip?"

"We…" Did the king deserve the truth? "We're running sire… I don't… I don't want to die."

The graying man ran a hand over his face; the most weakness Merlin had ever seen him shown while in his right mind. "And I do not want to lose my son." As well as my daughter. It was unsaid, but stood there between them anyway. "You… are a good servant Merlin." It looked like Uther swallowed a lemon as he said the words, but still he said them. "I'm asking you, as a master, who is perhaps not so good, to not take my son away from me."

Merlin screwed up his courage. "If he comes with me sire, it is not because I'm taking him… it's because you're forcing him."

Uther looked at him then, with something Merlin would swear was respect. "Perhaps you're right." He looked away. "That girl, your daughter, she saved him. Now I need you to save something. Yourself."

"Sire?"

"Your…magic…skills. You can change a memory?" Merlin saw where this was going and nodded, warily. "Then you erase ours—the last few days. Arthur will forget all this and will stay."

The young warlock asked softly. "And you?"

"I'll forget all this… and you'll live."

"Performing a spell like this, long lasting—it'll need to be a potion."

Uther waved a hand. "Yes, fine. I'll distract my son for a few moments. You go make the thing. Then tonight, after you 'escape' feed the thing to him. Slip some to Gaius and leave some in my chambers."

Merlin suddenly felt ill at ease. "How do I know you'll drink it?"

The man sighed, glaring. "Don't take your own until you return." He rolled his eyes. "The two of you will have to get back somehow. I won't have my son wandering the woods half confused at night. You're strong enough to call lightning—if I haven't forgotten by the time you get back, you escape again." He looked at Merlin like he was a moron again, pervious respect gone. "Without my son." The last part was said with steel in his voice.

A single doubt filled Merlin's mind. "But…"

"But?" Uther was impatient now.

"If I forget, Iana will still die." It was like a pain he couldn't heal.

And it was as if a ghost was in Uther's place. Because it couldn't have been the king himself whose face softened and he reached out a arm, lightly grasping Merlin shoulder and softly saying, "don't try and change fate boy. You simply end up losing more that you love." It couldn't have been Uther, because that…well, it just wasn't.

It was almost too easy.

Making the potion was the hardest part of the whole thing, measuring out poppy seeds for the time, down to the second, the most laborious element. A portion went into Gaius' rarely used supply of mead, which he was sure to break into after reading the note. A vial was delivered to Uther's room with his sleeping draught, which Merlin brought nightly—the guards let him right through. Two vials were tucked carefully away into his pocket. That night as he and Arthur slept under the stars and considered their plans, he seriously considered just leaving with the prince. Smashing the vials and disappearing. Uther would deserve it. But then he thought of Gaius and Gwen and the funny knight, Gwaine, and even Lancelot. He thought of Iana. And in the morning he slipped a dose into Arthur's water.

He convinced the prince he'd hurt his head during a hunt. But not to worry, they were returning anyway, that very morning—Gaius would be happy to check the lump.

And Gaius was happy to do so, carefully pretending to see an injury after Merlin explained he'd had to do magic. There were dangerous things in the forest, after all. He burnt the tearstained note he found next to an empty tankard. He took the blame for that same empty tankard and claimed ignorance about Gaius' hangover.

The hardest part was dinner, where Uther was as surly as ever. The king complained about having forgotten about meetings, smiled at Morgana, and chastised Arthur. He never once even glanced at Merlin. He did however; tell Arthur that he should fire him.

It was as if nothing had ever happened.

Merlin sat on his bed that night and stared at the last dose. He thought of the laughing child he'd gotten a glimpse of, the beautiful, brave woman she'd become, and the horrifying corpse she'd haunted him as. Then he thought of Uther's eyes, sad with the knowledge of trying to beat fate, and he drained the vial. He laid down, determined to dream of his daughter.

And he did. He dreamed a beautiful woman in a blue dress laughing as they stood in a storm. And when he woke up, he remembered the dream. And wondered who she was.