Arthur woke up the next day.

It was still morning, and Merlin had been watching the other boy from his own bed, hugging his knees to his chest, contemplating.

When Arthur woke up he blearily looked at Merlin and then around him before saying, "We don't have a tent."

Merlin stared for a moment, unsure, before he replied, "The druids do."

"Druids?!" Arthur tried to sit up in his surprise but his yell became a yelp as he fell back onto the furs.

"Yeah, don't suppose you have many of them in Camelot? Having massacred them all." Merlin's light tone was undercut by the sarcasm.

Whipping his head towards Merlin, Arthur gaped at him. As the uncomfortable silence continued, Merlin realised Arthur didn't know what to say next.

Merlin decided to change the subject. "There was a some sort of beast. It got you pretty bad," he said, gesturing with his head towards Arthur's heavily bandaged torso.

"The druids healed me?" Merlin nodded.

He pressed his lips shut. Now that Arthur was awake, Merlin didn't really want to talk to him. He didn't know who he was to Arthur or who Arthur was to him, no matter how much of the morning he'd spent thinking about it, just to not think about his magic.

"We should leave as soon as you can walk," Merlin said. Sooner he could get away from Ogden the better, then he could ignore that the other man was right; He shook his head to rid himself of the thought.

"You don't want to stay with the druids?" Arthur asked as though he didn't understand.

"Why because they have magic?" Merlin fired back, with perhaps more vitriol than necessary.

"What is up with you?" Arthur asked. "I can't dislike the druids, I can't like them... You're as confusing as a girl, Merlin!"

"I'm not a girl!" Arthur just looked at him skeptically. "They have magic. But they're also interested in my magic. So I'd really rather get on our way." He tried to explain slowly.

"Interested... like Banbury?" There was a look on Arthur's face, almost protective, which made the situation just more incomprehensible to Merlin.

He shrugged in response. "I don't think they want to... use me." He was not mentioning what had happened after Arthur was attacked, or how Ogden responded to it, or how they had some other name for him. "It's just weird." He wasn't sure how else to say it.

"So, you're waiting for me to get better? You didn't just abandon me in a druid camp and make your own way?" Arthur asked, looking away from Merlin.

"What? Why would I do that?" Merlin tried to make it sound like he didn't know the answer, but the lump in his stomach told him he was lying. This was the Prince of Camelot. He was a sorceror. Why were they doing this together, why hadn't they separated and gone their own ways? By all rights, Arthur should've been home by now, a whole army was right there with the mind to take him home. It was exactly everything he'd been thinking over since that fight in the rain, there was no rational reason for them to stick together.

"I thought I was incompetent." Resentment lingered in Arthur's voice. "And now apparently a murderous druid-hating Prince. Why would you stay?"

Merlin gulped at the bitterness in Arthur's words. It wasn't right. "You're right. You're the Prince of Camelot and I'm a sorceror. We're natural enemies. If we weren't always running for our lives, well you'd have just watched your knights slaughter me." Arthur flinched; Now it was Merlin's turn to stare at the tent wall. "We have absolutely nothing in common."

"So why then?"

"Because we are running for our lives. And you're not incompetent. We need each other... or at least, I need you." He was aware that by the end of that, his tone had become self-deprecating. He'd been reliant on Arthur this whole time, and he didn't feel he'd given anything in return. The Prince had sworn to Merlin that he'd protect him, and Merlin couldn't understand why. Truth was that Arthur didn't need Merlin, like Merlin needed him, he was expendable. Really, he could've just left Merlin behind, and it didn't make sense that he hadn't.

"You need a Prince from magic-hating Camelot that you can't trust?" Merlin thought it should've felt better that he wasn't the only one feeling self-deprecating, but it didn't.

Merlin snorted in laughter. "I do trust you." And it hurt to say. "That's the problem. I can't even trust my own magic. I don't trust myself, but I do trust you. And that terrifies me." He could feel the tears welling in his eyes.

"Why would you say all those things then?" It could have Merlin's imagination, but he thought that Arthur's voice seemed smaller, unsure which emotion it wanted to express.

"Which things?" It wasn't an entirely dishonest question, he'd said a lot of things, quite a few of them with the express purpose of being hurtful, and others that likely had been whether he'd intended it or not.

"I don't know, Merlin." The sarcasm made Merlin think that if he looked in his direction, Arthur would be rolling his eyes. Merlin still didn't dare look over however; Saying these things was easier when he didn't have to watch Arthur listen, and he could just say them to empty air in front of him. "Perhaps the statements about massacring druids or being enemies."

"We should be." His own voice was stronger this time; He knew it was the truth. They were supposed to be enemies, it was the way of things. "It's the truth. I don't understand why we're not."

"Perhaps, because watching you die is unappealing to me."

"Why?"

And maybe the honest confusion in Merlin's voice for that question, or maybe the part where he was invalid after being mauled by a beast and was no doubt in pain and frustrated with this conversation, was at fault, but Arthur was beyond angry when he next spoke and it was clear in his voice that he was glaring at Merlin; He wanted to look over at the Prince even less now.

"I'm not some monster! Why on earth would I want to watch you die? Do you just think I have no heart, no feelings at all! That I'm incapable of caring for other people?" Arthur shouted.

Merlin flinched. "No."

"This is what I mean!" Arthur continued, as though he hadn't heard Merlin's denial, quiet as it was. "How can you talk like I'm going to go mad and kill you at any moment, and then say that you trust me?"

"That's not what I-" He wasn't sure how he wanted to end that sentence. He was honestly confused and none of this made sense and he just trying to say what seemed truthful at the time and it was all going wrong. "I'm not exactly the only one who's saying hurtful things." When there was no reply, Merlin continued in a small voice, "You called me a sorceror."

He heard Arthur sigh. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I was trying to be kind, and then you just threw that in my face. I was wet and tired and I- surely you've said things you didn't mean when you were uncomfortable?" Arthur certainly sounded uncomfortable saying all of that.

"Yes. I did that just four days ago in the barn." He admitted. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dismissed everything you were saying like that."

"Well then, I'm sorry for mentioning the whole... sorceror thing." The awkwardness in Arthur's tone may have made Merlin smile, just a little bit. "Not sure I understand the 'trusting me' thing yet?"

His smile slipped. "Neither do I. It's complicated."

Arthur huffed. "You aren't a girl. But you are as confusing as one."

"Am not!"

"Just tell me the truth then." That may have sounded a bit like pleading, but Merlin was sure on that count he must've been mistaken.

"I have been. You weren't lying when you called me sorceror." He was the lump in his throat hadn't been there before. "I wasn't lying now. The truth isn't as easy as the one word makes it out to be. But I trust you. Even it makes no sense."

XxX

Well, it definitely didn't make sense, not to Arthur. Frankly he was in too much pain for this conversation. He could see the banadages wrapping his torso, copious amounts of them; Couldn't Merlin pity him at least enough to only confuse him when his chest was in one piece?

No, instead his irritating travel companion had to tear his chest open even more. The bastard. The little twinge in his stomach may have been guilt, for enough hurtful things had been said between them already. But it was true and he'd only thought it, and he was quite annoyed and should at least be able to express that in his own mind, he was sure. It's not as if he could express it out loud where Merlin could hear, he'd probably have some other piece of 'truth' that he could drive like a dagger into Arthur's heart.

It's not like Merlin was the first person to accuse him of being uncaring. It certainly wasn't the first time the accusation hurt either. Morgana for one, loved to find ever more creative ways to say the same thing increasingly painfully. But he did care, and while he wasn't great at expressing it, he'd actually been trying recently and thought he'd been doing alright.

Arthur had looked after Merlin, with some reluctance at first in truth, but he still had. He'd nursed him and gotten them both out of that cage. In hindsight leaving Merlin behind wouldn't have worked as he couldn't walk on his own, but the gesture had been meant purely at the time. He'd decided weeks ago that he didn't want Merlin hurt. He'd kept the boy fed, giving up food for him and hunting rabbits while he laughed ungratefully. He'd even comforted him, and that was about as caring and out of Arthur's comfort zone as it got. Somewhen, somehow, it had become Arthur's role to look after Merlin, even before he'd admitted it.

So Merlin had no right to be so confused as to why Arthur wouldn't want him dead. Was it so unfathomable that he wouldn't want to murder a boy he'd spent several weeks surviving alongside? The mere thought of... "watched your knights slaughter me"... made Arthur shiver. The thought of Merlin... cut down - and did he have to use the word slaughter as though he were an animal being put down; although Arthur was aware that that was exactly how Camelot knights, his knights, would see Merlin. The proud red knight's cloak he'd anticipated for so many years didn't look so grand in that light.

There was honest confusion in Merlin's voice, and yet he was so adamant that trusted Arthur... he would've thrown up his hands in exasperation if he hadn't known the pain that would cause.

He was exasperated and confused and hurt and angry and he didn't understand.

XxX

Merlin couldn't stay inside the tent after their conversation. Everything was too tense and awkward, with everything up in the air and Merlin with no idea how to organise it all into cohesive normalcy.

If he was stuck in the druid camp until Arthur was healed, which was at least another week likely, then he may as well explore. As soon as the decision solidified in his mind, he scrambled as quickly as he could out of the tent before Arthur could ask any questions.

Once again, everyone's attention snapped to him. Their gazes made his skin crawl, but the thought of going back in the tent made him even more uncomfortable, so he braced himself and resolutely took another step away from it.

There were five druids around the campfire in front of their tent, but Merlin didn't see Ogden among them which was a small relief.

One darkly coloured man, dark hair, dark clothes, dark eyes, leaned towards the man next to him as if in confidences and faux-whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, "Which reason is it, d'ya think? Finally healthy enough, or finally brave enough to step out of the tent?"

"Oi , you leave him alone, Brennan!" One of the women piped up, slapping the man on the arm.

The man, Brennan, straightened with a grin, conspiratorial glint still in his eye. "Oh I'll 'leave him alone'" He imitated the high-pitch of the woman's voice. "After all, it's getting away from that fight of yours that's chased you out 'ere 'innit?"

"Wh-what?" Merlin asked in a small voice, ready to take that step back towards the tent again, determination having left him. "You heard that?"

"Well you's wasn't whisperin' were ya?"

He hadn't even wanted Arthur to hear half of what he'd said, he definitely didn't like the idea that these strangers had been outside listening to every private word.

"Brennan, aren't there chores you can do? I'm sure that Grandma Ridlin would appreciate having wood for her fire." A woman said to the exuberant man.

Rolling his eyes and commenting on the wiles of women, Brennan made off into the mass of the tents, leaving Merlin with four much quieter druids.

"Don't mind him. Brennan just likes to put on a show. The voice isn't even his, he heard it from traveler in a tavern and thought it sounded exotic." The kind lady told him, smiling endearingly at the end. "My name's Lyla." Lyla stepped towards Merlin, but at his backpedal she crouched down to his level.

"We aren't going to hurt you. You like to be called Merlin right?"

Merlin stared at her for a while. Lyla had vibrant orange hair like Merlin had never seen before, and lots of sunspots across her face like Gelda back in Ealdor. Knowing how Gelda thought about her own, Merlin thought he'd best not mention to them to Lyla.

"Merlin's my name." He told Lyla, confused about how she'd stated her knowledge of his name. He supposed Ogden could have told her, or else she'd overheard Arthur saying it. Lyla just smiled again, as endearingly as she had to Brennan, as if the both of them were acting like children but she'd humour them. The smile didn't endear Merlin to her.

"Of course, Merlin. Did your mother name you after the bird for a reason?"

"She never said."

"Well," Lyla said, standing up. "This is Briony, Wilfred and Abel."

"Abelard." The man corrected, his voice as deep as his broad chest and shoulders suggested.

Lyla just rolled her eyes. "You have nothing to worry from us, Merlin." She intonated his name as if something about it amused her. Merlin was getting surer and surer she'd heard his name from Ogden, and probably thought his name was supposed to be something else too. "Sit with us. Briony here was just making lunch. I'm sure there's some to spare."

"Special stew my mum taught me years ago, it's the only thing I can cook well." Briony smiled at Merlin. Her smile was much nicer than Lyla's, less conspiratory, and it made her look a lot less intimidating then it had when she yelled at Brennan.

Merlin hesistated for a moment, but then came forward and sat down next to Briony. Lyla came back to her spot as well.

"What did you hear?" He really needed to know what he'd revealed to these druids, his mind would never let him rest otherwise.

"Really not all that much." Abelard said. "You weren't whispering sure, but you weren't shouting neither. Except of course when you expressed very adamantly your uh, ungirlishness." Abelard looked as if he was trying quite hard not to smile, Lyla and Wilfred didn't pay the same courtesy. "Nothing more than two boys fighting could be heard I asure you."

Which was little assurance at this particular moment when Merlin could feel his ears burning a startling shade of red. Nevertheless, worse things could have been overheard.

No one else spoke then. They stared at Merlin a lot, and looked between each other as if all in on a secret, but no one outright teased him as Brennan had. Merlin wasn't sure it was any better.

XxX

Arthur stared at the tent flap Merlin had escaped through and thought that for once the younger boy had done something he could actually understand. He too, preferred to run away rather than sit in awkward silence discussing feelings. It was reassuring to see Merlin do something normal finally.

Arthur appreciated the silence and the chance to order his own thoughts. Or at least he told himself that he did. He needed to organise what had just happened into some form of coherency, it was just that, he'd actually rather find that coherency with Merlin's help. He certainly didn't understand what was going through the other boy's head himself.

His own head gave him enough to think about, and if he was being truthful, Merlin running away hurt more than it had brought relief. It hurt like it had the night in the barn and their repeat performance just minutes ago. It hurt like it hadn't when Arthur had managed to bring himself to comfort Merlin just before battle. And it hurt like it hadn't all the weeks before when they didn't trust each other at all.

Thinking back to before Merlin had been Merlin in Arthur's mind, when he'd hesistated to call him anything but a sorceror. The boy had still been irresistably innocent, as innocent as he was chattering endlessly through fields and sobbing in dungeons. Merlin had let Arthur comfort him then, as he had before the battle. Comfort him as Merlin wouldn't let him comfort him now. Not in the barn, not in the druid's tent, Arthur couldn't be nice to Merlin because Merlin wouldn't let him. It made Arthur grit his teeth.

But they'd fought in the fields and it hadn't hurt as much then. They hadn't been friends then either. Were they now? Not if he listened to Merlin. 'Natural enemies' he'd said. Maybe Merlin was right, maybe they were. He was the Prince of Camelot and Merlin was a sorceror. Things were easier when they were reluctant to interact with each other, as they should be. Things didn't hurt as much when they hadn't been trying to be friends.

XxX

A/N: I feel I must apologise. I've actually had this written for 2 weeks and should've uploaded it ages ago! But I was concerned about what happened next and I'm terrified of writing myself into a corner. But I now know like the next 10 chapters, did a bunch of research on history of dark ages Briton which ended up going on for 2 hours longer than I expected, but hey that's google for you.

I haven't got a update schedule although I really should make one, maybe one day, but it's luck of dice when I'll upload again at the moment.

Thank you for all the reviews! They really do make my day :)