Chapter 20

"What are we actually going out for?" I pester Merlin as I make sure my saddle is well fitted and strapped. Merlin is doing the same to his, holding Arthur's horse as well since the Prince is late.

"Well, technically it's Arthur and me, you just decided to join by yourself," he retorts, not answering my question.

"Touché," I mutter to myself, figuring the answer isn't that important anyway. "Where is Prince Prat anyways?"

"Right here," someone says right behind me. My feet spin, surely putting a new skid mark on the sole of my boots and my eyes widen. Arthur is looking at me expectantly and I blush at being caught calling the Prince such a disrespectful nickname.

"…Uh," I stammer.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, easily dismissing the nickname. I let out a breath of air, puffing my cheeks. Images of the dungeon cells flashing before my eyes.

"Coming with you," I answer, going back to fixing my saddle. "And you can't say no because I've already gotten the horse ready," I cheek, patting the horse to affirm my point. Arthur rolls his eyes, rubbing the horse's nose.

"Yes, because my orders are blocked by a horse with a saddle," he deadpans.

"Considering I haven't heard anything yet, yes," I shrug, stepping into the stirrup to mount. I smirk to Merlin who is already mounted, and he shares an amused glance as the Prince bites his cheek as though trying to hold back some retort.

We ride out of Camelot in a good mood, completely unaware of the trouble this one ride will bring with it.

Xx

I curse into the wind, my feet thrusting off the ground, and the blood fills my ears. My hair, which wasn't very well tied in the first place, is bouncing from a loose bun, flopping against my neck as the shorter strands make it their mission to block my face.

Arthur and Merlin run in front of me, looking back every now and then to look at the bandits behind us but I spare no effort, barely keeping up with them as it is. Walking, yes, I can do that for hours. But running? I can't run a minute without feeling out of breath.

And we've been running for much longer than a minute. My chest reaches for the sky, trying to fill itself and audible pants drip from my dry lips. My only consolation is that Merlin looks just as tired as me.

It's like those tips people give you to try and run further; just pretend you're being chased by someone with a knife. Well, I have a very good imagination because there's at least twenty of them and they have very long knives.

I have mine, which thankfully I didn't leave on the horse we left a while ago.

Arthur changes direction, Merlin and I skidding after him. He stops, hiding behind some rocks. Merlin joins his side as I skid down the small sloped, grazing my hand along the dirt. Merlin's hands pull me back up and I huddle between them with my hands on my knees, catching my breath. I am making a very conscious effort not to sound like I'm wheezing in front of them.

"Are they still after us?" Merlin asks. I'm shocked he still has the ability to breathe.

"I told you we'd outrun them," Arthur beams.

"You sure?"

"Why is it you never trust me, Merlin?" he questions. I push off my knees, seeing something through the tree lines.

"Probably with good reason," I say, gesturing to the growing men. Arthur grabs my arm, forcing my legs to move to keep up with the Prince's pace as we start off running again.

My throat burns but it's still better than a sword through me.

"Come on, this way," Arthur urges, running ahead of us like usual, leading the way.

"Where are we going?" Merlin asks.

I still cannot comprehend how either of them is talking with this much running. I thought I was fit!

"Trust me!" Arthur exclaims, still walking forward.

I huff, having no trust in the man right now. Merlin and I jog through the gully. Two large stone statues of men stand in the forest, overgrown with moss and vine, taken back by the wild. Just before we pass through them, a wave of energy hits me, knocking me off my feet from the mix of momentum and shock. Being on the downhill, I skid along the ground, tumbling slightly until I reach the flat near Arthur.

"Arthur!" Merlin cries.

I know he felt it too. It's the same feeling that I had with Uther. One of magic. But this is extraordinarily powerful I comparison. If Uther was like a baby punching you in the stomach, this would be a professional boxer.

Arthur pulls me back to my feet, then runs off to Merlin.

"What are you doing?" he tugs on the warlock's arm, forcing him to follow his steps. Merlin glances at me and I nod subtly, letting him know I felt the same thing. "Come on!"

We slow back down to a walk and I take this moment of calm to brush the dirt from my pants and retie my fallen hair.

"Where are we?" I ask, my eyes grazing around.

"The Valley of the Fallen Kings," Arthur replies. I've never even heard of it before. Why would there be such a strong presence of magic?

"Is it cursed?" Merlin questions. I go to snort but hold it, realising that it is quite a valid question at this point.

"No. Not unless you're superstitious," Arthur counters.

"Because that makes me feel better," I retort.

Arthur sighs. "It's a myth. They'll never follow us in here. They won't dare. Trust me."

I really do want to trust him right now, but he just doesn't have the same 'pizazz' as Aladdin when he says it. I'll trust him again when he hasn't said it twice and proven to be wrong.

"If you say that one more time," Merlin murmurs, barely reaching my ears but I'm glad it does, lifting my mood ever so slightly. The warlock always has something sassy to say up his sleeve.

I almost think it's my imagination, playing on my fears but I hear footsteps again. I turn around, hoping to ease my mind but I only accomplish the exact opposite. The bandits have, in fact, entered the Valley of the Kings. We start running again.

"Maybe they aren't superstitious," I growl to Arthur as I run alongside him.

"Shut up," he growls back.

We barely make it anywhere, not having many options besides following the path and they've got the advantage, in both numbers and position. I'm putting so much attention into where my feet are landing that I almost don't hear or see Arthur fall down from next to me, but my body senses it and without telling it to, my feet dig into the ground and I turn around.

Arthur has fallen to the ground, an arrow sunken deep into his back.

"What was that?" he grunts, lifting himself up. Merlin wraps one of the Prince's arms around his shoulder. I glance around but the bandits seem to have run off, assuming success at hitting their target.

I kneel down, pulling Arthur's other arms around my own shoulder.

"An arrow? Oh, good. For a moment I thought it was something terrible." With that as his final statement, his body weight doubles as he loses consciousness.

I hold I my panic, my heart beating for a whole other reason besides cardio as I hold up the wounded man.

"Somewhere safe," I mutter to Merlin as we pull him through the valley. The Prince's feet drag along the ground and I distract myself by imagining Merlin's face when he has to clean them again. Because there is no way that Arthur is dying while I'm around. There's just absolutely no way.

But this arrow in his back is making that a rather difficult thing for me to swear to.

Eventually, we find a little clearing in a low land area, surrounded by walls of earth that would grant us a little protection. I'm reluctant to stay here, feeling too close to where we were last attacked but Merlin points out that we don't really have a choice if we want to heal him any time soon.

Merlin gets started on a fire, preparing a herbal patch. Arthur is lying on his stomach, the arrow still sticking out from his back, small blotches of blood staining the silver metal of his armour.

I don't want to take it out, knowing it's going to bleed more but we need to in hopes that we can heal it over and clean it out to stop infection. The longer it is open, the more we risk. taking a moment to collect my breath, I wrap my fingers around the shaft, not wanting to cause any further damage.

Arthur doesn't stir, giving me some sort of peace that he won't feel the pain I'm about to inflict on him. I tug quickly but firmly, and the arrow comes smoothly out of his skin. I look at the shaft. It's covered in his blood, along with my fingertips.

My stomach rolls, a wave of anger brushing over me. I throw the arrow into the fire, watching it burn slowly but surely. As the entire thing is engulfed by the flame I finally turn back to Arthur, rolling him onto his back.

There's pain on his face. My throat tightens and I swallow, trying to loosen it back up but it's only making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the saliva getting stuck in it. My eyes float upwards, wishing away the emotion, holding the tremble of my bottom lip.

I sniff, wiping my nose with my sleeve, using it as an excuse to hide my face from Merlin who comes back over, holding the herbal pouch. He places the pouch on his forehead, patting it along. My breath shudders, trying to be brave in front of Merlin who is probably feeling the same as me right now.

Helpless. Neither of us are particularly good healers.

"Come on, dollophead. I need you to recover," Merlin murmurs to the Prince who offers nothing in response. He rolls his master over, placing a hand on the wound. It looks so small yet can do so much. "Þurhhæle dolgbenn."

We both look over him as he rolls the Prince back to check, but he still has the pale, unresponsive face.

"Listen to me, clotpole, I don't care if you die. There are plenty of other princes. You're not the only pompous, supercilious…condescending, royal…imbecile I could work for," he says and somehow I manage a choked laugh. "But I'm goa give you one more chance."

I lean in closer to the Prince, as though he could actually hear us. "You better listen to him; I will drag you from the afterlife if I have to. And that is going to take a lot of work, not to mention a probable sacrifice and I'm not in the sacraficy type of mood so I'm going to kill you if that what I have to do."

Merlin holds his hand over the wound again. "Licsar ge staðol nu."

We check, but nothing happens. I fold myself in, running my fingers over my forehead, into my hair, cringing at the feeling of blood now on my skin but it is so far down on my list of worries right now, that what we're having for dinner tonight is above it.

Merlin walks off quietly. We've barely spoken more than a few sentences to each other.

The flood of emotion that I was holding in for Merlin's sake sweeps back over me. I bite my finger to hold in any sound, but the tears start to drop, with nothing to stop them. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help him and that scares me more than anything else in the world right now. He's dying right in front of me and all I can is watch him. I've helped save him from all sorts of things but it's a simple arrow that's going to take him away from me. And by a rotten bandit at that.

I hunch over, resting my forehead against his chest, gripping his loose hand. My body falls to the side as I tilt my head to look at him, my side resting on his and my cheek presses into the chainmail.

"I don't know what to do," I whisper to him, my other hand slowly brushing up against his face. "How do I help you?" Nobody answers. "You can't do this to me." The once quiet emotion riles itself up and I can't help the cry of anguish that leaves my throat. I hide my face back on his torse, wrapping my arms around to hide. My chest heaves painfully as I try to silence each sob.

After I calm myself more, enough to maintain my own breathing I glance up to Merlin who is watching us from not far off, near a little pond of water. He slowly turns his head back to whatever he is doing.

I lean my head back down.

"I love you," I whisper to him. It hurts, saying it and not even getting a reaction. After admitting everything to Castor, I've finally come to terms with it. With everything. But being able to tell Arthur is something I will never be able to do and this may be the only chance I get, for more than one reason. "I love you so much."

My eyes close, waiting for Merlin to return but only shortly after do I hear his voice but he's not speaking to me.

"Don't be afraid. My name is Taliesin," another voice says.

My body jumps up, but I stay hovering over Arthur's body protectively.

"I'm Merlin," the warlock replies. Merlin is walking back over, in the company of an elderly man in a red cloak.

"I know who you are. And I know who you are, Vessel," he says, gesturing to me. I open my mouth, but no words leave it. "The moment of our meeting has been written for many, many years. You are Emrys."

I am completely fuddled by who this man is, and I look at Merlin who looks just as lost as me. Taliesin kneels down next to Arthur. I don't move from over him but Merlin nods to me. I trust his judgement enough, slowly moving back away so the new man can turn the Prince over.

"Wel cene hole."

Almost instant, colour returns to Arthur's face. The anchor weighing down on my lifts as the Prince stirs. I move up near his face, tapping it lightly.

"Arthur?"

"He is sleeping," the man tells me. "Within hours he will be fully recovered."

I blink away new tears, only these ones belong to a happiness I haven't felt in a long time.

"Thank you," I say to him, smiling down at the Prince.

"Are you sure?" Merlin asks, much more sceptical than me but I would take any improvement over nothing at this stage.

"If my memory serves me well."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to show you something, Merlin," he says, avoiding the original question. I stroke Arthur's hair, watching the two men interact.

"What?"

"You must wait and see."

Merlin looks down at Arthur and I unsurely, not wanting to leave him in such a state.

"I'll look after him," I say. "I think you should trust him."

Normally, I'm not one to pass to quick of judgement on whether the trust should be given out or not but considering the Prince is already looking much better than before, and the man hasn't shown us hostility, I have yet any reason to think otherwise. I'm also hoping Merlin will be able to tell me later who this man actually is.

Merin leaves with him and my attention falls back to Arthur and I let my smile grow. Even now he's stirring. I shuffle to sit behind him, lifting his head to lay it on my legs and I lean back against the rock wall protecting us. My sword lays near my hand just in case.

Xx

My worry does grow when Merlin has not returned for a while and I can't help but wonder if I've placed my trust in the wrong person. Arthur has only continued to improve, even moving about slightly, beginning to regain consciousness.

I hear footsteps and I match them to Merlin and my worry drops, but only for a second. It grows even more when I see the state on his face.

"Merlin?" I prod cautiously. His face is stoic, stuck in a tug of fear. "What did he do?"

Merlin sits down next to me, pulling his legs into him. I reach out for him, an arm encircling his back, the other rubbing his arm slowly.

"Do you remember the Crystal of Neahtid?" I nod, recalling Alvarr, Mordred, and Morgana. "He showed me this place. The Crystal Cave. He said it's where magic began. It's where the crystal was from."

"That would explain why we both felt something coming here. And we still feel it." I remember the way Merlin was, with just the one crystal and he looked into it, seeing a future. "You saw things. In the crystal, didn't you?"

He nods slowly. I'm not going to ask what he saw, fearing that he won't be able to handle it, but I also have no doubt the images are already filling his mind. He almost looks catatonic.

"What I saw in the Crystal of Neahtid came true," he says, barely above a whisper so that I strain to hear it. "And what I saw… I have to stop it."

"I'll be there," I promise, gripping his hand. "I trust you, more than anybody in the world."

Merlin finally looks at me, the side of his lips twinging. "I trust you too."

"Get some sleep, Arthur is going to be fine and you could do with a moment of peace," I tell him, giving him a slight push. He silently follows my advice, laying down near the fire but he doesn't sleep. Knowing I can't force him, I just shift my attention back to Arthur who looks like he's ready to wake.

And he does, in about an hour or so. Merlin is sitting, facing away from camp, oblivious to the world around him. I let him sit and think. Arthur groans, sitting up and I hold my own as I stretch out my legs.

"We should go back to Camelot," is the first thing the Prince says to me. He stretches himself out, twisting his upper body. I watch him for any signs of pain, but his face gives no evidence of it. The magic did its work.

"I won't argue with that," I retort, standing back up. I put my sword back where it belongs, kicking dirt over the fire to smother it out as Arthur starts packing our bags together. Once they're together he holds mine out for me. "Thanks."

"What's wrong with him," he asks, gesturing to the still boy.

"He's just tired," I reply, keeping my voice low. "Don't be mean to him."

Arthur squints, looking at the warlock again. He tosses Merlin's bag at him, giving no warning and it hits him in the back. Merlin startles out of his hole in the mind.

"You look like a startled stoat," Arthur calls over. I roll my eyes.

"I literally just told you not to be mean," I grunt to him.

"That wasn't mean," he shoots back.

Merlin stands up, grabbing the bag. "Yeah? Well, at least I don't look like a bone idle…" he trails off, struggling to find an insult.

"Toad?" I offer.

"Toad?!" Arthur exclaims, his eyes finding mine I can't help but snort at the offence pooling in them. I would feel bad on a normal day, but I don't.

"Toad!" Merlin agrees.

"You're saying I look like a toad?" he exclaims again, not sure whether to still be offended or take it as just playful jester.

"Yeah. And maybe one day you'll magically transform into a handsome prince," Merlin sasses and I can't help my mouth pull back, keeping my head down. "Since magic's outlawed, that'll probably never happen. Come on, let's go."

"Merlin. I'm the one who gives the orders, remember?" the Prince says, pointing to himself. Merlin gives a little shrug of disinterest.

"Yeah. You ready? Let's go," he replies, walking off before there can be any further argument. Arthur steps back in shock, his mouth hanging wide open. He turns to me, still gaping as though he wants my back up.

I heave the weight of my pack up higher. "I'm going with him," I say, pointing at the warlock and start walking to catch up.

Xx

We have to walk all the way back to Camelot which thankfully, isn't such a long journey but it feels longer with the lack of Merlin's chatter. Arthur, however, is still just as normal as ever. Merlin marches in front of us and I let him be, keeping back with Arthur who just doesn't seem to get the message that Merlin wants some alone time.

"I don't understand. You said I had an arrow in my back. How come all I can feel is a slight bruise?"

"Don't know," is Merlin's only reply.

"Merlin," Arthur prods. He looks to me but I only shrug, not having any excuse. Merlin was always better at these things. Merlin stops walking to look back. "Something happen you're both not telling me about?"

"No," Merlin and I answer at the same time.

"Com one," Arthur continues to pester. "I'm missing your usual prattle. Even Elena is quieter than usual."

"Certainly making up for it," Merlin counters.

"Still haven't answered my question."

"The arrow didn't pierce your armour, and when you fell, you knocked yourself out."

I could work with that lie. Arthur looks confused, trying to remember the events, but luckily it hit him in a place where he couldn't actually see the arrow.

"It was blunt," I say to him. "The arrow. That's why it didn't pierce your armour, but it probably hurt quite a bit. It looked like it had been used one too many times. Limited resources, you know?"

"Well, I count myself lucky," he grunts, reaching his arm back to try and find the spot. "I don't normally say things like this, but… you both did a good job back there." Merlin doesn't make any gesture of hearing the Prince. "D'you hear what I just said? All right. Maybe I should give you some kind of reward. What do you want?"

"Some peace and quiet."

Arthur is barely affected by the words, his mouth opening to speak again but I grip his arm, shaking my head.

"Just let him go for now," I advise.

"All right," he grumbles. "Did you really have to suggest toad though?"

I let out a breath of laughter, not believing he is actually still thinking about that. "Really? That's what you're worried about?"

"Well coming from Merlin is one thing," he huffs. "I thought you said I was good looking."

"I said you were a good man," I chortle, holding up a finger. "Not good looking."

"Is there a difference?"

"Yes!" I exclaim, laughing loudly. "Don't worry though, they also say once a princess kisses a toad it turns back into a prince, so you don't have to worry about using magic."

"What about beautiful women?" he jests, "I know a few of them."

"Nope," I smile, "it has to be a princess. That's how the legend goes."

"Are you sure?" he asks, crinkling his nose teasingly. "Your reward could be a kiss from a Prince." He knocks into my shoulder, catching me off step.

I pretend to gag, making sure anything other than desire crosses my face. Maybe it would hide the redness growing, considering he both just insinuated he thought I am beautiful and offered to kiss me.

"Hmm, I'd much rather swap beds for a night," I say, smirking. My insides are jumping around but I hold them down, recalling his confession of affection to another woman. That brings my mood down almost to whatever low Merlin is at right now. Suddenly, I begin to not just sympathise but empathise with the boy, wanting to walk away from here and be alone. "I'm going to make sure Merlin is ok," I mutter to him, crossing my arms as my legs speed up.

"Elena?" he calls in bemusement, but I keep pushing forward.

I slow down once I'm next to him but don't say anything. Just half a day ago I was confessing my love to an unconscious man who has feelings for another. Does that make me more selfish or desperate? It is such a hard thing to feel when it's not reciprocated. I love the feeling, the tsunami of emotion that washes over me each time I see him, the feeling that no other person on earth can give me. But it is washed away just as forcefully as the dread of loneliness settles in. All I can see is his wedding day, but I'm standing in the crowd, watching from afar.

Merlin's words seem to finally have sunk into Arthur and he leaves us to ourselves enough for the rest of the trip back to Camelot. I could not wait to just be alone in my room once more.

Xx

We arrive in Camelot and considering the King is still oblivious to my adventures outside of Camelot, I quietly leave Merlin and Arthur to head back to my own room.

The door shuts behind me and I lock it for good measure. Using the toe of the opposite foot, I kick off my boots, letting the dagger clang against the floor. In my socks I walk forward, curling myself up on the end of my bed, pulling the sheets up to cover me.

With my eyes closed, I almost fall asleep to birdsong and subtle sounds of medieval city life. It goes on the same every day; ants until you walk amongst them.

A soft knock echoes through my room.

"Come in," I call out, not bothering to leave my cocoon of despair. It's much too comfortable.

Esme walks in, a sad smile gracing his rosy lips. Oh, to be perfect in every way. Maybe it is her that he has feelings for. I wouldn't blame him, if I were a man, I'd probably be besotted with her. She floats over, sitting beside me on the bed.

"I'm not going to ask if you're alright but I do want to know that you can talk to me," she says, her fingers reaching out to brush away frizzy hair from my face. I can't help thinking that she would be a beautiful mother. I imagine kids with long red hair, Torj's hair, running around. The thought only sinks me further into the cocoon, knowing that image could never be true.

I push myself up, the blankets covering my shoulders as I try to wipe the side of my face that feels squished.

"I just…" I sigh, placing my head in my hands, "don't know how to handle it."

"Handle what?"

"Loving someone," I confess. "And not having them love you back. With Leon it was easy, we just knew. We never even had to talk about it. Everything just fell into place." I lift my head, trying to fight against my mind-crushing my body. "But this is so hard! To stand back a-a-and watch him go about his life with no idea."

Esme licks her lips in thought. "I know it's hard. I still love Torj but I don't even get to see him anymore and I don't think I could love anybody else. It hurts not to see him every day that I wake up. I don't want that for you."

I don't say anything, not even sure what I could say to someone in her position.

"Does he know?" she asks. I shake my head, picking at the skin around my nail. "Then why don't you tell him?"

"Because he doesn't feel the same. He told me about his feelings for another," I say. My stomach rumbles as though physically reacting to the memory. "I don't want him to see me and…him not be able to even talk to me anymore. I don't want to ruin things with him."

"So you're close to him?"

My mouth opens and closes like a fish, realising my unconscious confession. "You could say that," I huff. "Look, it will be alright. I will learn to live with it and maybe it will all go away."

I push myself off the bed, forcing a smile on my lips and I look as though I was never upset in the first place. Nobody has to know.

"Thank you," I say, smiling broadly. "But I'm fine."

"Alright," she says, looking me once over. "You know where my room is. Come find me if you need anything."