Chapter 2

Merlin rode blindly through the wilderness. He had only ridden a horse a handful of times in his life, but he would've had to be an idiot not to notice that his current mount was exhausted. He wasn't shocked when, not fifteen minutes later, the horse he'd stolen refused to take another step.

He jumped down from the mare's back and examined her. Her sides were heaving and wet with sweat. Her eyes rolled as they regarded him warily. Probably can smell my fear. Knows I'm a stranger.

"Sorry, girl," he murmured, rubbing the horse's nose. He found a water skin in the supplies and opened it up so the horse could drink. She might have belonged to the enemy, but she didn't deserve to be treated badly for it.

Though it looked like Merlin would have to go on foot from here.

He wanted to go home. It didn't matter that they would expect him to go there. They hadn't hurt his mother before, but nothing would stop them from returning and punishing her now in his stead. He had to beat them there. Beat them there, get his mother, and run. They could hide in the caves near Ealdor, which Merlin and Will had explored since boyhood and which were impossible for strangers to navigate.

His only problem was that he didn't know where he was.

His head was pounding. The knights must have knocked him out when they captured him. It would explain why he had no memory of it. The last thing he remembered, actually, was saying 'bye to Will and walking home from fishing in the creek.

"How did they find me?" he mumbled to the horse. He thought he had been careful. Sure, Will knew, and sure, most of the village didn't like him, but he still thought he had kept his secret.

It didn't matter. They knew, and they were hunting him. He had to get his mother and get them both to safety. Merlin was all too aware of what Camelot did to those with magic.

This was his worst nightmare coming true.

Merlin let the horse drink, giving it as much time as he dared, before he snagged a second water skin from the supplies and darted away into the trees. It was a clear night, and the stars shined brightly overhead. If the knights had been taking him back to Camelot, which lay to the west of Ealdor, all Merlin needed to do was put the north star to his left until he came to more familiar environs.

He jogged for a long time. At least it felt like a long time. Merlin was not especially athletic. His breaths came raggedly, his sides were hitched, and his head was pounding worse than before. Sooner than he would have liked, Merlin had to pause to catch his breath. He leaned against a tree, panting and wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.

Incidentally, he noticed his sleeve. He was wearing his jacket, the nice one his mother promised he'd grow into, two years ago when she'd given it to him. The strange thing was, he didn't remember putting it on that morning. It had been stored in his chest for the last few weeks. Even stranger, when he looked at it closer, was that it was a lot more worn than last he'd seen it. The leather had been rubbed soft in places and mended in others, with scratches and scuffs littering it.

He glanced at the rest of his clothes. They looked like clothes he would wear. They were the colors he liked. He was wearing a neckerchief, a habit he'd recently taken up, on Will's advice. But, they were not his clothes. They were newer, of slightly better quality, and a little too big.

Merlin had no clue how to account for this.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Am I dreaming?"

He shook his head. He had more important things to worry about. Taking a deep breath, Merlin forced his legs to carry him a little farther.

Merlin stumbled a few times in the undergrowth. It was dark, and he wasn't the most graceful of people on his best days. The fifth time he stumbled, he tripped over a particularly sneaky root and sprawled on his face in the dirt. His water skin landed a few feet away and leaked its contents into the ground.

"No," he moaned, scrambling over on hands and knees to the skin. He picked it up, but it was empty.

He should have used his magic to freeze it before it could hit the ground. Any other day, his magic would have done the job by itself. Of course, it would choose now to curl up and not show its face. It was really helpful that way. Really.

Scowling, Merlin pushed to his feet, only to be knocked down a second later. "Oof!"

Above him, pinning him to the forest floor with knees and arms both, was the long-haired, scruffy knight from earlier.

"Hey there, my friend," said the man, smirking.

"Gag him, so he can't incant," ordered the other knight from nearby.

"Got it," grunted the one on Merlin. He pulled Merlin's neckerchief loose, put the middle in Merlin's mouth, and started to tie it behind his head, all the while pinning Merlin's arms down with his knees. When he finished gagging Merlin, the knight pulled Merlin upright and kneeled behind him, using Merlin's own belt to start tying his wrists.

The angry blond knight crouched down at eye-level with Merlin, scrutinizing him. His face was stony. It was rather frightening, if Merlin were to be frank. He'd rather the man be wearing an open expression of hate, or disgust, or pride in catching the runaway sorcerer, or anything else.

The blond's eyes narrowed a fraction, and he muttered, almost too softly for Merlin to hear, "What has she done to you?"

The words made no sense to Merlin, and Merlin didn't care enough to ponder them. He was just about finished being trussed up like a prisoner. Gathering his magic, Merlin inhaled through his nose and let out a wave of energy that threw his captors backward.

Awkwardly, Merlin got his feet underneath him. He knew he should keep running, but he was tired, and they would just catch him again. He needed to try another strategy.

Merlin used his magic to free his hands and then yanked the kerchief from his mouth, letting it fall about his neck. He backed away, putting a few feet of safety between himself and his pursuers, and waited as they got to their feet.

"Would you stop that?" snarled the blond knight. "My god, the next time you do that, I'm going to knock you unconscious."

Merlin shook his head. "Wouldn't try it if I were you."

"Oh really?" the knight sneered.

"I don't want to hurt you," Merlin warned.

"You, hurt me?"

"You don't think I can?"

The blond laughed, glancing to his partner as though to confirm that Merlin was making a joke. The scruffy knight did not, however, seem amused. In fact, he was scowling at the blond.

"Princess," said Scruffy, "why don't I take it from here?"

"I'm perfectly able to-"

"Rile him up? Yes, I noticed." Scruffy didn't wait for Princess's approval. Turning back to Merlin, he unbelted his sword and tossed it aside, then raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Merlin," he said, feigning kindness. "We're not here to hurt you."

"You could have fooled me," Merlin retorted.

"Look, mate," said Scruffy.

"I'm not your mate," snapped Merlin. The way the knight was trying to act like his friend was beginning to unnerve him.

"Okay, whatever you like. Let's just calm down and talk this over. There's obviously been a misunderstanding here. Why don't you tell us exactly why you think we're your enemy?"

Merlin gaped. "A misunderstanding? What's there to not understand? You're knights of Camelot. You found out about me, arrested me, kidnapped me from my home and you're hauling me back to Camelot to have me executed. Forgive me if thinking you're my enemy has offended you."

The two knights looked at each other. "Why do you think you'd be executed?" said the blond.

Merlin was growing gradually more and more confused. "Why else? I have magic."

The blond scoffed. "You don't have magic."

"Um." Had the knight banged his head earlier when Merlin threw him? "No, I'm pretty sure I do."

"No, you don't," Princess insisted.

This man was surely daft. Slowly, Merlin explained, "I just threw you a dozen feet through the air… with my mind. I have magic."

"But it's not your magic, don't you see?" said the knight. "You're under an enchantment."

Merlin wasn't sure what else he was supposed to do here. This situation was quickly getting away from him. These men, the both of them, were mad. Dealing with knights who were following the laws of the realm was one thing, but madmen followed laws known only to themselves. That made them all the more dangerous.

"O-kaaay," he said. "Let's assume you're right. I'm under an enchantment. Exactly what are you planning to do with me?"

Scruffy smiled softly. "We're taking you to see Gaius, Camelot's Court Physician. He'll be able to cure you."

"Gaius?" said Merlin. He knew that name. Gaius was an old friend of his mother's.

"Will you come with us?" asked Scruffy.

Merlin most certainly was not going to go with these men. "Why can't I just go home to Ealdor? If you're not arresting me, you can let me go. I swear I've never hurt anyone with my magic. Never will. I hardly even use it." The last part was a lie, but it couldn't hurt his case.

"Merlin," Princess sighed impatiently. He said Merlin's name with such familiarity that the boy's skin crawled.

"You claim you're not my enemies. Just let me go," Merlin pleaded.

"We're your friends, you imbecile," said the blond. "We're trying to help you!"

"Look," said Scruffy, glaring at Princess again, "if it would make you feel better, we can stop by Ealdor first. You can see your mother. She can explain things to you."

"Ealdor's a full day's ride from Camelot!" protested Princess.

"You swear you won't hurt her?" said Merlin.

"On our lives," replied Scruffy solemnly, placing a hand over his heart.

The word of a madman didn't mean much, but it looked like the best deal Merlin was going to get. He relented. "Alright." And before they could get their hopes up, he added, "We go to Ealdor first, and then I'll consider going with you to Camelot. I'm not going to promise you anything."

"Fair enough," said Scruffy, despite his partner's obvious displeasure. "Now, let's get back to our horses, shall we?"

A very disgruntled Princess led the way through the bushes, while Scruffy fell into step beside Merlin. "Name's Gwaine, by the way," he said, extending a hand.

Reluctantly, Merlin accepted it. "Merlin. Suppose you knew that already, though."

"Pleasure to meet you, Merlin. Ah, and my grumpy friend up ahead is called Arthur."

"I heard that!"

They set up camp again after leading the horses to a clearing. Arthur took the first watch; his mind was too riled for sleep. The same couldn't be said for Merlin who, once they assured him he wouldn't be tied up and gagged overnight, fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the ground. Gwaine followed shortly after, and then the horses, leaving Arthur alone in the night.

He stared pensively into the fire. Arthur hated that they were going to make this detour. They needed to take Merlin to Gauis, and every minute they wasted was another minute that Merlin would be suffering under this curse.

He hated that Merlin did not recognize them, did not trust them. He hated that Morgana, for some twisted purpose, had given the young man magic – Merlin, who feared magic above all things. It was twisted, that this should befall him. The whole situation made Arthur angry. No, he was furious.

He took the pouch from his belt and fingered the necklace through the leather. He was certain that the necklace had been intended for him and him alone. Arthur was the only person for whom the necklace would have had any meaning. Just what had Morgana intended? Perhaps she had aimed to make Arthur younger, bequeath him magic, kidnap him, and raise him as some evil apprentice. Had she gone beyond killing him in her plan for revenge and thus decided to corrupt him?

Arthur's eyes drifted from the flames to Merlin. His face, smooth in slumber, was illuminated by the campfire. It looked so innocent. He was only a boy.

What if Arthur had not wrenched the necklace from Merlin when he did? How much farther would the curse have gone? Would it have reverted Merlin to a child, a mere babe? Or worse, would it even have stopped? What if the curse had simply wiped Merlin from existence?

Arthur shivered. Such a thing was too horrible to think about. He shoved the necklace back into his belt before he could do something reckless, like throw it into the fire.

The night passed. Arthur woke Gwaine for his turn at watch and settled into his own bedroll. Somehow, he fell asleep. His dreams were haunted by the golden flash of Merlin's eyes through the dark and the sensation of being blasted backwards by his magic.

The morning was warm and bright, only the barest crisp of lingering winter in the air. Arthur awoke to see Gwaine crouched over Merlin, shaking the boy's shoulder.

Merlin rubbed his eyes with his fists and blinked blearily into the knight's face. "Oh," he said. "It's you."

"Good morning to you, too," said Gwaine.

Merlin's eyes found Arthur next, and the distaste that was there last night seemed only to have doubled with the day. Arthur narrowed his eyes. He understood why Merlin currently did not like him, but he didn't have to be so obvious about it.

Arthur got up and started to roll up his bed. "How do you feel?" he asked his manservant in the most offhand way he could manage.

"…Fine."

"Right then. Get your lazy arse up and help put away camp."

Glaring at Arthur all the while, Merlin did as he was told. He did a pretty shoddy job of it, too, but he at least remembered which horse he was using.

As he walked past Merlin to Llamrei, Arthur shoved a heel of bread into the boy's hands. "Here," he said. "Eat on the road."

"Someone obviously got up on the wrong side of the bedroll," Merlin muttered.

It was exactly the sort of thing Merlin would say. However, unlike the usual with Merlin, the words weren't teasing. They were dripping scorn.

Before Arthur could offer a harsh retort, Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder, hard. "Don't mind the Princess, here. He's not a morning person."

"Doesn't seem to be a night person either. Is there an hour in the afternoon when he suffers a glorious transformation into a likeable person?"

Arthur's lip twitched. "Merlin," he said, voice low and dangerous. "If you were not infirmed, I would…" He trailed off. Let the boy imagine the worst.

Merlin only smirked. He tossed his bread into the air, his eyes flashed that awful gold, and the bread landed again on the tip of his forefinger, where it twirled impossibly. "You would…?" he prompted. "Sorry, didn't catch that."

Gwaine laughed and mounted his horse. "You're poking a lion, my friend," he chuckled. "Come on, then, long way to Ealdor and all that."

Arthur restrained himself from throwing something – a pot, a rock, his dagger – at his manservant's head. He swung into the saddle and trotted Llamrei to the head of their party, preparing to lead the group onward. "Let's go," he growled.

"Hey, hang on!" came Merlin's voice. "I haven't even had a chance to… you know…"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "What is it?"

"First thing of a morning, a person's got to… one's needs…"

"He means he has to take a piss," said Gwaine bluntly. Arthur was pleased to watch Merlin's whole face turn a bright shade of red.

"Be quick about it," huffed the king.

Once Merlin had finished taking care of his 'needs', Arthur led their small group back to the road, the main thoroughfare between Camelot and the east. While not always the safest and absolutely the least anonymous route they could have taken, it was the fastest, and Arthur hoped if they ran into a patrol that he could send word of his whereabouts back to the citadel. Leon, Percival, and Elyan would surely arrive to Camelot first, and he did not wish for them to panic when they discovered their king had never made it.

They started by travelling in single-file, Arthur in front, Gwaine covering the rear. Soon, Gwaine broke formation to draw up next to Merlin for a chat. Arthur listened to their voices behind him.

"So, Merlin," the knight drawled. "Just how old are you these days?"

The boy's answer was surly: "I'm seventeen."

Arthur's stomach did a flip. That was eight years' difference. This was a Merlin two years younger than the one who had come to Camelot, and almost a decade younger than Arthur was now.

"What about you?" asked Merlin, tone suspicious.

Gwaine chuckled. "Lost track of it somewhere. I reckon twenty-six, twenty-seven, and give or take three years."

"And that is what happens when you spend all of your time in a tavern," said Arthur over his shoulder. A preemptive warning couldn't hurt. It seemed like in recent years his Merlin did nothing but spend his time off in taverns.

"Ah, but that's the beauty of a tavern. You can forget the unimportant things in life."

"Like the year you were born?" asked Arthur incredulously.

"In the grand scheme, what does a man's age matter? How about you, Merlin? Let me buy you a drink?"

"Stop trying to corrupt him," Arthur scolded.

Merlin laughed. "No danger there," he said. "My mother forbids me to drink."

"Aw, how come?" said Gwaine.

"Um, because of the, you know…"

"The what?"

"…magic."

Reflexively, Arthur checked the road to make sure they were alone. It wouldn't help for anyone to know that the king of Camelot was escorting a sorcerer, regardless of Merlin being under enchantment.

"Seems like it'd make the drinking that much more fun," commented Gwaine.

"She's afraid I'll lose control. Or, what little control I have. That isn't to say I don't have control, only sometimes I have accidents, and I'm sure mead wouldn't help things any. I'm supposed to keep it a secret." He sighed. "It seems I'm not doing a very good job of it, if you two found out… It is only you two, isn't it?"

That was right. Merlin had at first assumed Arthur and Gwaine's purpose was to arrest him and take him back to Camelot for his execution, as a sorcerer guilty of using magic. The thought left a very bad taste in Arthur's mouth. It was difficult to imagine his manservant, strapped to a pyre, pale and fearful in his last seconds of life.

"Gwaine," Arthur called. He waved a hand to beckon his knight forward. They needed to get their stories straight or risk the idiot trying to run away again. The little trust they had from him was shaky, at best, and could be lost in an instant.

"Something the matter?" said Gwaine, after pulling his horse beside Arthur's.

"We shouldn't tell him what's happened," said Arthur. "Not yet. He wouldn't believe us, and it would only encourage him to steal our horses again."

"Did you decide this before or after you told him he was under an enchantment last night? You know he thinks we're lunatics."

Arthur ground his teeth. "I realize that. We just need a story to tell him until we reach Ealdor. He might not believe us, but he'll believe Hunith."

"Is there a reason you two are whispering?" Merlin called. "I must warn you that whatever you tell me next, I'll have to assume it's a lie. I'm not an idiot."

"Follow my lead," Arthur instructed. He slowed Llamrei until she was on Merlin's left, while Gwaine pulled back along Merlin's right.

"Here's the way things are, Merlin. Gwaine and myself are part of a… rehabilitation effort," said Arthur, wincing. It would have to do. "There's currently a sorceress in Camelot who is enchanting the youth and granting them magic powers in exchange for their service."

"You haven't seen such a woman, have you?" asked Gwaine. "You'd know her immediately. Black hair, black clothes, scary, doesn't seem to bathe?"

"Um, no…"

"She probably wiped his memory of it," said Arthur to Gwaine, as though this was common and expected in their line of work. Gwaine nodded in the affirmative.

"What does this have to do with me?" asked Merlin.

"We realize that these victims of Morgana's are innocent. Rather than punish them, we'd prefer to cure them, and it turns out our physician, Gaius, has discovered a way to break the enchantment. Our job is to round up these youths and return them to Camelot-"

"-cure them, and send them home again," finished Gwaine cheerfully.

Merlin frowned at his saddle horn. "That's all very well and good, but how did you find out about me?"

Arthur and Gwaine stared at each other across the horses. Gwaine made a gesture conveying something like, It's all yours, sire. Arthur sighed and said the first thing that came to mind. "Gaius is an old friend of your mother's, is he not?"

"Yes...?"

"Well, that's how we know about you," proclaimed the king. "Your mother sent a letter to Gaius."

"My mother thinks I'm enchanted?"

"Magic is very tricky," said Gwaine. "It can make you believe things that aren't true, change your memories in mysterious ways."

"It once made my father fall in love with a troll," said Arthur. "Where he saw a beautiful young maid, everyone around him saw a hideous and smelly beast."

"So whatever you believe about this magic you have, it probably isn't true," said Gwaine.

"Hunith wanted to help you, sent a letter to Gaius, and he sent us to bring you to him," said Arthur. He was impressed with the apparent validity of their story. It very well could have been true, considering what he'd seen of magic in his life.

"So you snuck up on me, knocked me out, and carried me away into the night?" said Merlin. "Like common criminals, I might add."

"Would you have come with us willingly?" asked Gwaine.

"Maybe if my mother had said right out, 'Merlin, go with these men to Camelot to see my friend Gaius, they'll bring you right back'." He gave them both a very pointed and irritated look.

"That's our fault," said Gwaine. "Most of these youths don't come without a fight. Our apologies, mate."

"But when we reach Ealdor, your mother will confirm whatever we say to be true," added Arthur. He reached out and grabbed Merlin's shoulder, ignoring the boy's look of disgust, and squeezed it encouragingly. "Then we'll have you back to your old self in no time, good as new."

"Right," said Merlin. "I guess we'll see."

"So we will," agreed Arthur.

They travelled along the same road for the rest of the day. For a while, the knight called Gwaine continued to make small talk, but Merlin was too wrapped up in his thoughts to have any interest in answering. After a few cold, single-worded replies from Merlin, the scruffy knight gave up and left him alone.

He was mulling over the story they had fed him. His heart was in turmoil, torn between suspicion and, though he was loathe to admit it, hope.

Merlin hesitated to believe that what these men said was true. Yet they knew about his mother, they knew about Gaius, they knew about his magic, and whatever their true intent, they were escorting him east along a road Merlin knew would bring them to Cenred's kingdom and Ealdor. It was the road the Camelot merchants used when they came to his village, he was certain of it.

The knights claimed that his memories had been manipulated by a witch, and it was true, his memories did seem a little… off. He never had found an answer to the mystery regarding his clothing. This enchantment could perhaps explain that as well.

So, besides a distrustful feeling in his stomach, he had no reason to think these knights were liars.

But if they were telling the truth –

As far as Merlin knew, he had had this magic since the day he was born. Moving objects with his mind felt as natural to him as breathing. He had never known the reason for his magic, however, and he had never heard of a person who could use magic without studying it. That meant he was a freak. He was a monster.

It was so much a part of him, sometimes his magic came out on accident. He hadn't ever hurt anyone, but those incidents were dangerous, for himself, for his mother. The whole village knew he was strange, and they treated him as if he were a leper.

There had been so many days Merlin wished he did not have this magic, that he could have been normal. Will insisted the magic was a good thing, that it not only made Merlin special but also made him powerful, but Merlin had trouble seeing it. He couldn't bring himself to be thankful for this curse.

But these men claimed his memories had been manipulated. This magic wasn't his. He could be cured.

Merlin was far too old to believe in wishes being granted, but it was like someone had heard his prayers and sent a solution. Gaius would take away his magic. He would finally be free of this.

He shook his head frantically. He was getting carried away. If they were lying, his hope would only make their betrayal that much more painful.

But if they took his magic away, he could do anything. He could be anybody. He would be free.

"You're unusually quiet, Merlin," said the blond knight, Arthur. He was Merlin's least favorite of the two knights. The man seemed to anger easily, felt the need to insult Merlin with words like 'idiot' and 'imbecile', and had a pompous air about him. Merlin had realized it immediately – this man was an arrogant and self-entitled prat.

"I rather prefer it when you're quiet," said Merlin. Behind him, Gwaine laughed heartily.

Arthur stiffened in his seat, and was just making to turn around when something caught his eye up ahead, saving Merlin from the knight's ire. There was a patrol of three knights up the road, wearing the Pendragon red. Arthur spurred his horse on to meet them.

Some words were exchanged, but Merlin and Gwaine were too far away to hear them. Arthur gestured their way a few times, pointed in the direction of Ealdor, and frowned a lot. The knights nodded their understanding and bowed to him – it would seem Arthur had some superiority among the knights – before riding with him up the road.

Merlin couldn't help but notice how the three knights stared at him oddly as they rode past. They seemed bewildered. But, whatever. Merlin hardly cared what opinion a random patrol of knights had of him.

"Sent word back to Camelot," Arthur offered as way of explanation.

"Yes, wouldn't want Sir Leon's panties in a wad when he returns to Camelot and can't find you."

"Gwaine." Arthur's voice was a restrained growl. "I realize you're a commoner, but there is a level of respect among the knights."

Gwaine was a commoner? Merlin hadn't known someone not of noble blood could be in the knights, but maybe that was only a custom in Cenred's kingdom. It would explain why Merlin liked Gwaine a fair lot better than Arthur.

"And I treat everyone with as much respect as I think they deserve," was the man's reply.

Merlin snorted, but resumed a straight face when Arthur's glare was directed his way.

"Think that's funny, do you, Merlin?" said the blond knight.

"No, sir," said Merlin quickly.

"Come now," said Arthur with a smirk, "since we're all being honest. Tell us what you think."

"Alright," said Merlin. He'd take up the challenge. "I think that my opinion of Gwaine improves with every word out of his mouth."

Gwaine laughed. "See, Princess? Merlin's on my side."

Arthur ignored the other knight. "Oh? And what of your opinion of me?"

Merlin considered his next words carefully. "Yes, my opinion of you is also changing." Before Arthur could look too pleased, he continued, "Regrettably, it's moving in the opposite direction."

That had Gwaine downright guffawing. Merlin, too, couldn't help but grin, especially at the sour look on Arthur's face. The knight, so stormy the air around him might have grown darker, turned his horse around and increased his pace down the road.

"It's fun, isn't it?" said Gwaine, winking.

"What is?"

"Teasing the princess."

"Oh, I'm not teasing," said Merlin. "I genuinely don't like him." From the jerk of Arthur's shoulders, it appeared that the knight could hear him. Merlin couldn't care less; Arthur had asked him to be honest, after all.

"You don't mean that," said Gwaine. "'Course you like him."

"No, I don't. Why would I? He's a complete prat."

Gwaine's expression was not as amused as Merlin hoped it would be. Rather, he looked disappointed. "Well, at least some things haven't changed," he said, voice melancholy.

Merlin felt very awkward now. He gulped. "I don't suppose anyone would mind if we returned to not talking to each other?"

"That's the first intelligent thing you've said all day," said the blond knight. "In fact, why don't you shut up for the rest of our journey? I can't stand to listen to you."

Merlin winced at the amount of poison in the man's words.

"You hurt his feelings," whispered Gwaine. "Give him some time. He'll forgive you." He mentioned these things as though Merlin was supposed to care.

Yes, not talking to each other would make this journey infinitely easier, Merlin decided.

The sun was setting by the time they reached the hills near Ealdor, finally in territory that Merlin recognized. Arthur led them off of the road and began to take off his cape. Gwaine did the same.

"Any reason we're undressing? Should I shed my jacket?" said Merlin.

"King Lot isn't a fan of strangers," said Gwaine, stuffing his cape into his saddlebags.

Merlin didn't miss the way Arthur's eyes widened or the frustrated gesture he made at Gwaine.

"Don't you mean Cenred?" said Merlin. "Ealdor belongs to Essetir. I'm a peasant and my geography is better than yours."

"Cenred. My bad." Gwaine shrugged. "Arthur was right. Too much time in the tavern does things to the mind."

"What Gwaine said stands true," said Arthur. "The Camelot sigil would not be welcomed in Essetir. From here on, we travel as unaligned knights."

Another half an hour brought them to the farms around Ealdor. Night had fallen on the land, and most people had retired indoors, to Merlin's great relief. He hated to think of the rumors that would spread if his neighbors spotted him with two knights.

Once in the village, they dismounted and led their horses to his house, first tethering the animals at the fence and then approaching the door. Arthur had his hand raised to knock, but Merlin thought that was ridiculous. He ducked under the knight's arm and pushed the door open.

"Mother, I'm home," he said.

His mother stood up from the table with a gasp, dropping the mending from her hands. "Merlin!" she exclaimed. Then her eyes went to his companions and became wide as dishes. "K-King Arthur!"

… King? Merlin glanced back at the knights and watched Arthur incline his head. "Hunith. Forgive us our imposition."

"My lord, my house is yours." Flustered, she offered their only two chairs for the knights to sit in. Neither Arthur nor Gwaine accepted.

"Please, Hunith, sit." Arthur's eyes flicked to Merlin, his expression unreadable. "We have some… news. You may find it distressing."

Hesitantly, his mother did as she was asked. Merlin strode to the other chair, placed it across from her, and sat down. Leaning forward, he said, "Mother, these men claim to be taking me to Camelot to cure me of my magic, at your request. Is this true?" He waited anxiously for her to confirm it. If she just said 'yes', then he could go with them in full faith to Camelot. In just one more day, he'd be free of his powers.

"Your magic?" she whispered. Her eyes trailed over him in the dim candlelight. "Merlin, what has happened to you?"

He frowned. "Mother?" Something was dreadfully wrong. His mother looked strange. There were more wrinkles in her face, her hair was streaked with gray. He'd never seen the clothes she wore, and he knew she only kept two dresses at a time. He looked around himself now; the house was wrong. Things had been moved. His belongings were gone.

It was the same as last night, when he had noticed something off about his clothes. What was going on here?

She reached out and cradled his face in one of her hands, studying it earnestly.

"As you can see," said Arthur, "Merlin has been affected by a terrible curse. Forgive me, Hunith, I could not protect him."

"He looks…"

"Younger?" said Arthur. "He says he is seventeen. His memories of the past eight years are missing, as well."

Tears welled in his mother's eyes. "Oh, my dear, sweet Merlin."

Merlin pulled away. He stood up. He backed toward the opposite door. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest.

"Someone, please, explain to me what is going on."

His own voice sounded foreign in his ears.

Everyone looked upon him as though he might break. All of them hesitated to speak. At last, it was Arthur who took the initiative. "Merlin, we lied to you earlier. Or, at least, we did not tell you the entire truth. You have been enchanted, yes, and it was by the witch Morgana. We simply did not tell you the full extent of her enchantment."

"Well," said Merlin impatiently, almost hysterically, "tell me!"

"I will. It's as simple as this: two days ago you were twenty-five years old. We had been searching for Morgana and came across one of her hiding places. She had set a trap for me, but you intercepted it, and it affected you in my stead. It, I don't know, stole eight years of your life."

He shook his head. "You're lying," he spat.

"Your mother will vouch for me," said Arthur with uncharacteristic patience.

Merlin looked to her, the woman who was dearer to him than any person in the world. Tears were streaming down her face, glinting orange in the candlelight. Her hands were clapped over her mouth, but she nodded, and managed to gasp out, "He is telling the truth. He must be."

"No," said Merlin. He could feel his jaw quivering. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides. "I don't believe you." He hardly noticed when the candles flared several inches taller or when the table began to shake.

His mother stood and reached out a hand toward him. "Merlin, you must calm down."

Arthur was telling the truth. It was why his clothes were not his, why his mother was older, why his house had changed, why King Lot now apparently ruled the lands of Essetir, why the knights had called him their 'friend'. It explained everything. It meant he was missing eight years of memory.

And it meant that they could not cure him of his magic.

He was bewildered. He didn't know if he was supposed to feel angry or scared. Hot tears began to roll over his cheeks. Before anyone could see, he spun around, used his magic to fling open the back door, strode through it, and slammed it back with magic to discourage anyone from following.

A/N: Good news - I actually have the first TEN chapters ready to go, not just the first seven. So, that will take us all the way to Valentine's Day, 2021.

(Also, I'm changing to Saturday updates.)

So, this story is basically one miscommunication after the other. Characters leaping to conclusions or failing to express themselves clearly, which lands them in deeper and deeper trouble. These little misunderstandings will just keep building on one another into a giant convoluted mess. I love it.

Arthur is also just one big mood through the whole thing.

Thanks to: CottageCheese6535, Taz, Krista Perry, Gingeraffealene, emrysmorgan, and Guests for your reviews of Chapter 1!

Stay tuned for Chapter 3 on November 14~

Happy Halloween!