They rode along for a few hours without stopping, silent, their minds plagued by horrible images spawned by there new found information. Finally they slowed their mounts to a walk to rest.

Soon, night was approaching as they neared the edge of the wood, to the west away from Camelot and towards the White Mountains. Without much verbal agreement they decided to make camp near the edge of the forest. Leon went to find firewood, Gwaine unpacked what they would need for the night ahead, while Percival tended to the horses. Arthur tied his horse and sat by a near by tree, one hand covering his face.

After the fire was lit and the sun had nearly set Gwaine and Percival relieved the riderless horse it's burden. They had just gotten Merlin free of the many blankets and lifted him, when something caught Arthur's attention, but quickly brushed it off as a trick of the light.

Their unconscious friend was placed by the fire, about to be wrapped in the blankets again when something caught Gwaine's attention, his hand moving to Merlin's forehead.

"I think he's got a fever." he said, slightly loud in the almost constant silence. Percival, on the other side of their friend moved to get a cloth to cool his temperature, jarring arm and sleeve of the servant.

"What in the hell?-"

Percival stopped and turned, as did the king and curly haired knight, to Gwaine who quickly rolled up Merlin's sleeve.

His arm turned palm up, a discernible black line ran up his arm from his hand. It was similar to that of a tree, a distinct straight center stroke up his forearm with branches jutting out, frayed at the ends. Confused and startled, Gwaine moved the arm towards the light of the fire for the rest to see.

"Is this what they meant about the curse spreading?" asked Leon.

"It must mean he's fighting," the tall knight concluded, bending to see, leaning his hands on his knees, continuing as the others seemed puzzled. "since he has a fever." explained Percival.

Standing straight again he made his way back to the horses. Returning moments later with a cloth and a water skin. Gwaine administered the cool cloth to the burning man's head, who began to sweating and shaking. The long haired knight propped up Merlin's head and moved the water skin to his mouth. He managed to coax a decent amount of water down the feverish man's throat.

Arthur turned away, keeping his his gaze on the fire.

"Sire?" Leon asked, coming to sit beside the king.

Arthur's eyes never left the fire. "He's been my friend for all these years, stayed by my side through every hardship, and lied to me through it all. At times I feel I barely know him."

It was the first time in many weeks the king spoke opening with one of his knights. Leon felt encouraged by that but sighed at the impossible situation and in sympathy for the young monarch.

"Yes, he has done many wrongs, lied and deceived us." He paused, his gaze meeting his friend's once more. Leon shook his head a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"And yet here we are racing toward a slim chance to save him. His loyalty is unyielding and so is ours. Perhaps we know him better than you think."

He opened his eyes, or he thought he did, confused as there was only darkness. He got to his feet looking for any hint of light, but even as he looked up, or where he assumed the sky would be, he couldn't find a single star in the heavens.

"Gaius? Gwen? Gwaine?"

Nothing.

"Percival? Leon?"

Empty. He could hardly make out his own echo.

'Probably not a cave then.' he guessed.

"Arthur?"

He looked down at his feet, though the surrounds were no different.

'What is this?' he thought. 'Where am I?'

He had been slightly concerned that non of his companions answered him but this mostly puzzled him. Ready to take hold of the situation, he closed his eyes twitching his fingers at his sides, reaching for his ever present abilities that made him who he was. His magic.

His eyes flew open and he hissed, as though his hand had made contact with boiling water. His magic had refused him? Burned him?

How was that possible? I had always been such a (huge part of him). As normal, and natural as the air in his lungs. He took a deep breath to calm himself and clear his mind.

And there they were. Barely discernible in the absolute silence, a hushed noise. Whispers? Where their people near after all? Even if they were friend or foe the only way to find out would be to get there attention.

"Hello?"

All at once the whispers bombarded his ears, talking, screaming, whispering, echoing. The sounds were becoming unbearable, unable to pick out a single one to focus on. He clapped his hands over his ears, surprised when it made no difference whatsoever.

"Stop!" he yelled. He could have sworn the voices intensified. Then it occurred to him, even if he pleaded they wouldn't stop, he couldn't see them to find out what was going on, his magic would not help him. He could only wait it out.

As suddenly as they had come, they left. He looked around, relief and confusion rushing through him. Slowly he brought his hands away from his ears, having kept them there only for the illusion of comfort in having some control.

The area came to life temporarily blinding him. He took his arm away from face as he adjusted to the dim lighting. Looking around he found he was in the crypts of Camelot. Rising to his feet again, when had he collapsed to his knees? He saw a familiar finger that sent a thrill of shock and fear through him.

Morgana? But this wasn't the Morgana he knew today, she was dressed in chain mail as though ready to battle, a sword a her side, sitting loosely in her hand. He realized he was wrong before he knew this Morgana, and he knew, like the High Priestess she was today, there was nothing he could say to help her. She was already too far gone.

Keeping the weapon at her side, she walked closer to him, confident as though nothing could hurt her. She stopped less then eight feet from him, smiling incredulously.

"You don't know what it's like to have magic, Merlin." Her face slid to grimace. "To be ashamed of how you born, to have to hide who you are!"

The guilt and pain swirled just as fresh as... His eyes widened in surprise this wasn't just an illusion, it had happened years ago. A memory.

Pain exploded in his head along with crippling nausea and anxiety. He couldn't understand what was happening, couldn't think straight. He crumpled to the ground noticing the change in the light, though he eyes had closed.

His eyes opened as he looked for the reason for the dimmer lights. He found the moon, shining brightly above even as the area was covered in a thick fog. The courtyard was littered with bodies, as he looked around to distract him from the thought pulling at his mind.

'Did I do this?'

To his adverse relief, he found another figure wearing a large black feathered coat. He came through fog into the clearing that incased a portion of the courtyard.

"He doesn't deserve you're loyalty." The returned sorcerer cocked his head slightly to the side, studying him as confusion colored his face. "He cast you aside without a moment's thought."

Why were these memories coming back to him? Was there, even in it's smallest form, any doubt that choosing to save Arthur had been wrong? No, that couldn't-

"It must hurt, so much to be put upon, so over looked when all the while you have such power."

He remembered this conversation as it had plagued his thoughts in the weeks that followed, coming back every now and then.

"That's the way it has to be." he had said, wishing it were not true.

"Does it? Look inside yourself. You have yet to discover your true power. Think, Merlin, to have the world appreciate your greatness, to have Arthur know you for what you are."

"That can never be." he stated. The words cutting him like glass, jagged, able to separately pierce every part a sword would miss.

"Together we can rule over this land. Arthur will tremble at your voice, he will kneel at your feet."

But he had never wanted that. Not to rule. Just to have a friend who he could be himself around, to not have to lie while the other's trust in him grew. To be rid of the crushing pain and guilt he had to hide, to be free.

"You'd rather be a servant?"

"Better to serve a good man then to rule with an evil one!"

But did that apply to the one he had been protecting? In the beginning Arthur had treated him unfairly, bullied him. Over the years he had been dragging out on hunting trips, quests. He had been in and out of the cells, kidnapped, injured, on the brink of death, fought bandits, witches, creatures of magic, and willing to trade his life in exchange for the man that had put him through this? The one some unknowable power had declared he protect?

What must it feel like to give so much and to be turned on after years of devotion? To have to hide who you are to protect everyone? Knowing that if you didn't keep yourself in control you could hurt the ones you hold dear? After all you have been through what does it feel like to no be enough?

His surroundings changed again, this time appearing to be a wooden room.

The younger man stood there, small tears in his eyes.

"You've been pretending for so long now that you've actually forgotten who you are."

"No." he whispered aloud, but had he?

He looked down, his hands on his head, trying to think of all the reasons he had said before to justify himself. But when he had spoken with Gilli he hadn't given any.

All your acting has seemed to back fire hasn't it? You're unwavering effort to keep your talents hidden only now when they realize you aren't yourself, and they do care, it's too late.

"It's time."

His head snapped up at the voice. The two guards stood in front of his cell, opening the lock.

Then he was walking in the shining sunlight. It had felt like weeks since he had felt the warm, comforting, rays. he allowed himself to be pulled along, Losing himself in the day's light, not caring the destination.

Something pulled at his wrists, biting into them. Opening his eyes again he was in the courtyard, the sun still radiating it's warmth. People were crowded around him, he pick out Leon, Percival, and Gwaine among them. They were glaring at him, giving him scathing looks rot with absolute disgust. He found Gaius, tears streaming from the grief stricken, aged face. He leant forward in an attempt to console his mentor, confused as to what had triggered this reaction. He didn't remember seeing Gaius cry before. But he couldn't move.

He looked around finding he was tied to a pole, standing on flat planks surrounded by branches and logs. Alarmed, he looked up half expecting to find Uther, but felt his stomach fall when he saw his son.

King Arthur wore a hard mask of pain and animosity standing beside his composed, melancholy, queen.

Pain gripped his stomach and chest again, ripping and clawing deep inside him.

Does he really need you? Are you really that important? He'd gotten on fine without you for years. Are you really that important?

"Arthur! Please! Don't-"

And the king's hand fell.

Smoke, thick and constricting burned in his lungs. He coughed to clear his air ways, to speak, then gasped, filling his aching chest again. It hurt to breathe causing him to cough, gagging at the thickening impurities. Heat was licking at his ankles, growing to hot against him even as he pulled in his toes. The flames were everywhere, rushing toward him as if they had waited years, unsatisfied with all the others they had devoured and surged through the wood to plunge their merciless heat through him.

He looked up and was just able to see his king through the thick smoke, to find his face hadn't changed. The man was undeniably Arthur standing tall in all his royal glory, but was no sorrow, or anger in his face. He looked undisturbed, almost indifferent as he watched his best friend burn.

How many times did he even bother to come and see how you were after that beating? Face it, you are nothing to him.

He screamed as the world was smothered in smoke and fire.

Just as he could no longer bear it, it stopped, the darkness blacker then the smoke. On his hands and knees he panted, sweat pouring off him, staring at the bleak nothingness. Finally, he let himself fall on to his back, the heat still tearing at his mind and searing his body. He felt exhausted, but this time the darkness didn't unnerve him. It was almost a preferred alternative now. He could think a bit more clearly, though he wished he could pass out.

The knights ate the bread, nuts, and cheese they brought, stoking the fire every now and again. Percival stared into the flames mentally mapping the quickest way to Isle of the Blessed.

"Does anyone else smell that?" he asked.

"Oh Percival, that's the worst cover I've ever-" Gwaine started.

"No, it's like something's burning."

"Again, that would be the fire." quipped Leon.

"I'm serious."

They stopped, searching the air. Their minds back in the present, they heard soft ragged breaths accompanying the odd scent. Percival left his spot, stooping down by their unconscious friend, and put a hand to his forehead.

"Come on, mate. A person can't catch fire just by laying next to it."

Percival snatched back his hand with a gasp. "He's-"

Nearly knocking into the brawny knight, Merlin sat bolt upright then quickly clutched his arms around him, bowing his head and groaning softly as his head swam.

"Merlin?"

The knights gaped to the man that their right remaining slightly wary of his reaction. Merlin turned to look at them, partly in response to his name being called, but mostly because of the warmth heating his left side. His clouded eyes immediately found the fire, cracking happily in the middle of their camp. Turning his head quickly as he could, he leaned to his right, away from the knights and the fire, and vomited.

Percival gently patted his back until he finished, shaken and sweating, while Gwaine brought a small strip of cloth and offered it to him. Merlin panted trembling on his knees, his eye wide and unseeing, unaware of the knight's presence. The knight pulled one of the many blankets putting it around his friend's shoulders. The servant relaxed somewhat, his attention moving to Gwaine. The knight smiled encouragingly as the warlock took a few deep breaths taking the cloth and removing the impurities around his mouth before sitting back and taking the water shakily, accepting a few sips of water.

The water was took the edge off the burning in his raw throat, comforting his slightly shaking body in it's coolness. He was finding it difficult to concentrate when the knight tried talking to him. His entirely body was sore, stinging in irregular intervals. Exhaustion tugged at the back of his mind, yet his senses remained on high alert.

You know why you're so distorted? You believed in him so much, gave up everything for your destiny, and how did he react?

Merlin sat back, trying to curl in on himself but his knee protested loudly causing him to hiss in pain and astonishment. Hadn't his knee been healing? Wasn't his magic suppose to be the reason for his quick recovery?

"Merlin?"

His head twitched toward the speaker but it took a moment for his attention to shift to the present. Gwaine knelt beside him moving slightly when his friend's eyes lock on him. Recovering just as quickly, he gave him a sad smile offering him his hand. "Want something to eat?"

As soon as Gwaine moved Merlin began scrambling back, his eyes wide with trepidation. The knight's compose cracked slightly his face fall with his shoulders. He quickly put his hands up trying to show he meant no harm, making Merlin stop his hasty retreat.

"It's okay, it's just me. Nothing is going to hurt you."

Gwaine had hoped this was what he needed to hear that might make him relax. It was worrying him to no end the normally chatty servant had not said one word.

Some small bit of clarity and recognition returned to his friend's eyes. "I-"

"You're alright, here." the knight reassured handing him a bowl of poorly made stew.

Merlin numbly accepted the food. His shoulder twinged at the small weight and he put it down quickly, his hand reaching to sooth the ache.

"You need to eat, Merlin." The king said. Misinterpreting his pain as a sign of dismissing the food.

The servant met the king's eyes and Arthur froze. Merlin's gaze had turn back to fear and intensified.

"Why? Won't you have me burned again?"

The king's face drain of color. What was this magic doing to him? Though the servant had not been himself, this man before him was scared, ill, and fragile.

Thankfully, Gwaine had taken Merlin's attention again and encouraged him to eat before the servant had to lie back down and drifted off.

"The events you spoke of before," asked Percival breaking the long silence, "were they true?"

Arthur nodded.

"But that wasn't all of it, was it?" stated Gwaine sitting back by the fire.

The king sighed. He wished it was, but there was little point in keeping it from them now. So he told them the rest of what Merlin had shown him.

"I- knew he was loyal, more so then any servant I had seen, different in many ways, but this-" Leon brought a hand through his hair reeling in shock.

"Incredible." Percival breathed.

Gwaine snorted, "I hardly ever saw his facade fade, even for and instant, and sometimes thought it was a trick of the light."

Another long silence stretched through the small camp, the soft breeze did nothing to ease the weight on their minds.

"He was drowning and no one saw him struggle."

Not long after the knight resigned themselves to a long uneasy nights sleep, though one seemed more troubled than the rest.

"How could you do this to me?" Arthur found himself yelling in frustration. He was a forest, the humid air unhelpful in calming his fury. Just a few feet away was a man he had trusted, yet another who had come to betray him.

"To you? I was born like this Arthur. I have a terrible power with which I have only sought to help people, and do you know what I was met with? Disgust, fear, hatred, distrust, and sometimes pity. I was forced to lie, to trick myself into believing I was worthless, to hide in the shadows in order to survive, becoming into someone I never wanted to be."

"All this time I've trusted you, and I never really knew you did I?"

"Yes, you did." For the first time he look downcast, as though something was being taken from him. "I had to conceal part of myself you were not ready to meet. But the second you learned of that part, what did you do? You had me hunted down, imprisoned in a cage of uncertainty, leaving me to madness. When you did decide to do something, I was cursed and guilt drove you to save me." His anguished face turned to distain. "Well you know what? I don't want your pity. I was someone who did everything to protect you, even if it meant forfeiting my life. But I am not something you can cast away and then mend so easily. I refuse to be shamed and damned by your word."

"You betrayed me!" Arthur yelled in desolation. Why did everyone, everyone, have to turn on him? What had he done to them but care for their well being?

"By what? Saving your life countless times? Being your friend? Doing whatever you asked of me no matter the cost? Saving your kingdom? Protecting everyone you cared about? Being born?"

"You broke the law just by coming here!"

"I came here to learn my purpose! If I hadn't come to Camelot I would never have met Gaius or learned to control my magic. I might have never known who I was and given up or have become like Morgana, and destroyed your kingdom long ago."

"How could you not have told me?"

"Have you not been listening?! That would have been suicide!"

"You don't know that."

"Don't I?"

"I was your friend!"

"No, you were a mistake."

The dream changed and Arthur was running taking refuge in the tall trees, the creature he had fought long ago screeched it's frustration above, it feathered wings beating the open air.

"You need to get out of here, sire. I'll distract it." His servant said darting from the trees.

"Merlin no! Don't risk your life for me!" Arthur yelled in panic, causing the servant to stop and turn toward him, confused. "I would never ask you to do that. We can figure out another way, but you must come back! I can promise you a future in Camelot but you can't give up now!"

The servant smiled, exasperated at his master's antics. "But Arthur, I have already saved you." He replied grinning, spreading his arms out at his sides, his eyes glowing gold.

Blood began to seep from his tattering clothes, displaying all manner of gashes, the crimson liquid dripping from his sleeves and pooling on the floor.

Arthur bolted upright panting and sweating from the horrible visions of his nightmare. Without even registering it, his eyes sought Merlin, still nerve ridden from his dreams.

Quietly as he could, he made his way over to the dark haired man, stooping down and checking his pulse. Whether it was do to his worries or not, Merlin pulse seemed weaker then it should. Arthur moved his gaze to the fire, it's flickering embers barely illuminating the forms of his knights. Sorrow and guilt rush back to him like an unrelenting wave as he started to think the flames resembled his friend, it's small embers dying with him.

Mentally shaking, himself he turned back to the unconscious man. "You're not going to die Merlin. I will not allow it." he commanded.

Frowning, he wondered after everything Merlin had done for him and the kingdom, if he still had the authority, or the right to be ordering the servant around at all. Especially if it would grant him peace.

As Merlin faded out of consciousness, darkness grew before his closed eyes. The texture changed from a blanket that looked like stretched skin moving until it seemed to fall like a curtain out of the corner of his vision. It changed again, into thicker shapes like the stones by a river until it seemed to pass through him and out of sight each time to reveal a more pronounced blackness. Now he could not move as though trapped in thickened sand. He tried to call for help but no sound escaped him, the familiar warmth of his magic was completely absent from his aid. Panic, intense and piercing, leapt from his chest to his throat as helplessness sank into his mind. Slowly, more so than seemed possible, he sank to the bottom where it changed into a deep hole just large enough for him to fit in. He looked up, instinctively searching for hope. The round hole enclosing him in the darkness seemed a dusty grey, at the top was blackness; no whisper of light or safety reached it's fathomless depths.

Turning, he found himself standing before a cowering and clearly terrified king. Taken aback, he looked around to find nearly every weapon and metal hovering in mid air beside him aimed at a defenseless man before of him, the rest of the room littered in flames. Stunned, he heard an amused chuckle escape his own lips.

"Not so useless now am I, my lord?"

The king yelled as the weapons rushed toward him, and the world went black.

Released to the nothingness of the darkness again, he screamed gripping his heart, falling and collapsed to what he imagined was the ground, and was surrounded by the forest he wandered in after his escape from Camelot.

His previous despair was as fresh as it had ever been. Blackness set in again as he turned to prop himself on his hands and knees, panting and panicked as he was unable to reach his magic, usually there to offer him strength and encouragement, was now being pulled away from him.

"Why would I serve you?" asked a soundless voice he felt more then heard.

"You who have watched your own kin burn, using your gift to protect those who sentenced them? You are not worthy of the name Emrys. You are not fit to possess magic!"

'Without magic I might as well die.'

No!

Alarmed, Merlin took a few steps back, turned in the other direction and ran. Coming into a curious forest where the trees shaded a path like the roof of a tunnel. He looked around, it was peaceful, the sun cast it's waning orange rays through the trees to the ground where the autumn leaves covered the earth.

Looking down the path, he saw it's end, where a figure stood. The alight cast around it made it impossible to discern if it was beast or man.

Suddenly he was torn away, as though a rope had been tied around his middle and pulled him with an unnatural force away from the peaceful surroundings.

Next he watched, feeling every lie he had ever spoken to any of his friends. How they would trust his word as it easily fell from his mouth. How he even found some of them comical.

He watched his king as everyone fell around him, until finally he watched his friend fell, a man cast in shadow pulled the sword from Albion's true king.

Should he feel glad the king fell and with him the laws that bound his kind? Or should he feel sorry for the man that lay their dying?

Then every insult and thoughtless comment, regardless of the king's knowledge came flooding to the forefront of his mind, and he thought of another option.

Why should he care? He was a monster made to protect a thoughtless, arrogant, tormenting, presumptuous, royal. How was that fair? He didn't expect much, but after all they had been through, he would like to be shown some respect. He had given up so much for this destiny of his, so when would it be enough?

It continued, stopping only at odd moments, pressing and trudging on what once was as bright as the sun, now fading flickers of hope, beating the very fiber of his being, pausing before the light of his hope was extinguished, waiting for it to spark again to be met with a crushing force.

Screaming was involuntary after a while, as well as useless. It was agonizing, his worst fears and memories combining into horribly vivid apparitions. They became more, attempting to dash the hope of being simple visions.. Would it ever stop?

The next morning the knights woke feeling fatigued as they silently packed up the camp. They moved the blankets and pack to the cart, creating as much comfort they could for the most important cargo they carried.

Little did they know they had all shared similar visions in their unrestful states the night before, nor notice as they lifted their outwardly unconscious friend off the ground, the grass, normally pressed to the ground, lay withered and darkened around the newly dewed greenery of the trees.

I appreciate your patience! I am a over thinking perfectionist and have had so many scenes in these chapters I did not have before but ready wanted to add. As much as I love writing this for myself, being that it's very therapeutic and fun, I also want to make it as good as I can for all of you who have taken an interest in reading it. I'm so glad to have your input and thoughts on this project!

Special thank yous to mersan123 and sarajm, you guys make my day when you review!

To bubzchoc, ruby890, ProcrastinationIsMyCrime, cheesybeans who have been reading and reviewing since the beginning. You guys are amazing!

Alaia Skyhawk thank you so much for reading! I know your very accomplished on fan fiction and I'm so excited you've taken interested in Lost Faith!