The guilt and shame was like a slow poison. It infested every inch of his being, giving him no sleep, no appetite. Sometimes a grief for a life, a past and a future, that never was, captured him in a vice-like grip and he couldn't even draw breath; He could only sink to his knees, gasping for air.

He was dying from the pain even though the physical wound from Arthur's sword was now no more than a scar. The wound felt fresh everytime he remembered Arthur, watching him cast a spell with contentment and trust only to be crushed and betrayed no more than a second later. The pain he felt in his soul would consume him to death.

Merlin continued to run.

XxX

There was a celebration in the tavern of a town he passed through. They were celebrating their new sovereign.

It was Arthur's coronation day.

Merlin should have been there in the hall. He'd always imagined he would be. All this effort to make Arthur King, and when it finally happens he's alone and shivering in a backwater town.

"Long live the King." He muttered.

XxX

Arthur couldn't lead the search parties as often as he liked. As a new King there was so much to do in the city that his counselors barely let him leave.

He entrusted the search to his knights, although he was wary to do so. He himself had explained the events of that night to his closest knights, the ones who were also closest to Merlin. Their friendship with him evident in their expression of ready denial before they accepted they couldn't dispute Arthur's own recollection. They hurt too from the betrayal, but they had been close to Merlin, perhaps they would betray him too? Arthur couldn't be certain anymore of anyone's loyalties; not even when looking them in the eye.

He had a new servant, George, the dullest bootlicker in the castle.

Promise me this, if you get another servant, don't get a bootlicker.

Arthur threw a goblet against a wall.

He actually folded his clothes. He put items in new places and arranged Arthur's meals differently. He'd cleaned the stain on the table that Arthur had complained about for a week. All the signs of Merlin's servitude and previous existence were steadily erased from his chambers; with every measure his heart weighed heavier and he could breathe easier.

I'm happy to be your servant. Till the day I die.

Arthur threw another goblet. It had become his habit when remembering what Merlin used to be. A part of him was always disappointed when the projectiles didn't connect with a black head of hair and cause an exasperated grin, they just fell lifelessly to the floor.

Arthur sent out search party after search party. He was angry at Merlin and he was angry at himself. He would make Merlin pay for betraying him, for ever leaving his side when he'd promised not to.

XxX

"Could you really stand there?" Guinevere asked him one day, as he poured over reports from the search parties.

"Stand where?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what I mean." There was a reproachful note in her voice that Arthur was sure would've been reflected on her face if he dared to look. He didn't. "Could you really stand there and watch Merlin die? Even now?"

Arthur imagined Merlin being lead, bound, into the courtyard and towards an execution block.

He didn't answer.

XxX

It was a month before they heard anything on Merlin's whereabouts. A citizen in an outlying town recognised him when he stayed there for a week. His counselors allowed him to lead the party this time, a hunting party to bring his father's murderer to justice.

XxX

Merlin ran. Twigs snapped under his feet and he couldn't stop tripping over every root he stepped on. The sound of his heavy panting equally as loud as the barking of the hounds on his trail. The hoofbeats of the horses however were louder than his own hurried feet.

Merlin ran. Not as fast as he could. If he dared to slow down time he knew he could get away, but he didn't dare.

Merlin ran. He ran until the barking got closer and closer. Until pain flared in his ankle as teeth sunk into his flesh and latched onto him. He fell face first to the ground and frantically shook his leg in the hunting dog's unyielding jaw. All he accomplished was to make the burning pain grow deeper.

The hoofbeats thundered to a stop. A voice yelled out an order and his ankle was released. Curling in agony and fear, Merlin shakily rolled himself over to see Arthur standing above him.

Arthur glared at him with hatred, boiled to a simmering rage by the betrayal and agony underneath it. His own panting breaths fell from his attention.

"Bind him." He called out at the knights who rushed forward with rope. The righteous anger in their eyes mellow compared to that in Arthur's. "You're not getting away this time." Arthur spat at him through gritted teeth.

XxX

Arthur couldn't eat. The mood around camp that night was less boisterous than usual. Partly because his closest knights had been left behind at Camelot – Arthur desperately wanted to be doing anything but this and he wasn't going to force his knights to hunt down someone who used to be their friend – But also partly because the knights who were here could read Arthur's mood.

He looked over at Merlin, tied to a tree and bound, blindfolded with a strip torn from his shirt and gagged with his own neckerchief. His knights were superstitious. Arthur couldn't blame them, but it was a sight he had never wished to see.

How many times had he saved Merlin's life? He wanted nothing more than to protect the man, and even now after everything he'd done, some part of Arthur raged at seeing him mistreated. The same part that wanted to give him the bowl of soup he had no appetite to eat just so he didn't starve because he was already skinny enough. Arthur stamped that part down.

This wasn't on him, he had to tell himself. Merlin had chosen to pursue magic. Merlin was the traitor, not him. If only Merlin had never killed his father this wouldn't be necessary. Damn him! Damn him for ever turning to magic!

One of the knights spat at Merlin and Arthur forced himself to turn away. Damn him!

XxX

Gwen watched as Arthur rode into the citadel with his knights in tow, but she had eyes only for the dirty figure, bound and gagged, tied to a horse. Merlin seemed even skinnier than he had been before.

He was unceremoniously dragged off the horse and towards the dungeons. Gwen wished that she could go down there and tell them to be gentle, but at the same time as grief-stricken as she felt for her friend, she harboured anger there too. Arthur hadn't been the same since that night.

Arthur barreled down the corridor, heedless of anyone else there, and Gwen had to place herself into his path to get his attention.

"You found him." She whispered, unable to speak any louder.

As Arthur stared at her she could see the conflicting emotions in him. The anger in his shoulders, the stress in his brow, the sorrow in his eyes.

"The execution is set for dawn." He said.

"And will you be able to stand there?"

Arthur stared at her for a long moment before pushing his way past and leaving her question unanswered.