Arthur was pacing.

It had been a day since the young sorcerer was discovered, but still there was no word from Merlin. Logically, Arthur knew that it was quite a distance from the inn to Camelot and that he would have to dodge the guards and knights on his way in, but he still couldn't help worrying that it would be too late.

Evidently, the young sorcerer in question had been caught levitating some objects too heavy to lift to help rebuild his parent's house, which had been damaged in the last attack on Camelot. He'd clearly believed that he'd be safe at night, when the festivities for Arthur's return were ongoing.

The door to his chambers swung open and he spun around, looking hopefully at the door. What he found was not the gangly frame of a sorcerer, but Morgana looking very, very angry.

'What is wrong with that man?!' she screeched. Arthur resisted the urge to cover his ears. 'That poor boy did nothing but lift some stones but he'll still be executed! It's not right, Arthur! Where is this friend of yours anyway?'

Arthur blinked at the sudden shift of her ire but quickly regrouped. 'He's on his way Morgana. At the least it's a day's hard ride for him to get here. He's coming.'

'That's not very reassuring coming from a man pacing his own chambers like a caged beast,' she snapped.

'So my father wouldn't budge then? What of the boy?' Arthur asked quickly, changing the subject so that he couldn't dwell on Merlin's continued absence.

Morgana had been down to the dungeons as much as she could, alternating with Gwen to check the guard schedules and give reassurances to the boy. If she wasn't there, she was helping Arthur in negotiating with Uther, though that had been about as effective as screaming at a stone wall.

'He's terrified, and as he should be. His execution has been set to tomorrow at dawn,' she informed him solemnly.

Arthur closed his eyes in resignation and ran a tired hand through his hair.

'Alright then,' he said, straightening up and shifting seamlessly into his role as leader. 'We need to get things started. Gaius has agreed to get us a sleeping draught for the guards. Once he's freed, we need to take him through the secret passage from behind the shield in the armoury – its worked for us before, I don't see why it shouldn't now. Then–'

A knock on the door cut him off abruptly. Both royals whipped their heads around in alarm, but it was not the commanding baritone of the King that came from the other side, but the quieter, stuttering call of a servant.

'My Lord? Sorry to disturb you, my Lord, but the Court Physician wanted me to give you this, my Lord.'

The pair shared a glance before Arthur strode to the door and cracked it open. The servant hurriedly handed over a folded piece of parchment, bowed and scurried away. From his clothing it was clear he was a kitchen hand of some sort, so not quite used to being in the presence of the royal family, much less being sent to their private chambers. Arthur had to wonder if Gaius planned it that way – he knew the old man was crafty when he wanted to be, and he must have realised that there would be no chance of a servant like that risking a peek at his message.

Arthur closed the door and opened the note, eyes widening as he read the words. It was immediately clear that it was not written by Gaius's hand – it was the messy scrawl of someone always in a rush, not the careful, steady script of the physician. Arthur had never seen this handwriting before, but had no doubts as to who it belonged to.

Grinning broadly, his threw his door open yet again and gestured for Morgana follow.

'Arthur? What–'

'No time, he's here. Come on, Morgana!'

He ushered her out the door and grabbed her wrist as they set off as fast as they dared towards Gaius's chambers, note clutched securely in Arthurs palm.

Let's go make something worth seeing.

Merlin looked around the small, messily organised chambers of Camelot's physician, Gaius. He knew that Alice's contact was someone close to the King, but to think it was no other than one of Uther's most trusted advisors. Not only that, but this was the very man he should have gone to all those years ago, had nothing distracted him in his journey from Ealdor. What a small world he lived in.

The man himself was currently watching Merlin inspect his haphazardly strewn anatomy books with an inscrutable expression on his face. Merlin wondered briefly if he and Alice worked together to perfect that look. Even since appearing at his doorway and speaking the designated pass phrase, Gaius had been oddly quiet, merely stepping back and allowing him entry then hailing a passing servant to send along his message to Arthur. That had been at least ten minutes ago.

'So, Alice has told me a lot about you. She never used names, obviously, but it doesn't take a scholar to put it all together after she sent me to you,' Merlin flashed a humble grin, hoping to break the odd stalemate they had reached.

For a moment it seemed that Gaius wouldn't respond. Just as Merlin started scrambling for anything else to say, he finally spoke. 'Merlin… You're Hunith's son,' he stated. It was not a question, but for the first time there was a hint of, something in his eye.

'Yes…?' Merlin drawled slowly, wondering where this was going.

Gaius approached him and clasped his hand onto Merlin shoulder. 'Well then, my boy. I think that you had better sit down and explain to me what on earth happened to you on your journey here.' The hand on Merlin's shoulder suddenly turned vice-like as Gaius steered him to what was probably his dining table, but was now covered in bottles, books and a (very creepy) rabbit mask.

Merlin was stunned for a moment at the sudden change in demeanour before his brain caught up with the question.

'Oh, right.'

'I didn't hear a word from you. If not for Alice…' Gaius trailed off, looking pained. 'I thought you dead, Merlin. I was almost sure of it,' he finished quietly.

'Well, for a while there, so was I,' said Merin with a self-depreciating smile.

And so he began his story.

Saying goodbye to his mother was just as hard as he thought it would be. There were tears falling over tiny brave smiles and utterances of 'It's for the best' and 'Gaius can help, you'll see.'

Merlin gave Hunith a smile that he hoped looked convincing, glancing around one more time for his best friend, Will. Will hadn't exactly been thrilled when he learned that Merlin was heading to Camelot of all places ('You'll get yourself killed stopping some bloody kids from fighting or something how can this possibly be a good idea?') but Merlin had still hoped that he'd put his anger aside long enough to say goodbye.

'He'll understand one day Merlin, don't worry. You won't be gone forever after all.' As always, Hunith had picked up on exactly what bothered him. Merlin wasn't sure if it was something all mothers could do or if Hunith was particularly adept at it. He liked to think it was a combination of the two.

'I'll write so often it's like I'm not even gone,' he promised.

With a final hug, he hitched his knapsack up more securely onto his shoulders and set off, never once looking back.

Camelot was a three-day journey from Ealdor, so Merlin knew that he had to make the provisions he packed last. The first day and night he meticulously rationed out the food he'd brought and made sure to refill his canteens with water whenever possible. For this first day, everything went smoothly.

It wasn't until the second day that it all went sideways.

As dusk fell onto the second evening, Merlin had just began collecting firewood to camp with for the night when shouts and the pounding of boots through the undergrowth filled the small clearing he'd chosen.

Bandits.

Brilliant.

Merlin immediately moved into action, abandoning the firewood and heading for any kind of shelter he could find. He didn't dare use magic – there were at least two dozen men and he'd never done more than fell a tree, plus if these people realised they had a sorcerer this close to Camelot? Well, from what Merlin knew of King Uther, he'd probably overlook their background if they offered him someone like that. So instead, he did the only other logical thing.

He ran.

He wasn't all that big, and his stature let him slide through small spaces and run move faster than the burly men carrying heavy weapons – some even had mismatched armour they'd clearly scavenged from somewhere (or someone). He was managing to put some distance between them, until inevitably…

He fell. He might be fast, but he never claimed to be the most coordinated person in the world.

It didn't take long for the bandits to catch up after that. The smell of unwashed bodies and leather filled Merlin's nose, causing his eyes to water from the stench. There was a flash of metal, a pain in his head, then everything went black.

Merlin came to with a groan. He was lying on something cold and hard and entirely unpleasant while his head was pounding something fierce and his mouth was drier than sand.

Dimly, he became aware of something prodding him in the side.

'Oi,' hissed a voice from above him. 'Oi you, you might want to get up. You'll regret it if you don't I tell you now.'

Blearily, Merlin opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. He was in a circular stone room with a high ceiling, filled with people of all shapes and sizes. As he dragged himself to his feet, he noted that the 'room' was more of a pit, with only jagged stone steps leading up to a single – and very likely locked – iron door.

Merlin staggered a little on standing, but a helpful hand steadied him. 'Easy does it, there you go.' Merlin turned to see a shaggy-haired man with a roguish grin take a step back, a wary but friendly glint in his eye.

'Thanks for that,' Merlin offered, then gesturing to the cell, 'Um, where exactly am i?'

'Ah, well,' the man began uncomfortably, grin turning quickly to grimace. Before he could respond though, there was a clanking sound announcing the unlocking of the door before it was slammed open by an enormous, bearded man with a protruding belly who was wearing furs like a cape.

'ALRIGHT!' he boomed, spittle flying everywhere. 'WHO'S NEXT TO FACE JARL'S CHAMPION!'

Merlin realised that most people, in this situation would attempt to avoid eye contact and make themselves as small and unnoticeable as possible. But for him, this ridiculous-looking oaf who thought that speaking in third person was sophisticated was the furthest thing from intimidating. In hindsight, he probably should have realised that although this Jarl looked like a buffoon, his very well-armed men did not.

At the time though, he couldn't help himself.

He laughed. Trying desperately to turn it into a cough and failing quite spectacularly.

The man who'd helped him up looked at him like he'd grown an extra head. Jarl, zeroed in on him immediately, his face twisting into an awful sneer and Merlin realised then just how big a mistake he'd just made.

'Well, it seems we have a volunteer.' Merlin's heart sank.

'Are you ready my champion?'

Merlin wasn't sure what he expected from a champion – maybe someone seven-foot-tall with arms the size of tree trunks and carrying a war hammer. What he definitely didn't expect, was the only person in the room who'd deigned to help him to step forward and solemnly proclaim, 'I am.'

'Well then, BRING THEM!' Jarl called, and so Merlin and the champion were jostled out of the pit by two heavily-muscled guards. They were led to an antechamber that Merlin guessed – from the jeering outside – would lead into some kind of arena. Jarl threw a couple of swords at their feet and wished them a mocking good luck before slamming the door shut behind him.

'I'm sorry about this,' the champion said into the quiet room, after the ringing from the slam had subsided.

'It's not your fault. I kind of walked into this one,' Merlin replied with a rueful smile.

'I'll say. What were you thinking? Sane people usually don't laugh in their captors' face.' The champion looked torn between laughing and screaming at him.

'They don't refer to themselves by name or wear capes either. Who is he anyway?' Merlin asked.

'Slave trader for Cenred's kingdom. He doesn't exactly work with Cenred, but the not-so-good King certainly isn't stopping his activities,' the champion replied with snort.

'How'd you end up here then? Or is this your day job?' Merlin jibed.

The champion laughed. 'Nothing so nefarious. It was more a case of wrong time, wrong place, wrong drink. You know how it is. Well, maybe. I gotta say, you don't look like the type to handle your alcohol well.'

'I'll have you know, I'm full of surprises.'

The two laughed in a strange comradery that could only be borne from a predicament like this. But the good humour soon died from the champion's face.

'They won't be satisfied until one of us is dead, you know that, right?'

Merlin thought hard. He'd never touched a sword in his life, but from the lean muscle just visible through the champion's ratty shirt he'd guess that he had. There was no way he would win, and even if he could, he didn't think he'd have it in him to kill this man. There was no way out of this. He would die.

Unless…

Merlin furiously debated with himself for what felt like hours but must have only been seconds. It was insane that he was even considering this. His magic had to be a secret, no one could know!

But, this man had tried his best to help him, was clearly not from Camelot if he was wandering through Cenred's kingdom and was truly regretful about having to fight him. So…

'What if I could give us a way out of this?'

The champion looked across at him sharply, but thankfully, didn't outright dismiss him.

'I could make a diversion big enough for us both to slip away. You've been doing these fights for a while now right? You know the layout of the room. Could you lead us to the exit?'

The champion mulled over his proposal. 'I could,' he replied carefully, 'But you'd need one hell of a distraction, and I don't see how you'd do that while also fighting me.'

'I told you, I'm full of surprises.'

The champion's gaze turned more calculating, but before he could respond the door to the arena flew open and guards came once again to usher them out. Merlin hastily picked up the sword dropped to the floor early by Jarl and glanced at the champion who met his eye, and simply gave a nod. Merlin exhaled heavily in relief, and nodded back before they were shoved unceremoniously out into the centre of the crowd.

'AND NOW FOR OUR EVENING ENTERTAINMENT!' came Jarl's booming voice. Merlin was really beginning to loathe that sound. He looked around frantically for anything he could use. Just because he was going to use magic didn't mean he wanted to be blatant about it in a room full of slave traders.

Then he saw it. Above the arena was a woven net, and not far from where it was tied stood one of the flaming torches illuminating the room.

Perfect.

'LET THE FIGHT, BEGIN!'

The champion lunged at him, and Merlin clumsily parried to the jeers of the crowd, the force of the impact shaking the bones in his arm. For a second he worried that the champion wouldn't give him the chance he thought he would, but then his rationality returned to him and he realised that this fight would probably already be over if this man truly wanted him dead.

Instead, he swung his sword in patterns that were easy enough to dodge until finally Merlin had the perfect position. His sword was crossed with the champion's and held close to their chests, so no one (bar his opponent) would see his eyes. He reached for the gold raging beneath his skin, looked straight at the torch and focused as hard as he could on one thing:

Burn.

He felt his eyes flash as bright as the flame and suddenly, not only the net, but several nearby drapes and some unlucky bandits' clothing were all on fire from the blast.

Whoops.

The champion stared at him disbelievingly for a second before snapping back to reality, grabbing him by the wrist and barging through the throng of panicking people towards the stairwell across the room. Too busy trying to douse the flames, the slavers never even noticed.

The two ran all the way out of the stronghold and into the woods, both panting harshly but not daring to stop until they'd put some distance between them and their captors.

'Full of surprises eh?' the champion gasped between breaths when they finally collapsed near a small stream.

'Don't say I didn't warn you,' Merlin replied, just as breathlessly.

And for the second time that night, the two fell into hapless laughter.

'I'm Gwaine,' the newly-dubbed champion said. 'And you are?'

'Merlin.'

Gwaine laughed. 'Magical Merlin. Got a nice ring to it, don't you think?'

Merlin groaned.

Merlin travelled with Gwaine for several days after that, partly because he had no idea where he'd managed to end up. Mostly though it was because honestly, Gwaine was just good company. He was endlessly curious about Merlin and – more specifically – Merlin's magic.

Not that Merlin minded of course. It was actually quite refreshing to have someone to discuss magic with who wouldn't openly condemn him for it or caution him into speaking in hushed whispers. It was just him, Gwaine, and an endless forest.

'But, how do you do it?' Gwaine asked for what seemed like the hundredth time as they weaved through the trees at an easy pace. This was the one thing that seemed to fascinate him the most. 'You don't use spells, I definitely would have heard it. Your eyes just glowed then boom! Fire!'

He was also childishly excited about the potential to make things explode.

'I don't know, Gwaine. I just always have,' Merlin replied. 'I don't even know any spells, or anything about magic for that matter. That's what I was going to Camelot for.'

'Have I mentioned how stupid that idea is?'

'Yes Gwaine, only about a thousand times.'

'Just checking.'

Merlin laughed quietly. This was also a recurring conversation during their journey.

'Well, if you want to know more about magic, I have heard some rumours here and there about a man that might be able to help, or at least point you in the right direction,' Gwaine mused.

'Are you serious? We've been walking for days and you only just thought to mention this?' Merlin exclaimed incredulously.

'Well no. We've actually been walking in the general direction of where he might be found for a while now,' Gwaine grinned unrepentantly. Merlin resisted the urge to drop a branch on him.

'Well, who is he then, what's his story?' Merlin questioned impatiently.

'Well I don't know too much. Word is he's a bit of a hermit. But still, you never know,' Gwaine replied cheerily.

'Great, an unfriendly hermit. Does he at least have a name?' Merlin grumbled.

Gwaine chuckled at his petulant tone, but replied nonetheless.

'Balinor,' he said. 'His name is Balinor.'

'Well, as I'm sure you can guess, Gaius, I ended up staying with Balinor these past few years. He taught me, well, everything about magic. Gwaine came and went of course, and he never once betrayed my secret. Once I joined the Circle and established a Sanctuary that sold alcohol though, he was by a lot more often. He does some good work for the Network now actually, he's scarily good at picking up rumours.'

Gaius took a moment to take all of that in, before shaking his head incredulously. 'You managed to end up with Balinor after all these years. And now you've even found the Once and Future King. The Old Religion smiles upon you Merlin, it really does.'

Merlin grinned brightly back at him only for it to slip off his face in alarm as the door was thrown open and the aforementioned King strode in, followed closely by a beautiful dark-haired woman. Merlin eyed the bracelet on her wrist warily, recognising it immediately and so realising that this woman must be the half-sister Morgause was so fond of.

So this was her mysterious source.

Merlin's grin returned in full force as he took in Arthur's flustered appearance and the woman's dark scowl at the prince as she massaged her wrist.

'Did you run all the way down here just to see little ol' me? I knew you'd miss me,' he joked.

'Shut up Merlin,' Arthur replied without missing a beat. Both Gaius and Morgause's sister looked between the two in bemusement.

'And you dragged this lovely young woman down with you. For shame, Arthur, for shame,' Merlin continued, turning to the woman. 'As you've no doubt gathered, I'm Merlin, Lady…'

'Just Morgana, please. I'm King Uther's ward,' she replied, though she spoke the last four words with enough ice to freeze fire.

'A pleasure,' Merlin said politely.

King Uther's ward. Well. Morgause's secret plans for Camelot suddenly weren't so secret anymore.

'Yes, yes introductions are wonderful. Do you know what's going on right now, Merlin?' Arthur asked, impatient.

Merlin quickly sobered. 'Yes, I've been around all afternoon picking up what I could of what's happening.' He hesitated before continuing. 'I know you'll hate me for asking this, but are you sure you want to be involved in this?' Merlin asked, directing his question to the royalty in the room. 'You know what'll happen if we're caught–'

'Then we won't get caught,' interjected Morgana.

'Morgana's right. We know what we're doing,' agreed Arthur.

Merlin studied them both carefully, turning to Gaius who have a firm nod of approval.

'With the amount of trouble you get into I have to wonder if you ever know what you're doing, Arthur,' Merlin couldn't help but add. Arthur scowled.

'But alright then,' he said.

'Let's go commit treason.'

Um, hi?

So, life happened and this chapter was sitting half-finished for a few months but there you go. Hope you enjoyed it and that getting a bit of Merlin's backstory helped to clear up a few things. Next chapter we get back into the plot, and I think there will end up being two more chapters to go after this. I'm usually one of those people who thinks of new things to add in as I write so things end up way longer than I intended, but I'm actually sticking to my original plotline! Achievements!

This story is not abandoned at all, but I am back at university now with impending exams so I can't guarantee regular updates, but I will when I can and this story will be finished.

Thanks for sticking with me guys.

Happy reading!

~Seagrass12