Author's note: Sorry for the wait. I've had trouble with this bit, but hopefully I'll have more of the story coming out soon.


One year later....

"Danio," the words crept out in a whisper, and a candle suddenly flickered with a tiny flames.

Within seconds, a sword rested on the red velvet shoulder. It glinted, dangerously, deadly, in the dying sunlight. The shoulder beneath the velvet did not flinch, merely remain still, waiting.

"Were I anyone else... you would be dead," a masculine voice stated, warningly.

"Were you anyone else, I would not have recited the spell," a feminine voice retorted as the sword slowly retreated.

"You show too much trust in me, Morgana," the man warned, the sound of the sword being returned to its sheath echoed.

"You have known about me for a year, Arthur. If you were going to reveal me, you would have done so already," Morgana stated confidently, still not turning around to look at the prince of Camelot.

"Do not give me a reason to," Arthur whispered, the threat easily carried to Morgana.

"Can't I light a candle for him?" Morgana sighed sadly. "It's been a year, Arthur."

Arthur's eyes flickered, for a moment, they were glazed with pain. He had come to hate this place, here... where Merlin had... Yes, he hated this place.

"There are only four candles here. Me, Gwen, Gaius, and Hunith," Morgana observed, reciting with ease, though she struggled to say the name of Merlin's mother. "Over this whole year, you've never lit a candle for him."

"What's the point? It won't bring him back," Arthur argued dispassionately.

"It's a way to say that you miss him, and that you think of him," Morgana retorted. "I don't know if he knows that we light candles for him, but it feels right to do so."

Arthur didn't reply. Instead, he looked down, down to the river below. Simply looking at it brought him back to that fateful event; it brought back all the pain that he felt and felt afterwards as well.

All the searches down the river, even beyond the borders of Albion... Arthur had found no trace of Merlin. He had searched for two months, until his father had ordered him to stop. He had ignored the order and had carried on searching by himself. And then, several of the knights had come to forcefully drag Arthur back, and had been forced to resort to knocking the prince unconscious. He had had to sit on a cold bench while his father spoke to him, shackles on his wrists to stop him from storming off.

After a while, Arthur had realised that it was unhealthy to keep searching for Merlin. It was only stressful for every failed search, and it was painful for Gwen, Gaius and Morgana, who were always trying to make him stop, even though they didn't want to. It hurt for them to continuously say that Merlin wasn't going to be found. It had been a hard day when Arthur had finally realised that he wasn't going to find his friend.

"You'd better get back to Camelot," Arthur stated. "Someone might come looking for you, and if they find you here..."

"They have nothing to prove that I'm a sorceress."

"Do not say that in front of me," Arthur hissed.

Morgana looked at him, sceptical at his tone. She knew what was really bothering him. She raised her chin defiantly, in a way that only she could really pull off. She knew exactly how to deflate him, although that was no longer fun, but instead this was to keep him talking.

"You won't reveal me, just like none of us would have revealed him," She stated confidently.

"It's easy to say that when you know that you will never have to make that decision," Arthur replied impassively.

"I guess," she agreed. "But, the fact that you haven't turned me in is proof that you would never have done so to him. I would never reveal one of my own, neither would Gaius. And Gwen... well, how could she betray the man she loved?"

"Get up, Morgana," Arthur ordered. "Go back to Camelot."

She could tell by his tone that Arthur was no longer tolerating anymore delays in her leaving, but decided that she would finish what she had started. Turning her head away from Arthur, she looked back to the candles.

"We miss you, Merlin. We all remember everything that you did for us, and dream of what we never knew about. I wish we had shown enough for you trust us with your secret, but none of us blame you for it. May... May Avalon be beautiful for you."

Arthur felt a lump stick in his throat. He remembered when Gaius had told him the truth about Sofia and her father Aulfric, about how they had planned to kill him to return to Avalon. Apparently, it was a wondrous place for the souls of the noble dead, and the outskirts of Avalon were where the Sidhe lived. Arthur had no idea what it meant to be one of the noble dead, but he almost felt afraid to think that it meant those of noble lineage, which was a privilege that Merlin was not blessed with.

With her prayer finished, Morgana rose and turned away from the river cliff, facing Camelot. She sighed and lifted her hood to obscure her face, and the tears that were swelling up in her eyes, obscuring them from Arthur. To be standing here, to turn away from the edge, it felt like she was abandoning her friend.

"When will Uther return?" Morgana asked conversationally as she walked down the path with Arthur at her side.

"When he's finished the talks," Arthur answered. "Amazing to think that he's finally engaging in peace talks with neighbouring kingdoms, after all the promises that he's made for the past twenty years."

"Better late than never," Morgana reasoned.

Arthur did not reply, and Morgana decided that it was not wise to press him for conversation, at least, on particular topics. Over the last year, their relationship had turned from strained to practically non-existent. Even Uther had given up on reviving anything more than civility between the pair.

They walked in silence for a while, a silence that Morgana found more than a little uncomfortable. She wanted to talk to Arthur, and she wanted him to talk back. Unfortunately, he had become someone with very little to say, and most conversation topics were off-limits. Finally, Morgana broke the silence.

"I miss him," she admitted quietly.

She hadn't needed to say it, but it felt right to. And she was disappointed.

"Me too," Arthur replied, so quietly he was almost whispering.


The young sapling snapped and splinters flew everywhere. On top of the young tree was a man, shaking from the thrashing he'd just had. His skin was covered in cuts, scrapes, and grazes. He had a particularly nasty laceration across his left eyebrow.

Slowly, the man lifted himself off the ground. His arms were trembling, threatening to give way at any second. His breathing was fast and erratic, as he restrained himself from screaming in pain. He wanted to get to his feet, but found that he couldn't. He couldn't rise any higher, or something wasn't letting him... something or someone.

The slow, ominous sound of approaching footsteps made the man freeze. He could feel his heart begin to race beyond the speed it had been elevated to. A sense of dread and the stomach-clenching feeling of his demise looming ever closer began to work upon the man until he feared that he would pass out.

"No more, my pet," a soft, seductive voice called playfully. "Let him live for now. Let him go to the king, and tell him of us... not that there is anything that he can do against us."

The man found himself being lifted off the ground and laid carefully on a patch of clear ground, his back to the floor. With that excursion finished, the man lifted his head to look at his attackers.

They both wore cloaks that obscured his view of them, but he knew one to be female, and the other male. They were both slender in build, but the taller seemed ganglier.

"Tell your king that we are here," instructed the smaller individual, who had spoken before and sounded like a woman.

"And tell the prince that this time... he won't have some idiot servant to die in his stead," the clocked man ordered.

And then, like darkness in dawn's light, the pair vanished. Finding himself alone, battered beyond belief and completely exhausted, Lancelot collapsed.