For once since he had become Arthur's manservant, Merlin had found himself awake on time, even a little bit early. The young Warlock had been dreaming of a day off and the Prince saving him for once, when he had been jolted into wakefulness by a feeling unlike anything he had ever encountered before. The very air had seemed to convulse momentarily, and the balance of the world shifted. All of this had passed in an instant, however. If not for the faint crackling feeling that remained in the air for nearly an hour afterwards, just tickling the edges of his magic, he might have thought he imagined the sensation.

The feeling left him wide awake, though, so he decided that for once, he would surprise Prince Prat by being on time with all of him morning chores. Eventually, he would sort out the feeling, but for now the city seemed to be still standing just fine.

Merlin had had enough of evil sorceresses, magical beasts, and walking dead men to last a life time. He did care about the Prince now; the man had shown himself several times over to be worthy of the Destiny that the Great Dragon claimed he had. Still, he made it an awfully difficult job sometimes to protect him. Ever since coming to Camelot, it seemed as though Merlin's entire life was split between acting like an idiot manservant, helping Gaius, and keeping the Prince alive. It was an exhausting life. Really, the Prince could hardly blame Merlin for sleeping in so much.

Polishing the Prince's armor and ensuring that all of his weapons were clean and sharp took nearly an hour, but by the time he was finished, dawn had only just begun to lighten the late autumn sky. Thankfully, the itchy feeling from whatever it was that had woken him had also begun to die down. He had nearly stabbed himself with Arthur's sword when the itchiness caused him to sneeze while sharpening it.

Several other early rising servants greeted him as he walked through the castle to get Arthur his breakfast. He passed Gwen on the ground floor, and they talked briefly.

"I'm surprised to see you up so early without an emergency," she had said teasingly.

Merlin had teased back, saying with mock hurt, "Are you implying that I am anything other than a timely servant most days, Guinevere?" She giggled at him, and he smiled. She was a good friend to have, and he always enjoyed making her happy, since she had helped him so much when he first arrived in Camelot and been his first friend. After a few more friendly words, the two parted ways on their respective duties.

He laughed to himself when the Cook in the kitchen was surprised to see him up so early, and he had to wait an extra minute for the Prince's breakfast to be prepared. The kitchen staff had become used to Merlin's perpetual lateness.

When he reached Arthur's room, he was quite unsurprised to find the Prince still fast asleep. Even when he jerked open the curtains, the Prince did little besides snort and turn his head away from the early morning light. Honestly, he didn't know why Arthur complained about him being late all the time. The Prince loved extra time to sleep.

As he went about his duties, Merlin found himself thinking back to the burst of magic that had awoken him. As much as he was tired of things attacking Camelot and hoped it was just some weird fluke that meant nothing, he knew he could not ignore the matter. If it posed a threat to Arthur, he would have to find out what it meant and eradicate it. It seemed he may have to pay Kilgharrah a visit later, if nothing presented itself throughout the day.

Strangely, he felt as though the magic was not evil. He could not say how or why he felt that way, but he did. Though he had not realized it at the time, the tickling, itchy sensation from earlier had not been at all malicious. Instead, it was almost as though the magic had been teasing him as it faded, feeding into his cheery mood.

He shook his head. He would still look into it later, just in case.

Once everything was prepared for the day, with Arthur's clothes laid out, his food on the table, and all relevant papers on the goings on in the Kingdom next to his breakfast, Merlin moved over to Arthur's bed. The lazy Prince was still lying fast asleep in the same position he had been in when Merlin entered the room. Grinning, Merlin had an idea to wake the Royal Prat in a way he wouldn't forget soon. Putting his face right up in front of Arthur's, he yelled, "Time to get up, Sleepyhead!"

To his disappointment, Arthur did not seem at all surprised, annoyed, or even discomfited to find Merlin's face right over his own. He simply blinked at Merlin, who sighed internally. The Prat couldn't even react appropriately to a prank.

Merlin bounded away, salvaging his dignity by prattling off a list of everything he had accomplished already that morning. Rather than react with surprised disbelief, so that Merlin could protest and act wounded to cover up his own friendly insults in the manner of their usual banter, Arthur merely seemed bemused by Merlin's cheerful demeanor. He wondered if there was something wrong with the Prince, but that did not seem quite right. Arthur looked well enough. Besides, he wasn't acting that oddly. He was probably just still tired.

He rattled off a half-hearted rejoinder, and then made an excuse to head out. Gaius needed some more herbs collected from the forest, and at some point Merlin would have to look into that magic from earlier, even if he still didn't really have any sort of bad feeling about it. Before Arthur could give him a list of more chores to complete since he had finished his earlier ones, Merlin darted out of the room. Once he was a bit away, he slowed his pace and practically skipped the rest of the way out of the castle. This day was shaping up to be a quite good one.

Unfortunately, Merlin's good mood was dashed as he was walking through the courtyard outside the castle. He was passing the well when a woman entered the gates of Camelot, and he gasped. The woman was his mother, Hunith, and she had a nasty bruise on her face.

"Mother?" Merlin asked, and she turned to his voice.

"Merlin!" she cried, running into his arms. Merlin could not enjoy the sight of his mother when she was bruised and clearly shaken by something.

"What happened? Who did this to you?" He was desperate to find out who had harmed his mother. She was the only family he had, and he hated to see her in pain.

Hunith, for her part, was a strong woman, and it showed in her voice as she spoke to her son. "It was a bandit by the name of Kanen," she said, spitting the name. "He and his men have been attacking Ealdor and taking our food. He will not let us keep even the bare minimum to get through the winter, so I have come to beg assistance from King Uther."

"But Ealdor is in Cenred's lands," Merlin said in confusion. His mother glared back at the gates, looking beyond them to her home and its ruler.

"Cenred would not aid us. We asked, but he cares little for the outlying villages at the edge of his realm. I am hoping to find a bit more sympathy from Uther." Hunith sighed. She knew the difficulty of her task, but she had to try for the sake of her people.

Tamping down his anger for the moment, Merlin grinned. "Luckily," he said, "I happen to be on pretty good terms with the Crown Prince. I'm sure Arthur will help you get an audience with Uther, and speak for your cause if I ask him to."

Hunith embraced her son, thanking him. "Don't thank me just yet," he said, though he smiled hopefully to soften his words. Now, let's get you to Gaius to see to that bruise while I talk to Arthur." She nodded, and he led her into the castle. He had completely forgotten about the magic from that morning. His mother was more important than some strange feeling.

Once Merlin had dropped his mother off with Gaius, he practically ran back down the corridors to Arthur's room. The man could be a right prat at times, but he had a good heart. There was no way he would refuse to help Merlin's mother. No, the one he really had to worry about was Uther. Still, Uther listened to his son, sometimes, and surely Arthur would manage to convince his father to send at least a few men to Ealdor. Merlin had to have hope for the place of his birth.

He rounded a final corner and skidded into Arthur's chambers, pulled up short at the sight that met him.

Arthur stood in the center of the room, still in his nightclothes, his breakfast untouched, and a puddle of wine around his feet. In his hands, held out in a defensive stance, he clutched the goblet that had previously housed the wine. Upon seeing Merlin, he dropped the goblet with a loud crash. The noise shook Merlin out of his shock, and he grinned uncertainly.

"I always knew you were useless at dressing yourself without me, but I didn't know you couldn't even eat properly without me around," Merlin teased. Arthur continued to stare at him. "Arthur?" he tried. Still, the Prince stood silent and wide-eyed as though struck dumb by magic. "Are you alright, Arthur?" Merlin began glancing surreptitiously around the room, hoping he wouldn't have to use magic right in front of Arthur, but willing to do so if there was something threatening his Prince.

Arthur visibly shook himself. "Of course I'm alright," he finally said, though he sounded anything but. "I was just startled when you appeared so suddenly." There was a strange lilt to Arthur's tone that clearly said he was hiding something. For the moment, Merlin decided to play along.

"Right," he said, unable to keep all the doubt out of his voice. "Well, in that case, I was wondering if you could help me get an audience with your father for my mother. My village is being attacked by bandits, and she has come to ask for assistance from him."

Once more, Arthur stared at him for several moments, speechless. "My father?" he finally said, confusion coloring the words. Now Merlin was seriously beginning to worry.

"Yes, your father," he said slowly. "You know, the King?" Arthur blinked again, and stared around the room for several more minutes.

Merlin began to grow a bit frustrated. He could see nothing amiss in the room besides Arthur, and every moment Arthur delayed for his strange fit was another moment lost that he could have used to help his mother.

"Look, Arthur," he said, growing a bit desperate, "I don't know what's wrong with you, but my mother needs an audience with your father. There's a bandit group attacking Ealdor and taking all their food, and she needs help! Please, help her for me." He rarely begged, but for his mother he would get on his knees in front of Arthur, if it helped.

Arthur's eyes lit up strangely, and he frowned but remained silent. Merlin was about to turn and go back to Gaius to see if he could perhaps convince the King to give his mother an audience, when Arthur finally spoke.

"What was the name of the bandit leading the attack?" Arthur asked.

Merlin frowned at the Prince. He had no idea what this had to do with anything. So far as he knew, Arthur was not exactly on first name basis with any roving bandit groups on the border of Cenred's land and Camelot. Still, he dug through his memory to find the name his mother had given him outside the castle. "Kanen, I think," he finally said. "Are you going to help?"

Arthur stared at him for a few more long moments before nodding his head. "Give me a moment to get dressed in something more appropriate, and I will see what I can do."

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. He entered fully into Arthur's room, going to his wardrobe and picking out a tunic and leggings for the Prince to wear in front of his father. Arthur remained strangely quiet and contemplative as Merlin dressed him. It was unusual, in keeping with the strange behavior all morning, and Merlin let his magic drift out towards the Prince in soft tendrils. It was not quite a spell, but rather a way of broadening his senses to detect any traces of magic that may be on the Prince. Most magic left an aftertaste of sorts on Merlin's magical senses, but there was nothing on Arthur. On any other day, Merlin would not have given up so easily, but his mother outweighed whatever destiny he may have in Camelot.

The two left to find Uther as soon as Arthur was dressed.

When Merlin entered his room, Arthur barely had time to grasp what he was seeing before his manservant began speaking.

Confused thoughts and emotions crashed through him, and he briefly wondered if he had gone mad. Merlin could not be younger; that made no sense. Yet there he was, looking younger and more carefree than he had in years, his eyes undarkened by the deep shadows that begun gathering in them before even Morgana made her first attempt on the throne.

In recent years, those shadows had been a constant part of Merlin, as much a part of him as his sunny demeanor and innocent banter had once been.

He tried to respond somewhat normally to the banter that was currently spouting from his manservant's mouth, but he had a feeling that he failed miserably.

Then Merlin started saying things that made even less sense than his de-aged appearance. Arthur's father had died years ago. What Merlin said was impossible. He dimly noted himself speaking, asking for clarification that Merlin gave with an odd look. His father couldn't be alive; there must be some mistake. Arthur was the King of Camelot, and the only other ruler was his Queen, Guinevere.

He looked around the room again, once more noticing the lack of Gwen's presence in every corner of the room. It was as though she had been erased from his chambers, though if what Merlin said was true (though it couldn't be, death brought darkness and healing brought respite from pain; neither brought a trip into the past), then she would not live with him yet, they would not be married yet.

He did not want to think of what that meant.

Merlin was still speaking, begging now. He sounded desperate for Arthur to listen, and angry that Arthur did not listen.

Finally, a vague memory from long ago began to surface in Arthur's mind. He remembered, as though from a dream, a day years past when Merlin had come to his King, then his Prince, begging an audience for his mother with the King, Uther, to protect her far off village from bandits.

"What was the name of the bandit leading the attack?" Arthur asked, already knowing the answer. Indeed, when Merlin told him several moments later, though Arthur knew not how, it was the same name of the man whom Arthur himself had killed once upon a time, when he went with his ever loyal manservant to help the man save his own home for once, instead of the other way around. Questions swirled through his mind as he spoke absently to Merlin, agreeing to help with a situation that should already be long past and settled. Something very, very strange was going on.

The audience with King Uther went about as well as he remembered. Aside from the fact that Arthur had nearly cried several times upon seeing his father (so alive), and the strange looks that Uther had sent his way throughout the conversation and subsequent audience, things deviated little from his recollection of events.

As Hunith was led from the room, despondent in her defeat, Arthur turned to look out a window. The memory of this day was returning more and more. He remembered saying something trite to Merlin from this position the last time, in an attempt to be comforting, or perhaps out of frustration.

"Thank you for trying," Merlin said, coming up beside Arthur and beating him to speech.

"I know how important she is to you," Arthur said in response. He remembered what was coming, expecting it even as Merlin proclaimed his intentions to return to Ealdor with his mother.

"Of course you are," he said, but Merlin cut him off before he could go further.

"It's been an honor serving you." Arthur turned to Merlin in surprise. Had Merlin really intended not to return? He did not remember that part. He was eternally grateful that he had not let the man run off alone the first time around.

"It had better continue being an honor," Arthur said with a mock glare, "because I'm coming with you."

Merlin gaped at him, and Arthur had to hold back a sigh. "My father cannot send troops to Ealdor without risking a war, but it will not be a risk for you to return with a friend. Besides, your villagers will need someone to teach them how to fight." Arthur well remembered how pathetically untrained the villagers had been with swords. Morgana, even if she had not yet turned to madness and evil, would not be able to help nearly as much as Arthur, for all her spirit and passion. He also had to admit that a significant part of him was excited at the prospect of getting to spend some time nearly alone with Guinevere. She had not thought very highly of him at this point in his life, but he would be sure to change that, even if he still did not quite understand what was going on.

Turning from the window, Arthur had gone several paces before he realized that Merlin was not beside him. The young man still stood where Arthur left him, staring after the Prince. Arthur raised an eyebrow, saying in annoyance, "What?"

Merlin raised his own eyebrows in return. "Did you bump your head this morning, Sire?" he asked. At Arthur's confused expression, he elaborated. "Only, you were acting weird this morning and now you've admitted, out loud, that we're friends. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were possessed." Merlin grinned mockingly at him.

Arthur snorted. Merlin would know all about possession.

He nearly tripped as that thought brought him up short. Merlin had magic, and this was clearly a magical problem.

"Sire?" Merlin asked, finally coming up beside him.

Arthur nearly spilled everything right there, in the door to the throne room, but he held back.

This may be Merlin, but it was not his Merlin. If this really was time travel, then this was a much younger Merlin. Arthur felt strange thinking about it. They were the same person, older and younger Merlin, but at the same time they weren't the same person at all. This Merlin had never confessed to him in a forest as Arthur died, crying because he could not stand that he had lied for so long to his friend, begging Arthur's forgiveness for not telling the King sooner of the magic he used to save Camelot countless times over. This Merlin had not faced Morgana and finally killed her as she stood over Arthur, gloating in her madness over his imminent death. This Merlin had not held him as he died, screaming his pain to a dragon (an impossible dragon that should have been dead, but was instead one more secret). No, this was not his Merlin.

As the silence dragged on and Merlin watched him, he finally, grinned back at his servant, trying to hide the brittleness in the expression. "I'm fine, Merlin. Let's go get ready for our trip."