Arthur laughed. He laughed hard. So hard in fact, that had he known it, his knights, sitting waiting nervously on their horses at the bottom of the hill below Alvarr's men, looked up, worried and curious. Merlin's eyes narrowed as he tried to fathom what on earth was going on between the two men.

"Merlin!" Arthur cried eventually. "Are you mad? You were there when I went to all that effort to get him back the last time, weren't you? I distinctly remember tracking you down, bringing you back to Camelot, and questioning you vigorously for days. Why do you think I would do all of that, recover him, and then just let you take him away again as though nothing had happened? I mean, are you mad? Is that it, are you actually mad?"

Alvarr just stayed still throughout all of this, staring at the prince evenly, ignoring his laughter and his aggressive outburst, calm, and unruffled.

"Some have suggested as much," he said eventually.

Arthur met his eyes, wondering if it were true. It didn't scare him, the idea of facing a man not in his right mind. But it let him know his enemy better.

He shook his head. "What on earth do you want Merlin for anyway?" he asked quietly. "What did you ever want him for?"

Alvarr tilted his head to the side. "I can tell you," he nodded. "But it will change things."

"What things?"

"Things, Arthur, that can never be changed back. And I am sorry for that. For this was a noble deed, this deception. It was honourable for what it was, even though I despise it."

"Alvarr, what are you talking about?"

Alvarr began to pace. "You don't know your servant at all, do you?" he said.

"I think I know the man pretty well," Arthur countered.

"Really? And why did he say that I had captured him before? Did he give you a reason?"

"What does that matter?"

"Just curious. Just wondering what excuse he concocted to explain why an evil and twisted sorcerer, such as myself, would choose to take not the crowned prince of Camelot, nor yet any of his trusted knights, bursting with information about the castle and its defences, but a servant. Nothing more than a servant."

Arthur's face hardened. "He said he didn't know why you took him. He said he didn't remember."

Alvarr smiled, though it quickly faded. "Yes," he said. "Perhaps he does not. The cave – does things to us. I never intended for him to be in there so long."

"Could you," Arthur started. "Get to a point sometime?"

Alvarr's smile returned. "Impatience isn't a trait that flatters you."

"Okay!" Arthur slapped his hands together. "This has been fun. But I have to go back to Camelot and tell my father that his daughter is planning to overthrow him – again, so unless there's anything else vital you need to tell me, I'm sure I'll see you soon." Arthur turned his back on Alvarr, and started to walk away.

"Your servant is a sorcerer, Arthur."

Arthur stopped, but he didn't turn.

"That's why I took him instead of you. He is more important to me than you could ever be."

Slowly, very very slowly, Arthur turned back to face him. "You expect me to believe," he said, in a low and dangerous voice. "That my servant, my loyal, trusted and devoted servant, my friend, is a practitioner of magic? You expect me to believe you, a sorcerer, an enemy of Camelot? How dare you sully his good name!" He drew his sword.

Alvarr smirked and turned away.

"Why would you say such a thing?" Arthur demanded.

"I say it because it is true," Alvarr replied calmly without turning back. He walked the short distance to a moss covered rock by the stream, and sat himself down, comfortable that he had Arthur's attention.

"I don't believe you," Arthur insisted, coming closer and holding out his sword threateningly.

"Clearly," Alvarr said, looking the sword up and down. "But perhaps when you hear my story you will think differently."

Arthur wore his fury on his face. "So speak," he spat out.

Alvarr indicated with his hand that Arthur should also sit, but Arthur ignored him, keeping his sword drawn. Neither of these things seemed to bother Alvarr. "My mother was a seer," he started.

"I thought your mother was dead," Arthur countered angrily.

"Oh she is," he agreed. "But before she burned at Uther's hands, she was a trader's wife, and a prophet. When we were children she would disappear inside herself for hours, sometimes for days. Sometimes we thought she would never return to us. And she would say things, tell us visions of the future. One time, when I was 15, my father and my sister were away. She fell into a trance. She spoke to me without knowing, told me that I would die at the hands of a sorcerer. When she awoke, she remembered nothing of what she had said. Six months later, she was murdered – by your father. But her words never left me. I have sought all these years for an answer."

He linked his hands, his eyes watering slightly with the memories of his mother, so cruelly taken. But he blinked, and the memory was gone.

"Years passed," he went on. "I grew older with my anger, and I gathered an army about me, an army of sorcerers determined to revenge themselves upon Uther for the evils of the great purge. And for a while, the urgency of my quest was forgotten in the desire to bring about the downfall of your father. Then one day I met a boy in the woods, and I could tell instantly of his burgeoning power, of what he would become. He told me of a crystal kept within the vaults of Camelot, a crystal of great power that had once belonged to his people, but had been taken forcibly from them. He said it could tell the future, if one with the ability to see looked into it. He urged me to come to Camelot, to speak with your sister, as she would help us in our quest. And so we came, and just like the boy said, Morgana agreed to steal the crystal from the vaults and bring it to us."

"Wait." Arthur's obvious frustration at the beginning of Alvarr's story had changed slowly to interest. He stopped the sorcerer at a point of history that he recognised. "Are you telling me that it was Morgana who stole the Crystal of Neathid?"

Alvarr smiled again. "Yes Arthur. Even then she was a thorn in your side, and even then you were too blind to see it."

"You came to Camelot to speak to her?"

"We were in her room," he affirmed. "As were you on Merlin's urging I believe. He knew we were there because he'd heard us talking through his magic. But you trusted Morgana over him when she said she was alone."

Arthur looked away. Morgana's betrayal, it seemed, stretched back far further than any of them knew. He remembered that night clearly, remembered having yelled at Merlin for making him appear a fool. But it was Morgana who had made a fool of him; made a fool of them all.

"When she brought it to us," Alvarr continued. "The crystal, I held it in my hand, and I finally thought my quest was at an end. Here now I would find the answer to my question. I would see the one who would kill me, I would avoid my death."

"So that was your noble cause?" Arthur asked, incredulous. "Your army, all those deaths – just to avoid your own!"

"What good am I to the cause of my brothers if I am dead!" he exclaimed. "My mother's prophecy must not be fulfilled – not if I can stop it."

"But you didn't stop it," Arthur reminded him. "I stopped you."

"And I told you that the crystal was useless to you. That none of you had the power to use it," Alvarr retorted, then looked down at the ground in frustration. "How wrong I was. Had I but known that Morded's fascination with your sister had distracted us from the fact there was another within Camelot who could not only have led us to the crystal, but wielded it as well... But the boy was blinded by his affection for Morgana. It took me almost two years to realise my mistake."

"Did Morgana help you to escape as well?" Arthur demanded.

Alvarr glanced up at him. "Of course she did." He smirked at Arthur's growing realisation. "You were trusting fools," he said.

"So it would seem," Arthur agreed.

"When I left Camelot, I had nowhere to go," Alvarr continued. "My men were dead, I was hunted, my plan had failed. I wondered in the wilderness for weeks, months. And then one day I stumbled upon a place that men know as the Valley of the Fallen Kings. I felt it call to me, felt its power draw me in. Once I was there, it did not take me long to discover the crystal cave. It sang in my blood as I walked towards it, and as I crossed the threshold, I felt as though I had come home, as though this was where I was meant to be.

"But the power was too great, and after only a short time I was forced to leave." he sighed at the memory, the loss he had felt. "But I heard whisperings in the crystals before I departed and I knew that this place must be the origin of the Crystal of Neathid. And if that were so, then it must also be a place of foretelling. I did not have the power to see the secrets that the cave offered, so I needed to find one who did. I went to the druids, but they would tell me nothing. I travelled to great palaces, scoured libraries, wherever I could, uncovering ancient texts and long-forgotten stories: anything that mentioned the crystal cave. And in those stories I found one name said over and over, one name said in the same breath as the crystal cave, one who had the rare gift to see the future. The name of Myrddin Emrys."

Arthur let out an almost inaudible sigh of relief. For some reason, he'd been convinced that the name Alvarr was going to utter was Merlin. The sorcerer seemed to notice his expression, and smiled.

"You may not know him by that name," he said. "But you will recognise his story, for it is bound with yours. The books link your two names together, speak of a time of peace that is to come, of many great deeds that the two of you will do. And have done, for you are living this legend, Prince Arthur."

"I don't understand," Arthur said, his anger growing once more. "How can these books know anything about me? How can they be linking me to a man I've never met?

"But you have met. This is a man who, according to the texts, saved Camelot from a mighty griffin, whispered soothing words into the ears of a dragon, tamed a troll, bargained his very life for that of his master's when he was bitten by the questing beast. This is a man who will serve you for all time, but who has kept from you the greatest secret of them all. Emrys and Merlin are one and the same."

Arthur felt his world start to spin slightly. He felt out of breath, as though the air around him was no longer enough to nourish his being. His blood was pounding.

It could not be so.

"You're lying," he stated, his words sounding slurred in his own ears. He raised his sword and pointed it at Alvarr's heart.

"Your servant is a sorcerer, Arthur," he said evenly. "A powerful one. And he has used his magic to help you and to help Camelot, and even to help your father." His face darkened. "And for that I hate him. But I also need him. His ability to tell the future is all I want. Give him to me, and I will depart Morgana's service, and Camelot will be safe."

Arthur was still having problems finding enough air. He struggled to understand what Alvarr was saying to him, what he was asking. Then, amid the confusion, something occurred to him.

"If what you say is true," he said, grasping at any sliver of fact he could. "If Merlin has been using – magic to protect me. Why would I give him up to you?"

Alvarr's eyebrows knotted together. "You're defending a sorcerer?" he wondered.

"Answer the question!" Arthur shouted back, furious suddenly. He hated himself for believing what he was being told, but he couldn't help it. The man's words made sense, and the more he thought on it, the more little pieces, tiny unanswered questions and niggling suspicions were starting to fall into place.

Alvarr again was unmoved by his emotion. "I will return him to you," he stated. "After my business is finished. You have my word. You can go on and shape your futures together, as destiny has always intended. I need him only for this one task. Give him to me for one month, that is all I ask."

Arthur tried to force his brain to think logically. "Why not just ask him?" he said. "If Merlin has these – powers that you speak of, why not just ask him what the future holds for you?"

"I do not think he would tell me… willingly," Alvarr said sadly. "As I said, I had not intended to leave Merlin in the crystal cave so long. But I do not think my intention will matter, when the result was that he nearly lost his mind. If I want an answer to my question, it may be that I now need to use – some particular forms of persuasion."

Arthur flashed back in his head. "When we took you captive, you were many miles from the valley and the cave," he reminded Alvarr. "You say it was not your intention to leave him there. Where did you go? Why did you leave him?"

"I had been called away by – business," Alvarr told him. "My men were supposed to retrieve Merlin from the cave after only a few hours. I can only presume they were slain by bandits or driven away by the same. But it does not matter," he surged to his feet. "I have stated my bargain." He stood in front of Arthur, aggressively confident. "Morgana is set to ride in less than two day's time. Give me your servant, and Camelot will be safe. Deny me this one thing, and I will assist her in grinding your petty kingdom to dust."

Arthur's emotions seethed. He felt as though subconsciously Merlin's presence in his life had always been something of a tethering rope, keeping him secure through the violent storms they had faced together. Now the rope had snapped, and as he reached for it with floundering arms, he found the ends lost in the darkness.

And for a moment as they stood there, one brief terrible moment, he saw himself handing his servant over. He saw with absolute clarity the exact look of horror on Merlin's face, his confusion, his sense of betrayal. His fear. Arthur felt himself sicken at even allowing himself to think it. A crushing weight of guilt descended on him.

"No."

Whatever this man said Merlin was, he was still Merlin. Arthur had to give him a chance. If this terrible thing was true, then it was a new world, and everything would change. But he would face that if and when it happened, and not at the whim of a madman.

"No!" he said with more confidence. "I will not give him up to you. You are a pitiless man Alvarr, whose actions have brought misery onto my kingdom and my friends. You will not take Merlin from me, not if it cause the downfall of the whole world."

Alvarr smiled. "Not the whole world, Arthur," he said. "Just your world." He turned his back on him swiftly and began to walk away towards his horse. "I give you one day to change your mind," he said, reaching his horse, untying it, and leaping gracefully into the saddle. "Look for my messenger before nightfall tomorrow. This will be your final chance. Do not disappoint me."

With that he turned his horse and spurred it away back in the direction of his men.

Arthur felt drunk, staggered slightly, using the tip of his sword to balance against the ground and stop from falling. He made his way shakily to the rock Alvarr had been sitting on, and slumped down onto it. For once in his life, he was at a total loss of what to do. So sitting seemed like a good idea.

It wasn't long before he heard voices calling for him, and hoof beats on the forest floor. Vaguely he was aware of sudden movement around him, then there was a face in front of his eyes.

"Arthur? Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

Merlin was looking at him, earnest and worried. Arthur fixed his gaze on him, feeling again that sensation of the world slipping, of everything that had gone before falling away and leaving a stranger standing before him.

"Is he hurt?" a second voice called, and Gwaine appeared at Merlin's side, followed quickly by the rest of his knights.

"I'm not sure," Merlin said, still sounding concerned.

"I'm fine," Arthur stated, trying to keep his voice from shaking, and startling them all by getting swiftly to his feet. He willed his body to show none of the weakness that he felt.

"Sire?" Merlin backed up a little.

"What did he say to you, Arthur?" Gwaine wondered.

Arthur looked around, seeing their curious faces, seeing men he trusted. Men he had all but condemned to death. And there amongst them was the man he should have surrendered, the man who had betrayed him; betrayed them all. His eyes rested briefly on Merlin's face, and his servant recoiled slightly at the look. But then it was gone.

He strode through them hurriedly. "We must return to Camelot," he said, making for his horse. "I must warn my father and prepare the kingdom for war."

A/N - dear all. Thanks for continuing reviews. I'm away for a bit after tomorrow, so am intending to load two or possibly three chapters tomorrow night to make up for it. Just a heads up so you don't accidentally click too far ahead and spoil the story!