Sorry for the delay in getting the next chapter up. I wanted to write a little ahead so I could keep the direction on the story focused.

Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the story. Your comments are very much appreciated. BSG

Chapter 3

Warlock and King started the long journey back to Camelot on foot. For the most part they walked in silence, mainly because Arthur had seemed to draw into himself and Merlin was just too tired to care. Yet each remained within a few paces of the other as if assuring the other remained safe.

They had been traveling for a few hours now. The morning, which had started out sunny, had soon given way to an increasingly grey overcast and a threat of rain. As a matter of fact, an hour later it did start to rain, not a heavy downpour but steady enough to make everything wet, cold and Merlin miserable as he shivered under his jacket.

The warlock, for once, didn't complain though as he trudged tiredly behind his king, his footsteps becoming more clumsy as his exhaustion increased. He longed for nothing more than to get Arthur safely back to Camelot and crawl into his own bed, even if it was too narrow and the mattress too thin and the blankets too worn. To be able to lay his head down, let his body collapse and his mind sink into oblivion sounded like bliss.

He didn't actually want to think about all the implications of returning to Camelot now that Arthur knew his secret, but he worried about it anyway. Of course he was ecstatic Arthur knew the truth and had accepted him. It wasn't that he even feared for his life anymore, it was just things were bound to be...different and a bit complicated, (an understatement) and Merlin wasn't really sure he was ready to face any of it.

It hadn't helped any that Arthur barely said a word since they started their trek back or that Merlin was reluctant to breech the silence between them either. Both had a lot to process and neither was quite ready to tackle the what-are-we-going-to-do-now question.

The only thing Merlin had made his mind up about was that he would abide by whatever Arthur decided and face the consequences. He owed Arthur that much.

He just wasn't sure how others would take the news or how he felt about others knowing.

For so long Merlin had lived in secret and even though he whined to Gauis about how under appreciated he was, truth of the matter was the warlock had never really been comfortable being in the spotlight. He much preferred Arthur in that role, even if it meant he was a prat about it at times. In many ways he liked and still preferred the anonymity of not being so exposed. It made his job to protect his friend in some ways easier, (in some ways not). Enemies tended to underestimate him if they viewed him simply as a bumbling servant. And being able to keep Emrys a secret from enemies the likes of Morganna, had distinct advantages.

But his biggest worry about revealing himself especially to Gwen, to Gwaine, Percival, Leon and the other knights was the fear, if they even accepted him in the first place, was his friends would see and treat him differently. When it came down to it, he was still the same person inside, magic included. He was still just Merlin, bumbling, clumsy (yes, even Merlin couldn't really claim that all had been an "act"), friend, servant, and confidant. He didn't want to see that change. And most especially he didn't want to see fear, anger, betrayal or hurt in their eyes.

Merlin's foot caught on an exposed root effectively breaking his train of thought as he gasped and fell to the ground with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.

Arthur turned at the startled "oomph" sound, rolling his eyes at the warlock sprawled face down in the mud. Merlin lifted his head and spit a leaf out that clung to his lower lip before attempting to stand back up. His gangly legs however had become clumsier than usual in his exhaustion and he slipped back down in the mud. Arthur let out an exasperated sigh and reached down grabbing Merlin by the collar of his jacket.

About to admonish him for being a clumsy idiot, despite the fact he was an "all powerful warlock" (Arthur was still having difficulty completely grasping this), he paused and really looked at his friend.

Merlin's face was drawn and pale. He had dark circles under his eyes that looked like bruises making the bony cheekbones look even more prominent. His shoulders where slouched and Arthur didn't miss the slight shiver that ran through his frame as a trickle of water ran off the raven head and down the side of his cheek. In essence, Merlin looked like crap.

"We'll take a break here. Get out of the rain for a bit."

Merlin shook his head. "I'm all right, Arthur."

"You're stumbling around like a blind badger."

"I'm just a little tired. We need to keep moving, get you safely back to Camelot."

"Get us safely back," Arthur rephrased. "Which is not likely going to happen if you keep tripping over your own two feet every two seconds because you are a complete idiot, warlock or not."

Merlin opened his mouth and then closed it as his body betrayed him with another tired shiver. "Fine."

They found an overhang of rocks in a small ravine. It wasn't much; barely enough to fit the two of them in, but it was enough to keep them out of the rain. The two tiredly huddled together. By now Merlin was nearly drenched to the bone and Arthur could feel the dampness seeping through his own padded jacket beneath the chainmail.

Merlin shivered again.

"I'll see if I can get a small fire going, warm us out a bit while you rest."

Merlin quirked a tired eyebrow at the offer and looked at him oddly.

"What?" Arthur demanded.

"Nothing. Just wondering who you are and what happened to Arthur."

Arthur scowled and Merlin grinned.

"It's okay, Arthur. Don't bother with a fire."

Merlin then dipped his head and brought his cupped hands up to his mouth. A few seconds later Arthur felt something, a warm, tingly feeling spreading over him, like the feeling of waking up in a nice warm bed in front of a heated fire. The sensation increased until he felt downright toasty before it settled down and gently abated. When Arthur looked down at himself he saw that his pants were no longer wet, and the padded jacket beneath his chainmail felt warm and comfortable instead of soggy and cold. He looked over and noticed Merlin clothes were also dry, so was his hair.

"How..." Arthur started to ask only to receive an incoherent mumble that he swore included the word clotpole before the warlock's head suddenly slumped to the side.

"Merlin?"

Concern immediately assaulted him until he realized Merlin was breathing deep and evenly and snoring slightly. Merlin had just used magic to dry them, and then promptly passed out into an exhausted sleep!

Arthur shook his head and reached over pulling Merlin away from the rock wall his face was currently squished up against. He wrapped an arm around Merlin's shoulder and readjusted the warlock into a more comfortable position against his side. Merlin snorted, gave a little huff and settled against the King's shoulder.

The King kept his arm about the warlock's thin shoulders (for additional warmth, he mentally added, that had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the affectionate smile spreading across his face.)

"Idiot." Arthur sputtered before resting his own head wearily against the rock.

...

Something was pressed tightly against his mouth blocking his ability to breath. He struggled and the pressure increased while at the same time he heard Arthur's clipped whisper in his ear.

Merlin's eyes flew open, his body suddenly tense. Arthur's face was inches from his own. He could feel the King's warm breath against his cheek.

And then he heard it, the sounds of horses and men on foot, snatches of conversation and shouts. Arthur drew his legs up beneath the overhang and indicated Merlin to quietly do the same.

They huddled tightly together, making themselves as small as possible.

Instinctively Arthur tightened his grip on Excalibur as they heard rustling of leaves just above them, the snort of a horse. To their left they could see a line of men, some on foot, some on horseback, coming down off the slope above them and continuing on their path until they disappeared from view. If any of them had bothered to turn and looked closely back they would have glimpsed the two barely concealed men.

Both waited with baited breath until the group had passed and the forest was once more quiet. Only then did Arthur rise and motion Merlin to follow.

"Saxons?" Merlin asked when they were some distance away.

Arthur nodded. "By the look of it. And quite a large patrol."

"Do you think they are coming from Camelot, or from the North, through the valley?"

"It's hard to say, but I don't plan on staying to find out. Come on."

They continued, remaining more vigilant than before, ducking out of sight with every sound. Merlin used his magic to periodically try and look forward to make sure they were not going to stumble into another patrol.

The only good thing was the rain had eased up and a few patches of blue could be seen overhead.

They had gone about another hour before Merlin pulled Arthur up short. "Wait. There's something up ahead."

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure."

They moved forward cautiously. Arthur took the lead, with his sword gripped tightly in his hand. When they neared the clearing, Merlin pulled Arthur back behind a rock.

In front of them there was what appeared to be the remains of a camp. The smoky remnants of a fire drifted up from the ground. A wagon was tipped over on its side, the contents scattered, and even from their distance they could see several bodies littering the ground.

They stayed behind the rock for several more seconds while Merlin used his magic to scan the area. "I don't see anyone else about."

Arthur nodded. They approached the camp cautiously nonetheless. There were five bodies on the ground, all obviously had been in the middle of a battle. One lay prone with a cross bow arrow in the back, another a bolt through the neck, while the remaining had been felled by swords. All were dressed raggedly, but wore a mixture of armor and leather vests.

"Looks like a small groups of bandits." Merlin said.

The campsite was completely ransacked. "Apparently not their lucky day."

"You think it was the group of Saxons we ran into earlier?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Arthur guessed. "If they are retreating back across the borders from Camlann, there's likely to be more too. They may be trying to regroup."

The thought made Arthur uneasy, especially as he had no idea what the condition of his army or Camelot was in after the battle. They had been outnumbered five to one and Arthur had left only a skeletal force back at the castle. "Camelot may still be vulnerable. And Guinevere..." He let the rest fade. He couldn't even think of the possibility something had happened to her. He had left Gwen at the camp to help take care of the wounded. He only hoped none of the Saxons had breeched through before they had managed to push them back.

He had given Gauis the Royal Seal to give to Guinevere. It had been his only thought that had given him hope that she had been unharmed and was safely back awaiting his return.

Merlin easily read the worry plaguing the King.

"I'm sure the city is fine, Sire and so is Gwen. You stopped the Saxons before they advanced through the pass."

But that was just it. He hadn't, not really. They had been losing the battle until Merlin, as the old sorcerer, had stepped in. Looking at the bodies of the slain bandits, the King could only visualize his slain men on the battlefield. How many men had he lost? How many of his knights had fallen? How many more if not for Merlin...

"No. You did," The King replied. "Without you, Merlin, we would have been defeated."

The warlock shook his head, standing before Arthur as he had always done, his voice quiet, but true in his belief. "Arthur, I may have helped tip the scales in even favor, but even my magic isn't powerful enough to defeat an entire army alone."

Arthur wasn't convinced though remembering the sight of the "old" warlock on top of the mountain wielding the power of lightening itself. The amount of magic in Merlin had been...frightening. Their enemies hadn't stood a chance.

Yet it was this same man who stood humbly before him shaking his head in denial.

"It was you, Arthur that won that battle, make no mistake about that." Merlin said with such conviction it had the King staring back at the slender, dark haired man before him.

"It was you that your men followed into battle, Sire. And you who they fought beside. Not just out of a sense of duty to their King, but because of who you are. They believe in you, Arthur, in the love you have for Camelot and in your people and in the future you strive for. They follow you. Just as I always will."

Arthur found his eyes locked onto the sincere blue ones that gazed back with nothing but loyalty. How had Arthur managed to find such a true friend that had stood by him for so long despite the hardships he had faced in secret still amazed him. When they had first met, all those years ago, when Merlin, a nobody, a nothing had dared to challenged an arrogant, spoiled prince, who would have ever thought two such opposing personalities could have formed such a bond.

Looking back however, it really shouldn't have surprised, Arthur. There had just been "something" about the man that had intrigued him even if he did think he was an idiot.

Arthur had actually loved the challenge of having someone stand up to him instead of coddling or bowing down to him (though he was never going to admit that!) It had been refreshing, stimulating and downright fun in ways that he never got with the Noble lackeys that followed him around, hanging onto his every word and feeding into his ego.

Merlin had never done that. He would argue head to head with Arthur, complain, be cheeky or annoyed, even downright rude at times. Arthur would yell back, throw things at him, use him as target practice, and on a few occasions throw Merlin in the stocks and on rarer occasions, even the dungeon for a day or so. Merlin had put up with it all, not out of a sense of subservience, but just because it was Arthur, the man according to Merlin was his destiny to protect, but also and more importantly because he was his friend.

Arthur gazed at the man before him. "You will won't you, Merlin." It wasn't a question but a simple fact that still left Arthur amazed.

"I may have magic, Arthur, but it is nothing without you to give it a purpose." Merlin replied simply. He tilted his head slightly "A wise friend told me we are like two sides of the same coin." The warlock's mouth then widened as he added a bit cheekily. "Even if your half is sixty percent royal prat most of the time."

"Only sixty?" Arthur smirked, crossing his arms airily. "So that means I'm magnificent the other forty percent?"

Merlin turned and started walking again. "More like thirty. The other ten you're just a dolliphead."

"Ow!" The warlock rubbed his head where Arthur had cuffed him. "Make that eighty percent prat!"

TBC...

Reviews appreciated. :)