A/N: Sorry, guys. I would've had this up last night, but over here in California, we had a bunch of little, but noticeable, earthquakes. But, you see, for the past twenty years, scientists have been telling us over and over again that we're do for "The Big One," so every time there's an earthquake down here, we take it seriously and completely panic for a moment, thinking that that is the earthquake is gonna kill us all.

But we're all fine. A few minor injuries, a few smashed bottles, and some smashed windows, but nothing major. Now on with the fic!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the show.
Rating: K+ (light swearing)
Characters: Arthur, Merlin
Pairings: Arwen
Warnings: swearing, not heavy, though
Title: Aren't You Forgetting Something?
Summary: Merlin really hated Gaius at the moment. An aging spell and a ritual to summon the White Goddess? Was the man out of his mind? Speaking of which, he really was tired. Exhausted, in fact. So, so very…tired… Takes place during "All My Heart."

"You have my word."

Merlin was pretty sure that Arthur had been the one to say that, but he wasn't quite sure. Perhaps it was Gwen? Or Mordred? Or maybe he had been the one to say that. He didn't know, and honestly, he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

He stood there, watching the others start to walk off, or at least he tried to. The world was spinning so badly and his vision was so blurry, it was very hard to discern what was going on around him. He saw the others turn around to look at him one more time before heading off again. Merlin was vaguely insulted that they didn't even bothered to go look for "the gangly boy " or even ask about him, but he shook the thought from his head. This offered him an even better advantage.

Once he was sure he could no longer see the blue of Gwen's dress, Merlin stumbled over where he had left his bag. Collapsing against the rocks, he pulled the dress off of him to reveal his normal clothing, stuffed that dreadful dress back into his satchel, then drank the rest of the potion that transformed him back into a young man.

He breathed a sigh as the strain left his body. He leaned against the cold stone behind him and marveled at how heavy his limbs felt. The fog in his brain started to swirl, and moments later, he was completely consumed by it.

Arthur comforted his wife as she whispered apologies and confessed things she had done that betrayed her people and her husband.

"Guinevere," he purred, pulling her close as the horses came into sight. "I blame you for none of that. I blame only the witch, Morgana."

Guinevere looked as if she were on the verge of sobbing. She took a shaky breath. "That may be so, but all I know is that I betrayed you once, and I betrayed you again, and I will never forgive myself."

By this time, they had reached the horses, and he stopped, grabbed her gently by the shoulders, and looked into her warm brown eyes.

"No one blames you," said the king sternly. "And you shouldn't either."

Beside them, Mordred averted his eyes as husband and wife passionately embraced each other. Instead, he cast his eyes back toward the cauldron, a worried crease forming between his eyes. It had been an hour since they had left Dolma – or rather, Merlin – and he had still not returned to them. He, being a magic user himself, knew what he had done and how exhausting it had been. If any other had done it in his place, they would have been dead simply from the strain. Was Merlin to exhausted to come to them? Should they go and look for them? Surely not, Emrys could take care of himself, right?

Right, but Merlin couldn't.

That thought snapped the young knight to attention, the worry now evident upon his features. He turned to the monarchs whose foreheads were pressed together lovingly, the king whispering something to his queen. He bit back the urge to roll his eyes and said,

"I apologize, but Merlin's not back yet."

Arthur and Gwen instantly broke apart, their expressions identical looks of worry and alarm. The queen turned to her husband, nothing but concern showing in her eyes.

"Do you think something's happened to him?" she asked.

Arthur took a steadying breath. "Knowing his luck, maybe. We should look for him. Mordred, you go over that way and search for the bumbling fool. Guinevere, come with me."

"It will be easier if we split up and look for him," she interjected. "You look over that way and I'll look over here."

Arthur looked uncomfortable. "But the sorceress – "

"She brought me back Arthur, I seriously doubt she means any of us any harm. If she had, then we would already be dead. All of us. She certainly has the power, don't you agree, Arthur?"

Arthur smiled warmly. "Insightful as ever, my queen. Alright, we meet back at this spot in an hour's time."

The knight and the queen nodded and the three of them split up, calling out their missing friend's name.

Eventually, Gwen made it back to the cauldron itself. She stared out into the dark waters for a moment, remembering her time enchanted by Morgana. It had started back in the Dark Tower. Those visions of the people she loved taunted her, tortured her mind, and slowly, she felt her sanity slipping away until there was nothing but an empty shell. Slowly, that shell filled with hate and greed. Her mind was set with one thought, and on thought only: to serve Morgana, her old friend.

So, she did. The details were a bit fuzzy, and there were parts of time that were missing from her memory, but as Arthur had assured her, it was not her fault. The fault lay with Morgana, and Morgana only.

Sighing, she turned and stumbled around some large boulder and –

"Merlin!" she gasped.

Hiking up her dress, she ran over to where he lay, pale and still, grasping a satchel. He was far too pale to simply be asleep, and his chest - was it moving?

Kneeling next to him, she placed a hand on his chest and shook him gently. She let out a sigh of relief as his thin chest rose and fell slowly with breath. She smacked his face lightly, trying to get him to rouse.

"Merlin?" she called gently but loudly.

"Mmph," he muttered, turning his head away from her touch, but he did not wake.

Gwen sat back on her haunches, something a lady in her standing should never do – no matter what – but at the moment, she couldn't bring herself to care. In front of her was one of her oldest friend, unconscious and seemingly barely alive.

Looking around for the old sorceress, she stood and made her way back out from behind the boulders. Cupping her hands over her mouth to increase the sound, she shouted,

"Arthur! Mordred! I've found Merlin! I need help!"

A few moments later, the young knight, Mordred came scurrying over to her, looking almost frantic. He leapt over rocks and boulders and made his way over to his queen.

"You've found E – Merlin? Where is he? Is he alright?" he asked.

Gwen raised an eyebrow at Mordred's worry. She had had the impression that the two weren't all that fond of each other. But she answered him nonetheless.

"He's alive. I'm not quite sure about fine, though…," she replied. "He's over here," she added, gesturing to Merlin's general direction. Mordred started at a trot towards Merlin's prone form just as Gwen spotted Arthur running over, trying to mask his worried expression and failing spectacularly.

"Where's Merlin?" he asked, cutting right to the chase. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed past her and made his way over to where Mordred was attempting to shake the secret warlock awake. When he laid eyes on the unconscious manservant, he turned a shade paler. He quickened his pace.

Gwen trailed after him, her worried eyes glued to her friend. "I found no trace of an injury on him that might have caused this…," she said as Arthur knelt next to Mordred who had given up the quest to wake the young man and had moved on to examining him.

"The old crone," growled Arthur. "She did something to him."

"There is no sign of magic," Mordred disagreed. "Whatever spell she placed on him is no longer in effect."

"And how could you possibly know that?" Arthur asked, slightly fiercer than he mean to.

"The Druids made sure to teach us such things," Mordred replied. He was now feeling the back of the warlock's head. "This is the result of exhaustion. He obtained a concussion when he fell of the ledge."

"What?" Gwen gasped.

"The next day, he was forced to carry many full packs and distract Morgana," Mordred continued. "He needs rest."

"He will wake up," said Arthur, though it sounded more like a question.

Mordred was silent for a moment. "I am not as skilled as Gaius, nor Merlin, for that matter, so I'm afraid I cannot say."

"You said he was only suffering from exhaustion, surely that won't – kill him?" said Arthur, sounding frustrated.

"I am afraid…the spell that the Dolma cast to keep him asleep did a number on his body. It is not impossible for him body to…shut down," Mordred said uncomfortably. He glanced back down at Merlin, foolish Merlin who had cast an aging spell and summoned the White Goddess at the same time. Technically, he shouldn't be alive, so Mordred wouldn't be surprised if he faded away by daybreak. But he was Emrys, destined to stand by The Once and Future as they ushered in the age of peace and prosperity. He couldn't die now.

Right?

Arthur sat back on his haunches as he heard his knight say those words. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling frustrated and helpless. Merlin couldn't go like this. The stupid servant had been through too much to leave Arthur now. No, Arthur wouldn't let it happen. Merlin would be alright. He would recover and then receive a speech from Arthur about self-preservation.

Taking a steadying breath, get stood back up. He glanced toward the horizon where half of the sun could be seen. He looked back at his knight and his servant.

"He'll be alright, Arthur," whispered Gwen, entwining her hand through his. "He always is."

Arthur shut his eyes for a brief moment and nodded, turning back to his wife. After a gentle kiss on her forehead, he said,

"You're right of course." He then turned back to his servant and gathered him up into his arms, then proceeded to sling him over his shoulder. Though the young man had gained a few pounds over the years, he was still far too light for Arthur's liking. "We'll go find the horses and make camp for the night. We'll return to Camelot in the morning."

And with that, they started their silent march to their horses, the air heavy with anxiety for their unconscious friend.

Merlin awoke to darkness.

That's what scared him. Had he died? How had that happened? And what about Arthur?

Arthur!

He sat bolt upright, something warm and soft rolling off his body. As he straightened up, he gasped and clutched his head, realizing that sitting up hadn't been the brightest idea. But at least he knew one thing: if the headache and heaviness in his limbs was anything to go by, he was alive.

"Merlin?"

He attempted to answer the voice in the darkness, but only a groan escaped his throat. The muscles in his back started to spasm and a moment later, they gave out, sending Merlin back down to the ground, laying down and staring at the stars above him.

"Merlin!" said that voice again. He felt someone shake him by his shoulders and panicked as he realized he couldn't see them nor the stars.

"C'mon, Merlin, wake up," said that voice again.

Oh, right. His eyes were closed. Of course.

Slowly, he cracked his eyelids open and saw the vague outline of a familiar prattish king hovering over him.

"A-Arthur?" he croaked.

It appeared as if he smiled, but it was too dark for Merlin to tell. The king patted his shoulder. "There you go, Merlin."

"What – what happened?" asked Merlin confusedly. "Where am I?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Arthur asked, and there was a slight undertone of worry in his voice.

Merlin frowned and thought for a moment. "Morgana attacking Mordred and I…and…" His frown became a scowl and the pounding in his head became even more painful as he tried to remember the events after the attack. He knew something important happened after that, he just couldn't for the life of him remember what.

"What about the Dolma?" Arthur questioned, trying to push him along.

Then Merlin winced at the memories that had come rushing back to him. The aging spell, the White Goddess, how utterly exhausting it had been. All he wanted to do was sleep for the rest of eternity. His destiny could eat it.

Nevertheless, he raised hazy eyes to his king and nodded feebly.

"I remember."

"What happened after you went to find her? Did she hurt you?" Arthur asked quickly now that Merlin had remembered.

Merlin gave a weak laugh. "You almost sound worried, Arthur," he teased.

Arthur's worried expression dropped into a scowl, but Merlin could see the relief in his friend's eyes that Merlin was okay enough to be teasing him.

"I am not worried!" Arthur said and he cringed at how that sounded like an absolute lie. Which it was.

"Why so defensive, sire?"

"Merlin?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Shut – "

"Up, got it."

"And answer my question."

Merlin frowned, not remembering Arthur asking any questions. Probably the effects of that stupid concussion.

"What question?"

"What did that old crone do to you?" asked the king.

Merlin blinked. "I – I don't remember. I think she only put a sleeping spell on me, but…I couldn't say for sure. But there's one thing I do remember clearly."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin's now slightly hurt and reproachful expression. "And what would that be?"

Merlin glanced up and said in a voice that did not at all sound the least bit hurt, "You left me."

And there it was. What was it about the servants of Camelot that made them so special? How did they always manage to humble Arthur? How was it that they planted themselves firmly in Arthur's heart – one as his wife and the other as his little brother?

And why, oh, why did Merlin have to look at him like that? He looked so small and helpless, like a child. And the betrayal on his face tore at Arthur's heart. Merlin had always looked out after Arthur, and the one time Arthur needed to do the same for Merlin, he left him at the mercy of a sorceress he barely even knew. The poor man must have been terrified.

If Arthur, king of Camelot couldn't even look after his servant properly – dammit, his friend – how could he be trusted to look after his kingdom?

And looking down upon his pitiful friend, Arthur felt a pang of guilt stab at his heart. It must've shown on his face because Merlin's expression morphed into one of surprise and slight guilt.

Guilt? What the hell did Merlin have to be guilty for?

"Merlin…," said Arthur in a serious voice. "I – I'm sorry."

Merlin blinked, surprised, and broke into a tentative grin. Then he craned his neck around, trying to get a good look at his surroundings.

"Where are we? What of Gwen?" he asked as Arthur pressed him back down to rest.

"We're where we left the horses. After the Dolma cleansed Gwen, we turned back to look for you. We found you unconscious by the cauldron and we brought you back here. Mordred's here too," replied Arthur.

"So Gwen's alright?" Merlin asked, a smile lighting up his features.

"Yes, I have no desire to kill Arthur," said a voice. There were footsteps and the outline of Gwen came over, smiling down at her friend. "Merlin, how are you feeling?"

He gave a wan smile. "Tired."

"I suspected as much, Arthur making you carry all of those – all of those…" She suddenly cut off with a gasp and staggered back.

Arthur suddenly shot to his feet and steadied her while Merlin sat bolt upright again, causing his headache to increase tenfold. Trying to ignore the pain lacing through his head, he called out,

"Gwen?"

Arthur gently lowered her to the ground, and to both his and Merlin's confusion she put a hand to her mouth where she muffled a sob. She reached out for Merlin then thought better of it, and placed a hand to her heart.

"Merlin," she said in a choked voice, "I'm so sorry."

Merlin gave a confused smile. "For what? You are not to blame for my condition."

"I remember. Morgana. The boy, Daegal. The poison. I – I – I…"

Arthur's confusion grew even more as Merlin's expression turned to one of horror…and panic? Why would Merlin be panicked? And what of a boy and poison?

"Gwen," said Merlin gently, "that wasn't your fault. It was Mor – "

"I assisted in the murder of an innocent boy!" cried Gwen. "And I nearly killed you and Arthur. Morgana said you shouldn't've have survived, that it would've cause you unbearable pain..." she broke off in a sob.

Merlin, for one, dearly hoped she never remembered when she tried to poison Arthur.

"What…?" said Arthur at a loss, looking from Merlin to his wife. "What shouldn't have Merlin survived? Merlin, what happened?"

"N-nothing," replied Merlin nervously. "Just something Morgana did. Gwen, listen to me," he said. His tone was so forceful that Gwen looked up, slightly shocked. "What happened – everything that happened – none of it was your fault and none of us blame you. When we saw you in the woods with Morgana, we knew you were enchanted because you are too loving and kind and loyal to even consider betraying your people and your friends. Morgana, she is the one who holds the blame. What she did to you was unforgivable. This, all of this, was her doing. Not yours."

Gwen gave another small sob, then suddenly lurched forward and enveloped Merlin in a hug. He hugged back and they stayed like that for a few moments before she pulled back and searched his eyes. She put a hand on his shoulder and said thickly,

"Thank you, Merlin."

Merlin smiled and nodded. "Get some rest, Gwen."

She nodded, kissed Arthur on the cheek, then made her way back to her bed roll. Arthur then turned to Merlin, who had lied back down.

"So what happened?" he asked curiously.

Merlin then sighed and proceeded to explain what had happened with the poison and the boy, Daegal. After Merlin had told his tale, Arthur sat back, stunned.

"Gwen told me you were out to see a girl," was the first thing he said.

Merlin raised an eyebrow, impressed by the half truth. "I suppose I was." Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Technically, at least. Daegal wanted me to help his younger sister. And then Morgana showed up. So, yeah, I suppose I did see a girl while I was out."

Arthur snorted and patted Merlin's shoulder. "I'm going to get some sleep. I suggest you do the same."

With that, he moved to wake Mordred while Merlin turned over, trying to get in a more comfortable position and trying to hike the blanket further up his body. Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, he felt someone approach him, and realizing that there was only one person who was up at the moment, he sat bolt upright and faced the former druid who was sitting next to him and regarding him curiously. Merlin was instantly set on alert.

"Arthur's a lucky man," Mordred said after a silence.

"He is," Merlin agreed, still suspicious.

"Not just to have Gwen," Mordred said, speaking softly, just in case the others were still awake, "To have you."

"He'll find someone else to do his chores soon enough."

"It was hardly a chore," the knight said. Then he lowered his voice even further. "That was your magic back there, wasn't it?" Merlin was silent. "Have no fear. I will not divulge your secret." Then, he said something that surprised Merlin, "I admire you. It can't be so easy to do so much for so little reward."

"I do not seek a reward," Merlin all but spat at the knight.

"Recognition, then."

"No, my friends are safe and well, that's all I require," replied Merlin. He lied back down in his bedroll, realizing that there was no immediate threat from the knight.

"You see, Merlin, we do have something in common after all," said Mordred. Merlin clamped his mouth shut, determined not to scream into the night what was on the tip of his tongue.

"The future of Camelot," said the knight. He sent Merlin a quick smile, then moved to the other side of the camp to keep watch.

Merlin did not sleep that night.

A/N: If there are a lot of mistakes, sorry. It was not Beta'd nor was it proofread. If you spot any errors, feel free to point them out to me! And I would really appreciate it if you reviewed! It might just inspire me to update my other story faster! :D

Next oneshot will be posted for April Fool's Day! :D

~theAnonymousParadox