Arthur never said anything else about the weirdness in his life after one day muttering that his life was nutters in his room. Merlin didn't know how he dealt with it, other than pretending Merlin was part of his sub-conscious, the dog was a stray, the car incident was one of Merlin's friends having magic, and all the little times he was safe when he should have hurt himself just dumb luck.

Uther breezed into Arthur's room, telling him they were going hunting. As he walked out, he indicated to Merlin to stay put. Merlin nodded and then waited until they were gone before meandering to his practice room. Morgana stalked past him, eyes blazing with fury, making Merlin glad she couldn't see him.

Five minutes into his practice, Merlin was bored. He grew a tree. He shrank the tree, enlarged the tree, made the tree invisible, turned the tree bright pink, made the tree talk, vanished the tree to his room. He created a copy of himself that stared at him (and drooled a little) like a really dumb dog until Merlin vanished that too with a shudder. Merlin created a miniature Earth, spinning and spinning above his hand, he slowed it and zoomed in, tossing the waves, blowing the air. He turned it into a patch of land, grew some corn, tomatoes, squash, peppers, and watermelon. Built a house. Put it all under a shield and blew it up. He was just working on knitting it back together when Uther's voice shouted in his ear.

"FALCON. I NEED YOU HERE RIGHT NOW."

"What?"

"NOW. Arthur is injured," the king's worried voice demanded.

Merlin stood, filled with the need to be there. He took a step and looked down at Uther. Uther blinked. And Merlin blinked. Because that had never happened before. Uther holding Arthur in his lap, looking up at him with a mix of terror and shock.

"Well!" Uther said expectantly. "Fix him."

Merlin hesitated a moment longer, the red of Arthur's blood, on his head, across his ribs, the bone sticking out of his arm, he staggered back and bent over, suddenly vomiting everything in his stomach.

"God, get over here," Uther hisses, yanking on whatever part of Merlin he can grab.

Merlin's hands tremble as he looked down on the prince and whispered the first healing spell that came to mind. It didn't work.

"Concentrate!"

Merlin gulped and put his hands on Arthur's cheeks, thinking really hard about his goodness as he pushed the blood back inside and knit bone and repaired torn flesh. Arthur jerked under his touch, keening at the back of his throat, unconscious. Merlin flushed, but continued the spell, Uther petting his son's hair, in a state of rare distress.

Falling back onto his bum when it was done, Merlin breathed. Just breathed. Inhaled. Exhaled.

Uther had no eyes for him, so he backed away and waited, the breathing stopping, until Arthur's pale face began to regain colour and he coughed weakly. "Arthur. Arthur are you okay? Can you hear me?"

"I..." He coughed and tried again. "I can hear you just fine, father. What happened?"

"You fell. Off the horse. Hit your head."

"Just my head?" the prince groaned.

"I'm sure you'll have other bruises," Uther said more calmly, now that he saw his son was alive and behaving normally. "What do you remember?"

"We're hunting," he replied tartly, "and something startled Dragon and I fell. Dropping—crap. I dropped Excalibur somewhere."

Merlin tried. He really tried not to snicker. Arthur was just really terrible at naming things.

Uther glared at him, but it didn't hold the same heat, mouthing, "Find it."

So Merlin stood back and called the silly gun to him, placing it nearby. And waited. Uther managed to get a disoriented Arthur back to his feet before pulling out his cell phone to call for a car to come and pick them up.

"Father," Arthur protested, "I don't need someone to come and get me; I can ride. I'm fine."

Uther's look silenced him. "This is not a discussion or even a suggestion."

"It was just a little fall."

"Little?" Uther spat the word. "Arthur. You could be concussed. You will not argue with me, and as soon as we return, Gaius is giving you a thorough look-over, because I will not have anything wrong with you. "

"Yes," Arthur promptly agreed, shocked into saying so.

Arthur was declared fine by Gaius when they arrived home and Uther ordered him to his room for rest, seconded by Gaius. Reluctantly, the prince went.

"Falcon, I want your eyes on him every. Second."

"Yes, sire," Merlin murmured, having been the one to guide the horses home into the hands of a suspicious stable master and then magic himself back to Uther's side.

The entirety of the incident hadn't passed Merlin by without some well-gleaned knowledge. Uther cared deeply for his son, though he had no idea how to express so without ordering boundaries and limitations. Uther didn't know how to show him love other than approval in silence and a lack of criticism. Uther couldn't hug his son for fear that propriety would tear him down into something less than what he thought himself to be. Uther was a powerful, immutable, all-knowing force that could not become less than what he was: a king. Not a father, a king. And magic was a threat to him not only because of Ygraine's death, but also because it was somethingmore than Uther. Uther had to be the greatest common denominator of things, and his will resolute, he had to be right. Because he was right, his might was then inarguable.

However, because of Arthur, Uther would bend the rules.

Uther would bend the rules, only when no one was there to see. Thus, Merlin had to be invisible to the entire world except for Uther (his master) and Kay and Percival (his watchers). Had Arthur had an accident on a busy street, Merlin was sure that Uther would have secreted him away with the strict order that Merlin would attend him (and Kay and Percival) in cleaning the prince. His wounds were, after all, just superficial with a lot of blood. Nothing serious, of course.

Merlin rolled his eyes, pacing around the prince's chambers, said body emphatically sulking on his bed. "You just scared him, you know."

Arthur jumped. "Shit. Scared the shit out of me, Voice."

Merlin snorted.

"You haven't talked to me in a while. I'd begun to think that I've turned sane."

"You'll never be sane." Pause. "Sorry. Did I say that aloud?"

Arthur snorted then. "Shove off."

"You'll miss me if I go."

He didn't answer, choosing to look out the window, arms crossed, brow furrowed. "So he orders me to bed?"

"Sorry?"

He rolled his eyes. "So my father orders me to bed. Like an invalid. I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. Except for some bruises and a headache."

"I know."

Arthur blinked. "What?"

"I know," Merlin said, bothered by his own lack of discretion. "Doesn't mean that you shouldn't take it easy after a tumble."

"That's what she said," the prince drawled.

"You're sick."

"Well you're the voice."

"Try and understand it," Merlin retorted.

"Make a noise," Arthur tossed back.

"And make it clear—"

"Whoa-oooh, oh oh oh ohhhh," they finished in unison, laughing.

"I wish you were real," Arthur said after they'd both quieted.

Merlin bit his lip and very much wished that Arthur had not said that.

"You still there?"

"No. Your wishing me real has made me unreal," he said to dispel the real-ness of their conversation.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Thanks. Thanks for that. You know, as long as I'm confined to my room, can you at least entertain me? And, have you seen that dog? There's a dog around here somewhere in this palace. I call him Brown—"

"Let me guess. Because he's brown."

"Don't mock."

"Your...propensity for naming things, Arthur, is decidedly lacking."

Arthur glared.

"Brown, Excalibur, Spot, Dragon, Curly?"

"Fine. Fine. So maybe I'm not the most...creative person. But still. A name's a name. Whatever. You haven't seen the dog?"

"No. Arthur. I have not seen the dog."

"Well, then it must be magic, because I certainly don't know where it is or how it comes and goes."

"You're clearly going mad," Merlin said casually.

"You know, that might be funny. If I weren't the prince of bloody England."

"Yes, and that might make it all the funnier. Mad King Arthur."

"If I could strangle you, I would."

"I believe you've used that threat before."

Arthur laughed. "Oh well. At least you're here to entertain me."

"Yes, your most glorious highness. Because my entire purpose is to entertain."

"Now you've got it."

Uther's tenuous control of his paranoia about Arthur's safety was only calmed briefly before he discovered that there were riots present on Arthur's uni campus. So of course, he confined him to the palace and Merlin was left to entertain. Again. Only this time, Arthur glowered resolutely, with alcohol.

"Can you drink?"

"No," Merlin said, to be on the safe side.

"Good. More for me." He slammed the bottle of rum down on his desk and opened it ruthlessly, pouring himself a shot which he quickly downed in favour of taking another. And then a third.

"That's the quick way, you know."

"That's the point."

"If you insist."

"I thought you weren't supposed to judge me!"

Merlin hoped Arthur wasn't a mean drunk. "I'm here to guide you."

He snorted. "Right. Thanks. You're helping so much." He tipped up a fourth, grimacing and shaking it off. "Shit."

"Pissed is more like," Merlin commented.

"Shut up, Voice. Do you even have a name? Or are you just some nameless haunt that likes to torment me?" challenged Arthur, the alcohol beginning to take effect.

"Poor prince. No. I'm just a nameless haunt, forgotten in the pages of history, never to be remembered because I don't exist," he said, feeling suddenly sorry for himself. "On second thought... Maybe I can drink..." He magicked another cup and poured himself a drink, the items seeming to float eerily before Arthur's eyes. He shuddered as the liquor burned down his throat and coughed lightly.

"I wager you're a light-weight."

"I wager I am. No substance. Bound to get drunk quick," Merlin replied, betting on Arthur's drunkness to let the aberrations in his behaviour and abilities slide.

"I wager I'll drunk you under the table."

"I wager you're right."

"You're not supposed to agree with you."

"I thought everyone was supposed to agree with you."

"Shut up, Voice. You're supposed to argue with me like you always do."

"Because you get off on that, do you?" Merlin snorted, tipping back his second shot.

"Maybe I do," the prince replied, trying to look official and just managing horny.

"Ooh, you don't want to go there..."

"Why not?"

"Because you're young, I'm...not real, and your father wants you to settle down with a nice girl and give him babies."

"Bollocks on my father."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "And now the teenaged rebellion comes in."

"In case you had f'gotten, Voice, I'm not a teenager. I'm 20."

"Because that entitles you to everything, of course."

"Why are you so contrary."

"Why are you such a prat?"

"Because I'm the sodding prince, and I can do what I want."

"You know, if people knew what you were really like, they'd hate you."

"That's why I pretend," Arthur said, a little too seriously. "But you don't hate me, do you?"

Merlin took advantage of a Pendragon silence, gathering his thoughts, regretting his willful tongue.

"Do you?"

Arthur looked so sad that guild flared up in Merlin's chest. "Of course. That's why I haunt you," he jested lightly.

"Don't be silly. You're not a ghost."

"Then what am I?"

"If I knew that, then I wouldn't be so confused, eh?"

Merlin quietly put the prince to bed when he got so disoriented and pissed that he could hardly stand without threatening to brain himself on the floor.

"I wish you were real."

Merling started, almost dropping him face-first onto the bed.

"I think I'd like you. You're honest. Nice voice. I could listen to your voice. And kind. You always know what to say."

Merlin flushed. Or it may have been the remaining rum...

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He slept in Arthur's lazyboy that night.

Sometime in the middle, he woke to Arthur's groans, so he rose, thinking something wrong with the prince. He froze when he realised something was wrong with the prince.

Arthur's trousers pushed down and shirt pushed up, he watched Arthur coax himself off, little pants and murmurs of "yes," "just...just a little...," and "come on" punctuating the hard pulls on his prick.

Shit, Merlin cursed violently in his head. He couldn't look away and felt himself twitch in response. He stumbled back into the chair, falling into it and clapping his hands over his eyes. Awkward, awkward, this was terribly awkward. It was worse than the time he constantly cock-blocked Sophia in Arthur's bed. He pushed at his own half-hard prick, willing himself to not be turned on. This was so terribly wrong. Even more so because it turned him on. But he couldn't close his ears as well as his eyes. Arthur gave a final grunt and then there was some rustling before Arthur sighed into his pillows and, with minimal shifting, fell asleep. Merlin didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

Thankfully Uther summoned him the next morning. Merlin was there as soon as his feet would carry him. "Yes, Sire?"

"Falcon, I don't believe that I've thanked you for the life of my son."

"Um."

"I wanted to let you know that I have appreciated your efforts and loyalty."

Merlin stared. This was definitely something new.

"Therefore, as recompense, I wish to...award you something."

"Sire?"

Uther sighed. "The unfortunate result, Falcon, is that I do not know quite what to award you. I do not know you."

"You know me better than some, your majesty," Merlin comforted.

"This may be true, but I do not know what you would like. Money?"

"Can't really spend it."

"A car? Scooter?"

"It seems I can get anywhere I want with just a wish."

Uther glowered. "I cannot—"

"You know... There's... There's this bakery. Santa Gloria's Delights," Merlin began, eyeing Uther from beneath his lashes. "They make really great cakes... There's one that's called Delight in Decay."

Uther's brow arched up.

"It's chocolate and has Oreo crumb on top, raspberry filling between the layers of cake. Butterscotch frosting."

Uther's face twisted into some expression of disgust. "It sounds...sweet."

"I would settle for that." He grinned.

"Are...all sorcerers this strange?"

"No. I wager they're all a little bit different. Like normal people, you know. Just with abilities."

"Mm-hmm. Very well. I shall see what can be done about this...cake of yours."

"Thanks!" Merlin turned to go, Uther calling him back one more time.

"You have my gratitude."

He bowed. "You're welcome." He paused, his hand on the doorknob. "And Uther? Your son will make you a proud father when it is time for him to take the throne." Then he slipped out the door before Uther could call him back for his breach of propriety.

The cake arrived the next week, sitting, nicely packaged, on his desk, along with 45 quid. He stared. Grinned. Immediately grabbed up the fork sitting next to the box, opened said box and dug the fork in. Moaned as it entered his mouth, almost sinful, and mostly sexual.

There was a cough at the door and he looked, guiltily, at Kay who was grinning widely. "Good cake."

"The best," Merlin defended. "You wouldn't believe."

"It smelled good," the guard admitted. "I don't know if I'd like it."

Merlin reached for a fork that wasn't there, magicking one into existence and handed Kay a full bite. "It's amazing. It's fantastic and blissful, and...and... I don't even know. The best thing I've ever tasted."

"Was it a regular occurrence...in your...other life?"

"Oh no. Only on my 18th birthday," Merlin said taking another sinful bite.

"Gracious. That is..." Kay shook his head. "That's quite something."

"It is isn't it."
"Very well. You um. Enjoy it."

"Does Arthur like sweet things?"

"Arthur?" Kay looked surprised by the question. "Not overly, no."

"Oh." He couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed. He'd wanted to share it with the prince.

Kay shrugged. "Uther said you're to have tomorrow off if you like. You can do whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?"

"Well, not whatever, but he gave you some spending money and you could go out and...get yourself something. Or whatever."

Merlin nodded, thinking that there really wasn't anything he needed. And now that he was much better with magic, he could just magic anything he needed into existence. If he wasn't careful, it was a type of hubris that would bring him down faster than Uther's derogatory commentary on sorcerers.

In the end, Merlin left a piece of cake on Arthur's dresser and then took Uther's money and saw a film, bought candy (magicked never tasted quite the same), a new pair of trainers, and a t-shirt that he liked.

Strolling back to the palace, he paused in the park, taking the liberty to sit on one of the benches and absorb some of the sun. Life passed by, leaving him feeling rather melancholic about being a man who didn't exist. The children chased each other while mother's looked on fondly, business men with their journals examining stocks, art students leaning against trees to sketch nature's offerings. It was all very cliché and if he didn't leave soon, he would probably be crying and moping.

So he curled a lip in disgust at himself and went back to Camelot Palace, nearly bumping into Gaius in the halls.

"Hello?" the old man called, looking around

Merlin shrank against the wall.

"Is someone there?" Gaius frowned and scrutinized the surrounding hall. "I could have sworn..." But he shook his head and moved on.

"Shit..." Merlin probably would have thought about it more, but the rest of the day was his, so he grabbed his computer and trudged to the library. The window seats were golden—comfortable and just the perfect size for him to curl up in. "Shit." He'd forgotten the charger. With a resigned sigh, he stood, placing the beast on the window seat and then pausing. What if... He squinted at it and then used his magic to just push and start the thing up. It booted beautifully and ran wifi even better than normal. "Yes! Merlin, you. Are. A. Genius!" So he curled up with it again, played Unicorn Robot Attack, did spell research, and composed letters on the computer that Gwen, Lance, Will, and his mum would never read.

He supposed the whole irony of it was hubris. He had gotten careless. And with Uther backing his use of magic and supporting his expansion of knowledge and skill, he had gotten careless. With his constant invisibility that was second only to breathing, he had gotten careless. With his almost infinite power and ingenuity, he had gotten careless. With his special duty of guarding the prince and giving the license to do that however he saw fit so long as it was done, he had gotten careless. And when he expected clemency for his good work and forgiveness for the core of he being, he had gotten careless.

And careless was, his mother tearfully insisted, what was going to get him killed.

So when Merlin was 25, his three birthdays passed, because there were no birthdays for men who didn't exist, his combined hubris and carelessness had gotten the better of him.

Arthur had graduated in a grand fashion, complete with a bachelors in both Philosophy, Politics and Economics, and History and Economics. Uther was very proud. So of course he threw a party. Morgana had been roped into a fair amount of the planning as Uther was not doing so well these recent days. He was more introspective and, if Merlin had to choose a word, smoother around the edges of his older age and wisdom. Not that that would inspire him to rescind some of his more heartless edicts.

The party was not to be held at Camelot Palace. Instead, Uther rented out the poshest banquet hall in England, taking Merlin with him to walk it's corridors and examine he main dining room, the long tables empty and heavy, waiting to be filled with company and good food.

Merlin said it was lovely. He moved to one of the adjacent corridors, looking out over the railed balcony that overlooked a wide garden that opened up into a large courtyard. That was sure to be popular for couples, he was sure.

"It's set for three in the afternoon," Uther said. "Make your preparations the day before. You have permission for leave to do so." The king waved his hand, dismissing Merlin's abilities to protect his son.

The media, of course, had gushed over their golden child, now an entering member of society. He would take place in major decisions, and it was known that, despite his wealth and privilege, Arthur did have a heart for the common people. They were ready to follow him into kingdom.

Merlin couldn't help but feel proud. Like he had had something to do with it. In a way, it probably was true. Those years of being his invisible friend, confidant, ego-popper. He had hopefully guided Arthur into a more considerate existence. Tempered his youth, polished his edges. But then again, Merlin was probably just flattering himself. This prince was golden, but not just for his shining hair or the gleam of golden eyes that stood behind him proudly. He would be a good king.

The thought had crossed his mind what he might do after Uther passed. Would Arthur accept magic? They had conversed about it several times. Arthur never seemed too passionate about it one way or another. He did not share his father's hatred for the ability, however, and that eased Merlin's mind on the subject.

In the end, Merlin was there as Arthur dressed, solitary, in his room, the shirt covering his broad back. The tie holding the shirt in propriety. The jacket smoothed over the shirt. The trousers neatly pressed.

"Voice?"

"Yes, Arthur?" he replied fondly.

"This is the final step."

"Only to the next first one."

Arthur shook his head with a fond smile of his own as he adjusted his cuffs. "Time for being cryptic?"

"No."

"No? What then?"

"You will be a great king, Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther," Merlin said, the formality sounding right.

"I suppose it's a comfort that my own subconscious has more confidence in me than myself."

"Don't put yourself down. You will be awe-inspiring. The people love you, and wish your rule."

Arthur snorted, though Merlin could see the nerves.

Giving in to temptation, Merlin let a finger drift out lightly and smooth the man's brow.

He flinched in response and then sighed. "Are you real after all?"

"No. No, I'm not. Your father waits."

Arthur nodded tightly and gave himself an encouraging look in the mirror.

"You look fine, your highness. Get going now."

In the end, Merlin was there in the limo on the way to the hall.

In the end, Merlin was beside Arthur the entire greeting period.

In the end, Merlin was behind Arthur as he ate dinner, his table a mix of good friends, family of course, and public and governmental officials. The entire thing was highly publicised. News reporters, journalists, and more press passes that Merlin knew of were there.

In the end, Merlin used the best part of his agility to avoid the other dancers around Arthur.

In the end, Merlin wasn't there when Arthur left for the loo and didn't come back quick enough. He swore quickly, alerted Uther and took off running through the hall to look for the missing prince. He wasn't in the loo, the coat-closet, or the dance floor. He also wasn't out by the limo, the front patio area, or the hors d'oeuvres table. He hurried out to the garden where Uther was, standing stiff by the fountain with a glass of wine in his hand, the ambassador of France next to him. Arthur had been flirting with one of the girls earlier. Perhaps he came down here for a brief snog. Uther caught sight of Merlin, eyes ready to blaze fire. Merlin shook his head, peering into the dark corners of the garden. Shit. He started down one of the more concealed garden paths when a voice called out over the area.

"You most royal majesty!"

Merlin stopped, eyes on Uther, then, following the man's gaze, up to the balconied area.

"I believe I have something you want."

A man stepped forward, hand fisted in a head of hair. Arthur. His heart froze and breath deserted him.

"What do you want." Uther's voice was cold like steel, permeating the garden.

The man laughed. "Very good. I want freedom."

"You'll have to be a bit more specific."

The man spread his hand out and fire carved a line in the stone before Uther.

A sneer spread Uther's lips, nasty. "You want freedom for your sorcery? That will never happen." The people with cameras slowly slipped them out, flicked them on, recording the events.

The man shrugged. "Very well. Then your son shall never be king."

Uther waited.

"There is a reason you are down there and I am up here, you know."

This was developing into a dangerous hostage situation, Arthur's life much to at risk. He moved towards the centre of the garden, trying to catch Uther's gaze and see his plan. But Uther's eyes were only on his son and the pitiful picture he made, bent over the rail, a fist in his hair, and his hands tied behind his back.

"Arthur!" Merlin couldn't help the gasp that tore out of him as the prince was pushed further.

The man holding him narrowed his eyes. "Who else is there? I see you all, but..."

Merlin cursed mentally, grasping for the situation.

"Derick!" The man shouted and more people melted out of the shadows at the outskirts of the gardens.

'Sorcery' was whispered around the whole place and the tension was reaching its breaking point.

"I do not deal with sorcerers," Uther said firmly. "Release my son."

Arthur struggled, but couldn't have done anything.

"Who do you have working for you?" the man holding Arthur demanded. He snarled down at the scene, trying to see and failing. "Patricia!"

A woman stepped forward and murmured a spell. Merlin felt it wash over him, resisting it, but he heard people gasp and stare at him. At him. At him physically. He was becoming visible. He concentrated harder, but Uther's strangled shout of "ARTHUR!" broke his concentration completely as the prince was tipped head first over the rail.

A roar from Merlin stopped his descent, but then everything began to happen at once. The sorcerers behind them in the garden spouted fire and rained stones and grew vines and threw ice. Security rushed in firing guns but the bullets went astray more often than not. The sorcerers at the top of the balcony yelled words at Merlin.

Merlin.

Merlin who was visible. And trying very hard to return the sorcerers' spells and keep Arthur aloft. He threw down a barrier against the spells and set Arthur on his feet. A wave of his hand removed the restraints, another putting a barrier over him. He briefly noticed the prince's eyes following him, aghast and full of wonder.

Then he was moving, the sorcerers behind he picked off one by one, shielding Uther and the rest of the people, throwing fire when he had a chance at the ones on the balcony. He advanced, eyes bright gold, on the ones on the ground, tossing them aside as if they were no consequence. Then he turned his gaze to the chanting people on the balcony.

"Leave these people alone," he ordered, voice deep and echoing with thunder. The people flinched and gaped at him.

"Or what?" the man at the top teased cruelly.

"You have seen my skill. You have seen what I did to them," Merlin gestured calmly at the dead sorcerers behind him.

"You fight your own kind?"

"Your ways are wrong, my friend."

"We are obviously not friends if you are on that side while I on this." He leaned back as a blonde woman whispered something in his ear. "What? You!" He pointed at Merlin. "I know you."

Shit. "It doesn't matter who I—"

"Merlin!" He chortled. "You are Merlin."

"Merlin is dead," he replied tonelessly.

"You are Merlin Emrys," the blonde woman says with authority. "We all recognise your face."

He avoids Arthur's eyes and Uther's. "Merlin is dead," he repeats and then pulls one of the sorcerers over the rail.

"How can you work for him!" The woman screams, throwing fire at him.

Merlin lets it wash over him, dissolving into ash. "I don't. I think the way you're going about things is wrong. So I'm stopping you."

The couple sneers at him before vaulting over the edge themselves and calling down lightning.

Merlin diverted it back to the remaining two sorcerers up on the balcony. People screamed, but they weren't hurt. The pair was sizing him up, waiting for him to make a move. "You've no chance of winning. I don't want to kill you."

"As if you could," the woman sneered. She leapt at him, changing into a tiger, swiping a large paw at him.

Merlin parried with a sword called from air, pushing her back with a mental shove. The man jumped into the fray, vines threatening to tie Merlin down, but he flew upwards instead, into the sky, calling dark clouds to the area, winds picking up as he focused his attention down on the two. He was long past the point of not wanting to call attention. His voice rumbled through the earth as he hovered, mid-air. "Cease your foolish action. I will kill you if you force me."

The blonde woman snarled back into her human form and threw fire at the prince, stunned on the ground. It flashed against Merlin's protective barrier and he shook his head. "The prince is protected by me. You will not harm him."

Another wave of his hand and he had the two of them flattened to the ground. "Do you submit?"

"You're nothing but a tool, Merlin! And here we had respect for you! We mourned your passing for two months! You didn't deserve death!"

"I was only a martyr to your cause!" Merlin roared back, unmindful of the people who covered their ears and winced. "You take this too far and use your abilities to lever power and abuse your own perceived rights. Do not take this out on me!"

The man winced, but the woman grinned ferally at him. "And you? What do you do, killing your own kind, protecting the object of your death and imprisonment?"

"This is right," Merlin replied. "And you are dead." The two people wailed and began to panic as they slowly turned to horrifying stone images. He dropped his head and finally allowed himself to sink to the ground. No sooner had he landed, he was tackled to the ground, an anti-magic cuff slapped on his wrist while the other arm flailed away. Voices raised in both outcry and approval immediately, condemning him as a danger to their lives or the saviour of their golden boy.

Who, Merlin noted through a tangle of limbs as he was pressed to the ground by Uther's guards, was staring at him. Then he was standing, his mouth open—shouting?

"Father! This man saved my life!"

"Arthur, he is a sorcerer," Uther said, the same uncompromising tones there, though, as Merlin twisted, he saw the impatient regret as Merlin was manhandled to his knees. Their eyes met, just a moment, and Merlin smiled. Forgave. Uther looked away. "He must be punished."

"Your majesty!" News reporters angled in immediately. "What is the meaning of this man appearing. Merlin Emrys died years ago!"

"Who is this man—"

"Do you know him, your majesty—"

"What's his purpose—"

"Is he a native englishman—"

"—loyal subject—"

"—secret agenda—"

Merlin sighed, hands pulled roughly behind his back. He didn't try to resist. It was too late.

"Wait!" Arthur stalked over. "You. You saved my life."

"I did, your highness."

Arthur's eyes widened. "I was right! You're... you're him!"

The realisation that Arthur recognised his voice hit him. He shook his head. "Arthur! Arthur, no!"

"That's Prince Arthur," one of the guards reprimanded with a cuff to the head. They hauled him to his feet at Uther's wave and began pulling him from the garden.

"Arthur, I'm sorry! Please forgive me!" Merlin shouted, struggling to get his point across to the prince.

Arthur's gaze was murderous. "Don't tell me you're sorry! You did... all of this! You saved my life! And I knew—"

Merlin's brows lifted as he realised that maybe Arthur wasn't mad for the reason he thought. He managed one last shout of Arthur's name before he was arranged into a vehicle and taken back to Camelot Palace to be tossed into his old cell, Kay's apologetic glance the last human face he would probably see.