Hello everyone! As predicted, I've been whisked off again- to school! This time I may have more work than usual but also maybe better internet than usual. I sort of looked this over, but I keep finding inconsistencies here and there- so if you spot any, feel free to point them out.

Also, this chapter has a few warnings. There are mentions of past violence and abuse. I'm not sure if I need to up the rating, so let me know if you think I should. I welcome all reviews- it's been too long since I started this, haha.

Arthur was frozen. This boy, who couldn't be older than five or six years, had just used magic to speak to him. Only sorcerers and druids could speak with their minds. How could a boy so young have learned to use magic already? Moreover, magic was outlawed in Camelot- even evil according to his father. It was unquestionable. It was absolute. And yet, Arthur found himself automatically denying that. How could a child be evil? Children were inherently good; their innocence knew no bounds until it was marred by the experiences of life. Perhaps this boy had already begun to lose that innocence given the obvious abuse, but he couldn't possibly be evil.

And there was another thing- Arthur had his own secret, his own reason to doubt his father's word. The druids. Arthur knew they were not all evil. He had known since the first time he had been sent to destroy a druid camp. Scouting ahead, he had had the opportunity to observe the camp first. It had surprised him to see such a peaceful and domestic scene. Clothes were washed by hand, food cooked over normal fires, and men and women working together around the camp with their hands. No magic in sight, no weapons, no scheming against the crown… Not even a complaint at the oncoming rain. Arthur had observed curiously until the knights arrived and without even the slightest hesitation began to plan the attack. The guilt from that massacre had led Arthur to request his first solo hunt, though his father declared it a reward.

He had not hunted. Instead, he had returned to the camp and buried the bodies. He spread forest duff over the ashes of the campsite. Barely aware, he dug another pit and laid in it while the rain poured over him waiting for the time when he was either able to name his feelings, or they simply disappeared. Neither happened. He laid there until nightfall when Iseldir found him.

The druid elder sat at the edge of the grave and studied Arthur. Arthur didn't bother to move, didn't bother to reach for his weapons. He simply laid there soaking up the rain and saying nothing.

"This rain is very calming, is it not?" The druid said.

Arthur felt himself nodding.

"It is strange to see one so young accepting such a cleansing. Why do you lay here, among the passed, when your life is only just beginning?"

Arthur felt the tears begin but did not move to answer. He couldn't have answered if he tried. He felt… things, feelings, but most of all he felt conflicted. Conflicted. He felt, but he shouldn't have felt. Everything he had been taught said he should not feel because he was a man, a knight, a prince!

"I sense a lot of sorrow in this place, but you are at the center of it. You are in a lot of pain and I would like to help you- when you are ready." The elder made to stand but stopped when Arthur spoke.

"I murdered them." Arthur paused, and then continued. "Will you kill me now?"

"I am not a murderer and neither are you Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur started. "How do you know my name?"

"Your name is one of legend, of prophecy."

"That must be a terrible prophecy. I- I don't want to do more terrible things. You should kill me."

"It is our greatest hope that this prophecy will be fulfilled. Even now you show promise Arthur."

"Promise of what? More slaughters! I want to no part of it! End me! Or are you as truly evil as my father said?!"

"No Arthur. I told you that you are not a murderer. Stop me when I am wrong. You were ordered by your father to destroy this camp. When you arrived you studied the camp as any good leader would. That was when you realized that there were families and children present. You ordered your men to leave the women and children be but continued with the assault. Your men disobeyed you- after all they are your father's men and your father has ordered that all of us be put to death. And now you are here, because you feel guilty for ending so many lives. You feel ashamed for not being able to help them. You feel angry because your authority is not as powerful as you thought. You feel conflicted because what you have been told conflicts with what you have seen. The rain is cleansing because it numbs the pain of the tears you feel so ashamed of. Am I wrong?"

Arthur curled up to hide his face, which he could feel twisting in sorrow, behind his knees. His sobs were embarrassingly enough shaking his whole frame and he was helpless to contain them. Part of him wished this stranger would leave him. The smaller part of him no longer wanted to be left alone. His breath hitched when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

"This is what makes you different, Arthur. This guilt. This remorse. Your capacity for compassion. This is what the prophecy is built on. You will be a great man, Arthur, and someday you will be a great king. You are not blinded by hatred and you are not mindlessly accepting of hateful teachings. You are your own man and make your own judgments based on observations of truth. You may not have the power to change things now, my boy, but you will someday. Until that day, you must simply hold on to that spark inside you."

"Most importantly, Arthur, you are not alone. There are people all around you that would help you if you could learn to recognize them. And someday soon, you will have your other half. The one which will help you to see the good in the world. Hold fast, Arthur. Let us help you."

All at once, Arthur felt exasperated. "I don't even know who you are!"

"My name is Iseldir."

Arthur felt Iseldir pull him into a sitting position. Finally finding his body again, Arthur leant into the man as he was led to the warmth of a fire. As Iseldir wrapped a cloak around him, Arthur grasped his wrist with a tinge of desperation in his voice. "What if I am not strong enough?"

"You are strong, Arthur, and you are not alone. Have faith, with time, you will only gain in strength, and one day you will see it in yourself."

"I want to be that good. The way you described me. But- what if- what if- "

"Patience, Arthur. You are already inherently good. You just have to embrace it and nurture it. I did not tell you about the prophecies so that you would worry about the future, but so that you would have hope. As I said, you make your own decisions based on your own findings. Continue to do so. That is all you must do for now. That, and let me get you warm again! It would be a sad day for Albion if I let you catch your death of the cold!"

After that night, Arthur had continued to visit the druids. Iseldir gave him an amulet, which he kept carefully hidden and on his person at all times, to erase his tracks. He reserved its use for visits to Iseldir's camp, however, not wanting to raise suspicion in his father's knights when they tracked him as they had on this trip. On these occasions, Arthur relied on his superior stealth and tracking skills to keep him hidden.

Coming back to that moment, looking at the bruises and emaciation, Arthur decided to withhold judgment. He would help the boy now, if only because his heart clenched every time Arthur looked at him. Then he would watch the boy, and if he proved to be evil, then Arthur would simply turn him in. The boy would be executed and no harm would be done. But if he was like the druids, then Arthur would protect him.

Druids! Surely they could help him! But first, Arthur needed to make sure the boy could travel.

Having made up his mind, Arthur gathered the boy into his arms and awkwardly mounted his horse. He decided to return to the spot where he had camped last night as it would give him shelter and easy access to water.

Merlin awoke briefly as they crossed the river. Immediately shaking with terror, he had looked up at Arthur and tried to pull away.

"Shhh, it's alright. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm taking us somewhere safe for you to rest. Will you trust me?"

Instead of answering, Merlin choked a breath down and buried his head in Arthur's chest. Moments later, his body went limp again as he lost consciousness. Arthur sighed. Not for the first time, he wondered why he had gotten so involved in this matter.

Upon arriving at the overhang where he had slept last night, Arthur set the boy down to prepare the camp. He gathered a generous stack of firewood first thinking that he would not welcome the interruption while he tended to the boy. He started a small fire and set a pot of water to boil. He laid out his blankets and checked his supplies. As he pulled out his spare clothes, he noticed that Merlin had awoken. The boy laid quietly, tears streaming down his face as he gazed longingly at the fire. Continuing his task, Arthur spoke to the boy. "Merlin! Are you cold? Don't worry; I'll warm you up as soon as we get you cleaned up. I'm just trying to get everything ready and find some medicine. I don't have much with me, but I think I can at least find bandages in my pack. Gaius always makes sure I carry a bit of those with me."

Having sorted through his clothes, Arthur looked up again. Merlin appeared unconscious again and Arthur was secretly glad. Merlin was covered in mud. He would need to undress Merlin to bathe him and he didn't think Merlin would take that too well. He stooped to roll up his pant legs and then rolled his sleeves up past his elbows. Arthur carefully cut the shift off of Merlin to avoid jostling him where the bolt was still lodged in his shoulder. As Arthur slipped the shift down off his legs, he became absolutely certain that Merlin would not want to be awake for this. There were streaks of blood down Merlin's inner thighs and his groin was covered in dozens of tiny pinpricks. Arthur was both disgusted and dismayed that any child would have to endure such abuse. Then his gaze was drawn to Merlin's neck. It was scarred and reddened around a thin silver collar not unlike the circlet Arthur had worn as a boy. It must be a magical restraint. He turned it and gave a gentle tug, but the collar would not come off. Perhaps Gaius or Iseldir would know how to remove it. He gently picked up the small boy and carried him to the river.

It was as Arthur lowered Merlin into the water that the boy awoke. Merlin awoke in a panic and desperately clung to Arthur's arms. "Shhh, it's okay Merlin. I just need to wash you."

That was when Merlin glanced down and noticed that he was no longer clothed. His already frantic breaths cut off in a choked off scream. He began to sob and reached to cover himself while trying to cling tighter to Arthur.

"Merlin! Merlin, just breathe! I'm not going to hurt you. I need to wash you so that I can help you. Please! Please calm down. I'm trying to help you!"

Merlin merely shook his head violently and drew his legs up out of the water. He looked up at Arthur with fear and betrayal in his eyes. There was a hint of something else, but Arthur was too preoccupied to dwell on it.

"Merlin, I know someone hurt you. They hurt you down there, didn't they? Is that why you're scared right now?" Merlin shook harder and shut his eyes. Arthur suddenly knew what the unnamed emotion was: shame. Arthur took a deep breath before speaking again. "Merlin, I won't hurt you like that. I promise. Can you trust me? Will you give me a chance to prove it?"

Arthur tried to lower the quivering boy into the water again only to be met with another agonizing scream.

Please. Please don't-

Images brushed Arthur's mind while Merlin jerked in his arms again. They were gone as quick as they had come, but Arthur understood. A kitten, held underwater, struggling, and then going still. Merlin thought Arthur meant to drown him. Fighting back tears he wasn't entirely sure were completely his own, Arthur hugged Merlin gently.

"I'm not going to drown you, Merlin. I promise. See how shallow it is here? I'm just going to sit you down and wash you. You can hold onto my leg if you want." As Arthur spoke, he backed against a rock and sat down. Bending over, he slowly lowered Merlin into the water. "I need my arms to wash you, Merlin. Can you hold onto my leg?" He gently pried Merlin's fingers from his arm and guided them to his leg. With a whimper, Merlin wrapped his arm around Arthur's leg. His other arm hung at his side in the water and Merlin looked at it fearfully. "See, it's shallow and you can use my leg to stay up. I won't let you drown Merlin."

Arthur dug in his pocket for the scrap of cloth and soap. Working as gently as possible, he washed Merlin down. He wasn't sure when the trembling became shivering, but he knew he had to work quickly. He spoke to Merlin as he worked, telling him what he was going to scrub so that Merlin could anticipate the touch. Even with the warnings, Merlin still tensed and whimpered each time Arthur moved the washcloth. When he scrubbed Merlin's body clean, with more tears as he scrubbed Merlin's lower body, he coaxed Merlin free of his leg. "I want to wash your hair Merlin. I'm going to pick you up and lay you down here on my legs so I can pour water on your hair and clean your face. I've still got hold of you. Just lay back."

Merlin's exhaustion worked to Arthur's advantage. He was able to lay Merlin, face up, on his lap. Holding his head up with one hand, Arthur used the other to rub some soap into his soft hair. Little by little, he washed away the grime in Merlin's hair until it felt clean. The action relaxed Merlin until he lay compliant in Arthur's hold. He watched Arthur with heavy eyes and Arthur felt as if the weight in his chest lifted a bit. "Close your eyes, Merlin. I'm going to wash your face and then we can go back to the fire and get warm. That sounds good, doesn't it?"

Merlin obediently closed his eyes while Arthur cleansed his face but clenched his hand on Arthur's sleeve. Having finally finished, Arthur felt a swell of pride at the boy for trusting him. He lifted Merlin to his chest and hugged him close.

He carried the boy back to camp and used the corner of his cloak to dry him. After some thought, he cut a wide strip from his cloak and wrapped it around Merlin like a diaper. Or at least what he thought a diaper looked like.

Though the boy was unconscious again, Arthur felt that the minimal covering would reassure Merlin that Arthur meant him no harm. Laying the boy down on his blankets, he began the long process of applying salve and honey to his open wounds and wrapping them with strips from his spare shirt. He slipped his glove between Merlin's teeth before pulling the bolt out of his shoulder. Merlin screamed awake and clenched down on Arthur's glove. Arthur calmed him as he staunched the blood flow and wrapped Merlin's shoulder tightly. Merlin lost consciousness not long after Arthur pulled the glove out of his mouth. Seeing the teeth marks on his glove, Arthur wished he had pain medicine with him.

Though Arthur's day had begun as the sun rose, he finished long after nightfall. Merlin still had not awoken but it seemed as though the bath had helped his fever. Tucking him into his cloak and laying the blankets over him, Arthur decided to try to make a soup for Merlin. Fetching more water, he put in some watercress from the river, some of his dried meat, and the last of his vegetables. Breaking off a piece of bread, he ate the rest of the loaf while he waited for the soup to cook.