So I got sick of short chapters... sorry, but enjoy!

The messenger carried news of bandits that were marauding a part of the passage between Ealdor and Camelot. A strike of lightning coursed through him then... Merlin. Trust the git to not even be safe on a simple passage home. They were prepared to leave by noon and rode out with the messenger. Taking notice of the new path of green that curled out from the forest as the man lead them across the path.

"Keep your eyes open men," Arthur suggested.

Merlin could hear the sound of them. The hooves on soft earth, teeth gnawing grass as they continued through the forest getting closer and closer. The bandits were waiting, after all the King of Camelot would fetch a nice price. He thought wryly that even in his sleep, he was protecting Arthur, yet the idiot seemed to think Merlin was the one who always required saving.

Move, A gust of something knocked Arthur off his horse as an arrow whizzed through the air and the bandits descended.

The battle was quick, vines twisting around ankles sometimes to give a Knight the upper hand, but there were more coming, much more and they were being pushed deeper into the forest towards Merlin's quiet grove. It was Gwaine that noticed the satchel lying on the ground having almost tripped over it in fending off attacks. He lifted it up and slung it over her shoulder as they were pushed back. Suddenly, the trees were greener, alive, vines twisted and everything was full of life. The bandits were stuck as they were and crumpled to the ground unconcious as they passed the rows of trees. Arthur whirled around his sword drawn out against the magical enemy he was sure was there. They saw nothing but a grove of green life.

"Arthur..." Gwaine said handing him the satchel. His stomach twisted uncomfortably.

"Isn't that Merlin's?" Lancelot asked.

Arthur opened it to see telltale Merlin belongings, a vest, his waterskin and a small sketchbook for herb cataloging. Trust the idiot not to bring food for that long of a trek. He probably hadn't thought of it when he'd gotten the news, stuffing things in a bag that came to mind. The idiot was probably starving, or dead... He could imagine it, that worried look on his face, the only expression Arthur could really conjure up anymore, frozen in time and staring into eternity. Not seeing him, or the Knights as they carried him home. A dark despair would set over him and anything good in the world would lose it's shine. He didn't like the way that realization felt, so he shoved it away and closed the satchel. Merlin was not dead. Arthur wouldn't allow him to die.

"Where... did you find this?"

"While we were fighting..."

Arthur sighed, "Spread out and search-"

"Merlin!" They turned towards Percival's voice and rushed forward through the grove to where he was standing.

It was impossible. If his internal map was right, they were on cursed ground, cursed to never bare green ever again, yet all this green, a perfectly green grotto. He could hear the sound of water trickling over stone, butterflies flitted over Merlin's close eyelids, one resting on his dark hair as he lay sleeping in the gently rocking lush-green hammock between the trees. A hand grazing the flowers beneath his fingertips as he swayed. His cheeks were flushed in his sleep and another butterfly landed on his nose.

"Check the area," Arthur said, pressing forward towards the sleeping man.

You better not be dead damn it, he reached Merlin's side with a yell of his name.

"Merlin!"

The butterflies continued to flit around as he opened his eyes, slow and sleepy, utterly pleased and rested. A jolt went through his stomach as if someone had grabbed his crotch and squeezed. Dear Gods, it was beautiful accompanied by a rolling heat in the pit of his stomach. The butterfly in his hair flapped its wings gently as he turned his head to the sound of clanking armor. Arthur stopped as Merlin began to sit up, looking like something out of a dream as he did so and stretching as if he hadn't been lying in an enchanted/cursed grotto. The one on his face was unperturbed by the movement, the one in his hair didn't seem to mind either and Arthur couldn't help but be amazed. It wasn't everyday that butterflies rested on a human being so trustingly. This was yet another part of the mystery of Merlin.

"Ar...thur..."

"You got captured by a sorcerer on your way to go see your mother!? How useless are you?!"

Gwaine winced at the words as Merlin glared at him, so much for a worried reunion. So much for showing some emotion that wasn't annoyance. With Merlin's inner peace disturbed, the butterflies flitted away. Not that he blamed them, no one should have to deal with Arthur. Since they were under the impression that this place was made by a sorcerer that captured him, it made no difference if he let his magic still seep out of him. Merlin was unfazed, though amused at Arthur's apprehension to the butterflies that seemed to like him and the blossoming flowers and growing foliage.

"For your information I was not captured. I went to sleep. My mother is fine, and I am far from useless."

"Have you any idea where we are right now? How could you be sleeping like that? This place reeks of sorcery."

Not that Arthur would know, but no sorcerer could ever do this. This wasn't the power to conjure or manipulate, this was life magic and if you weren't born with it, born with the Old Religion coursing through your veins, it would not work. He knew that when he called the storm to kill Nimueh and hadn't felt the normal feeling of using his magic.

He rolled his eyes, lying back in the enchanted hammock. Arthur was so dense sometimes,.. all the time. He didn't have the time to be really dealing with this, he felt his emotions rising, rising steadily and his magic was waking from his lulling peace. He needed just a little more time for the pain to resolve and disregarded the wild lily that flirted with the edge of his boot at the end of the hammock.

"It's comfortable," he replied. "And yes I know where we are."

"Get up, there's no telling how long you've been here or what kind of weird game the sorcerer's playing..."

Merlin groaned in dismay, getting off the hammock. The butterflies flitted away from the area and into the forerst. He wished he had wings to flutter away on and get some sleep. He sighed as he pulled his satchel over his head and walked out of the grotto with the Knights. Gwaine checked the bodies to find that they were dead and it seemed like their work was done. Arthur mounted his horse with Merlin trailing along side the Knights as they rode their horses towards Camelot. Gwaine had half a mind to gawk at Merlin and ask him a million question, but kept his mouth shut, he would have to do that when they were safely away from the Princess of Prat.

"I thought you were supposed to be going to see about your mother's health? How did you end up kidnapped and captured by a sorcerer, of all the..."

And Arthur continued to rant, Gwaine gave Merlin a sympathetic look as Arthur continued on about not telling him where he was going, the chores he'd shirked, blah, blah, blah...

Despite knowing Arthur was actually a fairly nice guy (if a little emotionally repressed), Gwaine wondered if this was just how Arthur showed affection for Merlin or if he really was just a total prat. Merlin didn't really care, tuning him out and focusing on the dread that was coursing through him as they walked on through the pulsing green that he'd created in his sleep. He let his magic seep out slowly, carefully, as they walked so that the new sprouts of green would only blend in with that they walked across. He knew Arthur was only being a prat, and tried his best not to let it bother him...As much as he tried a few words flitted through, stabbing him in the heart and ripping at the carefully crafted resevoir around his magic.

Useless... brainless... danger prone... idiotic... worst servant... shirking... lazy...

Every fiber of his being was screaming to throw Arthur off his horse and a minor fantasy played out in his mind of scolding and telling the damned King the truth. Vines curling around the man, holding him still in his mouth, gagging him-

Do it, a part of him goaded. Show him the truth... He shouldn't talk to you like that... He wouldn't talk to you like that if he knew...

He wouldn't talk to him at all if he knew. He'd be dragged through the streets and up onto the gallows, cursing and screaming at the shocked King who could only stutter out orders. Tears would be streaming, pain would course and everything, absolutely everything, he'd worked so hard to conceal would come bursting out. He glanced at Arthur as he continued on his rant and wondered if there was something beyond the prat that was yelling, if this was just his way of saying that he cared for Merlin's well-being or if he was just being a selfish little snot. He considered his own mental health for still wanting to serve this prat, let alone love him...

In reality, Arthur didn't make the distinction himself. His body was still on an adrenaline high from seeing Merlin in that quiet and magical grove, sleeping as if he were dead, yet waking out of a blissfully warm and deep sleep as if he'd had the best night of his life the night before. What if there was something wrong with? What if something happened to him? Why did Merlin go off on his own? How long had he been there? What had the sorcerer done to him? Why did Merlin look so... happy waking up on the hammock? Had something else happened?

Was the sorcerer Merlin's lover?

Something hot and heady came next and particularly nasty comment about Merlin's disappearance came from his mouth. His face flamed and he was angry at the thought. He didn't like the way Merlin looked, not because he didn't want to see Merlin happy, but because he wasn't smiling for him, or at him... he was only smiling at a ghost, a memory that Arthur was neither a part of, nor privy to. He wanted to know what happened. That fragile consciousness wanted to ask, to beg him to tell him the truth of what happened-to tell him something. He'd also wanted to embrace Merlin, hold him tight and never let go, but his pride as a King, as Uther Pendragon's son, squashed those emotions and pushed them aside, sneering at them as too girly for a King. And rather than words like "Are you alright?" or "I was worried" he'd only insulted his friend and l-... and couldn't seem to stop.

Why... Why am I angry? He pushed the question away as they could see the city of Camelot not too far in the distance.

"Come on, lighten up. Obviously, he didn't meant to be sleeping in a magical grotto." It was Percival trying to calm the king.

"That doesn't change the fact that he should have been more careful."

Merlin looked at him. Gwaine gave a low whistle at the fierce light in his eyes and nudged his horse forward away fromt he battleground, wincing at the explosion that was bound to happen between the two.

"Apparently you feel I am incompetent."

"Well," finally a bloody reply. "That isn't news Merlin."

"Then sack me," he replied looking up at the other.

Those usually warm blue orbs were icy as they were trained on him as if he'd done something mortally wrong. Every part of him, except the King side, wanted to get off his horse, hug Merlin and tell him that he was sorry, that he was only angry because he was scared, because he- and a shiver of disquiet and ice went through Arthur like the plague. He couldn't say that, that wasn't it. It was just that Merlin was one of the few people that he felt he could trust, that he could confide in. There was nothing beyond that. But there was something beyond that stare, that anger as he stopped his horse and Merlin stopped walking staring him down and making his insides turn and his fragile little Arthur, the one that he'd never acknowledged much, quiver and break into tears. He'd never wanted Merlin to look at him like that... His heart clenched painfully in his chest, he swore he was having a heart attack. He didn't want to admit that he'd merely just suffered an attack of the heart which was a lot more painful and more complicated to deal with.

The Knights were quiet, riding forward to allow them to have their disagreement, but before Arthur could remember how to breath, Merlin was marching forward ahead of the Knights and splitting off to go to Gaius' chambers. Stable men came to lead their horses away as Arthur trudged towards Gaius's chamber to speak to Merlin. Gaius wasn't present, instead out treating someone. Merlin busied himself with finishing a few of Gaius' potion preparations and reorganizing a few vials. Arthur came in as he was grinding some sort of root into paste for one of the potions he was finishing. Arthur came in to that, his sleeves rolled up, neckerchief discarded baring skin that Arthur had never really remembered seeing. It had been the first time... in a long time that he'd seen that column of pale flesh bared to the eyes. It looked as pale as he remembered, as soft as he thought it would be, yet corded with invisible muscles and tendons that he knew were there. Merlin didn't acknowledge his presence, focused on his work or merely ignoring him.

"Merlin," he said coming across the room in his lounge wear, he took a seat at the table in front of Merlin.

"Yes, sire?"

He winced at the word. It sounded hissed in his ear even though the tone was completely flat.

The novelty of being called sire had worn off a long time ago when he realized that that would be his fate and doom : sire. What most people didn't understand about titles were that they were masks that had to be upheld for the sake of social convention. They weren't real personalities, more of a curse than a blessing as no one really knew the Arthur to King or Prince Arthur. They carried the weight, fate, crime, guilt, and pride of all those who'd carried the title before him and would after him. Anything he did, it was you sure a great King. A mark of a true King, the makings of a fine King...All the reverence paid to his title or his relationship to that title rather than the person. In fact, one could say that there was no Arthur to Prince Arthur or King Arthur, anymore than there was an Uther Pendragon than his crown, his crimes, his atrocities, his guilt, and all the events of his and his ancestor's life that culminated into Camelot.

He hated it. There were too many versions of Arthur inside him for him to ever be King Arthur alone... And in moments like this, they all turned a pitied eye to Arthur, shaking their head as once again he would not be allowed to do as he wished. He had an appearance to keep up. It wasn't until Merlin had come into his life that he realized that there was a real Arthur, more than the facade, the prattish attitude, his father's teachings, the laws and his station. He'd never paid attention to the scared orphan boy who'd been given life in exchange for his mother and treated as a tool by his "father", that lost little boy in the palace that wasn't allowed to play with the other kids, the scared teenager facing his first tournament wanting to make his father proud and feel like a son instead of an heir. That sibling-less child who'd been betrayed by his half-sister, lost his father, and carried the weight of the entire kingdom and its past on his shoulders. The confused young man that had watched his father die...

He'd never had time to acknowledge or deal with the hurt, there was always something else to distract him from that painful turn inward. It hurt even more when he realized that the real Arthur had been really the only one that Merlin really cared about... and vis versa... the real Arthur had gotten attached to the little glimmer of hope and recognition from Merlin when he was called a "prat" or a good man... If he let himself say, he'd dare say that the real Arthur took more than just comfort in Merlin, but actually-

No, there was no time for that, there were things to do, to take care of, people needed him... He was more afraid of turning inward and finding what he felt was there than finding nothing at all... or maybe they weren't mutually exclusive issues.

"You should rest," he said.

"I just woke up," Merlin replied.

But the exhaustion was still there in his eyes. The sleep had been wonderful, the trek to Camelot had taken more power, on an emotional level than he ever thought possible and he was tired again. Arthur was too close and it was tugging at his magic again. He'd have to speak to the Dragon about that. It had never really felt that strong before, but it was probably because he was fresh from evoking the magic of life rather than some other kind of magic.

"I'm giving you the day off," Arthur said standing and leaving. "Rest."

Merlin watched him go, confused all to hell as to what just happened. That wasn't the way he expected that conversation to go, he was absolutely sure that it would be much worse than that. Absolutely, sure that he'd be yelled at some more, but it didn't come and somehow he was more worried that it didn't come at all than anything else.

Arthur trudged up to his room, undressed as he headed towards his bed and sliding beneath the sheets, curled up under the heavy blanket. He'd always found comfort in the weight and warmth of his blankets, the quiet of his room, the silence that engulfed him and the sense that he was actually alone. No one was watching him, no appearances to keep up. It was the moment that he could stop acting as King Arthur and sink into that oblivion of knowing, or rather avoiding knowing, himself. He pulled the blankets over his head like he did when he was much younger and breathed in deeply, the wet humid air under the blankets and resisted the shiver of knowing that it would be faster if there was more than one body generating the heat under these blankets. He wouldn't need so many blankets if he just had someone to share the huge bed with. He pulled a pillow close to himself, closing his eyes and breathing, hoping that that night would be a little easier than the last few had been. A little easier to get to sleep than it had been before. He knew that was a foolish hope, but he hoped anyway.

Seconds ticked into minutes, bleeding into hours and soon the sun was rising beyond his window and he was still conscious, still awake and the door flung open with Merlin carrying breakfast and walking to wake him with the shake of his shoulder and the opening of the curtains. Arthur sat up before Merlin could make it to the edge of the bed. They looked at each other and realized that they'd met a crossroad, left blended into right and diverged at the same time while turning in circles.

"You're... awake..." Merlin said, setting the tray down as his eyes took in the Prince's appearance.

To anyone else, he looked fine, well rested, a little dazed maybe, but to Merlin everything was off. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot as if he hadn't slept. He looked like he may have been on the edge of crying as his eyes were a little wet and glossy in the early morning light... He was also wearing the clothes that he'd worn the day before. Something was wrong, very, very, very wrong...

"Hard not to be with you making all that noise," Arthur retorted getting out of bed, swinging his legs over and slipping on his boots to wash up and eat breakfast.

Merlin didn't respond, but rather left to carry on with the rest of his duties, leaving his pages for the council meeting on the table beside him and scurrying away. Arthur didn't remark on the fact that he'd given Merlin the day off the night before, but rather decided it was better not to talk about it. Whatever was going on, there was a reason behind it a reason that apparently he wasn't privy to.

That night, Merlin stayed in the city running through the lower town to blow off steam, to keep his mind focused and to weardown his body. He arrived back at the castle with a distinct feeling that someone had been watching him. When he turned, he heard a shift in footsteps, but saw no one, he brushed it off as fantasy and headed inside to where Gaius was waiting for him. He smiled at the old man and sat down grinning.

"I think someone's following me lately," he said.

"Why... do you sound so happy about it?"

"It's always interesting to think that someone is following me."

"You should be more careful..."

"I haven't done much of anything, but I suppose taking a run around the city was a little odd in the middle of the night. Someone might think I'm up to something..."

Gaius rolled his eyes, not impressed with Merlin's new outlook on his life, but he supposed it was better than the far too intense stares at inanimate objects that he scrubbed clean. He placed food on the table and took a seat across from the young man. At least he was eating again.

Things between Arthur and Merlin didn't get any better. To an outsider, it seemed fine, just a servant and the King walking down corridors and the like, but the Knights knew better. Leon hadn't walked in on any more "poetry" sessions and Gwaine hadn't seen Merlin smile really for weeks. Percival, nicknamed the "Silent Giant" by Gwaine had pointed out the physical distance and intense silence between them. Rather than his customary three or four steps, Merlin trailed much further behind, at least a full stride more than usual. It shouldn't have been off putting, but it was. Combined with the lack of banter, the copious use of "sire", "liege", "you Majesty" and the uncomfortable look in Arthur's eyes, something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong.

Arthur knew that but didn't know why. He figured it had something to do with the argument they'd had a while back, but he didn't think that was it. Had Merlin been serious about wanting to get sacked? And if he was, why didn't he just quit? Where else would he go? Would he go with that sorcerer in the woods? When he'd followed Merlin a few nights prior, he'd only been running around the city, on a path that Arthur didn't even realize existed until he found himself back in the Castle courtyard. Had he interrupted their secret meeting? Maybe a few days in the stocks would straighten Merlin out and get him some answers. He thought of it, but winced at the thought. He hadn't exactly been forthcoming either. Ever since that morning Merlin woke him up and he didn't have the heart to play dead, he'd been nothing but cold to the man. Avoiding him, being formal, terse, to the point that none of the warmth and familiarity remained between them kept him up at night more than ever. He was feeling weak, tired, and exhausted, snapping at everyone in his exhaustion and emotional distance from Merlin. It seemed that the farther the other was away from him, the more the real Arthur retreated to the safe little cave at the back of his mind, behind everything else.

Don't think about it Arthur... don't think about it...

They were journeying through the forest on a small hunting trip and a visit to a small town for a sort of patrol when it happened. Merlin was on a horse way behind him, much farther than he usually rode. It was only a small echelon of Knights: Percival, Gwaine, Lancelot, and himself plus Merlin. He didn't see the need to bring anyone else as he needed fresh air to breath and be free in even if Merlin's presence was oddly oppressive. He'd hoped to work out a moment in which they could talk civilly, not formally and at least rekindle some of the closeness. He was feeling colder than normal recently. There was a rustle that he missed hearing, but Gwaine didn't. Merlin stopped his steed for a moment looking around. Every part of him was on alert he felt it, but he didn't know what it was. A presence, creeping across the ground, gently, quietly... more than 20 at least 30 men. But they weren't true professionals, no they were probably hired thugs, or people that didn't really care about being completely silent.

Gwaine slid his hand to his sword as the curtains came down around them, thick ropes and bodies flying from the trees at them, pulling Knights off their horses. Merlin dismounted avoiding the attacker to his left, dodging around and cutting through the fray to get to Arthur. He knew the other could handle his own, but that didn't mean anything in the moment. Arthur somehow always managed to get himself into trouble. Percival was hammering down bandits before tossing him one of their swords through the air for him to fend for himself. When the curtain came down, they'd leapt for Arthur first. He yanked on the reins and whirled around with his sword effectively giving himself space to dismount safely rather than get pulled off his stead. They weren't very skilled, but there were a lot of them, enough that his Knights were struggling and Merlin found himself with a sword.

When did Merlin learn how to use a sword?

He could have sworn that the bumbling idiot had sworn off sword fighting for as long as he lived, or at least didn't have very much of a knack for it that wasn't luck or random moments of adrenaline (which is what he decided that bout during training to be). But there he was... slicing through enemies and making his way towards the knights with a grace that Arthur had never noticed. It was as if he knew the forest, where every root, branches, and rock lay and danced through the geometry of the space, leading his enemy into small traps that would seal their doom. He'd have to remember to ask about that after they dealt with this mess. The three he was fending off pushed, and pushed him away from the group, over the range of the trees into a patch of more. He knew this was more than just an attempt at robbing, but an attempt on his life.

Stronger men have tried, he thought slicing through the resistance and getting himself into a better position.

In the meantime, Merlin had sprinted past Gwaine, dispatching the man that was on his way to slitting the man's throat before continuing on.

"Thanks, Merlin!" Gwaine called elbowing the other man off and continuing the fight before finding Percival to fight behind.

Once he was out of range of sight, Merlin turned looking back on the frey and sent a pulse to lessen and slow the other warriors to give the Knights enough time to work through the ones at hand. It was as much as he could give them for now as he charged towards where he'd seen Arthur being lead off to. They had him backed up against a tree, weaponless and fist fighting the bandits.

"Arthur!" He called, forcing his way through the small group and over the bodies strewn over the ground.

The world slowed for a moment as three charged in on Arthur at the same time. Merlin felt it before he saw it, screaming , NO! his magic flared, but it was a bit too much too late as the bandits slipped backwards and revealed Arthur staring dazed with a sword in his side. The fallen three recovered a little faster than Merlin moved. He fell and Merlin could feel his heartache as he grabbed for the blade nearest him and swung up and through one of the men that had attacked Arthur before scrambling over to stop the final plunge and push the man back. He reached Arthur in time to shove the other off him and stand over his King, protecting him until the last man fell at the edge of the blade in his hands. He shoved Excalibur in its sheath and kneeled beside Arthur with a grimace as the older man began to tremble with the hot and heady fever of fear, wheezing he sounded like he'd punctured a lung. His eyes were blurry and unfocused, his breathing harsh and forceful as if struggling against some force dragging him away from those blue eyes that looked down at him.

"The… Knights…" he whispered. "Where?"

"Don't speak, Arthur… you'll be alright."Merlin was tearing at his clothing, pulling apart chain mail and padding to see the wound gushing blood, already soaking through his clothing and cursed. It was long and jagged, too long and jagged for a simple binding to be enough. He was losing blood quickly.

Too quickly.

Merlin cursed under his breath...

"Merlin… you-" he let out a chuckle/cough, "You actually… know how to use a sword...you didn't trip... at all..."

"Surprisingly, now be quiet."

"Don't talk to me that way…" Arthur chided, "Dying or not, I'm still your King."

Merlin snorted, wrapping the strip of cloth around Arthur and pulling tight until the other grunted in agony. But the pain was nothing, he wouldn't admit it, he wouldn't say that he was scared, trembling in his skin and every part of him was screaming out NO!. He coudn't die. What about Camelot? What would happen without a King? With Morgana still on the loose? What about... He couldn't-

A bandit's yell broke his concentration the man charge on them, sword raised and found that a focused and pissed off Merlin was not one to be trifled with. Excalibur was in his hands and buried in the man's chest, straight through blood, bone, and heart, his magic flared to give him extra strength and he swore a cloud rolled above him. He kicked the man off and continued, glad that Arthur was still a little too delirious to comprehend what just occurred. He'd have to answer far too many questions if he'd realized. Merlin would have to answer his own questions later, for right now he had to save Arthur...

Arthur saves Merlin: 20; Merlin saves Arthur: Over 9000...

"Such a drama Queen."

Arthur huffed, breathing hard as Merlin struggled to undo his armor as quickly as possible to get him breathing room. He was bare-chested fairly quickly and Merlin had a better look at the wound as he dabbed at its sides, pressing the cloth against it and tying it down. His eyes glanced around, his ears open for any other bandits around.

"Don't die," Merlin said.

"I don't take orders from you."

But the words were lost on him as he lifted Arthur up and began to drag him across the forest floor, over tree roots and debris, over other men's bodies towards the sounds of the river. He needed water, and light, there wasn't enough of either of those where Arthur had fallen. Meanwhile, Arthur was struggling to keep awake as he felt blood sliding out of him. Death was a funny feeling. The pain was fading out into a numbness that he didn't really understand. He felt his abs flutter with nervousness, as mercury like blood slithered underneath his skin, ice cold and scorching his face and eyes in a heady warmth that made him feel sleepy.

"This isn't the time for sleeping, Arthur!"

Emrys…someone whispered.

Not someone, something. He followed it, the sound of the river getting louder and he realized that he was on the other side of a tributary. Which one he didn't know, but the banks pulsed with some energy and tugged at every fiber of him. They were close to the Triple Goddess' divining pool. Merlin could feel it rippling through him an it lulled his magic into a happy and calm whirlwind.

"Merlin… leave me… they'll come back…"

"Shut up," he said dragging him towards the lake and laying him down beside it. He started up a fire close enough to keep Arthur warm as he scoured the banks for foliage to toss into the fire.

The river shifted with his movement, practically leaping into his waterskin as he collected a few familiar herbs and rushed back to Arthur, still breathing, trembling and floundering in his fear with a grim look on his face. Everything was getting blurry, too far away he didn't like it. The cloth that Merlin had placed over the wound was already drenched with blood, it wasn't enough. He was dying, he knew that much.

How ironic…he never thought that he'd be dying in the moment that he learned that Merlin could actually handle his own in the heat of battle.

"Merlin," he said as the other came back, undoing the binding and opening his satchel, turning the needle there over in the flame and wrapping his dominant hand in wet cloth before finding thread and tearing up the plant in his hand. What was Merlin doing with a needle and thread anyway? A hunting trip was no time to be mending...

You're such a girl, Arthur thought looking at Merlin ina haze of silence and a ebbing pain.

Maybe that's why no part of him questioned the slowly budding warmth and terror that came when Merlin almost died or even now... Merlin was practically a girl, so wanting him wasn't a problem, right? He almost snorted at the weak logic as Arthur replayed a fantasy of being tied up in silk ties and pounded into the mattress without any mercy by someone who was practically a girl...

What would that make me...?

"I'm here, now shut up and let me save your life again."

He snorted, at least he hoped it was a snort and not a reverse and deformed wheeze, "You're no physician Merlin."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said, shifting Arthur's torso to lay flat on the ground and reaching for a rock to grind the plant into a thick leafy paste.

"Merlin… get back to the Knights… come back for me later…"

"Shut up."

"That was an order."

"And I'm ordering you to shut up," he said not halting his movements but rather opening the wound enough to stuff it with the thick leafy paste. "I may not be a physician, but right now I am your physician. What I say goes. Now, shut up."

Arthur let out a holler of pain, eyes open with the return of feeling, he'd almost forgotten that he was alive and dying rather than going to sleep. Fuck that burned!

"What are you doing?!"

"Saving your life," he said, placing a firm hand on Arthur's torso as the plant burned and cauterized the wound. "Don't pass out."

Merlin continued to stuff the wound as Arthur's eyes gleamed with tears and Merlin started on the first stitch. It burned, not that he'd never had stitches before, but there was something in the plant that made it worse. He didn't have the energy to squirm only to muffle noises of pain and try not scream. He was so dizzy, it hurt so much like millions of flames under his skin. He looked at Merlin's face, intent on his work, focused carefully, his hands were warm, slightly slick with blood, and realized then that he was actually dying and for all his bravado, there wasn't much Merlin could do. He'd lost too much blood, way too much blood and was still losing blood.

"Merlin… don't leave me alone…" He said finally, given up on all facades. "Please… "

Their eyes met in understanding and Merlin stroked a hand through his hair to comfort him before continuing on with his sewing until it was closed. The hand was warm, dirtying Arthur's golden strands in crimson, but it was comforting and if Arthur could move, he would have turned his face into that palm, kissed it and kept watching him until he could see nothing. But that was a false hope so Arthur had took to squeezing his wrist tightly and as his breathing slowed and his eyes closed Merlin took the time to place his hand over the wound whisper words of healing. Eyes flashed gold and the plant hissed and shifted color through the stitches forming new flesh and sealing it closed without so much as a scar. Merlin breathed easy as a bit of color returned to Arthur's face and he murmured a little in his sleep, his grip relaxed and his body eased, still shivering but recognizing that he was alive and the hole in his side was closed.

He took the time to remove the stitches and bundle the King in his cloak before stoking the fire a little more. He had a feeling that the other would wake up mid-day the next day and be ravenous, that didn't mean that Merlin couldn't enjoy the moment. He looked around and found himself more at peace, more at home, than he had been in a long time. Even that grotto he'd created in his sleep had been little more than a moment's repose. This place was different. It felt like the cave they'd gone into to save Mordred's life. He shivered in remembrance that day had been the worse day of his life… and needlessly so painful.

There can be no place for magic in Camelot... he laughed at the irony.

What the hell was he still doing here then?

He wasn't sure that he'd ever forgive himself for saying that, or if there was even a chance at forgiveness, but he supposed since he hadn't received a rune mark, he couldn't have pissed off the Triple Goddess that badly. It was probably because of the amount of tears he'd shed that night when they came back to Camelot, he'd left the city as he knew it would not end well and found himself curled up by the lake of Avalon, deep in the forest sobbing, begging for some sign that it would be over eventually, for some sense of peace. None came, even when the moon rose and the magic in him stopped thrashing around in agony, none came. He'd managed to shuffle back inside the city walls before they closed the gates and spent the night wandering in a daze trying to figure out what he'd done. Mordred was still alive.

Merlin shivered at the memory, he didn't want to ever feel that way wasn't completely healed from the last time. Arthur shifted in his sleep a little, drawing Merlin's attention with a sigh. He really needed to talk to the Triple Goddess about this destiny that she had planned for him. This fucking sucked. He was cold most the time, running on empty because anything more would send his magic into a frenzy, buckled down beyond normality and pissed off forced to serve this…

He sighed, there was no sense in getting angry now. No sense in it at all, that wouldn't help his predicament. In fact it would only make it worse.

Emrys…he sighed, standing.

There it was again that voice calling to him. He headed towards the lake far enough to be out of earshot, but close enough that if Arthur woke up earlier he would know. He kneeled beside the lake and a tiny orb of light fluttered towards him, looking up at him with a curious eye. How orbs of light managed to seem curious and inquisitive, he didn't know. He chocked it up to magic and focused on the little orb floating above his palm.

Emrys…He smiled at the warmth and peace. He found that in encountering magical creatures, he felt at peace like he was home with his mother. Like he did when he was with his father in his last moments. It felt like family.

"Yes…"

Pain…why?

"It's complicated…"

The orb seemed to turn in the direction of the sleeping Arthur.

Destiny…

"Destiny… right now… can suck my dick."

It wiggled a little, Funny… Love him?

Merlin snorted, "Only in small doses…"

Much love for you…

He frowned at the little light's emotions as it floated into his hand and he was wracked with a gripping terror, the fear of death and the sliver of consolation, the fear and trust all mingled together in his heart, pushing his breath out of his lungs too quickly. He saw himself flickering in that dizzy haziness and the warmth that spread through him at his own touch. A blossoming passion and warmth exploded in his chest. What was that?

Arthur?

Love you…

He swallowed hard and turned at the sound of Arthur moving around in his sleep. The little light dove back into the depths of the lake as he crossed the space to kneel at the other's side, still shaking from that intense experience.

"Mmm…"

"Shh," he hushed as Arthur turned, reaching out in his sleep and curling towards Merlin's body.

"Mm…in…n't... eave..."

"Arthur, go to sleep."

"Merlin…"he mumbled on a whimper. "Don't…. leave…me."

Merlin felt a bit of his resentment drain out of him. Only a little though as he slid down to lay beside Arthur and made sure that the other was warm enough. He supposed he couldn't leave Arthur to his own devices. It had been the first time in a while that he'd had such a close scrape with death and really felt it. All the other times, it hadn't been nearly as bad as that ambush, which made him think of how they knew that the party would be so much smaller than normal? How did they know where they were… How did they know which blonde was Arthur?... Something hadn't sat right with him, but he tried not to think about it as he stayed awake to keep the fire going and to keep an eye out for any more dangers lurking the woods.

When it was nearly mid-day, Arthur woke up to see Merlin rekindling the fire and roasting fish over it, staring into the flames intently. The hem of his tunic was ripped all to hell and he was sure that if he looked down he knew he would see that missing strip tied around him. He was bundled up in his own cloak close enough to the fire to feel the heat and he had the distinct feeling of not being dead, but death warmed over. At a closer look, Merlin had his sword leaning against his shoulder, unsheathed and half stuck in the ground. His armor wasn't very far off, folded neatly, gleaming in the early morning light, freshly polished.

"How do you feel?" Merlin asked not looking at him.

Arthur swallowed, not really sure how to answer as he was sure that he didn't feel much of anything. At first try, he found that the impending pain he was expecting didn't exist. The cloak fell down and there wasn't even a scar where there should have been an intense wound. There was nothing but the remnants of a delicate green leaf paste around the area and a general lack of energy in his body.

"What happened?"

"We were ambushed," Merlin replied. "You got stabbed in the side."

"Are you sure about that? I don't feel…" He slumped to the side as Merlin stood coming towards him and easing him back down.

"You're still too weak to be doing much of anything, lay down."

"You…" Flashes of memory came through the early morning light. Dying, he was dying and Merlin was over him, the last thing he saw was Merlin's eyes.

Don't leave me…Go find the Knights… Don't leave me…He almost flushed at the memory. To give him his credit, no one wanted to die alone, but that wasn't why he'd begged Merlin to stay. He wanted Merlin to be there with him at the end and that was a thought that he didn't have time to contemplate at the moment.

"You… the stitches…"

"Had to stop the bleeding, eat."He was forcing a fish on a flat rock while propping Arthur up against the nearest tree and returning to whatever he was doing. He realized that he was picking flowers.

"What… what are you doing?" Arthur asked.

"Gathering herbs… their extremely useful… they don't grow anywhere else and are fairly rare."

To his eyes they looked like nothing more than weird daisies or something, but what did he know? He managed to eat the fish on his own as Merlin filled his satchel with the flowers and stayed silent.

"How… did you do that?" Arthur asked. "Where are we and why aren't I dead?"

Merlin sighed and looked at him, laying another gentle tower in his bag, "You really want to know?"

"No Merlin, I'm asking for my health… What happened?"

"I've watched Gaius sew up people and I've mended enough of your shirts to know how to sew…"

"Merlin," he growled. "I don't think your sewing abilities is what I'm referring to. There is no scar…."

Merlin blinked and Arthur growled.

"You let a sorcerer operate on me?" He asked.

Merlin snorted, if only Arthur knew how many times he'd been the warlock operation on him, or how many times magic had saved his and Uther's life... He'd have a fit and probably have him killed on the spot.

"Is that what you're worried about?"

"You have any idea how dangerous that was? Do you have any idea where we are?""

"Yes, we're near a tributary to the Grove of Brineved and the sacred spring at Caerlanrigh. It's also a tributary to the Cauldron of Arianrhod of the White Goddess. We're about a day's journey from Camelot, half a day from Ealdor. This particular river is the one of the most potent in terms of magic."

Arthur frowned, "How… do you know all of that?"

Merlin smiled a little, turning to look around, Arthur didn't understand it the last time, but the words came without warning once again. It was the peace he decided the utter comfort and warmth of the place that made him say it.

"The river is alive and throbbing, the trees are pulsing and everything near here is peaceful, balanced, at one with itself and connected to everything and nothing at all."

"And you… can feel all of this?"

"Yes, can't you?"

Arthur once again shook his head and Merlin looked away from him with a wince. He didn't know what he'd expected it to change, of all the time he'd been healed with magic, there was never an indication that Arthur would retain some sense of connection.

"If you're worried about a sorcerer healing you, don't worry about it. It's just this place, though why it decided to save you, I don't know…"

Arthur frowned and Merlin said nothing poking at the fire before standing and dipping his water skin into the river and giving it to Arthur.

"Stay here and don't die, I'm going to see if I can find the Knights."

Arthur scoffed as he began to leave, "Don't even bother you couldn't track a bear even if all the clues were—hey!"

But Merlin was already beyond the stretch of trees and he growled glaring at the river. Alive, he said. He didn't feel any different, but curious. What about the plants that could have done that? He'd have to ask Merlin or Gaius? How close had he been to dying? How far had he been? Had Merlin stayed with him the entire time he was sleeping? Had he been up all night? Something told him yes, he was up and he'd watched over Arthur, but those thoughts, and the feelings they caused, were broken up by the sound of horses and calls of his name.

"Princess!"

Well, not quite his name, but a lot better than who could have been calling him. Gwaine came into view with Merlin walking beside Percival until they reached the small campsite. Percival's arm was freshly bandaged. Lancelot came up behind them and continued into the clearing.

"Good to see you're alive, Princess!" Gwaine greeted. "We were sort of worried about you."

He rolled his eyes, "Were you now? What happened to the bandits?"

"Dead or running," Percival said. "What happened to you two?"

"I got… stabbed."

Lancelot tilted his head as Merlin tethered the horses and headed back to the river, further down. He could hear them talking about Arthur's recovery and Arthur fumbling through an explanation that didn't include the words "Merlin saved me" but Gwaine caught it and laughed. He didn't have to catch it as Merlin saved him on his way to saving Arthur and all the Knights as well by giving them a moment of reprieve.

"You got saved by Merlin, again! That's twice in one outing!"

Twice?

"How many times do you owe Merlin your life now?" Lancelot asked, cheekily.

Percival snorted, none of them was prepared to count and Arthur huffed. He was beginning to wonder the same thing as Gwaine started in on Merlin's apparent ability with a sword as he "fended off three bandits" on his own and still managed to drag Arthur away fast enough to defend the two of them.

"Shut up all of you! Where are we?"

"About a day North of Camelot, maybe half a day South of Ealdor… we'll get there pretty quickly if we travel by horseback…"

Arthur huffed, Merlin had been right. On another note, there were only three horses left, two of them would have to take the road by foot or shuffle. Percival was injured and Arthur was still in no shape to do much of anything but go back to sleep. Healed or not, whatever the plant did had taken a lot out him, he'd lost a lot of blood as well. Then someone else would have to go back with them. He wanted Merlin, but he knew that wasn't logical. He may have been able to defened himself in the heat of battle or whatever that was, but that didn't mean that he was knight.

"Well you and Percy are definitely heading back," Gwaine said. "Lance' is a stronger swordsman than I am so he'll have to go to."

"We could travel together."

Gwaine shook his head, "No sense in it. No idea who else knew where we were, the faster we get Arthur back to Camelot the easier everyone can breathe."

He wasn't comfortable with idea but then Merlin was hauling buckets towards them to drink from and for the horses. He'd never noticed that in that skinny, wiry body was so much strength. Strength enough to drag Arthur away from battle… strength enough to do all the things he'd been doing since coming to Camelot. It didn't take long for the decision to be finalized that Percival, Lancelot, and Arthur would ride ahead leaving Gwaine and Merlin to trek on gave Merlin a smile and a nod as if to say thanks before mounting up.

"I'll get them home, don't be too late..."

They waved them away from the campsite before Gwaine started in on the questioning as Merlin packs up Arthur's armor which was still too heavy for the weakened King to put back on.

"So… what exactly happened?"

"This is a tributary to a pool of the Old Religion, there's too much magic here…"

He continued to explain the tugging, the little fire, what it'd said, and how he'd healed Arthur as they trudged forward. The farther away they'd gotten away from the banks of that river, the sadder Merlin got and the stronger his magic resisted. He realized then that the place had acted as a sort of draining spot, a meddling point even without healing Arthur. He hadn't felt much of a dent in his power. He hated that he had that much power in him but no opportunity to use it.

Destiny can suck my dick...

"Maybe you'll get knighted this time," Gwaine said with a grin. Merlin snorted.

"Then who would take care of his Highness. No one else wants to go and wake him up."

"More like he doesn't want to be woken up by anyone else."

Merlin ignored that as they continued through the trees, not too quickly, but quick enough that dodging the arrows aimed at them didn't take much. Merlin got up, pissed off and angry and let forth a wave of energy stopping all arrows, turning them around and sinking them in the chests of those that had attempted to kill them. Gwaine sat up from the ground.

"It's nice having you around... I don't even have to work."

Merlin rolled his eyes as they continued forward. They arrived in Camelot around nightfall the next night. Gaius was in Arthur's chambers as Merlin shuffled into the chambers of the old physician and went about finding a pot to keep his magic thriving plants in. He set it by his bedside and decided that he'd start a mini farm of this particular plant by his bedside in hopes that it would at least level him out a bit. He kept one plant and a few seeds he'd pulled from a flowering one in his hand and he curled up and went to sleep. He would no doubt be attending to Arthur the next day and would need all the energy possible with his Royal Pratness probably still bed-ridden.