By the way, I've noticed that I accidentally replaced chapter 13 with a duplicate chapter 7 at some point. Mega apologies to anyone I've completely messed the story up for. I honestly don't know how I managed it or long it's been like that -- hopefully not long as no-one's said anything but if anybody actually did encounter a second chapter 7 and continued anyway then you've missed chapter 13 so you should probably go back and read that.

Anyway, thank you very much to all my loyal reviewers and everyone else who's reading. Sorry for the humongous delay but I am in my final term at uni doing my exams, and it's manic. Plus, I'm struggling a bit on this section of the story and I'm still not completely happy with how this chapter turned out.

Enjoy! :D

Chapter 18 – Leaping to the Wrong Conclusions

Arthur helped support Merlin as together they trudged up the steep muddy slope back to the causeway. The bog clung relentlessly to their feet making the climb difficult and tiring, but eventually they made it to the path. Once they had reached the firmer ground, Merlin was already much steadier on his feet although he looked exhausted. His joy at breathing again was short lived; the climb had clearly been a massive effort in his weakened state, though thankfully he seemed to be recovering quickly.

Though Arthur was delighted that Merlin wasn't dead, he recalled everything that he could remember after thinking he had lost him and time-wise, things just did not add up. It begged the obvious question...

"Not that I'm complaining, Merlin, but how are you even alive?"

"How long was I under?" Merlin asked.

"I'm not sure." Arthur looked at the sun's progress which told him it was now roughly approaching midday. "More than long enough. I thought you'd drowned."

"It's complicated."

"I'm listening," Arthur said. Then he did. He was slightly astounded as Merlin related the entire story – or a close, magic-less approximation – to him. His appraisal of Merlin shot up a few points; considering all he'd just been through, he appeared to be taking it all in his stride

"Where were you anyway?" asked Merlin curiously.

"Busy," Arthur said simply.

"Busy?"

"Unconscious," he admitted reluctantly.

"Well that's great! I'm stuck at the bottom of a swamp unable to even breathe and being tormented by a ghostly brat from hell – and His Royal Pratness, hero of Camelot, is sleeping," joked Merlin.

"I was knocked out!" Arthur protested, missing Merlin's lack of seriousness.

"By whom?"

"Does it matter?"

"Go on, tell me."

"Itwasmyhorse," mumbled Arthur under his breath.

"Pardon?"

"MY HORSE, MERLIN!" Merlin laughed.

"It's always the horse's fault with you, isn't it?" Merlin said .

"Apparently so, yes," replied one thoroughly irritated Arthur. Merlin noticed as he felt his head. His amused expression changed to one of concern.

"Your head, is it okay?"

"I'll have a pretty spectacular bump for a while but I'll be fine."

"As if you weren't big-headed enough already. Let me see." Merlin inspected Arthur's head, but it was difficult through the mud that was plastered in the prince's hair from where he'd been lying flat in the ooze. There didn't appear to be any obvious wound, however.

"I don't think it's bad, but you should probably get cleaned up just in case. You're filthy."

Merlin regarded Arthur who flicked him away, fed up with being examined; the state of his armour was appalling. Merlin screwed his nose at the thought of all that work when they returned. Arthur spotted his expression and grinned enthusiastically at him, reading his mind. Merlin's head drooped.

"You're not exactly pristine yourself," Arthur replied. It was only immediately afterwards that he fully appreciated the state that Merlin was in. His clothes were in tatters and the lesions covering Merlin's body from where the weed had pierced him did not bleed but looked painful. "Are you alright?"

"Sore," Merlin admitted. "But I'll live."

"I'm glad," said Arthur sincerely.

Arthur took some small humour in the fact that despite everything else, Merlin's scarf, the red one, was still intact and fastened resiliently round Merlin's neck as usual, where it belonged. He smiled to himself at that little detail.

"Erm, Arthur," Merlin said, looking up.

"What?"

"What exactly happened to the horses?" For the first time they both noticed that their transportation, along with most of their belongings, was absent.

"Ah." Arthur looked around at their lifeless surroundings. Scanning the body-strewn sludge he saw several dead horses belonging to hapless travellers but he couldn't determine if any of them were their own or if theirs had simply bolted. It would take ages to find out. "It appears that we're going to have to walk."

"Can we still get there within the deadline? How far is there left to go?"

"She gave me three days. On foot, by my reckoning, we can still easily get there tomorrow. For now I think we should head to that tower over there." Arthur nodded ahead. "You could use some rest."

"No, I can keep moving," said Merlin bravely, not wanting to delay when Camelot was a stake. "I've rested enough."

"Mer-lin, being restrained at the bottom of a swamp does not constitute rest. I insist. You can gather your strength first and then we'll continue. I don't want you holding me back later."

Although Merlin was fine – ouch! – well mostly fine, he reluctantly walked with Arthur to the ruins of the tower which stood tall over the now drained marshland. Whilst the uppermost levels were crumbling and some parts were open to the sky, as they entered they saw the lower floors were still more or less intact.

They entered a large, dark room containing sparse amounts of long-abandoned furniture, their footsteps echoing loudly in the virtually empty space. Arthur righted a rather elaborate wooden chair and brushed the thick layer of dust off the seat with his hand. Rather disgruntled by the grey clumps of filth that had stuck to his palm, he wiped his hand clean on the arm of Merlin's ripped jacket before motioning his objecting servant to sit.

"I'm going to have a look around?" Arthur said.

"Oh, well I'll come with you," said Merlin, standing up again.

"No, you stay here."

"Why?"

"I'm ordering you to rest."

Arthur did not want to worry Merlin with his reasons behind wanting to investigate the tower more thoroughly, but there was a niggling thought at the back of his mind that concerned him deeply. The swamp had not just evaporated by itself and it did not fit that the girl, who's intentions were clearly malicious, would have caused such a thing. That left one explanation. Magic. That in turn meant someone else was here, or had been recently and Arthur was determined to get to the bottom of it, starting with the top of the tower.

As he set off to find the stairs, Merlin was determined to follow him anyway.

"Sit!" Arthur ordered firmly. Merlin flung his arms out in silent protest, but sank down in the seat nonetheless.

"Staaay!" said Arthur, eyeing Merlin and pointing a finger. Merlin reluctantly stayed put.

Arthur turned away and Merlin let his tongue loll, panting. However, when Arthur whirled back round to face him, Merlin had innocently resumed his usual expression. Arthur was sure there was something wrong with that boy sometimes.

Leaving the room and Merlin behind him, he found the tower's winding staircase and made his way to the roof. He wasn't sure what he would find or how he would feel about it. How did he feel about magic being used like this? Merlin would be dead if it wasn't for whoever had drained the swamp, or at least he would still be stuck in the clutches of that ghostly child. He was pleased, wasn't he? He certainly didn't want Merlin dead, but the nature of his rescue troubled him greatly. Who had done this and why?

As he trod the stone steps he spotted a set of footprints preceding him. The size and shape of the mud pattern left on the stairs – still not completely dried out – suggested that the shoes had belonged to a woman, or rather a sorceress, Arthur thought.

The sorceress? Arthur did not believe that this all could be sheer coincidence, that some unrelated person who possessed magic had just happened upon them in this remote location by chance. No. It was clearly the same sorceress or an accomplice, but how did all this fit with the attack on Camelot? No concern was shown then for the innocent civilians of the town, so why Merlin?

Yes, that was the main question in Arthur's mind. What was it about Merlin? Why did he stand out in all of this? Firstly someone had faked his death – albeit badly. Then, Merlin had seemed to be the only person in Camelot not affected by the pain the illusions had caused, despite getting stabbed through the neck with a piece of wood; it had all seemed very real to Arthur. When he thought about things further, Merlin had also been the first person to see the illusions for what they actually were. Now this. His head hurt as he tried unsuccessfully to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Upon reaching the roof, taking all due care not to plunge to his death from the crumbling parapet, he saw a few more scattered footprints but little else. Whoever had been there was now long gone. After completing a thorough search of the rest of the tower's rooms and finding nothing, he returned to Merlin. Upon seeing him, his brain started swimming again. Merlin, he was a servant – what could he have to do with anything?

First things first, thought Arthur, I'll just have to come straight out and ask him if he knows why the swamp was drained. Maybe there's something he forgot to tell me. Maybe I'm just overreacting and there's a simple explanation – well, as simple as anything could be around here. The footprints could just be an innocent traveller.

Arthur posed the question as to how the water disappeared and Merlin responded by saying he had no idea. As Arthur related his theory that they were being followed – "From ahead of us?" – "If they know where we're headed, why not?" – he saw a subtle change in Merlin's body language as he broached the subject of magic. He had become more tense all of a sudden. It was barely noticeable but this wasn't the first time it had happened and Arthur wasn't standing for it any longer.

"What is it with you?"Arthur complained. "Every time I mention magic you come over all... odd, well odd-er. It's incredibly annoying and don't think I haven't noticed."

"I don't know what you mean," said Merlin, but Arthur wasn't having any of it.

"You can cut that out for a start." Immediately regretting his abruptness, he sighed. "Have I said something to upset you?" he asked, then his forehead creased slightly as something ve-ry slowly began to dawn on him. "Oh... I know what this is about." He scratched the bridge of his nose self-consciously. "It's obvious."

"It is?"

"I've been stupid, haven't I? Well moderately stupid," he corrected himself.

"No more than usual," said Merlin automatically, even though he was very confused. His brain finally caught up with his mouth. "Erm, stupid how?"

"All this time... why didn't you tell me?" Arthur asked, ignoring his comment.

"Tell you... what... exactly?"

"That I was bothering you, given your own familiarity with magic." Alarm bells suddenly clanged in Merlin's head.

"My own– ?" Surely Arthur couldn't know. What else could 'familiarity' possibly mean? Merlin had certainly had plenty of run ins with other people's magic as well as his own, but on reflection most of that had happened behind Arthur's back, whilst he was too preoccupied with saving the world – or being dead to it – to notice. There wasn't the slightest hint that he had even the vaguest of vague inklings, so how did this spring up from nowhere? Either Arthur was smarter than he looked, which seemed unlikely; he meant something else, whatever that was; or the knock to his head was affecting him more than Merlin had realised. Maybe he was not thinking straight himself and had missed something obvious; his ordeal had thrown him off a tad.

"I suppose I have known since we got back from Ealdor, and I should have put two and two together only I just didn't think," Arthur continued.

Ealdor?! Merlin's eyes couldn't help but widen at this revelation. What? But How? Surely not?

"You knew?" The words slipped out of Merlin's mouth before he had a chance to stop himself. He bit his tongue before he said anything else stupid. All this time. All this time he'd hidden and Arthur knew?

"Of course I knew Merlin." Arthur frowned at his befuddled manservant. "What's wrong with you?"

"I just thought..." said Merlin, completely stunned.

"You thought I'd have forgotten about the whole thing?"

"Well actually now that you ment– "

"I've warned you countless times about thinking, Mer-lin. I'd expect you to give me a little bit more credit than that."

"I thought it might have at least crossed your mind to say something."

"It never occurred to me until today," said Arthur honestly. Merlin couldn't believe how he could be so calm about this.

"Never occurred?!" Merlin's astonished voice was pitched significantly higher than normal. In fact, Arthur raised a hand to his ear.

"Besides, which it's not something I can really talk about in public, is it?" Arthur said.

"I guess not."

"Look, I know Will was your friend, but– " Merlin's whirling mind stalled.

"Will?" he asked in puzzlement.

"Yes... Will." Merlin stared blankly. "Your friend, Will. William of Ealdor. " Arthur was starting to look increasingly fed up with Merlin's slowness; his efforts to be tactful were now failing miserably. "William the sorcerer," he tried. "You were close weren't you?"

"Oh yes, Will," Merlin exclaimed quickly once his mind had caught up with Arthur's – or rather reversed to intercept it. 'Will the sorcerer' – now he remembered. Of course Arthur meant his friendship with Will, what else could he have meant? He wasn't sure if he was relieved or mildly disappointed by that. Still, he was pleasantly surprised this had occurred to Arthur even if it was months late and he only had an erroneous grasp of the facts.

Merlin racked his brains – what had he actually said just now? Nothing too incriminating he didn't think, but he'd been close. Disturbingly close.

Arthur shook his head at how slow Merlin was on the uptake . He tried to remind himself that Merlin still wasn't completely well, and that spending an impossible length of time underwater with a psychopathic dead girl whilst being sustained only by a killer plant must surely addle the brains. It was easier than having to re-write his mentally pre-defined boundaries regarding Merlin's idiocy at any rate.

"Who else did you think I meant?" Arthur asked

"Nobody," said Merlin innocently.

"There's no-one I need to know about is there?" Arthur questioned him.

"No." Merlin's 'addled' brain smiled self-assuredly to itself. I can't think of anyone.

"No, I didn't think so," said Arthur. "Like I said, I appreciate the fact that you and Will were close, and it must be hard to have to listen to my father constantly condemning those who practice magic."

"And you."

"And on occasion me too, yes. I may not have known anyone like you have, but I've encountered my fair share of magic, most of which has been trying kill me and that, I would say, builds up a pretty strong case against it. Magic isn't right, it isn't normal and it invariably corrupts people. I would be lying if I said I hadn't occasionally questioned my father's view on magic as I'm sure you know, but I have yet to meet one practising sorcerer I could trust."

"Maybe you just haven't met the right one. Is it possible that sorcerers are just people too? Maybe the things that corrupt them are the same as the things that corrupt ordinary people, anger and hate for example, the consequences are just far worse when they act. There are evil people who don't have magic, couldn't the opposite be true as well?"

"That's very profound Merlin, for you. But people make choices, that is what determines their character. Why would any good person, smart enough to learn magic, chose to do so knowing the terrible damage it can cause?"

"Maybe they think they can use it to help people."

"It's irresponsible. Will saved my life, and someone saved your life for whatever reason, and I'm grateful for that, I truly am, but I cannot trust magic knowing what it is capable of – it is simply wrong. I made a mistake with Morgause and I think you know the outcome of that. Perhaps one day something might change my mind, but I don't think that day will come soon. Magic is dangerous, I cannot afford to doubt that again."

"I understand," Merlin said. He seemed slightly disappointed. Arthur hadn't realised he felt so strongly. Come to think of it, he had never asked what his servant thought, but in the end what did that matter? Magic was dangerous, he may have seen a few exceptions but at it's very core magic was evil. He only had to think of Camelot and the terror that magic had unleashed there to know that to be true. What good could come from a power that could cause all that? No good at all was the answer – only death and fear and grief and pain. But if that were so, if the issue was so clear cut, then why was it that whenever he looked at Merlin, he couldn't help but keep on doubting?

I know, long wait and it doesn't move things very far, but I wanted to show Arthur thinking for once. His thoughts are a little muddled but it's something at least. In case there is any confusion there was someone on the tower (very briefly mentioned in Ch15) but of course they didn't drain the swamp so Arthur was both wrong and right but for the wrong reasons (if that makes sense).

The next Camelot chapter is mostly written, but I haven't decided if that will be the next chapter yet. If it is you will probably get it soon, if not then you'll have to wait longer. I have been very busy with final exams since the end of April and will be until June so updates will be infrequent until then. Biochemistry is EVIL but after that I'm freeeee!

Apologies for the A/N overload with this update and thanks for reading!