And all the Kings men

by Beth9891

When the Goblins choose to inform Harry of a few buried, hidden or otherwise unknown facts; his life and choices change. Lily committed an act that many would consider barbaric out of love—Harry has lived with the consequences up until now. Now that he knows the truth how will his second chance play out? Arthur/Harry-slash, harry/merlin—brothers. AU

6. Leave them alone, and they'll come home

last of the already written chapters-following this, chapters will be posted as I complete them

-hahahahahahahah-

Chapter 4: Leave them alone, and they'll come home

"I've noticed that sometimes when we aren't actively searching for something, what we seek, finds us."
― Darryl Webb

"Merlin"

Merlin flipped over on the lumpy and ever so thin mattress beneath him, pulling his pillow over his head in a pointless attempt to ignore the annoying voice that summoned him.

"Merlin"

Nope. Cannot. Hear. It.

"Merlin"

Merlin sat up, abruptly throwing his pillow at the door in a fit of annoyance before sighing in resignation and slowly turning so that his feet met the night chilled floor. He didn't know why he bothered trying to ignore the damn dragon….it never did any good. Sadly, the fact that it was a dragon and had lived for oh-who-knows-how-many-bleeping-centuries, and had therefore developed both an incredible stubborn streak and amount of perseverance meant that no matter how long Merlin tried to outwait or ignore the damn thing, he always ended up being the one to give in, in the end.

Not that Merlin didn't try to hold out—especially now that he had definite reasons to mistrust and begrudge the giant lizard—what with its tricking Merlin into almost sacrificing his mother's life without telling him that was possible and everything—not that he was ever successful. And yes, perhaps they were on slightly better terms then they had been right after it had happened…but they were still a hell of a long ways away from trusting each other again.

Merlin made his way stealthy past where Gaius was snoring merrily away—ok, so maybe stealthy in Merlin's definition of the word meant that he only knocked into something once as opposed to multiple times on his way to sneak out the door. Of course the racket didn't wake Gaius, and while this was at the moment a good thing considering Merlin was trying to get out of the physician's chambers unheard, it was also a little worrying. Merlin had noticed how tired Gaius had seemed ever since their trip to the Isle of the Blessed months back. The elderly court physician tried to hide the fact, and he even did a fair job at it but he couldn't fool Merlin. It was particularly tricky to deceive Merlin, who not only had magic to help him know such things but saw Gaius as both his mentor and the father he had never had and what he saw, worried him.

Realistically he knew that Gaius was getting up there in years and that life had been neither easy or particularly kind to the man, but until he noted how Gaius grimaced whenever he was bent over a potion or concoction, or how the man more often than not now sent Merlin to distribute his remedies and even do some of his check-ups and house calls in the outer areas of town, Merlin had never really considered that some day—and it was looking like it was not all that far off—that the man he had come to see as a father would not always be around. It pained him in a way he had never thought it would.

And he could admit that perhaps his worry over Gaius had in a way played a part on how he had received his half brother. Merlin had never thought of himself as a particularly angry or hateful person, but seeing a brother (half though he may be) who he had not laid eyes on since the time Merlin was four years old and Henry was a mere babe had awoken that suppressed rage in him. Oh he knew that he was being incredibly unfair to his brother—after all it was not Henry's fault that their father had been a right bastard with a hatred of magic to rival Uther's. It was not the boys fault that Balinor* had decided to cheat on his mother with another woman and father a second son, a son that he decided would be better off away from the taint of his magical half-sibling. It was not really Henry's fault that Balinor had decided to love his second son more than his first and abandon his family to poverty and a life of hardship….no, truly it wasn't. But Merlin could not help how he felt….how the very sight of the green eyed teen brought back the feeling of intense betrayal, unworthiness and self loathing that Merlin had thought he was past.

When he was younger his mother had made up fanciful stories of where is father was, how he had been forced to leave them for their own protection, or how he was a knight and was killed honorably. Oh how Merlin had admired the man she painted…only to find out later from a hateful village bully that the stories were just that; stories.

That his father had left to live with his better family, his more worthy son….the one that was not so freaky or abnormal. The admiration and longing had turned to anger and hate not long after; it had only grown every time he saw one of the villagers cast a disdain-filled or pitying look at Hunith, or every meal that his mother went without so that he might eat that night. When he was still in school he had toyed with the idea of hunting his father down and confronting him, demanding that he at least give a few coins to his struggling mother—but he had never done it. In truth he was afraid that should he find the man that he might be angry enough to kill him.

And while Merlin couldn't deny that the thought filled him with satisfaction, he knew he could not go through with it. He was not a killer and had no wish to be one (he did not count those that fell to his hand when he was protecting Arthur…that was his duty, not because he wanted to or desired it so). So, he would never go and find his useless father and his anger would forever fester inside of him instead of finding an outlet….or so he had thought until he saw his half-sibling.

And while it might not be fair to vent some of that anger on said sibling—life was not always fair.

Merlin grit his teeth to get a hold of his emotions and thoughts before he entered the huge, rock filled cavern that served as both Kilgharrah's home and prison, miles and miles below Camelot's citadel.

"So you have finally chosen to answer my call, young warlock" the dragon said in his all knowing, incredibly smug way.

"Not because I want to" Merlin snapped back, his ire spiking at the knowledge that the coming conversation was going to be a drawn out riddle fest.

Kilgaharrah had the nerve to look amused by his visible annoyance. Merlin fought down the urge to stomp his feet like a toddler instead sighing wearily, "Can you please get on with it….I would like to get a moment of sleep before having to ride out with Arthur again at dawn"

Merlin cocked his head to the side for a moment a sudden thought dawning on him, "…is this about Morgana? Do you know where she is? Who has her? Can we save her?" the words spilled out of him in a rapid stream, suddenly he didn't really mind getting called out of bed in the middle of the night.

"I have told you before and you have failed to head my warnings, young warlock, you should not concern yourself with the witch. It would be better for both Camelot and Arthur should she never be found" Kilgaharrah stated its voice as annoyed as a dragon's voice can be.

Merlin glared back but bit his tongue, not really in the mood to argue over this once again, "Then why have you called me?"

The dragon shifted and for once an expression of what Merlin could only call unease appeared. Somehow knowing that whatever it was, unnerved even the dragon—who could look positively gleeful when contemplating horrendous fates to all—unsettled Merlin more then he cared to admit.

"Something has changed" Kilgaharrah stated solemnly, "Something that should not have happened has occurred. A shift in destiny and fate….one that even I, as powerful as I am cannot predict the result of"

Merlin stared at the dragon in front of him in silence—partly shocked and a much much larger part concerned by what the dragon was saying. For as long as he had known the dragon, it had always known the outcomes—or at least the possible outcomes—of certain actions and decisions. It had always spoken so steadfast in its belief over his and Arthur's destiny and the unification of Avalon…even after it's treachery Merlin had trusted in that vision. He had too; he had devoted his entire life as it was now to it after all. To hear that this might not be the case anymore….

"What do you mean? Me and Arthur will not bring the golden era about? What will happen instead?" Merlin voiced ignoring how his voice cracked displaying his emotional distress for all those to see (which basically amounted to Kilgaharrah, but still).

"I mean what I say, young warlock. I do not know. All I know that something—something not quite natural has shifted the very core of earth, magic and life and even I…a great creature of the Old cannot see what will come" the dragon said rustling it's wing in a motion that normally signaled the end of their conversations. Kilgaharrah gave one parting comment to the stunned warlock,

"I need not tell you that you should be careful where and how you tread from here young warlock, for I cannot tell you how this will affect your own destiny or that of Camelot's, I cannot tell you whether this will benefit or negate you in your efforts….all I can say is that from here on out everything has changed"

-00—

She shivered as her gaze was drawn away from the blood soaked ground beneath her feet towards the horizon that spread out before her. How she could tell that the black inkiness before her was in fact sky she was not sure, just that she knew that it was.

The silence was so deep she felt like she was drowning in it, her own slow breathes thunderous in their volume, and she knew without questioning that she was the only one around for miles. She had to be dreaming again…it was the only explanation to this bizarre night-not night world that she found herself in. Normally when she dreamt these dreams she was a simple observer, someone that could only watch what was happening before her, detached from the reality…without even knowing how she knew it, she knew that this time was different. That she was in fact a player in this reality, a part of this world.

She watched as the piles of bodies strewn across the ground shifted before her very eyes, changing, morphing into what she could only guess where fallen, autumn-touched leaves. She knew somewhere in the back of her mind that this should be shocking to her, but yet in the here and now it seemed as though it was as natural as breathing. They were very pretty she decided leaning down to grasp one of the burnt red leafs….so red.

The silence was broken by the sharp scream of a raven, and her eyes darted upwards searching the ebony sky for the sight of the bird, only to start in surprise when she did. It was not what she expected to see of a raven, it indeed had the expected shape of a bird, but instead of being black as expected it was a brilliant shimmering gold. Its contrast with the black sky behind it was so great that it caused her eyes to sting in pain and swell with tears.

She watched as the golden bird coasted down from the sky its form like those of the soldier's bodies shimmering and changing as it grew closer to the ground. By the time that It had landed it's body was no longer that of a crows but a man's…or at least it was close to that of a mans.

The dark haired being stood before her silent and powerful. She didn't think to question why he had two large wings arcing from his back, one gold, the other a black so deep that it seemed to suck the color from everything around it. She didn't think to find this odd for she was far to transfixed by his mirthful smile and knowledge laden eyes to care about such things.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice coming out far more meek and quiet then it would ever have while she was awake and a ward of the king—somehow she knew that her titles and masks mattered little here….she felt bare, exposed completely to the man before her.

He did not answer instead simply smiling at her and turning his gaze to the right. She wondered briefly if he could not speak and that was why he chose to remain silent, but this too was cast aside as she look in the direction he was now staring.

She heard a gasp and knew that it was hers as she took in the utopia in front of her. The red leaves from before were still scattered about, but this time instead of burnt ground and endless horizon there were large, lush trees, reaching up into a blue cloudless sky. Shimmering streams trickled along beside them looking as though they were filled with molten gold, and Morgana could not help but feel as though she was witnessing something sacred. But what really shocked her was the sight of the man from before—only this time without the extra appendages, sitting relaxed in the shade of one of the towering trees. He sat his face tilted up towards the sky, his eyes closed but this was not what was surprising. The surprising part was the fact that he was not alone.

No, beside him sat the last person Morgana expected to see….her brother. Arthur appeared to be sleeping, his golden hair slightly mussed, a small smile on his face looking much younger than she ever recalled seeing him in life. But what surprised her most was how his face looked un-creased with worry or the demands that the last few years and Uther had brought, looking for all the world like he belonged here, by this man's side.

Morgana tore her eyes away from the bewitching sight to look back in question at the man who had first drawn her attention to said scene. She did not get a chance to ask what that was, what this was or what it meant however, for the man was once again not looking at her, instead looking to the left and without knowing why Morgana once again did as he did and looked in that direction.

This time it was not utopia that met her but its antithesis. The red leaves where not scattered but stacked in piles which were alive with flames and sending huge curls of grey smoke into the cloud covered sky. The sound of war rang out around her, the screams of dying men and clashing metal ringing through the air. She felt her eyes drawn to the center of the chaos, and once again the man was there…but instead of resting with his eyes closed he stood upright, glaring down at an unmoving body at his feet.

She fought the swell of horror that rose within her as she recognized the gold colored hair, now matted with blood and dirt that belonged to said body. She wanted to rush forward to pull the man and his blood covered sword away from her fallen brother but found that she could not move. She watched a silent scream on her lips and the man—no devil, he had to be a devil—looked up slowly from her dead brother a wicked smirk on his lips and held out his hand.

She did not understand….could not understand why he was looking to her, offering his hand as though it meant it for her. She did not understand why he now walked towards her, uncaringly stepping on Arthur's corpse, all in a path to get to her. She wanted to run, wanted to scream, wanted to do—to do anything… but instead did nothing.

She did not know what to think when the man, still smiling at her and keeping his green eyes on her the whole time bent over to his her hand. "for you, My queen"

Morgana shot awake, her throat raw from the scream that was still in progress.

"Hey-hey there, calm down, you're okay. Take a deep breath….that's it…" a soft male voice instructed and Morgana could feel the man it belonged to standing just slightly off to her left, not touching her but close enough that he could should he wish to. Morgana knew that the fact that she woken to find herself in a place she had no recollection of, with a person she was pretty sure she did not know, following a rather terrifying dream that she couldn't quite remember, that she should not have felt reassured by the man's words…but she couldn't help it, there was something about the voice that made her relax almost instantly. Something that should not have been possible considering she was pretty sure she had just had a vision—poor Gwen was always having to dodge defensive swings when trying to talk Morgana out of her post vision terrors.

Yet, she didn't feel the need to be defensive at the moment. She did as instructed drawing in a slow, deep breath….one that told her that she was definitely not indoors, given to cool temperature and the fresh ozone quality of the air. Turning her head slowly she gave a small jump of surprise when she came face to face with the mystery man's startling green eyes.

She jerked back not expecting him to be as close as he was, yet still not feeling as scared as she knew she ought to be given the circumstance. There was something that was niggling at her, something she was sure she was supposed to remember in regards to a man with green eyes but for the life of her she could not recall what it was. So instead of trying to figure it out she took the time to study the—truth be told, rather petite man in front of her.

Well, boy really….he couldn't be much older than most of the starting squires although much less kept**. His raven hair was too long to be considered neat and trim, but not long enough for one to believe he was growing it on purpose…not to mention the general disarray of it. He was far cleaner than one would expect a peasant to be but the state of his clothes—torn and well worn were not fit enough for that of noble blood—or even someone apprenticing under a noble man. Then there were the obvious signs of not sickness no, but general stress at the very least. Thin to the point one might consider him malnourished, shadows under his eyes indicating a lack of sleep and a general weariness in his stance. Yet, where Morgana would normally take all of this as a sign of someone well below her and either pity or disdain them, there was something in his eyes that stopped her from doing either.

There was defiance there yes, but there was also an almost childlike curiosity hidden in the depths not to mention something else that she couldn't quite categorize…something that reminded her a bit of Mordred the druid boy that her, Merlin and Arthur had helped escape almost a year ago. Funnily enough it was that quality, that unnamed flint that made her feel like she could rely on this boy, trust him where she trust so few others.

She felt a something rough being pushed into her hands and glanced down to see that it was a wooden cup filled with what she had to guess was water. "Here, drink it….I imagine your throat is a little sore, you have one hell of a scream" the boy said in explanation, giving her a lopsided grin that she found herself returning albeit hers was much more cautious.

"Thanks" she said though it came out as a croak and she saw the truth in his previous statement, still she only took a tiny sip well aware of the idiocy of drinking something given to her by a complete stranger. The boy must have seen her hesitance but instead of being offended he smile widened, "it's safe to drink, I didn't poison it….promise" he stated before grabbing the cup from her and taking a healthy swig from it himself and passing it back to her, "see? Still perfectly alive"

Morgana stared back at him in shock—it had been sometime since someone had the audacity and nerve to grab anything out of her hands without asking first and yet the boy did it like it was no big deal. The only explanation she could come up with was that he didn't know who she was…no sane person would behave in such a manner to the king's beloved ward if they wanted to keep their heads. Shaking her head slightly and deciding to let it go (as it did at least prove that he was not trying to kill her via poisoning at least) Morgana took a deep drink from the cup, relishing in the soothing coolness of its contents.

"I cleaned up what few scrapes you had and wrapped you ankle as best I could…you'll have to wait until my potion finished though for a true fix, I could try mending it with a spell but I've always been rather rubbish at those so it's probably best not to risk it. Well, unless you have any talent in the healing magics? If you did you could do it yourself…." The boy chattered away as he undid the tight cloth that he must have wrapped around her ankle when she was asleep. It took her a few minutes to process what he was saying and when she did she ripped her leg away from his grasp in disbelief, cursing herself a moment later as the dull throbbing pain that had been there before turned into a sharp stabbing one.

"Ow!" she cursed, glaring at both her leg and the boy.

She knew it wasn't his fault that she had moved her leg but his blatant referral to magic had shocked her. Not only the fact that he spoke about it in such an offhand-every day manner but the fact that he automatically assumed she had it. She stared at him her eyes narrowed in suspicion, was he a druid? Was she wrong about her previous assumption and he actually did know who she was? She looked him over once again this time searching him for details she might have missed before—like the symbolic tattoos that most druids wore or even one of their pieces of jewelry that attested to their naturalic roots. There was none….not that this meant anything necessarily, given Uther's hate of magic and his even greater hate and suspicion towards those who wield it (for example the druidic tribes) many of the peaceful magic practitioners had stopped wearing any form of identification as it just wasn't safe to do so.

"Whoa…calm down, I thought we already established I wasn't going to hurt you. As I was saying before, most of your injuries were minor, which frankly is kind of a miracle considering the fall you had. If you don't want to or can't heal yourself that's fine….like I said the potion will take a little longer to finish but it should be done by tonight, after which you can drink it and you ankle should mend itself within twenty four hours….okay?" the boy held up his hands in a placative gesture, talking to her like she was a skittish mare and might startle at any moment.

She glared at him, but nodded her head in agreement. "Why do you think I have magic?" she asked too curious about that fact to simply let it go like common sense might dictate.

"Oh that" the boy gave a bark of a laugh and sent her a sheepish look, "um…well if you didn't, you wouldn't have been able to enter my camp….I've got wards up to keep muggles—er people without magic out. So since you fell in, I can assume you have some magic in you…." He said with a shrug as though he had not just admitted to performing a magical feat so strong that Morgana had never even heard of it. Then again, she was rather new to the magic and its feats so perhaps Aglain and the other druids that she had spent time with had just not thought to mention such things as barriers that could keep people like Uther out. But she thought not, after all if that was possible then why wouldn't all magic users employ one?

The only conclusion she could come to was that this boy—this wisp of a thing was an incredibly powerful sorcerer….she wondered if he was like the druids, peaceful in his magic or more like the many sorcerers that had tried to attack her stepbrother and Uther—violent and confrontational. From what she could see so far she had to assume he was the former—though she couldn't quite explain why she felt slightly disappointed by this fact.

Once again she pushed such thoughts aside, turning her attention back to the boy—the boy who she realized she had no ideas name was. "Who are you?" she asked.

"ahh…sorry, I'm Henry. I er….am just passing through Camelot…although I suppose I haven't actually been passing through for a few weeks…." He trailed off before blushing as he realized that he was rambling again, Morgana got the feeling that it was something he did fairly regularly—probably more so when he was nervous or unsure. Oddly enough instead of finding irritating she found it rather endearing.

"Morgana" she offered in turn watching Henry's face closely to see his reaction. If he recognized her name he gave no show of it, simply smiling easily and taking her proffered hand kissing the knuckle lightly, "lovely to meet you my lady."

Morgana found herself rolling her eyes at his cheeky smile, catching the teasing air about it.

"Sooo….why is a lady such as yourself running around half naked in the woods?" Henry asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

Morgana debated briefly on whether or not she should tell him the truth, deciding that she might as well. After all he could have killed or harmed her at any time considering that she had been unconscious when he found her and the fact that she was still both injured and weaponless. "I was riding with my maid servant and a few others to pay my respects to my father's grave, when we were ambushed by a group of bandits" she stated.

"The men we were with were killed and my servant and I were taken prisoner. We managed to escape but in doing so I injured my ankle, so I sent Gwen ahead to try and send word to my stepfather on what happened. I was just preparing to try and fight when my injured ankle caught a root and I fell…next thing I know I am waking up to you, here" Morgana explained as succinctly as she could, leaving out the fact that the men that had accompanied her were knights and that her stepfather was actually the king.

"Ahhh…well, I guess you were lucky then. I hope your servant managed to get away as well. Unfortunately, I doubt that your stepfather or anyone he sends will be able to find you—well, unless they also have magic?" Henry asked raising a questioning brow only to continue when Morgana shook her head no, "….well, then I suppose I will have to accompany you back to wherever it is you came from once your ankle is mended. I would do so earlier but if there is still a group of bandits out there I would prefer for you to be in as good of health as possible."

Morgana didn't question the swell of relief that she felt at his words. She had assumed he would not simply heal her to send her back out into the woods alone—but she was rather glad to hear her assumption confirmed…. not that she would ever admit to feeling the need for another's protection. She was rather fond of her independence after all (something that Uther did not like but indulged).

Another question that had been bothering her made its way to her lips, "Why are you here...alone, in the middle of the forest?" –oh, she had heard him saying that he was passing through but she also heard him mention that he had stayed in this spot for the last little while, and she could admit to being a bit curious as to what would make a boy so young* camp out alone for such a period of time.

She watched as he ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture, "um….well, it's a bit of a long story…." He trailed off looking uncomfortable.

Morgana could admit that she enjoyed turning the tables for once and having her host feeling at odds instead of herself. "Well, as you said we have time"

"…it's not all that interesting really" Henry tried again but sighed and continued when he saw the stubborn expression being shot his way, "well my guardian passed away a little while ago, but before doing so she told me that my father had, had another family before me and my mother. She said that she thought he had a son from that marriage and that his name was Merlin. Not having any family left or anywhere else to go I figured I'd try and track down my half brother….."Henry paused something flickering through his eyes before it was gone and he continued his tale, "…well, let's just say I found him, but I'm not quite sure he was ready to be found…I figured I'd keep my distance and wait it out, see if he might reconsider his opinion given a bit of time. Hence the reason I've been hanging out here…though I was just about to move on and find somewhere else to stay…. I think I may have been a bit optimistic in regards to his regards for me" Henry finished with a rather glum sigh, staring morosely into the distance.

Morgana found herself gaping at him, once again shocked. She had expected some story of misfortune or woe, but she hadn't expected it to involve someone that she knew personally—well, she figured close enough to be personal. Merlin of all people? Her brother's clumsy, foolish, somewhat charming manservant was related to this rather powerful sorcerer?!

It was rather hard to believe.

Yet, she did not have a reason to think that Henry was lying to her…what would be the point of making up such a story? In a way she felt a little bad for him, she knew what it was like to lose a guardian and feel unwanted by those left. After all, as much as Uther let her get away with hell, if he ever found out the truth- who she really was, (aka: magical) he would have her burned at the stake faster than a blink of an eye.

It made her feel even more connected to the green eyed boy….and like she had before with Mordred, she found herself wanting to help him. Slowly, an idea started to form in her head….

Perhaps it was time to use her influence with Uther once more; if this plan worked, she could help Henry and Merlin at the same time, not to mention she would have an ally….someone else with magic in court so that she would not feel so alone there.

Yes, it really was rather ingenious of her….she once again ignored the small prickle in her spine that told her she was missing something rather important. It was not what mattered right now. Right now what mattered was making sure she got what she wanted. Now all she had to do was convince Henry…..it really shouldn't be that hard.

After all she could be very persuasive when she wanted to be. And for the first time in a long time….she really, really wanted to be.

-00—

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid….that was the only word that fit. He, Harry James Potter—Myror—Henry Emrys—whoever he was now- was unbelievably stupid. Or if he was felt like being kind to himself: unlucky.

When the admittedly beautiful, injured woman fell into his camp (he would have said like an angel from the sky, but after having spent some time with her, he felt like she was on the other end of the spectrum; more devil then angel) he hadn't really thought twice about taking her in and healing her to the best of his abilities.

Ok, so that was sort of a lie, he had been a little wary about welcoming a complete stranger into his temporary sanctum but there was something about her that just made him want to trust her—something that he realized was likely a compatibility between their magic that had led him to telling her more then he would have normally, given the circumstance. Of course he was not so far gone that he had told her the actual truth…just a few snippets of it mixed in with his decided on cover of lies.

Though, he hadn't been lying to her when he said that he knew she was magical because of her ability to cross his wards, he had left out the fact that he also knew she was magical and strongly suspected some seerer routes because he was able to feel her magic.

This revelation had actually shocked him quite a bit more than having some unknown woman cross his wards. Up until this point he hadn't had any inclination that he was able to do more then use magic….that he was actually able to feel it—see it really.

Back in his old world Harry knew that everyone had thought he was the magical equivalent of Dumbledore, that he had some awesome unheard of power that had allowed him to live through the killing curse and that would allow him to defeat Voldemort a second (or fifth—but who's counting?) time. It was one of the things about his fame that he hated the most; the fact that he had always felt like such a fraud.

Oh, he knew that he was pretty good at defense against the dark arts, and that he seemed to have an intuitive understanding of magical creatures and such…but he was never really smart per-say (that had always been Hermione's gimmick, not his). He had never seen or felt like he was on par with the greats—people like Albus or Tom who had an innate understanding of magic and how it worked, who could manipulate and use the force without a second thought. No, he had always had to struggle and practice and work for any magical achievement he made, his survival and escapes were based far more on luck then skill…but try explaining that to the desperate public. The people who needed to believe that he was the second coming of Merlin (and wasn't that ironic), their hero…their conqueror.

So no, he had never truly believed the hype about him being far more powerful than most of his peers or even the adults in his life….his time here however, was starting highlight a few misconceptions he might have of himself.

He had noticed how much stronger his magic felt in this dimension….literally crackling and sparking beneath his skin, like a barely controlled infernal surging and ebbing in his veins, but he had at first simply thought that it was magic—not him that was different here. He had been shocked to find that he could perform spells and such wandlessly…something that not even Dumbledore could do, and that it came so easily. So easily, and so intensely that most of the time he didn't need a spell, but a simply thought or intent. But his magic was so different, so wild and powerful that he was actually a little afraid of using it—having caused numerous things to blow up when he simply meant to heat or summon them—reactions that seemed to say that his power had magnified ten-fold.

He had gradually come to terms with this…the fact that how he felt and used magic had changed (of course two weeks with nothing to do but self reflection likely helped a bit), but it wasn't until she had stumbled into his camp that he realized that the crackling under his skin was him feeling his magic…and more importantly that he could feel other's magic.

Thinking back on it, he felt rather stupid for missing this detail, he had after all seen and spoken (argued) with Merlin and should have been able to realize that the prickly, staticky feel he had felt at the time was in fact him feeling his half-brother's magic…but he had been too worked up to make the connection then. It was only now; now that he was calmer and more collected and could feel the same (although to a far less degree) prickly feeling coming from Morgana, that he realized that he could sense magic. It was yet another change that was both awe-inspiring and all together terrifying.

It was after she had fallen back asleep (shortly after having drunk the potion Harry prepared) that he had stopped to think about these changes. While true, his first assumption—that magic itself had changed—could very well be valid, if he thought about it….truly thought about it, it seemed a little unlikely. Magic was an all-powerful source; it was something universal, something unchangeable, unconquerable….really, believing that such a thing that was the very energy that allowed multiple planes of existence to exist in the first place could be changed so easily was a little ridiculous.

No, if he allowed himself to think about it, it made far more sense that it was he, not magic that had changed. And really it was rather common sense—so much so that it made Harry blush a little with embarrassment. Magic was tied to the soul, and he was no longer a half soul, so of course his magic had changed…increased now that he was 'whole'. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure how to feel about this realization.

But no, that was not the reason he was calling himself stupid. While yes, he should have realized that his magic would have changed along with his soul and his personality, the reason he was calling himself stupid was for the simple fact that he had somehow ended up with the king's ward of all people camped out with him.

Morgana Pendragon, Uther's beloved ward, a witch….was now staying in his camp. He wasn't sure what he should be more shocked over; the fact that he had Uther's daughter sleeping on his bed roll (something that he would never ever tell the king, he was rather fond of his head after all) or the fact that Morgana was a witch. The ward of the most infamous magic hating king Camelot had ever known was a witch—oh, the irony.

But still he could have dealt with these facts, healed the pseudo princess and sent her on her way, no one the wiser except for the fact that he had promised to personally deliver her home (which apparently was Camelot—lucky him…) and had somehow allowed her to talk him into possibly staying in Camelot thereafter.

It was the last part that was making him question sanity. Stay in Camelot… a magical hating town, where Merlin—his Harry hating brother (or rather Henry but one and the same) was residing. But Morgana had spoken so persuasively, telling him he didn't have anywhere else to go, that running away wouldn't solve anything and that maybe, just maybe if he was around Merlin more that his brother would come around. She had convinced him that seeking an apprenticeship under the court physician would be a grand idea….that Gaius, the current physician was not doing as well as he once was, that he was getting up in years and with Merlin, his previous assistant running around after her dolt of a brother, that he really did need someone else to help him out.

Harry couldn't even remember agreeing to all of this, and yet here he was walking along side his horse (on which Morgana was riding) on his way to Camelot. So yes, he was obviously stupid and unlucky….or unlucky and stupid.

Ahh…well it wasn't like it was set in stone or anything. Maybe he could simply drop her off, give some lame explanation of coming across her in the woods on his journey AWAY from Camelot and be done with it. Deep down, he knew that this would not be the case especially given the look on Morgana's face when he had suggested such a plan….but he kind of hoped that maybe when Morgana was faced with all of her friends and family (and no he did not think the last word bitterly. At all) that she would forget about him and let him be on his way….without whatever ridiculous scheme she was up to taking place.

He was not a complete idiot, he knew scheming when he saw it….what he didn't know was just why she wanted him to stay in the fabled city so badly. He didn't sense malicious intent coming off of her but one never knew…

There was a slight….well, darkness that he felt around her-if that made any sense….it was small and buried, barely noticeable really, but he could feel it every now and then. Generally when she mentioned the king—but that wasn't what worried Harry….no, what worried Harry was the fact that this spot of darkness didn't frighten him in the least. He felt almost….well, drawn to it.

And that scared him. It scared him a lot…..just who was he becoming? Or perhaps the more pertinent question should be; what was he becoming?

-00—

For once Uther allowed for his 'kingly-I-am-higher-than-all-and-must-show-no-weakness' persona to fall as he pulled his daughter* into a tight hug. He had been so afraid that he had lost her for good this time; lost her and had never let himself show her how much she truly meant to him. Well, this scare had changed that…he had made a vow to tell her the truth; the truth about both his feelings and the circumstances of her birth.

Of course vows were funny things: easy to make in the spur of the moment when fear was overwhelming and one was desperate to achieve or prevent a certain outcome. Sadly, they were not so easy to adhere to once everything had settled… when the prize was obtained but the price hadn't been paid. Then it was all too easy—especially for men like Uther—to back out on their end of the bargain, to forget hastily thrown prayers and pretend that such promises had never been made in the first place.

Which was why Uther was now embracing his daughter (who had no idea that she was his daughter) while pushing away the fact that he had promised himself that he would tell her who her true father actually was…not Uther's beloved deceased friend, but Uther himself. Making Morgana of course, not his ward but the bastard daughter of a woman who was not Uther's late wife Igraine.

No, he had after all been afraid and his fear had made him think silly, foolish things—why tell Morgana the truth when everyone was happier with the lie? Morgana was, not knowing that her true father had not left her because he died on the battle field but because he was too ashamed to claim her. Arthur was, not knowing that his father, the king was not the man he had idolized as a child but in fact a weak willed man who had cheated on his mother, the kingdom was, because they did not have to face the fact that there might be questions or challenges to the crowns succession, and finally Uther was, because he could continue with his self delusions of being wise and righteousness.

So yes, while he may have made all sorts of silly vows to come clean if only his daughter was found alive and unharmed, they were easy enough to ignore now that she was back in his arms again. He suppose he should be grateful to the urchin that found her lost in the woods and had sheltered her and brought her back to him….and he was. Had the boy been of noble blood he would have no doubt found himself knighted or rewarded with a large pile of gold, but the child (for everyone younger than him was a child once you reached Uther's age) was a mere peasant or some such ilk so Uther could not give him such things.

But still, he was thankful and a just and fair king and as such he knew that the boy deserved some kind of reward, not to mention it seemed as though Morgana was quite taken with the boy, (though this made Uther reconsider the reward and wonder if it would be better to execute the peon….) so he knew he had to do something. It was obvious the urchin was simple—obviously not being of noble blood the boy could not be expected to be anything but simple…so a simple reward should suffice.

Perhaps he could award him a position in the royal staff? Yes, this was always a very generous gift to people of such upbringing…..but what position? He honestly would love to replace that Mervin or whatever his face was and give the boy to Arthur as a man-servant—because no matter how simple the boy was, he could not be any worse than Mervin, who still seemed to have quite a mental affliction. But no, Arthur for reasons that Uther did not understand (nor wanted to) was rather fond of his retarded** manservant and would likely be in a snit should Uther try to replace him…and honestly the king had enough to worry about without dealing with his heir's pouts. So no, he couldn't make the child Arthur's manservant and he would rather reinstate magic—god forbid—to Camelot then make him Morgana's servant (he really did not like how close his daughter and the boy seemed to be—not at all).

He released Morgana and moved back to his thrown to give him time to think of a solution, allowing his eyes to wander as he pondered what to do with the child. The solution was not long coming and as his eyes fell on Gaius, (who was looking rather weary and worn down) he was once again amazed by his brilliance and cunning. Of course! He would give the boy to Gaius as an apprentice! That way his old friend would be sure to keep an eye on the stranger (for even if he had rescued Morgana, Uther would not just let anyone walk into his court without at least some surveillance—and Gaius his oldest friend would never hide anything or lie to him) and his old friend would be able to pass on his grunt work and rest a bit more. Not to mention the boy would pick up knowledge and skills so that when—god forbid—Gaius got too old for his duties, there would be someone available to take over his position. Yes….this was why Uther was king; no one else could have come up with such a solution!

"You have done both myself and my kingdom a great service in protecting my ward from harm and returning her to me…." Uther announced imperiously (it was the only way to speak when addressing the court. After all, one must appear high and mighty at all times) while allowing his eyes to rest on the rather frail looking boy in front of him, "…and as such I have decided to reward you."

The boy, for some reason did not looking overly happy at this announcement but Uther just put it down to him being simple minded and not quite understanding how one should act when being honored by their king (with reverence and gratitude of course). "Really, your highness….that is not necessary, I am sure anyone would have done the same…." the peon denied quietly—ah, that was better! A much more appropriate response…and since this response made him happy, Uther decided that he would indeed go ahead with his plan and reward him.

"Not everyone…you have shown valor above that of your station..."—he missed the annoyance that flashed over a good many people's faces at this statement, Harry's, most of the staff and Morgana to be exact—"and as such I have decided it necessary to acknowledge this. To show you the kingdom's thanks you will be given the position of Court Physician's apprentice" Uther finished grandly, waiting for the exclamation of delight and thanks that should be coming from the peasant. When nothing but stunned disbelief came, Uther frowned.

In Uther's mind it was simply due to the peon's shock that it took him so long before he stuttered out an acknowledgement of his reward, not the fact that said peon was afraid of losing his head should he refuse the king's offer.

That done and settled Uther summarily dismissed the boy and the rest of the court holding back only a few of his most senior advisors—he did after all have more important matters to attend to. Morgana was back where she belonged, he had come up with a solution that would reward the boy who brought her back while both keeping him far from his daughter and solving the issue of Gaius's deteriorating health, and he was still the best and wisest king Camelot had ever had.

It really was too bad that such a wise king missed the devious smile on his daughter's face, the intense (and slightly confused) scrutiny on his son's, the absolute loathing on his son's idiot manservant's, or the indecipherable one on the unimportant peon's face.

Really, Uther should have known better….it was the smallest details in the end that brought a king down.

Note:

Chapter title: A verse taken from the nursery rhyme titled, 'Little Bo Peep'

*For this fan-fiction I am majorly altering Balinor's character. In this one he originally loved Hunith but the love soon faded after the birth of Merlin. I am still having Balinor the son of a dragonlord but I am making it so that the power did not manifest in him but for reasons yet unspecified, skipped over him establishing themselves in Merlin instead. Balinor resented the fact that he did not receive the gift which gradually mutated into a hatred for all things magic related. Thus causing him to hate Merlin. I further have him become a drunk abusive ass (as witnessed by Harry's—myror's memories). Merlin does not know the later, nor does he know that Harry has magic thus believes that he lost his father and was sentenced to a life of hardship (for both he and his mother) while his half brother and the woman his father cheated on Hunith with, lived a life of luxury and love. He also does not yet know that his father has been dead for several years.

**Knighthood training began in early childhood when a basic education and good manners and rules of etiquette were taught at home. At the age of 7 young boys were sent away to the castles and homes of wealthy lords or relatives to embark on their knighthood training. From the age of seven to fourteen these young boys were given the role of a Medieval Page. From fourteen to twenty-one these 'apprentice knights' were referred to as Squires . The different types and styles of Knighthood training depended on the age and strength of the apprentice knights.

*Uther is calling Morgana his daughter because even though at this point in the cannon Morgana, Arthur, Merlin etc do not know Morgana's true relation to Uther, Uther always did. While Uther is in my opinion an extremely delusion ass, I do not think that he is so far in denial that he wouldn't call Morgana his daughter in his head.

**I mean no offense for using any derogatory slang in this story, I used 'retarded' simply because it is Uther speaking and such things as political correctness did not exist in Uther's era ;)