Third Person's Point of View

I have to go back."

His explanation hadn't taken long. He'd detailed his account of the story he and Morgana shared, spanning from the betrayal of poison to her return and ultimate sacrifice. Hunith had been silent throughout, lips pursed in obvious disappointment.

They were quiet, the only sound that of the flames snapping and crackling in the hearth. Morgana shifted restlessly behind them from her cot, mumbling incoherently.

"What for?" Hunith finally spoke, placing her mug on the ground beside her chair. Merlin dropped his gaze, turning to look upon Morgana. She struggled with her fitful sleep, eyebrows pinched, skin stricken with light sweat.

Hunith had explained that the stress on her body - both from the treatment she'd received in the dungeon and the arduous journey to Ealdor - had left her vulnerable to sickness. She'd caught a fever that turned her skin clammy yet had her crying of a burning heat, and twisted her insides until she retched what little food she'd been able to take down.

His mother's concern was evident, and his guilt was palpable.

"The spell book Gaius gave me. It can heal her." he rubbed at his forehead. "I owe her this." More than this he thought to himself. Hunith only nodded, smoothing her fingers over the creases in the blanket across her lap.

"I understand. You'll leave in the morning. You're no help to anyone like this." He didn't bother with arguing, it would have been for naught. So he obeyed, laying out his blanket by Morgana's bedside.

In the morning light, Hunith stood in the doorway to her humble home and watched as her son disappeared through the trees, his large black horse delving into a gallop as the sun rose in the sky. She bit her lip, thinking the worst of his return to Camelot.

She had faith in her son's abilities to keep himself safe, but as a mother her worry was not something she could push aside. What if Arthur was more like the King than Merlin truly realized? What if his good intentions only served to bring him toward more danger? What if-

Morgana coughed violently from behind her, cutting through her dark thoughts. She cleared her throat and slowly shut the door, latching the wooden board across.

Morgana moaned and she hurried to her side, refreshing the cloth for her head in the bucket of water at her bedside. The fever had grown worse through the night, and she shivered.

Hunith frowned at the state of her long black hair as it got in the way, gathering it into a long braid over her shoulder. She tucked away the strands that persisted in sticking to the sheen of sweat that covered her face, hooking them behind her ears.

She cried out in pain, grabbing for Hunith's wrist. Her eyes flickered open, so pale and blue they resembled ice. She gazed up at her, lips trembling. "Why?" she whispered raggedly.

"Why what sweet one?" she murmured.

Morgana's fingers tightened, weakly attempting to pull her closer. "Why didn't he let me die?"

Hunith was quiet, attempting to gather the wits she'd so abruptly lost. Merlin had told her everything, of his doubt concerning Morgana's story, and his inability to truly believe whether she meant the things she had said. What he had not told her was what had motivated him to throw himself in harm's way, and rescue her from the flames.

She opened her mouth to respond and realized Morgana had dropped her hand, having fallen back to sleep. Hunith smiled sadly down at her, brushing the backs of her fingers across her cheek.

She couldn't know what her son believed, but she believed Morgana was nothing but a lonely and scared girl who'd been used as a pawn all her life. She deserved a second chance, and should she survive Hunith would give her one.

She stood and refreshed her cloth one more time, then grabbed a shawl to wrap around her shoulders to ward off a sudden chill. She prayed, to any of the Gods that would listen, to keep her son safe on his journey, and to keep Morgana alive so she may see the good in life she had yet to truly experience.

1 1/2 days since Merlin's departure
3 days since Morgana's execution

Mid-afternoon

Arthur rode from Camelot's gates, turning swiftly off the trail and into the trees to the left of the wall. He made his way to the meadow where he'd left two of his finest horses for Morgana and Merlin, to aid in their escape.

It had been one of his more rebellious acts under Uther's reign, and he'd had great hopes his plan would come to fruition. Now he wasn't quite sure what to hope for.

A part of him hoped they were gone, that they'd succeeded in their escape and taken off days ago. Another hoped they'd stayed, and waited for him in the shadows. Eager to explain what he'd seen.

Storm snorted irritably beneath him, stopping abruptly, ears pricked. The meadow was just ahead, and there was nothing. No horses, and neither his sister nor his friend.

Arthur ran a gloved hand through his hair, allowing a small smile at the absence of his crown. His coronation had taken place only the day before. He had barely a moment to himself any longer, though it wasn't as horrid as he'd expected.

Much of his time thus far had been spent with Guinevere. She seemed to be the only one who truly understood his feeling, not only regarding Merlin and Morgana but everything. Losing his father, the new responsibilities of being a King, the loneliness he felt. The betrayal and paranoia that plagued him, and how it suddenly seemed impossible to trust anyone.

She felt the same, though to a lesser degree. She seemed to understand Merlin's motives, even sympathized with him. Their differing opinions caused numerous arguments between them, but he found he enjoyed there spats.

Their relationship before had been nothing like this; it was sweet and gentle, tentative. New love at its most beautiful. But he didn't miss the way it had been. Now she challenged him, advised him, allowed him to speak his true feelings to her.

It had been only three days but he was more in love with her than he had been before, though he had not thought it possible. She was the same Guinevere she had always been, only now she was more... free.

Surprise had come over him when he realized the same oppressiveness of his father that had lingered above him and Morgana, had lingered above others, Guinevere included. Without the former King to worry over, she seemed stronger, brave, yet still the same sweet person she had always been.

Storm nickered. A branch snapped nearby, his fingers coming to clench around the reins, his other hand reaching for his sword. "Who goes there?" he called.

He was not one to be intimidated easily. Arthur cursed himself, could he not have a single day of solitude without his life being threatened? Storm nickered again, chomping excitedly at the bit.

"I'm unarmed!"

"Come out slowly." he called, unsheathing his sword. He held it clenched in his fist at his side, ready and able. He couldn't bring himself to trust this man at his word.

He was prepared for anything, a sorcerer ready to shoot him down with magic, a bandit pretending to be a poor beggar while his friends surrounded him. He was not, however, prepared to see Merlin ride into the meadow. Looking weary atop his second favorite horse, Striker.

"Stay where you are." he only barely relaxed his grip on the sword. Merlin had the audacity to roll his eyes, but obeyed, pulling Striker to a stop and raising his hand.

"I'm sorry Arthur."

"What for? Lying to me? I suppose I should be used it by now, everyone does."

Merlin shook his head, climbing down from his horse. "Arthur, I understand-"

"I don't think you do. I trusted you, like an idiot. You were supposed to be my friend. One of the very few people I trust in my life. And all along you've been lying to me, pretending to be something you're not."

"Arthur-"

"I did not give you permission to speak. You are on Camelot soil, and I am your King. Now tell me, shall I have you hanged for treason against the crown? Or are you prepared to convince me of your proclaimed innocence?"

Merlin sighed, his gaze lowered with shame. "I know I was wrong. I should never have kept my powers a secret from you for so long, and I'm sorry. But I don't have the time to explain myself."

Arthur balked, eyes narrowed and red. His vision blurred with anger. He slid from Storm's back, pointing his sword out in front of him. Merlin gulped.

"You have the audacity to lie to me for as long as I've known you, to make me look a fool before my kingdom. And now you deny me the explanation I rightly deserve? I am your King. I. Demand. Answers."

Merlin held his ground and clenched his jaw. "Morgana is ill."

His gaze lightened some, the fog of fury seeming to lift from his eyes. But his fingers stayed clenched around the hilt of his sword, his knuckles white. "Explain."

"The stress of her confinement in the dungeons, the journey to Ealdor, her wounds, it left her weak. She caught fever just before we reached Ealdor. My mother is doing the best she can, but without treatment," he swallowed hard. "I don't know how long she'll last."

He pleaded with Arthur to listen, to see sense. Morgana was his sister, he had to understand. Arthur sneered at him, sheathing his sword and whipping around. He strode toward his horse. "Follow me to Gauis, keep your head covered." he spat.

Merlin nodded, barely managing to mount his horse as Arthur rode off. He tugged the hood of his cloak far over his head, hiding his face in the depths of the dark fabric.

Arthur was silent as he led Merlin through the halls towards Gauis' chambers. The castle was mostly empty as it was already midday, and most everyone was preparing for dinner. Two guards were posted at the entrance to each hall, but that was as far his security detail spanned.

Nothing said in the hall would be overheard, it was now or never. He slowed, moving to allow Merlin to walk at his side.

"Why would you decide to learn magic in Camelot, how could you have been so stupid?" the question had been burning inside him since the beginning.

Merlin sighed. "I didn't decide to learn magic. Here or anywhere else. I was born with it."

Arthur stopped, and it took Merlin a few steps before he noticed. He turned, walking back towards him. "Don't lie to me. No one is born with magic. You learn."

"I wouldn't lie." Arthur tilted his brow, and he shook his head. "Not anymore. I was born with magic, as was Morgana. It's in our blood. I was gravitating candle sticks before I could walk."

"How can I believe you?"

"What reason do I have to lie any longer? You know of my magic now, what difference would it make to you how I came by it?"

"My father..." he couldn't continue. He should have known better by now than to take anything his father had told him with a grain of salt. He had lied about so much, why not this? "I never realized."

"You weren't told. It's not your fault Arthur. None of it is."

He looked up at Merlin, his expression of sincerity. "How can I ever trust you again? You used magic behind my back, you kept innumerable secrets from me. How do I know you won't betray me?"

"I suppose you don't. Time is my only way to prove it to you."

Arthur nodded, then a thought occurred to him. "What did you mean about Morgana? When you said it's in your blood."

"Morgana was born with magic as I was. It started with her dreams. They're visions of the future. Prophetic."

"That day she came running down the stairs in her nightgown, yelling about the questing beast. She really saw me die?"

Merlin smiled, somewhat sadly. "She tried to warn you. I only suspected her magic then, I thought I could protect you myself. I wasn't careful enough though."

He turned away, continuing down the hall. Arthur followed. Gauis' door was open and he stood by his bookshelf, running his finger down the spine of an amazingly large tome.

"Gauis." he turned, his prepared smile fading at the hooded figure before him.

"My King. Who is your guest?

Merlin lowered his hood, smiling. "Hello Gauis."

"Merlin!" he rushed forward, hugging his young ward for a moment. Then he pulled back, thwacking him across the back of his head.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For being an idiot. You are lucky Arthur seems to have forgiven you. If Uther," he trailed off, seeming to remember the King's presence. "I apologize,"

"No apologies necessary Gauis." he waved his hand, and it was all but forgotten.

Merlin shook his head, unapologetic. "I had to Gauis. I couldn't let her die."

"I understand. I didn't think you would. I saw it in your eyes that night, when you promised to keep yourself out of danger."

Merlin shrugged sheepishly, "I've never been spectacularly good at keeping my promises."

Gauis smiled. Merlin brushed past him, retrieving the spell book from under his bed. "I should be going. I have to return as quick as possible."

Gauis seemed to understand without explanation, hugging him once more. He handed him a light burlap sack. "Some food. For the journey."

"I'll be coming as well." Arthur's tone left no room for disagreement.

"But my King, who will watch over Camelot in your stead?"

"He's right Arthur. You have to stay, you're needed here."

"This is not a discussion. Morgana is my sister, and I have to see this through. I have failed her one too many times in the past, not again." he placed a hand on Gauis' shoulder. "You are to tell no one where I've gone. If anyone asks, I am in my chambers conduction urgent business and am not to be disturbed under any circumstances."

"Yes your majesty."

"I'll be coming as well." The three turned abruptly. Guinevere stood tall in the doorway, shoulders back and arms crossed over her chest.

"Guine-"

She raised a hand, dismissing Arthur's attempts to dissuade her before they could begin. "Morgana is my friend, and if you're gone there is nothing keeping me here. I have no duties to attend to, and I believe I deserve a... vacation. If you will." she smiled. "Besides, I think I deserve some answers."

Merlin looked away sheepishly, scratching at his chin. She nodded once. "I will meet you at the gates. Have a horse readied for me. I must change." she turned and walked from the room, her skirts swirling around her ankles.

Night had fallen, and a chill had descended over the small group. Their horses walked, winded from the first few hours of unending running.

Arthur watched Merlin consistently, as if he thought magic would burst from his very skin at any moment. Merlin, in turn, couldn't seem to keep from staring at Guinevere, who avoided looking at either one of them.

"You weren't going to tell me you'd seen Merlin at all, were you?" she'd accused Arthur at the beginning of their journey, angrily twisting her fingers around her reins.

He'd only shaken his head, confirming her thoughts. It had been silent ever since, covering them like a blanket draped over their backs.

Gwen cleared her throat and Merlin jumped. "I'm sorry!" he shouted.

She looked up in surprise, but smiled. Then laughed. "Thank you."

"What?"

"I only wanted an apology. I think I deserved one."

Merlin nodded, pushing to catch up with Arthur, who rode ahead of them. They were only a short while from Ealdor, and daybreak as well. Arthur was agitated, that much was obvious, and he never once slowed.

Guilt was eating at him, at feeling so helpless and unable to save Morgana from her execution. If she died, her blood would be on his hands.

He stewed over never knowing she was his sister, his own flesh and blood. His- their father had lied. Denied him the truth he had always deserved to know. He had spent so long defending his father's actions to her, explaining the reasoning behind the executions of people with magic, when he had unknowingly condemned her to the same act.

She held magic in her veins, in her very blood, without any decision on her part. Born with it, she suffered in silence. And all along he had called the people who used it evil, and she had taken it for herself.

He only wondered now how he couldn't have seen it. She had told him of her dreams when they were children, the nightmares that would send her running to his chambers late at night. They'd huddled under the blankets and she would tell him of what she'd seen, the deaths and tragedies that would one day take place.

He had believed her then. But magic had never once come to his mind. And as they'd grown older, he found himself visited less frequently in the night. He had thought the dreams had stopped, but he realized now she had stopped coming to him.

He should have noticed when she began to distance herself from him, hiding in her chambers more often than not, quiet during banquets, no longer sparring with him in the yard. It wasn't like her, and he had never even seen it. How could he have been so blind, so uncaring, so involved in his own feelings?

"Arthur." he jumped, his horse skittering to the side. "We're here." Merlin pointed ahead. Hadn't they been further away a moment ago?

Merlin and Gwen rode ahead of him, but he stopped. He was suddenly gripped by a thought he was unable to shake. What if she blamed him for being unable to stop the execution?

"Arthur!" Gwen called, twisting around to see him. He rode up beside her and they jumped down, leaving the horses beside the shack Merlin had housed Morgana's.

Merlin put his finger to his lips, and knocked at the door. There was the sound of a lock being lifted, and the door swung open. Hunith stood before them, cheeks flushed and eyes red with tears to come.

"Thank goodness you're here. She's gotten worse." she stepped aside and ushered them in.

Morgana lay on her cot, moaning. Her hands clutched at her stomach, her head turning from side to side. What had once been a light sheen of sweat now drenched her skin, dampening the fabric of the nightgown Hunith had dressed her in. Her eyes were clenched shut in pain.

"What happened?" Merlin went to his knees at her side, taking her hands in his.

"Her fever's gotten worse. If you don't do something now, she'll be gone before daybreak."

"It's alright Morgana, I can heal you." he whispered, pulling the spell book from his satchel. Arthur and Gwen stood by the door, their hands finding one another.

"What can I do?" Hunith came beside him, clutching anxiously at his shoulder.

"Hold the book up so I can read it."

She did as she was asked, and he took a moment to find the page. He cleared his throat and leaned over Morgana, one hand on either side of his face. His thumbs caressed her temples, and his eyes turned from blue to gold.

Gwen became transfixed as her murmured words in a foreign tongue, his voice oddly powerful and commanding. Morgana's back bowed off the bed and she cried out, her hands grabbing his wrists as what seemed like a visible wave of blue air rushed over her.

As abruptly as it began, it ended, and she fell back onto the bed. Her breath left in a gentle whoosh from between her lips, her chest rising and falling steadily. The color returned to her face, and her hands dropped to her sides.

"It worked." Merlin whispered, almost as if he hadn't expected it to. His hands trailed through her hair as he pulled away. "I'm, I'm going to put the horses away." he stood and stumbled from the room.

He vanished through the door and Hunith watched him go. She was surprised he hadn't already realized his feelings for the girl.

Gwen watched as Arthur took his spot beside Morgana, shakily taking her hand in his. She decided it would be best to attend to her other friend, and leave brother and sister for a moment. She stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

Merlin stood beside his horse, methodically removing his saddle. "Merlin." she spoke quietly. He looked up, and she was not surprised to see his eyes were red.

"I thought I wouldn't be able to save her. Just for a second. But, the fear when I thought it. It was like nothing I've ever felt. I think that's what really scares me. That I could care that much." he blurted.

She smiled softly, skirting around the horse to stand at his side. "Merlin, it's alright."

"No. It's not. I did this. Don't you see? If I had just told her the truth, If I had been honest that night she came to me, none of this would have happened. Morgause wouldn't have had such a pull on her, she wouldn't have had the chance to do what she did, and I wouldn't have had to-" he broke off, looking down at his feet.

"Maybe things would be different. You're right. But you can't think about that. Right now she is alive, because of you. She is with her brother, and soon she'll return home and everything will be back to how it's supposed to be. Everything will be alright." she pulled him to her, wrapping him in her arms.

He embraced her completely, breathing in deeply. Everything was going to be alright. It had to be.

Arthur sat beside Morgana's bed, her hand in his, his head resting on the cot. She was sleeping quite deeply, or so Hunith had assured him. She seemed to sense he wasn't quite ready to talk. And yet, a part of him wished she was awake.

He wanted so badly to explain himself to her, to apologize for being so foolish and never managing to connect the dots between her magic and the dreams she'd had. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was for never being there for her as a brother should be for his sister.

He wanted to tell her he had never meant to hurt her, and that he saw now how horridly stupid he had been for never standing up to his father as he should have all along. She was wrong when she'd told him he was a better man than his father, all that time ago.

If he was, he would've done something. Wouldn't he? Arthur closed his eyes, exhaustion overcoming him. He distantly felt a blanket settle over his shoulders but he was too far gone to discern between reality and dreams that had taken over, plaguing his mind with visions of two familiar children dancing in a field.

How could he have drifted so far from himself?

Who had he become?

so surprise! this one's a lot sooner than all my others right? anyways... so this is longer than usual and although it was kind of boring it was just a necessary bunch of thoughts and realizations that needed to take place. next chapter should be more exciting. as always, please review and as always, my apologies to my the lost one followers, i've started a plot line and i'm working on it. you should see some progress soon. ciao! i love you all!