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Chapter Four (Merlin's POV):

They had been riding for the better part of the day in silence, and Arthur looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks.

Merlin glanced over at Arthur, concern etched in his brow. "Are you okay?"

"Never better" was the curt reply.

Merlin frowned. "Are you sure? I could always - "

"I'm FINE."

"Right, sorry, I can't shake off my duty as your servant for one second, can I?" Merlin chuckled, but stopped when he saw Arthur's hands on the reigns tighten.

Sighing, he decided it was best if he truly kept his mouth shut.

As night neared, Merlin dared ask "Should we stop here? It's too dark to ride on."

A grunt was the response, but Arthur signalled his horse to stop, while Merlin did the same.

Jumping down, he offered his hand to the young king, but it was declined.

As he got down though, Arthur tripped heavily into Merlin, catching him unawares and nearly sending them both on a crash course with the ground, if it hadn't been for Merlin's basic reflexive magic skills.

With a flash of his eyes, they paused in mid-air before being righted.

Merlin instantly laid Arthur on the ground before he could fall again.

"I don't need a sorcerer to look after me." Arthur kept his eyes averted.

"You do need help." Merlin replied matter-of-factly.

"You're a sorcerer."

"Yes, I realised."

Arthur glanced at him with a closed off expression, and although Merlin had resolved to remain somewhat cheerful, he grew angry.

"Arthur, I'm trying to save your life here!"

"Sorcerer's don't save people's lives! They take them! Just like..." Arthur's face whitened and his mouth fell open, eyes unfocused.

Merlin reached a hand out "Arthur, what is it? Are you hurt?" He rethought that question. "Well, even more...?"

"You killed my father." Arthur's words came out as a croak.

Merlin sat back, startled that Arthur would piece the puzzle together at a time like this. "No, it wasn't me..."

Arthur focused again on Merlin. "You said that the old man - Dragoon - was you, and - and he killed my father with magic...so you killed my father!"

Merlin shook his head desperately. "You don't understand, Morgana had enchanted a chain which she somehow placed on him, so the magic I did to save him...killed him." He ended in a whisper.

Renewed distrust shone in Arthur's eyes, making Merlin despair at ever finding peace with him.

"I didn't kill your father! If ever you believed anything I've said, you would believe me now. Please."

(Arthur's POV):

Arthur didn't respond, but his stance relaxed of its own accord, because the king knew, no matter what, Merlin could never kill anyone. Even if he was a sorcerer.

He should know, his servant had no doubt wanted to kill him more than once in the past few years.

Merlin took in a deep breath "Okay, look. You don't have to like me - "

"Don't worry, I don't."

Merlin glared at him "But, we have to work together if we want to get to Avalon in time and save you, otherwise you'd just be a dead royal prat and no use to anyone."

It felt like they were meeting for the first time again.

They were both at odds with each other, yet instead of being the prat and the idiot, they were now the king and the sorcerer.

So much had changed between them...yet they still had so far to go.

Arthur glanced at him, his instinct - from being in the company of this boy for so many years - to be amused, but then he remembered what the situation really was about.

"I..." He dragged a hand through his hair and made up his mind. "You should leave."

Merlin rolled his eyes "Arthur, we've been through this, I'm not trying to kill you!"

"No, I - I know." He repeated it to himself, as if confirming the point. "I know."

"So...why do you want me to leave?"

Arthur raised his head to look Merlin directly on. "Because who knows what's going to happen when - if - we get back to Camelot. Unless you've forgotten, magic is banned in the kingdom and - "

" - I'm not likely to forget that - "

" - and I won't know what to do! You've placed me in a horrible predicament, Merlin!"

Arthur noticed Merlin bunch his hands into fists and set his jaw stubbornly. "So sorry to distress you, sire. Let's just focus on getting you healed, yeah? Then you can decided what to do with me when we get back to Camelot."

He got up roughly, and went searching for twigs for the fire, Arthur presumed.

Or, a voice inside him said, He's calling all his magical mates to come and laugh at the disgraced fallen king, who's servant had been a sorcerer all this time.

Another inner voice - louder this time - told the previous one to shut up.

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