Past and Present Danger

A/N: Thank you for the reviews. Hope you like this chapter and please let me know what you think!

Chapter 13

Several hours earlier.

Merlin felt absolutely exhausted. Just the effort of lifting his foot and putting it back down again in a stumbling walk felt like it was draining all his strength. He knew that Prince Arthur was just as tired as he was, but the boy stubbornly continued on, making sure that he always stayed several steps ahead of Merlin.

It had been a long day, and if Arthur continued in his stubborn-headed pursuit of the King then it would turn out to be even longer. Merlin longed to call out to him to tell him that they should stop, but he knew his suggestion would just be met with mocking words and a sneer and he was fed up of seeing it on the Prince's face and hearing it in his voice.

After leaving Camelot the previous night, they had ridden for several hours in the moonlight. Although that provided some illumination, it was of little use when they were in the forest and Merlin had gripped Arthur's waist tightly, closed his eyes and just prayed that the horse would not trip and fall. The creature, though, seemed to be a strong and intelligent breed because every step he took was a sure one and Merlin soon realised that they were in no danger whatsoever of being thrown off.

Merlin had assumed that Arthur would suggest they stop and get some rest as the dawn light began to creep into the sky, but instead he seemed to push them on even more quickly, stopping only briefly to feed and water the horse. Within minutes they were riding once again. When they finally broke through the forest and got a glimpse of the mountains, they dismounted and stopped, only realising then that neither of them had brought any food for the journey. At that moment, Merlin's stomach had begun to grumble and he had thought back longingly to the masses of food at the castle. At least he had had a big meal the night before.

With no food, they had to content themselves with water from a nearby stream which was refreshing and helpful, but by no means made up for their lack of nourishment. And so it was miserably that they walked along the forest edge, looking for the best place to leave the horse as they carried on. Merlin could see why his older self hadn't wanted to take Halesha: the terrain looked near enough impassable for them, let alone a horse. They soon came across several of the castle's horses tethered by the tree line and so left their horse there as well.

'Have we got to go right into the mountains?' Merlin asked as they finished tying the horse.

'Why, are you scared?' Arthur asked. 'You can just stay and watch the horses. You'll only slow me down anyway.'

'No, I'll come with you.'

Arthur looked less than impressed, but didn't forbid him –or attempt to forbid him; Merlin wouldn't have listened anyway- to come as well.

'Look, you can see their tracks,' Arthur muttered pointing to the ground. Sure enough, several boot prints marked the ground where there was still a bit of soil. 'And you said Merlin would cover them.'

'Well I suppose he did until they found him and then there was no point.'

Arthur just huffed in response and then began following the tracks that were scattered on the ground before them.

'Don't you think we should stop and rest?' Merlin suggested hesitantly. 'We probably need to be wide awake if we're walking through mountains.'

'If we stop then we'll never catch up with them. Don't you know anything about tracking? We've probably caught up with them quite a bit over night.'

Merlin kept his doubts to himself. They had left a good twelve hours after Arthur had, even without stopping, they were probably still five or six hours behind and in their current states, Merlin doubted they would be able to make up any ground. Still, Arthur seemed happy at the moment, or at least what passed for happy for the Prince, and so Merlin wasn't going to complain. He had to admit that it was quite nice to be away from the castle. It was so different from anything he had ever known and he felt completely out of place there. His older self didn't; he seemed to fit just right with the rest of the palace and with the King and Queen, but Merlin wasn't at that point yet and it was much nicer to be out in the open air then cooped up inside the stone walls of Camelot's castle. He did, however, feel guilty about leaving without saying anything to Guinevere. No doubt she would discover their disappearance in the next few hours if she hadn't already and Merlin dreaded to think how worried she would be. She genuinely seemed to like both of then, even Prince Arthur, although maybe that was because he would one day be her husband. Thinking about things like that made Merlin feel a little weird and so he pushed the thought from his mind. He just hoped that the Queen wouldn't be too disappointed with them.

They made steady progress for the rest of that morning, coming across the camp that the knights, Merlin and Arthur must have made last night when they stopped. Assuming that the group started out at dawn, that still put them seven hours ahead and the Prince had been frustrated by that revelation. He had renewed his efforts to catch up, which had left Merlin straggling behind and the Prince showing little concern at the fact that his companion was getting further and further behind.

As the sun rose to its highest point, they found themselves climbing up the mountain at a much steeper incline than they had done the rest of the morning. Merlin had stumbled several times as it was and his hands and knees were raw from trying to catch himself. He knew that he and Arthur had some sort of magical protection on themselves that was meant to be on their older selves, but evidently that only worked against magical attacks or deliberate attacks. Clumsiness, apparently, wasn't covered. Merlin wanted very much to ask the Prince his thoughts on the matter but two things stopped him. The first was the fact that Arthur had shown no sympathy whatsoever when Merlin had fallen, in fact he had seemed quite smug when he turned and saw the boy sprawled on the ground. The second was that Merlin wasn't sure the Prince knew about the protection. Old-Merlin had told him, but he was quite confident that the sorcerer wouldn't have shared the news with the magic-hating Prince. Either way, Merlin kept his mouth shut and resisted the urge to strike up a conversation with the other boy.

It was a few hours later that they found themselves at what could only be described as a ridge that led round the mountain. They couldn't see very much of it –it curled away around the mountain- but Merlin had the horrible impression that it got very very thin in places. He asked Arthur again about stopping and resting, not wanting either of them to make a mistake because of how exhausted they were, but Arthur carried on and Merlin felt obligated to follow him. This was what he was supposed to do wasn't it? Protect Arthur? That's what his older-self had said. Merlin just hadn't realised what a proud idiot the boy was. Had his counterpart had it this tough?

The journey was difficult. Even Arthur seemed unsure of himself at certain points. His face, which was normally set in a grim mask of determination, took on a look of uncertainty and –although Arthur would never agree- fear; their feet had just enough rock below them to stop them falling to their deaths. He had no idea how the adults had managed it. He wondered if the knights and Merlin had felt as worried as he did as they watched King Arthur navigate the difficult path. Maybe the King had been just as determined as his younger self; not worrying about the others too much, just pushing on.

It was when they had been travelling along the path for an hour or so that Merlin had the first fleeting sense of hope that the Prince would one day turn into the King Arthur that Merlin liked so much. Merlin was a step or two behind Arthur, traversing another narrow section when a sudden and irresistible bout of dizziness overcame him. He didn't know whether it was the lack of food or sleep, but whichever it was he suddenly felt his hands come away from the wall as his body pitched forwards. Panic seized him, but in his dizziness he could not work out how to make his way back to the rock face and grab a hand hold again.

For one terrible moment, all that had filled his vision was the sight of the mountain plummeting away beneath him; the sheer drop stretching down and down into sharp and unforgiving rocks that would surely kill him instantly. He had fallen forward past the point where he could regain his equilibrium when suddenly an arm was across his chest pushing him back to the rock face and staying their for several seconds.

'What are you doing?' Arthur asked, and the edge of panic in his voice shocked Merlin enough to bring his world back into focus and re-establish his sense of balance.

'You…?' he started in astonishment. Arthur had just saved his life? Not only that, he had been genuinely worried that he would fall. Merlin stared open mouthed at the prince as he latched his hands back onto the rocks. He saw several emotions pass across his face. The first was anger, driven by –Merlin realised- a sense of panic at the thought of the fall. Next came shock at the realisation of what he had just done. Then was a distinct look of self-reproach at the fact that he'd done it. And finally anger once again reasserted itself on his face, both at Merlin and at himself.

'You really are a stupid idiot!' he yelled. 'Can't you even walk along a path without falling over?'

'It's not really a path,' Merlin replied, getting over the shock and feeling a small spike of indignation at the unjust comment. Arthur didn't look at him, just carried on, this time staying several paces ahead of Merlin, probably making sure that if Merlin stumbled again he wouldn't be able to reach him.

'Arthur,' Merlin called.

'It's Prince Arthur, and stop talking to me.'

'No, Arthur,' Merlin tried again, his voice calm and quiet. The tone caused the Prince to turn slightly. 'Thank you. You saved my life.' Merlin smiled.

He realised, as he saw the expression on Arthur's face, that he shouldn't have said anything.

'Next time I'll let you fall,' he growled before carrying on.

Nothing else was said during the journey to the Pass. If the silence was uncomfortable before, it was now unbearable. It was oppressive and cutting and Merlin longed to break it, but he knew that anything he said would just make things worse. And so they continued, eventually reaching the entrance as the sun was kissing the horizon.

Arthur was so angry with himself, so angry. When they finally arrived at the Pass of the Old Kingdom, he walked straight through the entrance, not waiting for Merlin to even get down off the ledge. Perhaps he could loose the stupid boy in the maze of tunnels. But apparently not. In a few seconds Merlin had caught up to him, evidently having run down the incline and into the passage.

What had made him put his arm out and stop Merlin from falling to his death? A little voice in his head whispered that he had done it to save a six year old boy's life, but he shook it off. Merlin wasn't just a boy. He was a sorcerer who would grow up and enchant Arthur to do exactly what he wanted. Sorcerers were evil, magic was evil, Merlin was evil and he had saved him. He was furious with himself. If his father had seen him…he shuddered. How disappointed his father would be in him. He felt his face grow hot even at the thought of what the man would say; he could just hear the angry, disbelieving words that would pour from his father's lips if he ever found out.

They half walked, half ran in stony silence through the maze of tunnels. Minutes passed quickly and without distinction and still Arthur's mind could not rest. Thoughts tangled themselves around one another and twisted into hidden recesses until his mind felt as much like a maze as the Pass did.

He turned down another passage, paying no attention to where he was going. Behind him, Merlin said something about getting lost and making marks, but Arthur just ignored him. With any luck he would loose Merlin in the passageways and then that would be his problem solved. Why had he brought the boy with him? He wouldn't really have told Guinevere, not if Arthur threatened him to keep quiet. He entertained that idea for a moment and then tossed it aside; Merlin wouldn't care if Arthur threatened him; if he was scared of the Prince at all then he wouldn't be here. Arthur had certainly gone out of his way to make it clear to the boy that he didn't want him around. And yet Merlin had stuck with him, keeping up even when Arthur purposely went faster knowing how exhausted the boy was.

Why was he doing it? Was Merlin already starting his plot to enchant Arthur? Was that why he had insisted on coming along? To begin the magical attack that would one day turn him into the most stupid, blind king that Camelot had ever seen. That must be it, Arthur reasoned. Merlin was enchanting him. But even as the idea crossed his mind he felt doubt flare up. If Merlin was enchanting him, wouldn't he make Arthur slow down or be nicer? The boy must have been fed up with how Arthur had been treating him by now. Could he be enchanting him? He glanced back and saw the boy stumbling after him, tired and fed up, yet determined to stick with Arthur. Didn't that make Merlin a nice person?

Turning a corner with more force than was necessary, Arthur chided himself at the leniency that he was beginning to give Merlin. That could not happen. Merlin was not someone he could trust; he was a magic user and therefore had to be treated with the utmost contempt. He was not fit to be alive.

But you saved him the voice whispered again. Arthur cursed, trying to silence it, but it just grew louder in his mind. It had just been instinct, he argued with himself. He had seen someone falling and he hadn't thought about who they were. He was a Prince of Camelot; he was meant to save people and that instinct had just taken over for a few seconds. But as much as he tried to convince himself, he knew that he had seen Merlin falling. Merlin, not some nameless citizen of Camelot. He had seen Merlin loose his balance and he had genuinely felt a spike of fear at the thought that the boy would fall to his death. He didn't know why he had felt that way, but he had and he couldn't deny it.

He clenched his fists at his side and took a deep breath. If only he'd let the boy fall. Then old-Merlin would have gone as well. The sorcerer would never have met Arthur when they were both older and then none of this would have happened. It would have solved all his problems. And instead he had put his arm out and saved the life of a magic-user.

Tears stung his eyes and he blinked furiously. He wouldn't cry over a sorcerer. He wouldn't cry about the fact that he was in a strange place with people who didn't like him. He wouldn't cry about the fact that he was most definitely lost in an ancient and highly dangerous Pass with not one but three sorcerers on the lose. He wouldn't cry because his older self preferred a six year old sorcerer to him. He wouldn't cry over the knowledge that one day Morgana would hate him and try and kill him. No he wouldn't cry over those things. But the tears still fell; because he would cry over the knowledge that he had knowingly and willingly saved a sorcerer and that his father would be disappointed in him.

'Arthur.' The voice bounced off the walls. 'Arthur!' it came again, louder this time. 'Arthur!' And suddenly Merlin was standing in front of him, a frown on his face -which was paler than any face that Arthur had ever seen. His eyes were beginning to look sunken and there were deep shadows under them. 'We're lost,' he said firmly. 'We have to try and find our way back. We haven't eaten anything and we haven't slept. We're too tired for this.'

'You might be,' Arthur told him, shoving past him and knocking him into the wall with some force. Again he came back. 'What do you want?' Arthur shouted, walking past him again. Why couldn't the boy leave him alone? Why did he have to be here? Why did he have to be so determined to help? Once again Merlin blocked Arthur's path and this time the Prince felt something snap inside of him. With a yell, he threw himself at the boy, tackling him to the ground as if he was no heavier than a bag of wool. 'What do you want?' he repeated as he pinned the helpless boy to the floor. He seemed a bit dazed by the fall and didn't answer and so Arthur shouted all the more loudly, but as he did, a terrible crashing sound struck through the air. Even the ground beneath them began to tremor and for one terrible moment Arthur thought his shouting had caused a rockslide.

He looked up fearfully, but there was nothing above them. Slowly he got off Merlin and backed away, looking around at the walls, his eyes wide. Merlin struggled to his feet, rubbing the back of his head; he look disorientated and seemed to stagger slightly.

'What was that?' he whispered. Once again Arthur wished the boy would shut up, but this time it was because Arthur didn't know the answer. Neither of them said anything for several minutes. Instead they remained very still, glancing back and forth. It was only when Arthur was satisfied that there really was no more danger that he began to make a move again.

'I think we should try and find the entrance,' Merlin said cautiously.

'You go back then.'

'No,' Merlin sighed; he sounded frustrated. 'We should stick together.'

'Why?' he asked forcefully. 'Why won't you just go?'

'Because I don't care what you think. I'm not evil, I don't want to hurt you and one day we will be friends. But you need to be alive for that.' He opened his hands wide, a pleading gesture. 'I want to make sure you're alright.'

'I don't need you for that,' he answered, turning away. 'I don't need anybody.' He turned back to give Merlin one last glare before making a run for it, but he was surprised to see a look of fear on the boy's face. It seemed a strange moment for the boy to finally grow a brain and realise that he should be scared of the Prince.

'Arthur,' he whispered. He pointed beyond where Arthur was standing. Arthur turned in confusion and felt his skin crawl at what he saw. A few metres behind him, looking just as shocked to see them, stood Morgana. In the clearing when they had first arrived, Arthur hadn't recognised her as an older version of Morgana, but now it seemed so obvious. She had the same eyes and hair. Even the way she held herself seemed familiar. Arthur backed up several steps until he was beside Merlin.

'Well, well,' came her voice. It was soft and gentle, but it sent a shiver through Arthur. There was evil behind it. 'If it isn't Prince Arthur and his ever faithful friend.' She was getting closer to them and instinctively they backed up. 'Perhaps killing Arthur and Merlin will be easier than I thought.'

That was all it took for the two boys to run. But Arthur knew the moment he started that he would never be able to outrun her. He was exhausted; he had pushed himself too hard.

He hadn't gone far when he felt a vice like grip wrench his arm back and pull him to a stop. Beside him, Merlin shot forward, managing to slip to the right and away from Morgana as she reached for him. Arthur watched him go, contempt filling him. Finally Merlin's true colours emerged. Proof that he wasn't the innocent sorcerer everybody thought him to be. He who proclaimed he was protecting Arthur, running off and leaving him to die. Arthur had been right all along.

'Now, now my young Prince,' Morgana laughed as he struggled to get away. At the sound, Merlin stopped and turned back. His face fell and horror moulded his features as he saw Morgana holding Arthur. Without hesitation, he began walking back towards them.

At that moment, Arthur felt a terrible insecurity pass through him and it had nothing to do with the witch that held him. Merlin was walking back towards him. Fury filled Arthur. Why was he doing that? Why couldn't he just run away like the coward he was supposed to be, why couldn't he abandon Arthur as an evil magic-user should?

Who was this scrawny boy to turn up in his life and turn around everything that Arthur had ever known and believed? The very foundations upon which he had built his faith in his father and his understanding of the King he would one day be were being chipped away by a peasant boy. Why would he do that? How could he do that?

Merlin was running now, running back towards the witch that was trying to kill him and before Arthur knew what had happened, Merlin had thrown all his weight against Morgana, sending her staggering backwards while releasing her hold on Prince Arthur. She began to fall as she lost her footing, but not before her hand closed around Merlin's wrist, pulling him down beside her and then holding him there so that, despite his pitiful attempts at struggling, he could not get away.

Arthur stood there, free of Morgana's tight grip and yet bound inextricably by the doubt and disbelief and anger that clouded his mind. He looked at Merlin to see the boy looking at him; asking him for help, asking him to save his life again, but this time Arthur wouldn't do it. He would not allow one person to ruin the life he had built for himself. He would not allow a sorcerer to save his life and then live to remind Arthur every moment that he had let down his father and his kingdom and himself. He turned away and ran, turning down passage after passage, but the image of Merlin's face seemed to be permanently burned into his mind: the pleading; the hope; the expectation of help. Arthur tried to outrun it, tried to remember that magic was evil and sorcerers were evil and Merlin was evil, but he couldn't remember why those things were true. And when he forgot those things he was left with the knowledge that brought tears of shame and self-doubt to his eyes: he had run away from someone who needed his help. He had run away like a coward.

He shook his head. No! He furiously fought to erase the image in his mind. He would not be made to fell like this. He had left a sorcerer…a sorcerer! He had done nothing wrong. Nothing! How dare Merlin make him feel like that? And yet the tears still came and his anger boiled and his shame grew and he shook with fury.

He didn't even see King Arthur as he rounded the next corner and ran straight into him.

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