Past and Present Danger

A/N: Next chapter for you all. Thank you for the reviews for the last one, and please review this one.

Chapter 18

Arthur curled his legs up more tightly as he lay on the bed. The pillow was soaked through from the tears that had spilled unhindered onto the soft material. He hadn't bothered to try and stop them; he was too tired and too ashamed. His eyes stung and felt swollen and the skin on his cheeks felt tight.

No-one had been to see him since they arrived back in the castle. He had been escorted up to the room and left to his own devices. Some food had been brought up to him, but he hadn't touched it. It still sat where the servant had put it on the table beside his bed. It wasn't that Arthur didn't feel hungry -he did- but he knew that if he tried to eat anything he would be sick. The deep aching feeling in his stomach was gnawing away at his insides and his chest throbbed in a way that it never had before.

Merlin. That was the only thought that occupied his mind. Never in his life could he ever remember feeling so confused and so unsure of what was right and wrong. Right and wrong had always been so easy for him. His father had made it very clear to him. It was right to do his duty to Camelot; he didn't really know what that meant, but he trained hard and listened to everything that his Father said to make sure that when he found out what doing his duty meant, he would do it well.

And it was wrong to help a sorcerer or practice magic or be friends with anyone who was associated with either of those things. That was what he knew. Just like it was wrong to steal and wrong to hurt an innocent person and wrong to get people into trouble. He knew all of those things.

It should have been the right thing to do, letting Morgana take Merlin –a sorcerer- away, even if she was going to… He felt more tears flow from his eyes and was going to stop the way his thoughts were going, but something inside was telling him to face up to what he had done. He resumed the thought. Even if she was going to kill him. That should have been the right thing to do. And it should have been the wrong thing to do when he stopped Merlin from falling off the cliff.

But the longer he lay on the bed, thinking and remembering and wishing and wondering, the more Arthur found his view of right and wrong changing and switching. He couldn't deny that it had felt right when he had saved Merlin from falling off the cliff, just like the King had done for old Merlin.

And, hardest of all, Arthur now knew that letting Merlin be taken by Morgana had been wrong. It had not been the right thing to do as he first thought, and somehow Arthur didn't think it had been his duty to Camelot to leave Merlin behind.

He had been wrong.

The moment that he had first allowed himself to word that revelation in his mind had been the moment when the tears started. That had been when all the regret and desperation to go back and change it had finally been released in all it's force and it had shuddered through his body while he lay there helpless to do anything but cry and hit the pillow and tear at his hair. He had lost count of the number of times that he had looked over at Merlin's bed during that time, the piece of furniture half blurred. He remembered how much the boy had loved the bed. And what had he done? Made fun of him. In fact –and this was what increased the swell of regret and self loathing that had begun to grow in him-, Arthur realised that in the entire time that he had been here he had not said a single nice thing to Merlin. He had not done anything but hurt and mock and belittle the boy.

And Merlin had just taken it all and then tried to help Arthur. He had said that he wanted to protect him and only now did Arthur realise that he had actually meant it.

Revelation after revelation dawned on Arthur as he lay there, shaking and sobbing, until he felt like his body could not contain so much sadness. And then came anger. Anger that he was here; anger that he hadn't realised sooner what Merlin was actually like and anger at himself for the terrible thing that he had done. He had scratched at his arms and legs, trying to punish himself, and then he had thrown things around the room and kicked the walls and chairs before finally returning to the bed to try and find some peace.

It eluded him, but a calmness borne of exhaustion was a welcome alternative. Yet with calmness came imaginings of what was happening to Merlin now because of him, because of what he had done. And the terrible understanding that he couldn't undo it, he couldn't make it better and he couldn't change things back to what they were. He couldn't even tell Merlin that he was sorry; maybe he would never be able to and that, too, haunted him; the thought that Merlin might die with that image of Prince Arthur in his head. He wouldn't see the change.

No, the boy that he had betrayed and left for dead wasn't here for him to apologise to, but –and at the thought he slowly sat up- someone a lot like him was here. Someone who might just listen to him if he could get to him. Even the thought of facing the sorcerer filled him with terror. No, he no longer believed that Merlin meant the King any harm, but he was willing to believe that he might easily harm the Prince given the circumstances. But that didn't matter any more.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Arthur padded silently across the room to the door. It was locked and there were guards posted outside, several of them. He knew that the exit to the secret passage would be blocked as well –he had heard the King giving orders to post guards outside that room. No, he would need another way out.

Several minutes of careful planning and preparation followed. He gathered up the sheets that covered the two beds in the room and quickly knotted them together before tying one end round the foot of the bed as tightly as he could. The other end of the makeshift rope quickly disappeared out of the window. He checked and was pleased to see that it reached all the way to the floor. Perfect. Checking that everything was in place, Arthur put the final part of his plan into action. He crept over to the door and quickly knocked over the vase that stood on the table beside it. It shattered with a loud crash; just what Arthur needed.

Instantly, he heard the rattle of keys as the guards searched for the ones to unlock his room. Not waiting for them, he ran over to the wardrobe, climbed in and pulled the door to. He had only just finished doing that when they burst into the room. The initial silence was quickly replaced by the clinking of chain mail as they ran over to the window, and then shouts of something akin to panic as they realised –or at least thought they realised- what had happened.

The next few minutes were a flurry of activity as guards rushed in and out and the King was brought in to see. Arthur winced as he heard the curses that his older self muttered as he was told what had happened and organised a search, but no-one checked the room. Everyone assumed that he had run away like a coward and a trouble maker. Arthur tried not to let the knowledge seep into his heart, but it was hard when there was so much emotion already stored in there.

Several minutes later, Arthur risked opening the wardrobe door and looking around. The room was empty and the door was open. He crept over to it and looked up and down the hall. There were guards posted outside Merlin's room, but they were focussed straight ahead, not on the supposedly empty room. As quietly as he could, he headed in the opposite direction to them; there was no way he would be able to get past them and into the room unseen, but then he had never planned on using that door to get to Merlin. With the stealth of a child trained in combat and strategy from the moment he could walk, Arthur ghosted along the corridor, unseen by all.

Merlin opened his eyes and was relieved to find himself in his room. He saw Gaius a few feet away, busily pouring over books and herbs and potions on a makeshift work bench that he seemed to have set up in the room.

'Gaius.' The man turned and gave Merlin a smile.

'Merlin. I was beginning to think you'd never wake up.' Gaius' tone was easy, but Merlin could see the genuine relief on his mentor's face as he said the words. Cautiously, Merlin attempted to sit up, but found that he was able to do so easily. In fact, he felt fine. He tried to remember what had landed him in a sick bed –even if it was his own- this time round, and it soon came flooding back to him. Morgana had his young self and was evidently doing her best to kill the boy. It made Merlin feel sick.

'What's happening?' he asked, allowing himself a few moments of respite from the dark memories.

'Merlin, please tell me that you remember what's happened.'

'Morgana, she's got young me. Prince Arthur leaving him…' he reeled off to put Gaius' mind at ease as he slowly walked round the room, testing his strength and sighing in relief to find it perfectly normal.

'And you remember that you're the Court Sorcerer?' the man prompted hesitantly.

'Court Sorcerer, Royal Advisor, Arthur's servant in all but title. Yes, I remember that, I meant, what's happening with the search and the Prince? What did I miss?'

'First, how are you feeling?' Gaius continued, fixing Merlin with a hard stare when he opened his mouth to argue that he needed to know the situation

'I'm fine,' he assured him. 'Really, I think these…attacks, just come randomly, or maybe it's to do with what's happening to my younger self.'

He stopped his surveying of the room at the thought. What was she doing to him? It was a question that Merlin was thankful he hadn't been able to address in his unconscious state, but now… He knew what Morgana was capable of; he knew what she would do to her prisoners regardless of their age. And if it could render Merlin completely immovable and out cold from this many leagues away and across so many years of currently unwritten history, then how on earth was his younger self coping?

'Merlin?'

'Gaius, did Arthur leave the pendant in here?'

The old man walked slowly over to the table, which was piled high with the dozens of books Merlin had been using to try and work out how Morgana had summoned enough power to break through time and how she had managed to work a spell of that complexity in the first place. Gaius ignored the books and instead searched through the bottom drawer of the desk.

'He wanted it left in here in case you woke up when he was away.' Gaius handed him the pendant and Merlin studied it intently, looking for any clues in its physical appearance that would help him to understand how Morgana had used it for her purposes.

'And is he away?'

'Well, he's in the town. Searching.'

'For Merlin?'

'For the Prince.'

'What? How can he have lost him this time?' Merlin spluttered. 'Didn't he lock him up as soon as we got here?'

'Yes, but it seems our young Prince has no aversion to climbing out of castle windows.'

'He did what?'

'The few soldiers that are left in the city are searching for him,' Gaius sighed.

'Why's he running, did Arthur threaten to execute him?' Merlin asked perplexed as to the boy's motives. Where would he go?

'I really don't know Merlin. I had a patient to attend to.'

Merlin sighed and allowed the subject to rest. He would find out if the Prince had been retrieved when Arthur came to see him. Until then he had the pendant to focus on.

'I took the liberty of doing some research for you,' the physician murmured as he spotted Merlin looking at the object. At the same time, he began checking Merlin's pulse and testing his reflexes. Merlin wanted to tell him again that he as fine, but he knew that his mentor was happiest when he was working and would not be satisfied with Merlin's prognosis on his health.

'Did you find anything?'

'Yes, as a matter of fact I did. I believe it is the pendant of Ayania of Laylon, a ruined city that lies in the very north of the country.'

'I've never heard of it.'

'You wouldn't have. It fell nearly twenty years ago in a magical attack.'

'Uther banned any talk of it?'

'He did, but I knew the story. A knight of the city wished to marry Ayania who was of noble birth, but there were several suitors that were seeking her. From what I hear, she was showered with any number of expensive gifts to try and win her over, but nothing seemed to sway her affection. In an act of desperation, the knight visited a sorceress and asked her to create something so beautiful that Ayania would choose him, and just to make sure, he asked the sorceress to place a spell on it to turn the young girl's heart.'

'I assume the price for this was high?' Merlin guessed.

'Very high. Any children the knight had with Ayania would be given to the priestess.'

'And he agreed?' he asked incredulously.

'He was not concerned for any children he might have, only for Ayania. She accepted the gift and they were married, but when their first child was born, Ayania found out about the priestess' plan –although not her husband's part in it- and fled with the baby.' At this, Gaius finished his examination of Merlin, evidently satisfied that he was, as he had said, fine.

'I take it the tale does not end happily.'

'Tales rarely do when magic has been used for wrong,' Gaius sighed. 'The priestess caught up with Ayania. She refused to give her child up; she tried to give the sorceress the pendant as an exchange, unaware that it had been forged by her in the first place. The priestess told her of its origin, but the moment Ayania understood the truth of her husband's actions, all her magically induced affection vanished. With nowhere to hide and her husband's betrayal in her mind, she threw herself and her child into a river. They were both swept to their deaths and the pendant disappeared. In her anger at the failure of her plan, the priestess destroyed the knight's city. The pendant disappeared, or so it was thought. Evidently Morgana found it.'

'A tragic tale.'

'Yes.'

They were silent for several minutes and Merlin stared at the pendant, wondering how something so beautiful could hide a past so painful.

'Merlin?' Gaius' voice was low. Merlin recognised the tone easily. It was one of sadness and worry contained behind a mask of stoicism. It was one that Gaius had worn a thousand times over the years and on nearly all of those occasions it had been his fear for his all-but-adopted son that had caused it. 'How desperate is the situation?'

Merlin couldn't meet his gaze for several seconds. He lowered the pendant, keeping his eyes on the beautiful stone that was set in the golden clasp, wondering if perhaps part of what they were all going through now had been heightened in it's desperation by the evil history of this piece of jewellery.

'You know us, things always look worse than they ever have done before.' He attempted a smile, but it was weak and it cracked and evaporated when he saw Gaius' face. He swallowed heavily and looked at the ground. 'I'm living on borrowed time, Gaius,' he admitted slowly. 'We all are. Not just Arthur and I…everybody. Camelot as a whole.' He looked up and saw the familiar face of his mentor, saw the sympathy and the compassion, but also the fear. 'Everything's crumbling and I don't think I can hold it all together for much longer.'

'What do you need?'

'I need to work out how Morgana did what she did, and I need young me back, safe.' He sighed. 'The first one is possible, but the second… It's not looking good Gaius. Arthur knows it and I know it.'

Nothing could be said in response to that, nothing could make everything better.

'Do not loose hope, my boy,' Gaius told him, hugging him tightly. You and Arthur have always prevailed in the past.' Merlin nodded, though he felt doubt taint his optimism. 'I will let you work. There are guards posted outside your door should you need them.' He picked up his medicine bag and headed for the door. 'And Merlin,' he added, turning back briefly, 'if you're going to faint, aim for the bed.' Merlin grinned at the comment and nodded his agreement.

As soon as Gaius left, Merlin began his work. At first his thoughts frequently wandered to his young self. Terrible imaginings of what Morgana was doing to him filled Merlin's mind. He knew that the boy was covered in so many wards it would takes Morgana weeks to do him any real damage, but somehow she was at least partially bypassing the wards; why else would Merlin be feeling such drastic effects when there was nothing wrong with him? And yet the fact that these attacks continued to come and go, reassured Merlin that, at present, whatever Morgana was doing was not having a fatal effect.

Not fatal, only reminded Merlin that his young self was surviving whatever torture Morgana was throwing his way. He was only a boy. A boy who, Merlin knew, always trusted in the good of people. He had been naïve almost to the point of stupidity as a child. Arthur would say he still was now, but he knew that wasn't true. His experiences and the hardships of his adult life had shaped him and forced him to review his ideas on the world. The grounding of his friends and family had been enough to keep him optimistic and ultimately hopeful despite the horrors he had seen. But if he had experienced those things as a child would he have come out the other side so safely? Would he have been able to endure such terrible things and still retain hope that one day it would be better? He wasn't sure and that was what frightened him for his younger self.

No, the boy couldn't be physically or magically harmed, not to Merlin's knowledge, but emotionally and mentally... The boy had no defence against that, and that could do some serious damage that Merlin didn't want to dwell on.

And so he didn't. He forced his thoughts away from the captured boy, trying not feel like he was betraying his young self by pushing him from his mind.

Instead he focussed on the one thing that he, and he alone, could do. Figure out the pendant. He began small. A few gentle prods at it with magic just to check that there were no traps or spells attached to it that could harm him, but even as he probed deeper nothing was revealed to him and so cautiously he began to lace it with his own spells. He used magic to identify the sources of its power and the way it had been used. He looked back through its recent history as stored within the magic that held it together. Before long he was getting a picture of what Morgana had done. Not words exactly, but more her intent. He was able to piece together the montage of inclinations and motivations and purposes that Morgana had etched into the magic fabric of the pendant. If he delved deep enough, he would have such a clear picture of Morgana's intent that he could begin to deduce what spells she had used. The would come the not so simple task of re-enacting some and reversing others.

He investigated the pendant for a long time. His joints grew stiff and his body ached in protest at being held in the same position for so long. All the while he muttered incantations and enchantments, until he felt like he knew the pendant and understood it. At last, he let out a relieved sigh and all but fell into a sitting position on his bed. He had done all he could; he knew as much as he ever could about what Morgana had done. Now was the task of using that same magic for his own purposes.

He hurried over to his desk and scribbled down everything he had discovered, just in case his memory decided to delete his current findings. He had just finished doing so when a sound behind him caught his attention. He paused and then quickly turned round.

He was hard pressed to contain his surprise at the sight of Prince Arthur standing in his room.

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