Past and Present Danger

A/N: Thank you again for the reviews. Here's the next chapter. Please review!

Chapter 19

Merlin looked from the Prince to the very-much-closed door of his room, to the window and then back to the Prince.

'How did you get in here?' he asked slowly. He guessed that, really, the best question would have been why are you here, but the means by which the boy had got in seemed much more pressing in his mind at that moment. He looked at the door again and then turned a full circle trying to look for a means of entry, but there was none. He looked back at Arthur who looked not a little terrified and set to bolt at any moment.

'Through the secret passage.'

'There isn't a secret passage into this room,' Merlin argued.

'Yes there is,' the boy whispered. 'I found it last year.'

'There isn't a secret passage into this room,' he repeated.

'How else do you think I got in?' the boy asked, his initial fear seeming to subside somewhat with his annoyance at not being believed. Not that he had earned anybody's trust thus far, least of all Merlin's.

Merlin looked the room over again, hoping to find that the boy was wrong, but there didn't appear to be any other way he could have gotten into the room. Merlin felt a distinct irritation bubble up in him at the thought that Arthur -King Arthur- had known about a secret passage into Merlin's room for the past year and a half and hadn't bothered to share that information with him. Why would he have done that?

'There isn't a-'

He was interrupted by a heavy sigh from the boy who walked over to the wardrobe on the far side of the room, opened up the doors and pointed at a very distinct passage-like feature that seemed to stem from it, the back panel having slid to one side. Merlin made a note to yell at Arthur when he next saw him. He had said he didn't like that piece of furniture when he first moved into the room and Arthur had told him that it couldn't be thrown out because it was an antique piece of furniture that dated back eight generations of the Pendragon family. As such, Arthur had told him, it needed to stay where it was. Merlin walked over to it, peered into the tunnel, then straightened up and gave the wardrobe a kick for good measure. Antique furniture! He'd always thought it didn't look that old. What had Arthur thought? It'd be a good way to spy on his Court Sorcerer and check he wasn't switching sides? An old insecurity crept up and Merlin forced it back down. He wouldn't dwell on it.

'Why are you here?' he asked instead, turning to the Prince. His irritation had made his tone harsher than he had meant it to be and the boy took half a step back. Merlin considered repeating the question more gently, but then he remembered what the Prince had done and decided the boy didn't deserve it. But still, Merlin waited for the answer with no idea as to what it was going to be. Perhaps the boy had come to try and kill him. Merlin imagined the Prince running at him with his fake sword and attempting to skewer him with it. That seemed unlikely, however.

'Well?' Merlin asked, when the boy made no attempt to speak. He suddenly seemed very nervous and uncertain.

'What is she doing to Merlin?' came the whispered and very much unexpected response from the Prince. Merlin narrowed his eyes and studied the boy intently; was this some sort of plan on the boy's part to…to what? Evoke sympathy; find out if he'd succeeded in his plan?

'What?'

'I just wondered if you knew?' His voice was getting quieter with every word he spoke and Merlin was reminded of the terrified boy that had confessed all that he had done on the journey back from the Caleron mountains.

'But you don't care about him,' Merlin replied slowly. He tried to keep the disappointment and anger out of his voice, but the boy still reacted to the words as if they had been flung at him in fury. He took several deep breaths and his eyes began to shine.

'I…I thought…I didn't understand what he was doing…nothing made sense.' The boy's jumbled responses were filled with sadness and regret and Merlin, despite himself, felt his heart softening slightly. 'That's why I'm here,' Arthur whispered, the words somewhat choked by tears which he struggled to wipe away.

Merlin looked at him. How could this boy, this clearly upset, confused and frightened boy, have done something so terribly destructive and malevolent? What had gone on in his head to make him believe that he should and could leave a young child in the hands of a bloodthirsty sorceress? How was that possible? And suddenly Merlin wanted to know. He wanted to understand.

'Arthur,' he said, sitting down on the bed and studying the boy intently. Eventually he raised his head and looked at Merlin. 'Why did you do it?'

The boy's face crumpled instantly and he shook his head, his breathing increasing as tears once again trickled down his face.

'I'd like to know,' Merlin prompted. 'I think I of all people deserve that from you.' He kept his tone even; he knew that Arthur, old or young, would not respond well to anger directed at him. It was always much better to take a gentle and somewhat sideways approach. Arthur didn't look at him, but he did nod his head at the comment. He took several deep breaths and then began, slowly and uncertainly.

'I thought magic was evil. That's what my father says and I've seen lots of horrible things being done by sorcerers.'

'We told you when you first arrived that it wasn't like that.'

'I thought…' he stopped and shuffled uncertainly from one foot to the other. '…I thought that you had enchanted the King to believe that.'

'I wouldn't do that,' Merlin told him firmly, but his voice was quiet enough that it didn't startle the Prince.

'I know. Merlin said you wouldn't, but I didn't listen. I didn't listen to him at all because I thought he was evil just like all the other sorcerers.'

'That's not a reason to let him be captured by Morgana,' Merlin told him.

'It wasn't just that. He kept on being nice to me, even thought I was horrible to him.' He sniffed and swiped at his eyes. 'He wasn't acting like I thought he should and I was getting confused and everybody believed him and liked him and you all hated me. No-one-'

'Wait,' Merlin interrupted. 'You let Morgana take him because you were jealous?' This time he didn't moderate his voice. He stood up from the bed and fixed the boy with a hard stare.

'No!' Arthur argued vehemently, 'but it made me angry and I didn't understand what was happening. And then I saved him from the cliff and I know my father would have been so disappointed in me and then Morgana captured me and I thought Merlin had run off and I was glad because then I knew that I'd been right about him all along. But then he came back and I was so cross.'

'Because he saved you?' Merlin asked in disbelief. Arthur nodded and tears began to pour down his cheeks once more.

'I didn't…I was…' he closed his eyes tightly and sat down on the floor, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking. Merlin looked at the pitiful sight and couldn't associate it with the Arthur he knew, just as he couldn't associate the boy's actions with the Arthur he knew. Merlin curled his fists at his sides and clenched his jaw. He was so angry that his young self had been taken because of this boy; not only that, but that he had been taken because of a misguided anger and jealousy. Suddenly Merlin felt an anger that, until now, he had not held towards the boy. Part of him wanted to use his magic and scare the boy somehow; if he wanted dangerous, destructive magic, then Merlin could give it to him, but he knew that would ultimately make things worse.

Instead, he took several calming breaths and, through all but gritted teeth, asked, 'Why are you here?' He sat back down on the bed, waiting for the answer, unable to look at the boy. The reply, when it finally came, was closer than Merlin had expected.

'To say I'm sorry.' The words were barely above a whisper and so choked with tears that they were hard to understand, but Merlin heard the genuine tone in them. He looked up to see Arthur standing on the other side of the bed. His arms were held at his sides and his face was contorted with sorrow. There was a helplessness about him that made Merlin's heart ache; an anguish and regret that nothing Merlin said or did could make any better or any worse. Prince Arthur was beginning to crumble under the guilt of what he had done and it stirred feelings of protectiveness in Merlin that he had only ever experienced when it came to the King.

'I'm sorry,' he repeated. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry.' Merlin didn't even think the boy had meant to repeat himself, he just didn't know what else he could say. That was all he had to offer to make up for his actions; two words that, in all likelihood, he had rarely used before. And yet Merlin knew that Arthur had never meant anything more in his whole life; he could see it on the boy's face. This was all he could think to do to make it up to Merlin, six-year-old Merlin, not the Court Sorcerer, not the friend and advisor of the King. The blond haired boy wasn't here to talk to him, Merlin realised. He was trying to speak to the boy that he had hurt, the only way he thought he could. He looked up and met Merlin's eyes for the first time since he had started his explanation. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered once more.

'I know you are,' Merlin told him gently.

'I didn't realise…'

'I know you didn't. But do you now?' he asked carefully. Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out; he nodded his head instead. There was an awkward silence after that affirmative from the Prince. Had it been his younger self standing in front of him, then Merlin would not have hesitated to hug the boy as a means of -if not forgiveness- reassurance, but this was Arthur, and Merlin had a feeling that even as a child he would not feel comfortable with that sort of contact. What would be an action that the boy would respond to more easily? Merlin hit upon it in a matter of seconds. He had seen Uther do it to Arthur over and over again and Arthur had adopted it as his own sign of friendship and affection.

Slowly, so as not to alarm the boy, Merlin moved around the bed and sat down so that he was in front of the Prince. With a small smile, Merlin raised his hand and placed it firmly on the boy's shoulder, squeezing gently.

'Thank you for the apology,' he said. 'It means a lot to me, and it would to Merlin as well.' Arthur nodded uncertainly, clearly unsure as to whether Merlin was actually being truthful.

'What's she doing to him?' he whispered, finally returning to his initial question.

'I don't know,' Merlin admitted, keeping his guesses, some of them more sinister than others, to himself. 'But we just need to find him as soon as we can. There are searches out there. We'll find Morgana.' He tried to say it with confidence, and he thought the Prince bought it. He only wished he could convince himself as easily.

They sat in silence for many minutes. Merlin was going to suggest that the Prince go back through the secret passage to his room, but the boy seemed content where he was. He looked around at the different artefacts and souvenirs that adorned the walls and so Merlin left him to it and turned his attention back to the notes that he had been making. It wasn't until quite a while later that Merlin remembered what Gaius had said earlier. He turned to the Prince.

'You do know that everyone's looking for you, don't you?' he asked. 'They think you've run off.' Arthur nodded.

'I pretended to climb out of the window. I wasn't sure they'd be stupid enough to believe it.' Merlin resisted the urge to roll his eyes; clearly his guilt and regret hadn't affected his arrogance and disdain.

'Maybe they think you're stupid enough to do it,' he suggested nonchalantly. Merlin looked up at the Prince to gauge his reaction. A look of shock replaced the despondency that had been there before. Merlin saw him puffing up, ready to be the spoilt Prince once again and stepped in before he became that monster. 'It's a joke, Arthur,' he explained calmly. 'Don't take everything so personally.'

'But that was about me.'

'But you're not stupid, are you?' Arthur shook his head. 'Then of course it's a joke.' He looked unconvinced, but didn't start calling Merlin a peasant, which Merlin saw as progress.

'Why do you speak to Arthur like that?' he asked after a moment. 'He's the King.'

'He's also my friend.'

'But…' he sighed.

'For my first four years here, I was Arthur's manservant,' Merlin explained. 'We've always spoken to each other like that.'

'But he's the King.'

'And as King,' Merlin pointed out, 'he could quite easily have fired me if he wanted to.'

Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but then frowned at the words and seemed to take great pains thinking them over. 'But I'm still here, so…'

'I wouldn't let anyone talk to me like that,' Arthur continued cautiously after a moment or two.

'How did Merlin speak to you?' Merlin asked. He picked up the pendant and studied it, allowing the Prince some privacy in case the question reminded him again of what he had done.

'He…' Arthur paused. Merlin glanced over at him and saw him puzzling it out. '…he argued with me and he just kept talking.'

'Did you tell him to stop?'

'Yes.'

'Did he listen?'

'No.'

'Imagine that for four years. Trust me, you'll get used to it.'

The Prince grew quiet once more and, glancing at him from the corner of his eye, Merlin saw that he was watching him uncertainly again. There was still a lack of trust there, still an expectation that at some point Merlin would use magic against him, but there was also a desire to understand, and a willingness to risk being proved wrong. It gave Merlin hope that in actual fact, this boy could become the King that Arthur was, but it also filled Merlin with a great sadness, because he knew that what he had done to Merlin would jade the Prince. The more he became the person Merlin knew, the more his actions would eat away at him, just as they were already starting to do.

'You know Arthur, you really should let people know that you're still here. They're wasting soldiers searching for you that could be searching for Morgana and Merlin.' He said it gently. The Prince was about to respond, when heavy footsteps were heard outside the room. Merlin recognised them instantly. He could see from the boy's face that he had guessed too. A look of panic glazed his features and he seemed to consider diving back towards the secret passage, but there wasn't time. The door flew open.

'Merlin,' came the King's relieved voice. 'I've just spoken to Gaius. He told me-'

Arthur stopped mid-sentence, his mouth poised to continue speaking, when he caught sight of the blond haired boy standing in Merlin's room. Merlin watched both of them with a strange sort of detachment. King Arthur's face quickly morphed from shock into a smooth anger. It wasn't unpredictable and volatile like it had been when they'd found out what had really happened in the Pass of the Old Kingdom; this anger was like ice – hard and unforgiving, but also unmoving. His eyes fixed on the boy, unrelenting and devoid of all warmth and sympathy.

Prince Arthur, on the other hand, adopted a similar, if slightly less panicked pose to the one he had worn earlier that day. There was still the undeniable fear of what the King would do to him and what the man's anger might send in his direction, but there was also a sort of pained acceptance on the boy's face; as if he was willing to bear with the hostility directed his way; to receive his judgment with no argument or attempt at defence.

Merlin waited for the conversation to begin, but it never came. The King, after looking at the boy for several seconds, turned away and called to the guards at Merlin's door. They quickly entered and stood awaiting their orders.

'Take this boy to the dungeons and put him under guard.'

'Arthur,' Merlin said in shock. He glanced at the boy and saw the indignation rise in his cheeks at the command, but he held his tongue, waiting instead to see what effect Merlin's words would have.

'I've wasted valuable resources on him and I'm sick of chasing after him when he runs off.'

'Then lock him in his room,' Merlin suggested.

'He was locked in his room. The dungeons,' he instructed the guards, who had been watching the exchange. It said something of Merlin's authority within the castle that the guards had waited to see if the King's orders would hold after the sorcerer had spoken.

'Get off me,' the Prince said as the guards began to pull him away, but there was little conviction in his voice. He tried appealing to the King instead. 'I won't leave my room again, I promise.'

'Your promises aren't worth anything,' Arthur replied without looking at him. Merlin gave the King a look of disappointment which Arthur saw and promptly ignored. Instead the King moved further into the room, walking past Merlin and waiting for the guards to go. Merlin tried to convey to the Prince that he would help him, but the boy didn't seem to understand. Perhaps the leap from believing a sorcerer would harm you to believing he would help you out of the dungeons was still too big for the young Prince. The door slammed shut behind the guards. Merlin turned on Arthur and raised his eyebrows questioningly, awaiting an explanation. Arthur chose to ignore that as well.

'What the hell was he doing in here?' he shouted, all pretence of calm gone.

'And here I was thinking you were coming to check I was alright.'

'What was he doing here? How did he even get in? I've had guards posted!'

'Oh that's easy, Arthur.' Merlin walked over to the wardrobe and slid back the panel. 'He came through the secret passage that leads into my room. He found it last year apparently, which means that you've known about it for about twenty years. Funny…you never mentioned it to me.'

For a moment, Arthur looked a little guilty, but he quickly continued, choosing not to address the comment.

'What was he doing here?'

'He came to apologise,' Merlin explained, walking over to the wardrobe and sliding the back panel into place. He would leave the conversation about the secret passage for now. It was, perhaps, not the most important thing to focus on at the moment. He turned back to Arthur who was looking somewhat dumbfounded at the idea of the Prince apologising. He shook his head.

'Are you really going to leave him in the dungeons?' Merlin continued, when Arthur just stood there.

'Yes I am. And don't,' he added as an after thought, 'break him out of there.'

'Arthur-'

'I mean it Merlin.'

'He's seven years old.'

'I've already had this conversation with Guinevere.'

'When is she ever wrong?' Merlin asked. 'Arthur, he apologised. Something's happened. He's different.'

'It doesn't change what he did, Merlin. He left you to Morgana.'

'He didn't leave me to anyone,' Merlin frowned. 'I'm here, Arthur.'

'You know what I mean.'

'Arthur-'

'Have you found anything out about the pendant?' Arthur cut across. Merlin looked at him incredulously; was he really going to just pretend the Prince didn't exist? The impatient look on his face clearly suggested that was exactly what he was going to do. Merlin sighed, but let it go. He'd be able to wear Arthur down about the Prince, especially if he'd got Gwen on side as well.

'Actually, yes,' he muttered, going over and picking it up. He held it out for Arthur to look at. 'I've got an idea of the spells Morgana used to set everything up. I really need to spend some time in the clearing. I'll have to lay down the spells again and re-empower the ones that are still left there.'

'So you can send them back?' Arthur asked, his surprise at a solution so soon evident in his voice.

'I think so. I mean, it might take a while to set up, but we have the key components that she used and they're still all linked to the original spells and enchantments. I can sense them and redirect them.'

'So, we can do this?'

'The magic isn't the problem,' Merlin said quietly, 'not really. That's not what's missing.' He sighed and saw Arthur's face sober with understanding. 'If we can't get him back, nothing will work; he's one of the links. And I don't know about you, but my memories are slipping away. I hardly remember anything about my childhood.'

'Neither do I,' Arthur admitted.

'And if these attacks keep happening to me…' Merlin let the sentence trail off.

'How much time are we looking at?'

Merlin debated giving him the overly optimistic answer, but Arthur would never buy it. He had only just bought Merlin's lies before his magic was revealed. Now he was lucky to get away with anything. 'I'd say two days, three at most.'

He saw Arthur visibly pale at the estimates. He glanced around the room, seemingly looking for a solution in the walls, but none was forthcoming.

'By then,' Merlin continued, 'our memories will have gone, or I'll be dead because of what Morgana's doing to Merlin.'

'You said she couldn't hurt him.'

'She's found a way.' The despair on Arthur's face, made Merlin want to do something, anything that would soften the blow. 'When will the first of the search parties be back?'

'Tomorrow morning.'

'Maybe they'll have found Morgana and Merlin.' The statement hung heavy in the air. They exchanged a glance; neither bothering to reinforce the words with false agreements.

'We'll continue so that if it comes to it, we'll be able to send them back. You said you need to go to the clearing?' Merlin nodded an affirmative. 'What about the attacks you're having?'

Merlin shrugged. 'I can't stop them wherever I am. At least if I'm in the clearing I'll wake up somewhere I can be of use.' Arthur looked unconvinced, but eventually nodded.

'Take Elyan with you and plenty of supplies. I'll stay here and co-ordinate the search efforts.'

Merlin nodded and mentally listed the things that he would need. Supplies were easy, and his magic books and equipment could be easily packed onto Halesha. There was, however, one other thing that he would need. He steeled himself.

'Arthur,' he called to the King, who was already heading out of the door. Arthur turned back. 'I'll need to take the Prince with me.'

'No,' Arthur told him. There was no pause of consideration, no shock or disbelief, just one simple word.

'He's one of the links in the enchantments. Everything will go quicker if he's there.'

'No.'

'Arthur!'

'I said, no! I don't trust him and neither should you. The last thing we need is him running off into Albion. He's staying where he is.'

He strolled out of the room with not so much as an apologetic nod in Merlin's direction. Merlin considered flinging some sort of spell at him, just to give him a bit of a shove, but resisted. It would have been nice to have Arthur's permission, but it wasn't absolutely necessary. There had been plenty of occasions in the past when Merlin had gone against Arthur's wishes for the man's own good. Why change the habit of a lifetime?

He packed the things he would need, a plan already forming in his mind.

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