Past and Present Danger

A/N: And thus begins my long apology and explanation. I'm really sorry for the delay in updates. I know exactly how frustrating it is when a story just stops with no explanation. Here goes mine.

Not last Sunday, but the Sunday before, my computer crashed and gave me the blue screen of death. What followed was a week of my dad and me trying everything we could to retrieve my documents (including this story) which hadn't been back up. (I know, I know. Always back up your work; I was told exactly the same last time. To be fair I had backed them up a month or two ago, but evidently that wasn't enough.)

So… after a failed attempt by my dad and me, I took it into my work's technician who removed the whole of the hard drive and linked it up to cables, which didn't work, so he bought another set in, which also didn't work, so he brought his entire collection of spare cables in, which worked!

Then I had to download my entire C drive onto my external hard drive. Then install Windows 7 on my laptop and everything else (Microsoft office, Adobe, Flash Player, Email, Norton Antivirus and my documents). Then I managed to lock myself out of my computer by mistyping my login password when I first chose it. It took me hours of trying every possible combination and extra letters and missing letters until I finally got it right. And now I've checked this chapter, written a ridiculously long A/N to you all, which you're probably not interested in, and I am basically saying sorry!

Barring another crash, updates will be regular again. I'm just hoping I haven't lost too many of you on my forced hiatus. Some reassuring reviews would be lovely!

Anyway, definitely enough from me. Next chapter! Enjoy!

Chapter 20

Merlin shivered. It wasn't cold; he knew that much. The sun was shining down though the trees, baking the soil. It was dry, like his mouth and his throat and his cracked lips. It was warmer than it had been since Merlin arrived in future Camelot, he was sure, and yet his teeth chattered together like bones rattling. His whole body trembled.

He didn't know where he was. Morgana had moved them so many times since the waterfall cave that he had given up trying to keep track of their whereabouts. It was all he could do to stay on his feet when she dragged him along. Many times even that had been too much; she had hauled him over rocks, through knife-like grass and across stretches of uneven forests and woods, not caring if he slipped. His legs and knees were riddle with bruises and gashes that were red and inflamed. No, staying on his feet was hard enough without having to try and focus on where he was going as well.

He had never felt like this in his life. Never had he felt this weak, this pained. He had worried that Morgana's plan would remind him of hard times back in Ealdor, but his current situation made even the harshest winters seem like a banquet of rest and relaxation. It was the pain that he couldn't believe. His head was constantly attacked with sharp, slicing pains which seemed to stab right into the very centre of his mind. He would grip his head in both hands, trying to somehow squeeze the pain out of it, only to find himself shutting his eyes tightly and living through each second like it was an eternity. He could barely think straight and his sight was temperamental: sometimes so blurry that he could barely recognise his own hand, sometimes so sharp that he had to close his eyes to try and shut out the intense glare of light and colour.

His aching muscles protested every movement. It felt like he was tearing through them with each step that he took, with each flailing of his arm as he tried and failed to steady himself from a fall. He tried to rest his muscles when he could, but vicious stomach cramps caused him to double over and his back screamed in protest at the movement. All he could do was stand there, his chest heaving and his eyes trying to water against the onslaught.

Where were they?

He had tried not to ask himself the question at first, but now it was the only thought that was truly lucid in his mind. Why hadn't they come and found him? Where were King Arthur and Merlin? Why hadn't they found him yet?

How could Prince Arthur do this to him?

What had he done that was so terrible that Arthur had let this happen to him? Merlin had said that one day they would be friends, but how could they be? How could they ever be friends when this was the first thing that Arthur had done to him? Merlin had thought that he could show the Prince that he was genuine, that he could help, that he wasn't evil or out to hurt people. He had wanted to show that he wasn't a monster and in doing so had allowed Arthur to become one. He should never have gone with him. He should never have tried to be the person that his older self was. That wasn't him and now it never would be; not if they didn't find him soon.

He could feel a dark shadow creeping up on him, sapping at his strength and will. How long had it been since he had eaten or drunk? He hadn't had food since evening on the day he had left Camelot. That was nearly two days ago. And when was the last time he had had water. He vaguely remembered a stream that he and the Prince had stopped at. When had that been? It had to be over a day. Morgana had had him for longer than that as it was.

Should he be this weak and this affected already? He could hear the Prince's voice in his head, telling him he was weak and pathetic, telling him that somebody who was strong and brave and important wouldn't have felt like this so soon. They would have fought on; they would have found a way to escape. But there was no fight in him anymore. There hadn't been since he realised what she was going to do to him. Any attempt to fight on his part would only make him weaker and he needed to hold out for as long as possible.

Why? He shook his head, but bit into his lip at the sharp pain that shot through it. They were coming for him…weren't they? How? The Prince's sneering voice filled his head again. Why would they come back for you? You're nobody important.

'I am,' he snarled into the air.

'My, my. Talking to yourself already.'

Merlin opened his eyes from where he leant against a tree in the forest, his breathing short and laboured. The magic rope was still twisted around his wrist, but was now attached to the trunk of the tree.

'Who do you suppose will hear you?' Morgana continued, crouching down. She held a water skin in her hand. Merlin could see the rim shinning where it had recently been exposed to water. He felt the strange sensation of his mouth trying to water without the liquid. His body was not wasting fluids on anything so trivial as wanting nourishment or crying, yet both were central in his focus.

Merlin ignored the question. It was what he had taken to doing. He had tried to talk to her at first; he'd thought that maybe he could make her understand, but it didn't take long for him to realise that she already understood. She knew that he was innocent at this point; she knew that he was frightened; she even knew that using a child was a terrible thing to do. She just didn't care. That revelation had been the final blow for Merlin. He had always counted on the fact that people cared. He always cared; his mother always cared. All the people he knew cared about what they did and who they hurt, and Merlin didn't know how to talk to someone who didn't. Because if they didn't care, then what could ever convince them to show compassion or empathy or any of the things that made up who Merlin was?

'Oh, Merlin,' she went on, her voice silky. 'I know that you like to talk. I'm more than happy to listen.' She took a deep swig from the water skin, smiled at him and then tipped the remainder of the water on the floor, just beyond his reach. She did it slowly, watching him at all times. He looked away. He could understand that she was hurting him to get to Merlin; he didn't know how she could do it, but he at least understood her reasons. But what reason could she have for taunting him? He hadn't done anything to her. All she really needed him to do was die and he was fulfilling his role perfectly. Why couldn't that be enough for her? What depths of hatred and evil were buried in her soul to make her mock him like she did? What had Merlin and Arthur done to her to make her hate them so much?

Questions. They circled his mind like vultures, and he had no idea what the answers were.

'How many days would you say you can last Merlin?' she asked nonchalantly, walking around the clearing and sorting through the few belongings that she seemed to carry with her. The few places that they had stopped at had been stocked with anything else she needed. She seemed to have an entire series of hide outs scattered all over the land. 'I am getting a little impatient. But perhaps if I know how long you're going to last, I can go to Camelot and see Merlin's dying breath and Arthur's heartbreak. I'm not sure about the Prince; I doubt he'll mourn for them, least of all you. But to see the faces of the two men that have caused me so much pain…I think I'd like that.' She smiled to herself for several seconds and then looked at him again. In a sudden movement, she was in front of him, peering into his face.

'Do you want to know something else?'

Merlin considered shaking his head, but he wasn't sure how she'd react so he settled for looking at her in reply.

'I thought so. Let me show you.' She stood up again and took several steps back. She took a deep breath and then muttered some words. Her eyes glowed gold and suddenly the earth shook below them. Leaves fluttered down from the tree tops and Merlin heard the wood of the trees creaking all around him. He closed his eyes, unwilling to see a tree crashing down on top of him, but then it stopped. Morgana was wearing a look of triumph.

Her magic had returned.

Merlin felt his hope diminish even further. If she had her magical abilities back, then how would the others ever save him?

'I've been using it to wear down your wards. Just in case I need a quick death from you.'

'You won't…' he began, but his throat screamed in protest. He attempt to swallow and managed to moisten his throat just enough to utter a few words. 'You won't be able to get through them.'

'I'm willing to believe that at a certain point, the weakness of your body will cause their strength to falter.'

Merlin shook his head, but the words resonated within him. How could his magical wards possibly be strong when he was fading so rapidly?

'Either way, Merlin, I will be the last person you see.'

Merlin's eyes began to sting at the words, but try as he might, he could not release his anguish through tears.

Arthur took several calming breaths as he made his way down to the council chambers to get an update in the progress of the search teams. His distraction in the form of the Prince's alleged escape had meant that he had missed the first scheduled review of their findings –not that there would be any news yet-, but he was determined to make up for lost time now.

He strolled purposefully down the corridors, trying to decide, as he did, where Morgana might possibly have gone. Leon had sent people to all her known hide outs, but he knew she wasn't going to be in any of them. The trick was to narrow down the places that they hadn't been, but which could serve as a refuge. The hopelessness of the task weighed heavily on Arthur, but he didn't know what else he could do. There was no other way that they could find her apart from looking. He suddenly wished that he had something productive that he could do to speed to process along. Merlin, at least, had the spells to set up and review; he had a sense of purpose, but Arthur was hard pressed to work out exactly what his purpose was at that moment in time.

Turning yet another corner, he all but ran into Guinevere. One look at her face told him that she had seen the Prince being dragged away by the guards. She didn't even bother to talk to him. She gave him a look of disgust and then walked passed him like he didn't even exist. The intensity of her anger knocked him slightly. Had she ever looked at him like that before?

The truth was, he didn't know. He had been trying and failing to ignore the fact that his past was becoming a series of black, empty spaces in amongst a few snatches of memory. He'd been telling the truth when he'd agreed with Merlin that his childhood memories were disappearing. He could remember certain events and people, but everything else had gone. But worse still was the amount of more recent memories that had now vanished. He was beginning to forget things about his relationship with Guinevere. Try as he might, he didn't remember proposing to her and he only remembered the wedding ceremony itself, not the days before or after. He knew that had stayed with her when he was pretending to be a knight for a tournament and he remembered her getting cross at him, yet nothing else about that event came to mind. He was sure it was a significant part of their relationship, but he couldn't recall the majority it. Their courtship was clearer in his mind, but there were bits that didn't make sense, which he assumed was because not all the pieces were there.

The memory loss wasn't affecting his feelings for her. He loved her more than anyone in the world and the knowledge that he was hurting her through his actions stirred the emotions that he, as a husband, would always feel in that situation, but he worried that before long, even his love for her would be lost in the disappearing memories. It hurt and panicked him, but he could do nothing about it.

In a way, though, he was much more worried about forgetting Merlin. He had never felt any ill-will towards Guinevere; not as far as he remembered, but the things that she had said to him before he left for the Pass of the Old Kingdom had stuck in his mind. What if he forgot forgiving Merlin after he'd found out about his magic? What if he forgot about their friendship and their history and was left only with the memory of a sorcerer who, for several months, Arthur had wanted to kill? It still shamed him to admit it, but it was true. If he forgot those things, if he turned on Merlin, then everything was lost.

He ground to a halt as a sudden thought seized him. A servant passing in the hall gave him a confused glance as she saw her King literally stop dead in a corridor, but he ignored her. He looked ahead; the council chambers were just around the next corner. He could go and sit through the meeting, listen to Leon tell him that the searches had found nothing yet, but that it was early days. Nod along to their suggestions, all the while feeling despair set in, or he could turn around, go back to his room and make sure that, no matter what memories went or how close to the end it came, he would know that Merlin was to be trusted and listened to.

The two options hung in the air like weights on an invisible scale and it did not take long for them to tip in Merlin's favour. In the end, the entire success of their plan hung on Merlin. Arthur could not afford to let a few lost memories and one terrible misunderstanding of his friend's loyalty destroy there only hope of getting their lives back. He had to remember who Merlin was and he knew how to do it.

Arthur wasn't going to cry, of the he was sure. He'd done enough crying today, much more than was right for a Prince and it was going to stop now. Even if he was locked in the dungeons of his own castle; even if everybody thought he was a murderer and a liar; even if his older self had been the one to throw him in prison. No, he wasn't going to cry.

And he wasn't going to complain either, not this time. He had changed since the Pass. He knew it was stupid: how could anyone change in such a short amount of time, but he had. And so he wasn't going to act like they expected him to. He was going to sit in the dungeons and take his punishment. At least for a while.

Staring at nothing but blank walls, he found his thoughts drawn to Merlin, and not just young Merlin and his betrayed face when Arthur had left him, but also the sorcerer Merlin. He had been…kind. That had shocked Arthur a little; he had expected someone who was evidently so powerful to be intimidating and firm and cold, but Merlin wasn't. In fact, compared to the King, he was much gentler and much more willing to listen and even…forgive. No, Arthur shook his head. Merlin hadn't forgiven him, but he believed him; he knew that there had been a change. Arthur struggled with the understanding that his only ally in this place was a sorcerer.

Perhaps Merlin would be able to talk to the King and get Arthur out of the dungeons? Arthur didn't want to hold out too much hope. After all, he had been put in here by the King; only someone incredibly foolish would attempt to get him out of the situation.

'Arthur.'

The voice slipped into his room in a harsh whisper, making Arthur jump. Startled, the Prince looked around, searching for the owner. It was only when he glanced at the window -which gave him a limited view of the street floor and showed him that he was below ground level- that he realised who it was. He couldn't hide his surprise when he saw Merlin's face peering in at him.

'What are you doing?' the Prince whispered, hard pressed to keep the incredulity out of his voice. Here was the Court Sorcerer, lying flat on his stomach on the ground so that he could talk to a seven year old boy who had caused him nothing but trouble.

'I need your help.' Arthur just looked at him. Was there any point explaining that he was locked up? 'I'm going to get you out of there.' Arthur felt a grin creep onto his face at the thought, but smoothed it out quickly. He didn't think disappearing again would help his case with the King.

'I don't think you should.'

'I'm not going to break you out of there, don't worry. Arthur told me not to.'

'Then…?' But rather than replying, Merlin said some strange words and held out his hands towards Arthur through the bars. It took all of a split second for Arthur to register that Merlin was using magic on him. He gave a yell of terror and backed up as far as he could, only to slam his back into the bars. He couldn't escape, he couldn't get out. He felt his heart race and watched helplessly as Merlin's eyes turned gold for a second.

'What did you do to me?' Arthur screamed, looking down at himself, checking his body, searching for any sign of dark magic infecting him and killing him. He couldn't see anything, but that only increased his panic further. What was happening? What could he do?

'Arthur. Arthur!' Merlin was trying to get his attention, but Arthur could barely hear him.

'How dare you! How dare you use magic on me! Take the spell off me now, this instant.' He checked himself over again, spinning around and searching for whatever effect the magic was meant to have. When he next looked up at Merlin, the sight that he saw filled him with fury and he suddenly forgot that Merlin had proved himself to be a trustworthy person. He was smiling. Not just smiling, but laughing.

'What is funny?' the Prince demanded.

'Nothing,' Merlin choked. 'It's just. This is exactly how Arthur reacted the first time I used magic on him. Well…the first time he knew, anyway.'

Arthur stopped his frantic searches and prepared himself to deliver a long string of curses and insults at the man, but as the meaning behind the words sunk in, he found his anger dissipating. They had both reacted in exactly the same way? An inexplicable peace settled on him, just for a few seconds. But then he caught sight of Merlin grinning again and fixed his glare back into place.

'What have you done to me?'

'Nothing serious. I've just made you invisible.'

'What?' he yelled.

'Don't worry, I can change you back, but I need you to get out of the dungeons first.'

Arthur opened his mouth to argue again about how he couldn't use magic on the Prince of Camelot and how he would have him executed for it, before he remembered that he was trying to show people that he was different. He closed his mouth and gave a sigh.

'How?' he asked through gritted teeth.

'That's easy. Just wait for the guards to come round. They'll open your cell to find out where you are and you walk out.'

'Isn't that a bit, over the top?'

'Arthur told me not to break you out, so I'm not going to. You're going to walk out.'

'But…'

But Merlin had disappeared and all Arthur heard was a faint instruction to meet him in the courtyard. With an infuriated sigh, Arthur turned around and looked down the hallway, trying to see the guards, but there was no movement yet.

Arthur looked down at his hands. He could see them perfectly well and Merlin had been looking directly at him when he explained the plan. Maybe the man wasn't as good a sorcerer as everybody seemed to think.

He didn't have to wait very long to find out for sure. The scrape of boots on stone echoed from the far end of the corridor. The guards were beginning their rounds. Arthur held his breath as they got closer to his cell; he doubted that Merlin had made him silent as well as invisible. Would this really work? One look at the guard's face proved that it had. A look of terror flitted across the man's features and he frantically searched through the keys and slammed the right one into the lock. By the time the man left the cell again, Arthur was running up the corridors and heading for the courtyard.

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