Past and Present Danger

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! They're lovely to read! Hope you like this chapter. We are heading towards the end, but I reckon there's quite a few chapters left yet. I would give you a rough estimate, but at the rate the story keeps on diverting from my original plan, it would be a complete stab in the dark. Anyway, I'll stop rambling. Enjoy this chapter and please review!

Chapter 23

Arthur was furious. No, furious was far too tame. He was enraged. Yes, Merlin probably was right about needing the Prince to help him. Yes, everything would probably go quicker now that the boy had been taken to the clearing as well. But, no, it was not alright that Merlin continued to disobey his orders. He was the King.

His anger might have been somewhat restrained had he been able to ride to the clearing, but of course, Merlin had managed to stitch him up on that one as well. Arthur had tried every single horse in the stables, but none of them would move. He had tried letting his knights go to the clearing to fetch Merlin and the Prince back, but the same happened to them. If the horses were being used to go after Merlin, then they simply refused to move. Several had been sent off with search parties without any problem, but none of them would allow themselves to be ridden to the clearing.

So now, after hours of walking on his own because he couldn't spare the soldiers to come with him and because it was faster when it was just him, Arthur had finally reached the clearing to find Merlin with a hand resting on the Prince's shoulder, looking for all the world like he was proud of the boy. He saw the Prince point towards him and watched Merlin turn. The warlock's face paled slightly and Arthur didn't bother to dampen the sense of power he felt at the reaction. Merlin straightened up and took several hesitant steps towards Arthur. Some way across the clearing, Elyan began making his way over as well, but Arthur didn't pay him any attention.

'Arthur,' Merlin began in a placating tone.

'Tell me Merlin,' he replied, quickly drawing level with him in his fury, 'what the hell is the point in me being King if all you do is disobey my direct orders?' He clenched his fist, quite prepared to punch Merlin in the face, but he couldn't bring himself to do it; Merlin would crumple like a leaf. So instead he pushed him hard, making Merlin stagger back. Surprise registered across Merlin's face. Arthur understood it perfectly. Yes, Arthur had beaten him black and blue in training or in play fights or just generally when they were messing around, but never with any seriousness.

'Arthur,' Merlin tried again, but he didn't seem to know where he was going with the sentence.

'You may be the Court sorcerer, Merlin. You may be a member of the royal court, one of my advisors and probably the third most powerful person in the Kingdom after Guinevere and I, but you are not in charge. You have no excuse to go directly against my wishes!'

'I'm trying to put everything right,' Merlin argued. 'I needed the Prince's help.'

'No you didn't. You told me yourself that it would just make it go quicker. You didn't need him; you could have done it without him!' He took several breaths, but they did little to calm him. The memories of the rooftop were still fresh in his mind and he was angry with himself for how he was reacting now, but he couldn't seem to stop.

'I'm sorry,' Merlin tried and Arthur could tell that he meant it. He hadn't expected such an extreme reaction. And why would he? In the past, Arthur had barely made a fuss when Merlin had disobeyed him.

''Sorry?' That's great Merlin. And will you be just as sorry the next time you decide to go against my orders, or the time after that. I'll tell you what, from now on you can make all the decisions and I'll just go along with what you say.' He turned away from Merlin, quite prepared to just head back into the forest.

'It would make things easier,' Merlin murmured. Arthur clenched his fists at his side and swung back round. This time Merlin did back up several steps, but Arthur still couldn't hit him; it would be like kicking a puppy.

'Just tell me:' he said instead, 'why can't you do as I say, like everybody else?'

Merlin sighed and shook his head. That only irritated Arthur further.

'You already know why. I'm not just everybody else. I'm not your court sorcerer or your advisor or anything like that, not really. They're just positions I happen to hold.' He shrugged his shoulders. 'I'm your friend, Arthur, which means I don't always do what you ask; I do what I think's best for you, whether you like it or not.'

'All I asked was for you to leave him in the dungeons,' Arthur said quietly.

'You only said that because you're angry with him.'

'Because I don't trust him.' Behind Merlin, the Prince shifted uncomfortably, but the expression on his face wasn't one of annoyance, it was one of guilt. Arthur ignored it; it didn't mean anything.

'But you're wrong about that,' Merlin pressed.

'Merlin,' Arthur hissed.

'You are,' Merlin replied more firmly. 'Think about it; think about yourself. What do you do when you make a mistake? What do you do when you realise you're wrong?'

Arthur didn't answer; he didn't like where the conversation was heading. Merlin had no such reservations; he continued without even waiting for an answer.

'You learn from them, you make up for them, you try to understand why you were wrong. That's what he's doing,' Merlin told him, pointing at the boy who was still half hidden behind him. 'He has stayed with me the entire afternoon, watching me use magic. He's even let me use it on him. You remember how hard you found that.'

Arthur did remember, all too clearly. He remembered the first time that Merlin had used magic on him –a healing spell- with his full knowledge. He had received a nasty injury after an ill conceived assassination attempt during a speech about bringing magic back to the Kingdom. The new decrees had caused a volatile and mixed response in the citizens of Camelot. Some hated magic as much as Arthur's father had.

The knife had been thrown at him by a man who was then killed by one of the Knights of the Round Table. Merlin had been at his side instantly, apologising for not been more alert. It wasn't long after he had begun to recover from the battle with the dark magic and so his reactions weren't anywhere near as sharp as they now were and had been before. Even so, Merlin had managed to pull Arthur mostly out of the way, but not enough to stop the knife from embedding deeply into his shoulder. Arthur had known at the time that, while the knife had missed his heart, it had most definitely caught a major blood vessel. There was blood everywhere.

'I need to heal it Arthur,' Merlin told him, while some of the other knights kept a lookout for further attacks.

'No,' Arthur argued, terror racing through him at the thought, but Merlin had already pulled back his chainmail and shirt, which had been as effective against the knife as leaves. The weapon must have been an incredibly well crafted one, to make such easy work of all his protection. 'Merlin, no, please,' Arthur had hissed in pain as Merlin prepared to pull the knife out. He wrapped his fingers weakly around Merlin's thin wrist.

'Arthur,' he said quietly, understanding etched into every feature of his face. 'I know that you're trying to view magic in a positive light and I know that it's more difficult than you could ever have imagined, but I can't give you any more time to come to terms with it.'

'Just get Gaius,' he had whispered, trying one last thing to avoid having to completely hand himself over to the potential of magic being used to do good.

'There isn't time. If I don't do this, you're going to bleed to death.'

'Merlin.'

'Come on Arthur, it's me. I'm not going to hurt you.'

He hadn't nodded exactly, but he hadn't said anything else to argue. Instead, all Arthur had done was keep his eyes locked on Merlin's and keep his fingers curled tightly around the man's arm. Merlin had smiled at him and then turned his attention to the wound. Quickly he had pulled the knife out, causing Arthur to cry out in agony, but still he didn't release Merlin's arm.

Instantly, Merlin began using his magic. Arthur tried to keep his eyes open, but when Merlin's eyes began to glow, he had to close his own. He tried not to think about what was happening, but as the pain began to lessen in his arm and he felt his muscles relax, he couldn't help but open his eyes. Merlin looked about ready to keel over himself and only then did Arthur remember the effect that using magic had on Merlin at the moment. He looked weak and he trembled violently, but there was a satisfied smile on his face.

'All done,' he said in shaky voice. Arthur looked blankly at him for several seconds. That was it? He looked at his shoulder. The skin was clear, unmarred by any wounds. Only the blood that had already seeped out remained on his arm and on the floor.

'Thank you,' Arthur whispered.

'No problem. What else is a resident sorcerer for?' Merlin had grinned.

Arthur looked over at the Prince. Had the boy really allowed Merlin to use magic on him? That would have taken incredible courage and would have been at least partial proof of the boy's changed perspective. But whether that convinced Arthur or not, the next thing the boy did shocked him into believing that Merlin might actually be right about the change.

Hesitantly at first, evidently unsure of whether the King would make another cutting verbal attack, the boy crept out from behind Merlin and walked over until he was in front of Arthur. Then, without once raising his eyes to meet the King's, he sank down onto his knees and bowed his head. The humility in his stature, in the tears dripping to the floor and in the way the boy uttered his next words almost made Arthur stagger back in shock.

'I'm sorry for everything I've done. For hurting Merlin, for making you feel ashamed of me and for letting you down. Please forgive me.'

And there he was, Arthur realised; the image of the King that he wanted to be himself, just a glimpse of it. One who was willing to throw off his pride and admit when he was wrong. Arthur could do it sometimes, more often now than he had done in the past, but never before had he done it with such…sincerity as the boy that currently knelt before him.

He glanced up at Merlin, who wasn't registering any surprise at the move. Instead, he was looking at Arthur, full of hope that maybe, just maybe, Arthur would see what he did. And when it came to Arthur Pendragon, Merlin was near enough the main authority on understanding him. Guinevere understood him as well, of course, but she and Merlin understood different aspects of their King and friend.

How many times had Merlin forgiven him and given him another chance even after he had acted like an idiot or made the wrong decision? Arthur realised something there and then: if Merlin had given the Prince another chance after all that he had done, then there was no reason that Arthur shouldn't do the same.

Reluctantly, mostly because Merlin was watching him, probably with a grin on his face, Arthur mirrored his younger self's position and knelt on the ground in front of him. He kept his voice low, but he needn't have. Merlin and Elyan moved back several paces, giving them some privacy.

He frowned, trying to think of exactly what he should say, but in the end he just went with the truth.

'It isn't you that I need to forgive,' he said quietly. The Prince looked up at him, confused and unsure.

'But what I did…'

'What we did,' Arthur murmured, allowing the terrible truth to rise to the surface once again. He had suppressed it since he saw the identical cut to his own on the Prince's elbow, but now it seemed that he had to face the guilt that was plaguing him over Morgana's capture of Merlin's younger self. The same guilt that was evidently as deep rooted in the Prince. Slowly, Arthur rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and chainmail and showed the Prince the scar that was there. The boy's eyes widened as he saw the mark and he quickly rolled up his own sleeve and held it up next to the King's arm.

'I couldn't forgive you,' Arthur continued, 'because I couldn't forgive myself.'

'Have you managed to now?' he asked hopefully.

'Not yet, but Merlin has, and it's him that we hurt,' Arthur replied, giving the Prince a small smile.

'I don't think he's forgiven me,' the Prince whispered.

'It's Merlin,' Arthur told him. 'If he hadn't before then he has now.'

'How do you know?'

'Because you accepted his magic by letting him use it on you.'

'Why would that make him forgive me?'

'Because…' Arthur felt his face grow warm as he considered what he was about to say. He was once again incredibly thankful that Merlin was far enough away not to hear. 'Because…' he tried again, '…when you did that you reminded him of me and he's forgiven me for a lot of things over the years.'

The boy looked up at him, his face serious and sad. Arthur felt his heart break as he saw the indecision on his own young face. Sometimes he still felt like a little boy with no clue as to what to do or what to say.

'I don't know how to make it up to him,' the boy admitted. 'To Merlin from my time. I don't know how to make it right. How do I do it?'

'You just…' Arthur shrugged and gave a small smile. 'You just say sorry and try and do things better in the future.'

'I want to.'

'Then we both have to make things up to Merlin now, to both of them.'

As the boy nodded and gave a small, but genuine smile, Arthur felt the rest of the world coming back into focus. He was not one to lay his heart out to anyone, even himself, but it seemed to be what the Prince needed to hear. Some of the anxiety that had plagued the boy in Arthur's presence for the past day seemed to disappear, although the guilt still remained. Now, however, there was more determination in his eyes; a fire that Arthur recognised. He helped the boy to his feet and Merlin quickly reappeared. He made no cheeky remarks, didn't give Arthur any knowing looks. He just carried on as if nothing had happened. At his side, Elyan stood awaiting orders.

'Everything's set up in the clearing,' Merlin explained to Arthur. 'All the spells and enchantments are ready and in place. All that's needed is for me to bring them to life with a simple spell. As long as I'm holding the pendant when I say it, the enchantment will work. I've written the spell and the instructions in case I forget.'

'So all that's left…?'

'Is to find Merlin. As soon as we get him back here, we can send them both back.' He looked up at Arthur. 'Are we any closer to finding him?'

'The search parties aren't all back yet. We won't know anything for sure until tomorrow.'

'It's not going to be soon enough.'

'We can't do anything else. Everybody that can be out searching is doing so.'

Merlin gave a sigh of frustration at the words and began to turn away, but then he froze and turned back to Arthur, a smile on his face.

'Not quite everybody.'

'What do you…?' But the question died on his lips as he saw Merlin look up to the sky and shout in a deep, resonating voice. Inwardly Arthur cringed; he knew exactly what that meant.

'Merlin,' he said through gritted teeth. Merlin turned to look at him and Arthur nodded towards the Prince who seemed a little unsettled by the words. Merlin's expression turned sheepish and apologetic as he realised what Arthur was getting at: perhaps the Prince could have done with a little warning, but it was too late now. Arthur could already hear the beat of wings. Still he had to try.

'Arthur,' he said, turning to the Prince quickly. 'There's nothing to be afraid of. He's a friend of Merlin's.'

'Who is…?' But his eyes went wide and his skin paled as a shadow passed across them. The boy started mumbling somewhat incoherently and tried to back up and run, but Arthur held him steadily.

'He won't hurt you,' Arthur reassured him, but he doubted it did any good. The boy was trembling. Elyan appeared beside them and put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. Arthur gave him a grateful nod and then went to stand next to Merlin.

'What news young warlock and young King?' Kilgharrah asked as he landed on the ground, shaking the earth.

'Morgana has me…little me,' Merlin explained, 'and we don't know where she's taken him. Somehow she's managing to break through the wards that are on him. They're affecting me too.'

'If the witch has Merlin then you are all in danger.'

'We know,' Merlin nodded. 'That's why we need your help. Can you find her or…' he paused and Arthur looked at him. He was thinking, frowning, but suddenly he looked up triumphantly. 'You could call to Merlin, in his mind. Like you do with me.'

Arthur felt hope rise in him at the idea, but the dragon was already shaking his head.

'I would not be able to. My contact with you is made possible because I know where you are, and because you are now a Dragon Lord. I could not contact him. And as for finding Morgana; this time I have no inclination as to where she is.'

Arthur felt his last shred of hope evaporate into the evening air. He glanced over at Merlin, but rather than the defeat he expected to see, the sorcerer was staring at the dragon thoughtfully.'

'Merlin?' Arthur asked. Merlin didn't reply to him, but instead stepped forward.

'You said you couldn't contact him. Does that mean somebody else could?'

The dragon looked at him with something akin to amusement on his face and then bent his huge head down so that it was just in front of Merlin and Arthur. Merlin seemed to feel no alarm at this, but Arthur had to fight the urge to take a few steps back.

'I believe you could do it,' he answered.

'How?' Merlin asked, shaking his head. 'It would be impossible for me to communicate with someone across such a great distance.'

'But, young warlock, this is a connection between you and another version of yourself. The connection between you is already there and the magic that resides in both of you will allow the link to form,' Kilgharrah explained.

'Well that's perfect,' Merlin spluttered, a grin on his face. 'I can forge the connection, find out where Merlin is and we can go and rescue him.' He looked over at Arthur, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to share Merlin's enthusiasm.

'Kilgharrah,' Arthur began, trying not to let on how uncomfortable the dragon made him feel. He had only spoken to him a handful of times and then he had just been adding to Merlin's comments, not addressing the creature directly. 'Surely a…link of that distance could be dangerous.'

'No, Arthur Pendragon; the distance is not the danger.'

'Then there is a danger?' he pressed.

'The chance of finding him outweighs any danger,' Merlin shrugged off, shaking his head at Arthur.

'If it kills you there won't be any chance of finding him or sending them both back,' he answered sharply.

'It's not going to kill me,' Merlin told him with an overly dramatic sigh. 'Right Kilgharrah?'

'The danger, Merlin, is by no means small,' the dragon replied.

Arthur gave Merlin a firm stare, daring the warlock to try continuing with the plan.

'I'll be fine.'

Arthur rolled his eyes; how could he ever have thought that Merlin would stop being a stubborn-headed fool.

'What are the dangers?' he asked instead, turning to Kilgharrah once again.

'A connection forged between the two of them may go further than a simple telepathic link.'

'What do you mean?' Arthur asked.

'There is a chance that in linking with his younger self, Merlin will also create a physical link. Whatever his younger self is suffering may be transferred along the connection to Merlin.'

'That couldn't happen,' Merlin argued, giving Arthur a wary look, evidently hoping to deflect the King from a rant. Arthur couldn't deny that he could feel one forming.

'You are the same person, Merlin,' Kilgharrah growled, seemingly unimpressed by Merlin's lack of belief in his theory. 'By creating a further link between your two selves, you risk taking on each other's characteristics. As you are the one who will be forming the link, you will be more susceptible to the transferral.

'I really don't-' Merlin tried, but Arthur had heard enough.

'You need to find another way,' he told his friend firmly.

'There isn't another way, Arthur. We're running out of time. You know the search parties won't find anything and before long we won't remember anything anyway. We don't have a choice.'

'More of the search parties will be back before long. We can at least give them another day or two. Who knows, they might find her. We can spare a bit of time.'

'No we can't.'

'Merlin.'

'Arthur, I'll be fine.'

'Yes, because 'fine' really describes how this mission has gone so far.' He stepped closer to Merlin and mustered as much authority as he could. 'I'm ordering you not to make the connection.'

'Please don't.'

'I'm your King, Merlin, and you will do as I say.'

'But-'

'I order you to do it,' came a small and somewhat less confident voice from beside them.

Arthur rounded on his younger self, who looked unsure of whether to be more afraid of Arthur or Kilgharrah. How dare he? After everything they had just talked about, this was how he tried to show Arthur that he really had changed; by attempting to override the King's order? He swallowed hard, looked apologetically at Arthur and then looked at Merlin again.

'I order you.'

'You do not have any authority here,' Arthur told him slowly, trying to keep his voice even. The boy swallowed again, a pained expression on his face. He didn't want to do this, Arthur could tell, but there was some determination and resignation in him that made him continue.

'I do have authority. I'm the Prince of Camelot and I am Arthur Pendragon.'

'You know-' Merlin began musingly. Arthur's head snapped round.

'Shut up, Merlin. Don't even think about it. Even if he is the Prince, I'm the King. If you want to try and pull rank in any way, remember that.'

'When you were Prince, I followed your orders above those of the King on more than one occasion,' Merlin pointed out.

'Merlin!' Arthur warned.

'And that was only ever because I believed your orders were right.'

'Merlin, we have just had a conversation about this, about you needing to do as I say.'

'I am doing as you say, just you from a long time ago.

'Stop,' Arthur told him.

'I've always been the servant of Arthur Pendragon. I still am,' he continued, but now his voice was getting heavier. There was a regret in it, which told Arthur that he had made up his mind.

'Don't,' Arthur said, and this time his tone was harsh: firm and full of authority. He closed the gap between them as he saw Merlin take a deep breath and straighten his shoulders; the, by now, familiar sign that he was about to use magic. Arthur's hand closed around his friend's shoulders just as he finished whispering the spell. His eyes glowed gold before clearing again. Arthur hoped that he had got it wrong, prayed that somehow it hadn't work. After all, Merlin hadn't even known the spell was possible; how could he come up with it so quickly?

But all of Arthur's hopes vanished as he watched the next few seconds unfold. His hand remained on Merlin's shoulder, and it was a good job it did because he was sure the man would have fallen without the steadying support. Arthur watched in horror as Merlin changed before his eyes. He grew sickeningly pale, even grey in colour. His skin seemed to dry out. Arthur watched as his lips dried and cracked, spotting with blood in a matter of seconds. His eyes grew dark and sunken, the bags under his eyes deepening until they were like bruises. As the moment drew out, Merlin's breaths became ragged and laboured. He seemed to shrink inside his clothes. Arthur felt his shoulder grow thinner and bonier and his body began to shake as if the very effort of holding his weight was excruciating. His forehead creased in pain.

For several seconds, Merlin's entire focus seemed to be on the surroundings. His expression was one of panic and confusion, but then he locked eyes with Arthur and there was such despair and pleading in them, that Arthur took a step back, only just remembering to retain his hold on Merlin's shoulder.

'Please, help me,' he whispered hoarsely. The sound of his voice sent a cold shudder through Arthur. His breath caught in his throat and terror paralysed him for several seconds. The voice was familiar, of that Arthur was sure, but it was not the voice of his friend that echoed around the clearing. No, the voice that had just spoken was that of a six year old Merlin, lost and alone.

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