A/N: Guys, I'm not emotionally ready for tomorrow, much less monday. I'm really not. I'm trying desperately to keep my hopes up at least somewhat, but I know that, no matter how good or bad it may be, I am not ready for Merlin to end.

Please, guys, promise me? We'll keep these characters living on (and living well) in fanfiction. And not just bad, indulgent, fan-servicing fanfiction, but the good stuff. You know what I mean?

Please. I can't bear to watch these gems of characters fizzle out with their show.

At any rate, this chapter has been sitting unfinished on my computer for too long. Only a few more chapters to go! Hope everyone likes them!

Merlin woke up screaming. Or at least, that's what they'd tell him afterward. When it happened, he wasn't aware that he was screaming, or that he was thrashing in his bed. At the time, all he knew was that something suddenly and overwhelmingly hurt. At first he wasn't sure what it was, but it was agony. The shock of it was making his breath come in halts and stops that left him in screams, and sent his hands clawing up at his neck at some invisible force choking him, ripping out his innards. It took longer than it should have for him to figure out what it was. His magic. His magic hurt, and it hurt like hell. By the time he was able to voice this revelation through his screams, he realized vaguely that Arthur and Gaius were both there, faces terrified. Arthur was holding Merlin immobile on his bed while Gaius looked over his vitals.

"His magic hurts?" He heard Arthur say worriedly, "what does that mean?"

Gaius was shaking his head, Merlin could see the white waves of his hair blurrily through his pained tears. "I don't know, sire, this is completely unprovoked, unless…" Gaius froze, and shot his head to Arthur. "He gave Merlin a borrower's brew last night. If Merlin's older self were to use magic, it could bear repercussions on himself. But it shouldn't be painful, not like this… Unless…"

"Unless what?"

Gaius looked up at the king. "Unless he used an incredible amount of magic, a combative amount of magic, and he was struck down."

Arthur's expression cleared, and he was up in seconds, grabbing his sword and belt on the way out. Merlin continued to moan and jerk, hands folding protectively over his core, head twisting as if hoping to escape somehow. Gaius looked over him, conflicted, but quickly came to a decision and went down to his medicine cabinet, grabbed a vial, and came back. He wrenched Merlin around.

"Merlin, can you hear me?" When the warlock did nothing to reply, Gaius hauled up Merlin's head as gently as he could manage, and tipped the vial into his mouth. Merlin protested at first, but seemed to understand quickly and drank it without question. He collapsed immediately afterward back into his moaning, but after several long, painful minutes, it began to die down, until he was only shivering, drenched in sweat.

"W-what was that?" He asked Gaius.

"I'm not sure," Gaius told him, and his voice gave Merlin the distinct impression that this wasn't over, whatever 'this' was.

"What did you give me?"

Gaius looked slightly guilty. "It will cut off your connection with Merlin. But it might have saved your magic."

Merlin's eyes were clearing, and he frowned. "But… where does that leave him?"

Gaius let his guilty eyes fell downward, and wondered if he'd made a horrible mistake.

"Merlin?" Arthur whispered into the dark. He waited, but when there was no answer, he jogged a bit closer. "Merlin?" Still nothing. The prince sighed. He'd been trying on and off to talk to Merlin for the past hour or so, but the older man remained resolutely unconscious. He wasn't sure what he thought about that, or perhaps even worse, what he might think when his companion finally came around.

The moment of their capture was a large blur for Arthur, but he knew for a fact that Merlin had used magic. He'd Merlin say a spell, he'd seen his eyes flash gold. He'd heard their captor's cry of anger, and furthermore, Arthur realized that Merlin's spell had saved their lives. But it was magic. He grit his teeth. He'd told his older self that he'd been bracing himself for the necessity of magic in their predicament. He'd meant it. But he'd never braced himself for something like this. Merlin. Magic. Merlin. Alright, this wasn't Merlin Merlin, this was Other Merlin, a strange Merlin, a Merlin that Arthur might, one day, get to know, but he wasn't really real for the prince. Not yet. But what did this mean for his Merlin, now? When did magic ever even enter into the picture? Did Merlin Merlin have magic? Why didn't Other Merlin admit to having magic when Arthur asked him? Did he expect Arthur to care? To run? To laugh? To kill him?

What was he supposed to do with this?

"you have to be ready to listen, to understand him," Older Arthur had said. The prince supposed now that 'he' was Merlin, but of course, listening to Merlin hardly helped when Merlin was unconscious.

After the flashy display back in his chambers, Arthur had expected their captor to whisk them off by some sorcerer's means, but he and Merlin had been bound to a cart that moved as slowly as a non-magical horse and tack might. The small cart was full of supplies of some sort that Arthur couldn't make out through the night, but most of it had been shoved to one side so that Merlin could be deposited in the back in a curled heap, unconscious and bound. Arthur didn't fail to notice that while his wrists were tied with hewn rope, Merlin was secured with chains. They clinked lightly as the cart bobbed beneath him. Arthur bit his lip and tried to gauge what level of insult he should take as a warrior, now considered less dangerous than a lanky, unconscious man.

Then again, that unconscious man was a sorcerer. Arthur cursed to himself and wished his brain hadn't brought it full circle. He didn't like thinking about it. It was uncomfortable. He hadn't been expecting it, he didn't know what to do with it, he wasn't prepared to talk about it, he couldn't do anything to fix it, and he didn't like it one bit. But he couldn't stop thinking about it.

He shuffled on through the darkness, the night broken only by the clinking of chains, the clopping of hooves, and the looming presence of their captor at the front of the wagon. Arthur jogged back up toward the back end of the cart, where the unconscious figure lay.

"Merlin?" He whispered, hoping their captor would hear. "Damnit, Merlin, you've got a world of explaining to do," he said, and the sentence seemed unfinished because the other man didn't react. Arthur sighed and fell back.

"Please don't make listening harder than it's going to be," He said, and wasn't sure who he was talking to.

"Sire – Arthur, Sir, I can't let you go in there-"

"Yes to all, and yes you will, Sir Leon," King Arthur stormed past the knight with a commanding snap in his voice that gave Leon pause enough to put him behind. Flustered, he jogged back up.

"I'm sorry, Sire, but I'm under strict orders to-"

"Merlin's chambers."

"What?"

"Merlin, the older one, where has he been staying?"

"Sire, I'm not sure I should tell you, as I said I can't let you-"

"Sir Leon," Arthur rounded suddenly, staring across at his friend and colleague. "At the moment, you are under my father's rule. I understand that. But I need you to understand this: I, too, am king, and despite being stuck in the wrong time, I know far more about what is going on than you or my father. Neither time nor age can nullify my first claim to authority, and you have no grounds upon which to challenge the second. So, Sir Leon, you can let me pass, and you will."

The knight's mouth made several movements as if to talk, but he couldn't find any intelligible words. Prince Arthur had an explosive temper, one that Leon was used to dealing with – but King Arthur was cool, commanding, and right.

And, Leon realized as a strange squeak left his mouth and he lunged after the time-traveler, older than him. It was an added intimidation that Leon hadn't been expecting.

"But Sire!" Leon called, and raced after Arthur into the palace. He hoped they wouldn't wake anyone. The guards were tossing him looks, but since no swords had been drawn, they remained at their posts.

Arthur paid no heed to Leon or the guards, and picked his way to the wing of guest chambers.

"This," He pointed to a room whose door hung open, "is this Merlin's room?" He looked to Leon, who nodded dumbly. Arthur barged in. He cursed loudly, and flew back out again. He was charging in another direction, toward the royal residences.

"Arthur!" Leon hissed, following. Arthur ignored him and barged right into his own rooms, the door banging against the wall as he did so. Leon ran forward to apologize to the would-be-sleeping prince, but stopped short as they came into the room. Belongings of various sorts were flung all across the room in disarray. Leon stood there, dumbstruck, while Arthur stepped forward quickly to check behind a carefully placed bedcurtain. He cursed again.

"It's gone," he breathed.

"What's gone?" Leon asked, reaching for his sword. "Sire, what is going on?" Arthur didn't reply, but had fixated his gaze on a large scorch mark on the wooden floor near the window. "Sire?"

Arthur's face was unreadable, but his voice was dangerous. "She's taken them."

Leon had frozen in non-comprehending fear. "What?"

"Arthur and Merlin," Arthur told him, now charging for the door, "she's taken them."

"Taken them…" Leon still didn't understand fully, but his gaze drifted back toward the burned floor as Arthur stomped away, and alarms rang loudly in his mind. "Guards," he said, and then louder, "Guards!"

Arthur's feet hurt. He'd thought that they might stop for a while to rest – it was the middle of the night, after all - but whoever it was that had captured them was in a hurry to get somewhere, it seemed. But, Arthur thought with a squint, not in a hurry enough to use magic. Or maybe they can't. He wasn't sure what made the last thought pop into his mind, but pursuing the conundrum further was stopped before it could rise on his list of priorities when Merlin began to stir.

The warlock groaned quietly, and tried to turn his head up.

"Merlin?" Arthur whispered, jogging up to the cart before matching its pace with his own. It took a moment, but Merlin's eyes seemed to find Arthur's face through the darkness.

"…'thur?" He asked. He could see a halo of hair floating about a face in the dim moonlight.

"It's me," the prince said.

"Oh, good."

Arthur blinked and added on too late, "the young me, in case you're wondering."

There was a pause, and Arthur wondered if Merlin was listening, but then,

"Oh, bullocks."

It wasn't exactly the reaction he had been expecting. "I'm… sorry?"

"No, not you, Arthur," Merlin said, drawing himself up into a more-or-less sitting position. "It's these damned chains," he said, tugging and peering at the cuffs.

"What about them?" Arthur asked. "You expected them to let you swing free?"

"No, they've got runes all over them – no wonder I can't use my m-" even though Arthur couldn't see Merlin, he could picture him biting his lip in sudden fear as he cut himself off.

"Your magic, you mean." Arthur finished for him, trying not to sound too uncomfortable.

It was uncomfortable anyway.

"Ah," Merlin said after a moment. He sighed. "Yes… my magic. Arthur," he began, but the prince held up a forestalling hand, even if the other man couldn't see it.

"No, no, I understand."

"You… do?"

"Yes. I understand, to fight… this sorceress, you need to use magic. You've studied magic before, you obviously must know a little, so, you saved us using magic. I get it. Just… don't do that again, if it'll knock you out like that."

"A little…?" Merlin scoffed into the night air. "Arthur… It's not…"

"No, no, it's fine. Really. I don't… I don't blame you for it. Just… why didn't you tell me, when I asked, that you could do magic?

"Arthur, I'm sorry, I just didn't know how to-"

"It doesn't matter. It's only this once, right? Just to get you home. Fight magic with magic, all that, it makes sense, I would… I might, that is… I can see where you're coming from. But you didn't tell me, that's all." Arthur sniffed in diffidence.

"Just… this once," Merlin echoed quietly, to himself.

Morgana was twitchy. Not that she would admit it. She detested traveling by horse, much less by horse and cart, but she'd learned her lesson weeks ago when she'd first come upon Eoran's hidden cove: none could force their way in by magic. Unarmed, mundane, and simple. It was the only way past the wards. Besides, she reasoned, with a man like Emrys as a bargaining chip, she might just need the extra energy to call upon later.

Her gloved hands creaked against the leather reins as they tightened their grip. Emrys. Of course, it'd been part of the plan all along to capture him as well as the prince, but she'd planned on doing it later, taking him separately. Properly. Emrys was trouble enough, and the Once and Future King was her greatest threat, but together, they were something else entirely. Separately, they would waste their energy ensuring the safety of the other. But together…

They were a single coin, forged by destiny to be seen by all but defeated by none.

But she would change that. She had to change that. She'd sworn to herself, to her younger self, to her very life, she'd sworn to change that. She was the master of time. She was the master of fate. And despite the forgiveness Arthur had extended after the Purge finally ended, despite the chances of cowardice that Merlin had offered her before he struck and killed her, despite the echoing, condemning voices of you were wrong that followed her like a ghost, she would do it. She would change the past. She would rend the coin that destiny forged, and she would take up the smith's hammer of fate. And this time, neither the King nor his Warlock would get in her way.

Merlin was bound by magicked chains in the cart. His unconsciousness had been a blessing for hours, a comfort to her in the knowledge that he could not conspire with his king – or prince, as it were. Arthur, the young, naive Arthur, was too concerned with walking to be of any threat. He called to Merlin, Morgana heard a few times, but in vain.

She wasn't sure how long he'd been awake when she finally heard their whispering, but furious ice rushed through her veins. No. this is where it always went wrong. This was them, together. The Coin. Her lips were drawing up in a snarl of their own accord, threatening to break and become a scream. She refrained, but whipped her reins harshly against the horses' backs. She would not let them take this from her.

Merlin didn't know what to say, where to start. The conversation was made slightly more uncomfortable because neither of them could see the other clearly and they had to keep their voices down so their captor would not hear them. Merlin sighed. It was a long moment before he spoke again, when he could sense that Arthur was listening.

"The magic," He said, "it's not just this once, Arthur. It never was. It can never be."

He could feel the indignation and hurt building, but before Arthur could say anything, the cart lurched forward to a new speed, and the prince was forced to start jogging, farther back from the cart. Merlin pulled himself up to sit more steadily, and although through the black he could only hear Arthur's breathing and pounding feet, he could almost feel the prince's eyes searching for him in the dark.

"Where is he?" Uther cried, "Where is my son?"

The courtyard was chaos. Knights, guards, and castle staff were frenzied under the ring of the warning bells. The Prince was missing, they'd learned. Gone. Taken.

"We will find him, your majesty," Leon assured, in the process of appointing ranks to his knights.

"What happened?" Uther demanded, coming up to Leon. The knight straightened.

"The… Other Arthur, milord. He came into the castle, despite my warnings, and found the Prince's chambers in disarray. He said that 'she' had taken him and the Older Merlin."

Ignoring mention of Merlin, Uther glared over at King Arthur. "Who? Who took him?"

"The sorceress. The one who brought us here."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Arthur said, as he adjusted his cloak, "but I plan to find out. Leon, fetch two horses!"

"You don't intend to leave, Arthur?" Gaius asked.

"I forbid it," Uther said.

"And I'd like to see you try and stop me," Arthur clipped back, his superior air sending even Uther into silence.

Leon hesitated in their midst, but eventually darted off to fetch back a sturdy bay and mare for Arthur.

"You cannot fight a sorceress!" Uther cried.

"Oh," Arthur said, tugging on his gloves and mounting the bay, "but how often I have. Merlin!" Arthur called. The servant looked up at him. "Mount up." Arthur tossed the reins of the mare to him, and Merlin didn't hesitate on heaving himself up. Weary still from his episode earlier, Merlin's eyes were sagging, but with Arthur near – even an older, less familiar Arthur - he felt ready to face anything.

"We will ride out with you," Leon said, as horses and knights filed into the courtyard.

"I can't say how dangerous that will be," Arthur told him.

"You don't have to, milord," Leon said, and mounted up beside him. Uther watched, perhaps unwilling or unable to intervene. Arthur looked across the handful of knights that had chosen to follow him. Arthur nodded.

"This ends tonight!" He cried, and grabbed the reins. Before he turned, his eyes caught on the figure of his father, and time slowed for a moment. It ends tonight. A deep sadness crept up Arthur's spine, freezing the image of his father, resolute, stubborn as ever, unresolved and untouched in his memory. There hadn't been enough time. There hadn't been enough interest. The memories would stay, and the forgiveness never come. But –

Before he could finish the thought, his eyes turned to Gaius, and his heart ached for a different reason. The physician was looking at him with a fatherly pride that Arthur could only treasure in silence, because he wasn't sure if Gaius knew how much it meant. Arthur nodded at Gaius, Gaius nodded back, and they both knew that this was goodbye until their future, should it come.

The present rushed back with an audible crash. "Merlin?" Arthur called.

"Right here," Merlin said from his right. The warlock's presence comforted him, made the situation feel more complete. Arthur nodded.

"Good. Don't wander. I've already lost one of you today," and although he'd meant it as a joke, it all came out sounding a bit morbid. He kneed his horse into action, and triggered a thunderous stampede of knights and horses, led by King Arthur, with the young Emrys racing close at his flank.

Too far away yet to be seen, but close enough to hear the roar of their approach, Morgana was stealing through the woods with a leather journal clutched tightly to her chest. She craned her neck as if to see the line of horses that rode against her and her Lady. She'd known all along that their efforts would not succeed unchallenged, unprosecuted. But they would succeed. Squaring her jaw, she quickened her pace and shot glances back toward the approaching party.

The board was set. The pieces were moving. Arthur may've been a king, but she was the Queen; she would have her way with the pawns he'd sacrificed to her.