A/N: Here's a long chapter for you guys Happy early thanksgiving! And please review, I love when you guys review

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin and I hate it.

Day 5

Arthur had been at breakfast, patiently waiting for Merlin to pop in and tell him they were going on some ridiculous walk, when Lancelot had walked in and sat down at the table with the rest of them.

"Hey," he said nonchalantly as ever.

Arthur waited all of five minutes for some kind of explanation before he got fed up and asked probably more enthusiastically than normal, "Where's Merlin?" At Lancelot's questioning eyebrow, "I mean, I've just been able to sleep in and eat a full meal without being interrupted so I'm a little worried."

"He's meditating," Lance said like it was a normal thing to do, when Arthur was pretty sure only the monks did that, "He'll be back tonight."

Arthur nodded and dropped his head back down to stare at his plate.

"Will and I were actually gonna ask if you wanted to come to the village with us to get supplies, then we can go to the Druid camp.

Arthur figured he might as well, he had nothing else to do, so he nodded.

Two hours later, Arthur found himself standing in the middle of the village, surrounded by bustling citizens, all crowded into a too-small area. A child bumped into Arthur's leg, not paying attention to where he was going while playing tag and with a hurried, "Sorry, sir!" took off running again. A chicken clucked near his boot.

Arthur never thought he'd miss Merlin's ridiculous walks or fiestas or whatever it was they had been doing all week, but he had just been proved wrong.

"Are you gonna stand there looking sour all day? You're scaring away the children."

Arthur turned towards the voice, greeted by the sight of Will, two large bags swung over his shoulders. Lancelot was still talking to a middle-aged man about bread, but the gold on the table said that he was buying enough bread for a small army. My god.

"How are you not fat?' He said as a way of conversation.

Will arched an eyebrow, "What? Are you making fun of me? Cause I swe-"

"One, don't threaten me, that's treason. Two, why are you guys getting so much food? Can't Merlin just magic it all up anyway?"

Will rolled his eyes, setting the bags down and leaning against the side of the building that Arthur had just now noticed they were standing next to, "Yes, he can. But even with all of his magic, the food he," he snapped his fingers in place of the words, "up is not all that good."

"Okay, still doesn't answer why you bought so much. Do you only come to the market like once every blood moon? That's enough to last you for months."

"Well, we stock up for Merlin too. He can't really come himself."

Arthur raised his eyebrow in confusion. Will took one look at him and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Your father may rule only Camelot, but he's poisoned all of Albion. Merlin can't come to the village or really anywhere but that house and the camp."

"Why…" He was going to ignore the horrible comment about his father.

"The eyes. They take one look at him and either run in fear or make an attempt on his life."

Arthur frowned.

"Why do you think you're here? Someone saw him in town and ran straight to Camelot to turn him in."

"The druids come here all the time though."

"People don't mind the druids, they're a peaceful people. Merlin on the other hand…he's Emrys, King of the Sorcerers, Immortal. People fear him."

"Wait," he couldn't have heard that correctly. There's no way he could have, "Immortal?"

"You really don't know anything, do you? Yes, he's immortal. If you would take the time to pick up a book, you would know that Emrys literally means immortal. Which is why I'm very confused as to why he's playing this charade."

He felt like he should be angry. Merlin couldn't even die, yet here he was making Arthur look like a fool and making him believe he could kill him if he wished. Merlin had lied to him, but all Arthur could feel was relief. Merlin would survive.

Immediately he felt sick. Because why, why on earth would that thought be reassuring? It shouldn't be. He should be sickened, angered, determined to find a way to kill him.

Will scrunched his forehead, tilting his head, "No. No way. Why do you like happy?"

"Where does Merlin meditate?" He rushed out.

Lancelot dropped his own sack next to them, smiling at them in that ruggedly handsome way, "The Crystal Cave. It's in the Druid camp. We're heading there now."

Arthur nodded, grabbed one of Will's bags because despite what Will thinks he's not an asshole. The three of them drop the bags off at Merlin's house and take three horses out towards the Druid camp.

Will and Lancelot are talking about something relatively important as they trot in front of him, but Arthur isn't listening. He's too busy trying to sort his feelings into little boxes of 'Don't Feel' and 'Maybe okay, but probably not'.

A druid child runs out and grabs Arthur's reins. Arthur nods at him and then heads straight towards the cave without even looking back at Lance and Will.

He's crossed over the threshold, heading down the incline of the cave when he notices the walls are blue. He stops, turns back around to look at the mouth of the cave, where the line is drawn. Will and Lance are both standing at the mouth, stopped, shocked.

Arthur knows what it means, he remembers what Mordred had told him, and that's why he needs to talk to Merlin like now. He heads down, stops the first druid he sees and asks, "Where's the Crystal thing?"

She raises an eyebrow, "Crystal thing?"

"Yes, Merlin mediates in there. Where is it?"

"Mer-Emrys. Emrys meditates in there."

"Oh," she pointed to the left, where a tunnel led into a seemingly dark nothing.

But he nods, thanks her and takes off down the tunnel. He presses his hand against the wall, using it guide him. He still can't see anything and he wonders if Lancelot and Will are following them, but hopes they aren't. He's about five minutes in when he notices a blue light at the end. He picks up his pace until he basically stumbles into the room.

A druid or magical person would describe it has something of pure magic, something of fairy tails, of bright white-blue lights and high ceilings and whispering promises. But Arthur isn't any of those things, so to him it's just a cave with a bunch of blue rocks in it and Merlin looks kinda ridiculous sitting in the middle of it.

He doesn't know the rules of meditation, but he figures if they were important, someone would have told him so he just yells out, "Merlin!"

Immediately all the crystals in the room, which if Arthur had taken the time to look closer would have seen were fogged over, suddenly showed an image of Merlin's gold eyes flashing open. And honestly, it was overwhelming, having a hundred thousand pairs of the same eyes staring at you, and a bit creepy.

But then the crystals were fogged over again and one-set of very-pissed off eyes was glaring at him.

"Hey. I need to talk to you," He said as he picked his way down the rocky slope.

Merlin had the decency to look annoyed.

He finally got to the bottom, where it evened out and then proceeded to weave his way around the blue rocks. Merlin glared up at him. Arthur curled his lip, "Don't look annoyed with me. I should be annoyed with you."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your alone time." Merlin sneered out.

"Shut up. You've been interrupting it all week. Can I sit?" he pointed to the spot in front of Merlin, but Merlin just glared, "I'll take your silence as a yes."

"Why are you here? How did you even get in here? Is my spell not working?"

"That's another problem I'd like to address and we can get to that, but first, when were you going to tell me you were immortal?" He says because all of his life problems had really started with that revelation.

"It's not important."

"It kind of is to someone that's only assignment is to kill you."

Merlin rolled his eyes, looking even more annoyed than he had a right to be, "I can still die."

"Immortal means live forever, Merlin. I'm not stupid."

"I could argue with that," Arthur opens his mouth to retort, but Merlin shakes his head, "I can still die, I think. I just won't age. I mean that's just my theory. I've never exactly tried to off myself so I can't be sure."

"A theory," he repeated, "What am I supposed to do with a theory? And so you seriously won't grow old? Like ever?"

"How did you get down here?" Merlin finally asked, his voice short, angered.

"What's wrong with you?" Arthur suddenly whispered because he was almost 99.9% sure that this was his fault and he felt horrible for it, "Are you really that mad that I'm down here?"

He tried not to sound hurt, but Merlin just squinted his eyes, "No, I'm just concerned my shields aren't working."

Arthur stared at him for a moment longer, before he looked around the room, at the crystals, and motions at them, "What is this place?"

Merlin followed his hands and looked up at the ceiling, "It's the birthplace of magic."

Arthur looked around, Ew. Merlin was born here. And oh St. Peter, I'm freaking sitting in it.

Merlin rolled his eyes, a small smile pulling at his lips, "Yes, Arthur, all sorcerers are birthed here. All the pregnant woman travel all this way to give birth on the very ground you're sitting on. Because we're sorcerers and that's our idea of normal."

Arthur glared at him, the sarcasm was practically dripping from Merlin's lips, "Are you reading my mind? You're like a dog with a bone. I never said you could do it."

He laughed, throwing his head back and he still sounded like a braying donkey, but it was less obnoxious now. Arthur smiled, feeling a warm flush spread through his chest.

"So you come here to meditate?"

"More or less. The crystals serve a purpose."

"Other than being colorful rocks?"

"I can see the future in them."

He said it so nonchalantly, as if seeing the future was a normal and practical thing to do. Arthur's head whipped around, his eyebrows shooting into his forehead, "What?"

Merlin's forehead scrunched forward and he nodded, "That's why I was here. After our…last night," he shrugged, "I needed to see if things had changed."

Arthur swallowed, his palms sweaty, he knew what that meant. If Merlin had seen the future change, he saw Arthur letting Merlin go. As much relief as that brought him, he was also fucking terrified. He would have to answer to his father, to all of Camelot, why he had let Emrys slip through his fingers, "Did it?"

"Not for the better," Merlin whispered, but he was still being short, still upset.

Arthur stared at him for a second, watched the way his eyes shifted to the left, back to Arthur's lips and then away again. So he had been right about it being his fault, "So this is this about last night?"

His voice came out a whisper and Merlin didn't even turn to look at him, "You shouldn't have done that."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"Then why did you do it?"

Arthur was silent, pulling his knees up and resting an elbow on one knee, his head in his hand, "Do you really wanna know?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

"I don't know why I did it. That's the honest truth. I don't even know why I'm here or what the hell I'm going to do when I get back to Camelot. Nothing, absolutely nothing, has made sense since I came here and it's your fault."

Merlin looked back at him, silent.

"I kissed Gwen too. She's a servant back in Camelot. And I knew it was wrong, that I shouldn't, but I still did it."

"I don't know what that has to do with me."

"It doesn't," Arthur whispered, "I'm just thinking out loud. Bear with me."

Merlin nodded and snapped his mouth shut.

There was a moment of silence where Arthur knew what he wanted to say, but couldn't. Couldn't work it past his throat, couldn't fit his tongue around the syllables. He groaned, frustrated, "Fuck. Can't you read my mind?"

"I won't, unless you want me to."

"I want you to," Because that was much simpler to say than what he meant.

Merlin cocked his head, his gold eyes set on Arthur's blue, boring through his skull straight to the heart of him. His eyes were flickering back and forth quickly as if he was literally reading text, maybe he was, and then he blinked, pulled back. He stared at Arthur, a hint of a smile on his lips, "You don't want to see me dead."

Arthur shook his head, because he still couldn't say it. He was the Prince of Camelot and there were some things he wasn't allowed to feel. But as long as it was there, locked away in his head, never voiced, only visible to Merlin, then it was safe.

"No."

He thought he had been the one who had spoken, but it was Merlin. Merlin, who was apparently still reading his thoughts and had answered the question Arthur had let cross his mind, Do you regret kissing me.

Merlin again repeated, "No," but this time he added, "I dread the consequences."

"It won't happen again," Arthur says, because that's acceptable for him to say. It's the right thing to say, but he doesn't want to mean it. He wants to want to but he can't.

"I think that's for the best," Merlin whispered, but there's something else in his eyes, something he can't say. So the feeling is mutual then.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry I don't mean it because he couldn't say it.

Merlin was silent and then he sighed, pulling his legs up in a similar position as Arthur, "Have you ever done that with any other g-"

"No," because heaven forbid Merlin finish that damn question, "I'm the Prince of Camelot, Merlin, that's a dumb question."

"We're a mess," Merlin says quietly, bowing his head, "We're a fucking mess."

"Yeah, I would say we are," and he feels so fucking suffocated by everything, by the weight of his father's expectations, by the power in Merlin's eyes, by the heat in his stomach when Merlin smiles.

Merlin watches him and Arthur knows he's reading his mind, but he doesn't care enough to make him stop. And then despite everything just said, Merlin leans forward, his hand curving around Arthur's and he's smiling that fucking brilliant smile, the one that takes Arthur's breath away. Arthur squeezes his hand. He wants to believe that he could stay here forever, with magic swirling around him, making him feel more alive than he ever thought possible, with Merlin's eyes and smile light, unworried, like he had been on the beach.

"Hey," and he brushes his thumb over the back of Arthur's hand, running it over a scar where a bandit's knife had sliced through it when he was fifteen, "breathe. In a week, everything will be back to normal."

Arthur's eyes snapped up from where had been watching Merlin's thumb. He wrenched his hand away, "Are you serious?!"

"Arthur, I'm trying to reassure you."

"With your death!? Isn't that what started this whole conversation?" I thought you knew I didn't want to see you dead.

He makes up his mind then because Merlin is looking at him in the way Gwen never did, in the way no one ever did.

But then the crystals are swirling red and angry and people are screaming outside the entrance. Merlin is on his feet, panic in his eyes, "No. No!"

Arthur is already standing too, the knight in him on full alert, "What is it?"

"We're under attack!"

"What!?"

"Come with me," he grabs Arthur's hand, interlocks their fingers and yanks them towards the opening of the tunnel. He's sprinting basically, Arthur in tow, pushing past the panicking druids, who are all rushing down the black tunnel.

He's reached the main section of the underground cave and grabs a woman's arm, pulling her against him. She places a hand on his chest and he lets go of Arthur's hand to grab both of her upper arms. Arthur stands behind his shoulder, to the woman's side, concerned.

She's crying and looks up at him frantically.

"What's going on!?" He pulls her out of the way as another druid runs past them.

She shakes her head, tears threatening to spill over, "They're here."

"Who's here?"

She points shakily to Arthur, Merlin's head twisting around to look at him. Arthur stands there, shocked, not really having an answer.

"His men. The knights. They're slaughtering all of us. Then they tried to enter the cave and –"

Arthur can't breathe. He can't look away from the bitter anger, the hatred, in the druid's eyes. He's drowning in it. Arthur looks up to Merlin's eyes, see the way they narrow, he's searching. Searching to see if Arthur had betrayed him, had alluded him in some way. He makes sure his thoughts are clear enough, that he had never and would never do that. Merlin looks away, back at the girl, and Arthur tries to ignore the biting guilt, pushing it down and stepping into a position he's comfortable with, as a knight, as a commander, "Get everyone into the back of the cave, put all the torches out, put the women and children in the back. Merlin, I need a sword."

"Arthur, they're from Camelot," Merlin says as the girl hurries off to do what Arthur asked, "They're your people."

"And they're killing yours," Arthur says before pushing in front of Merlin. He's ready to fight them. He doesn't care if they are of a kind. Murder is murder. If his mind hadn't been made up before, it's made up now. They were brutal, ruthless killers, and the druid people didn't deserve this.

He needs a sword but he knows he won't find one among the druids, so his next option is to try and reason with them. If they won't do that then at least he has the world's legendary sorcerer on his side.

"Arthur, stop!"

Arthur had just reached the mouth of the cave, the soldiers already turning to look at them, swords braced until they realize whom they're facing. Their faces are shocked, as if they had believed him to be dead.

"Stop," he says over his shoulder, "Stay in the cave."

He's turned back to the knights. They're dressed in the usual red and chainmail, but the red is starting to look more like blood. A druid man is lying on the ground behind one of the knights, a bloody hand reaching towards Arthur, or maybe Merlin.

Merlin rushes past Arthur, ignoring his orders and drops to the side of the man. He takes the man's hand in his, his other hand on the man's chest and begins to chant. One of the knights hears it and turns rapidly, driving his sword down towards Merlin' back.

Arthur's heart stops, dies in his chest. He's running before he can even process what's happening, he can feel a scream tear from his throat and he's only a few feet away but he knows he won't be quick enough.

The sword freezes an inch from Merlin's back. The soldier looks confused, frustrated, at why his sword won't drive forward.

Arthur shoves the knight away from the man and Merlin, coming to stand between the two sides. He holds up one hand, eyes thunderous, and points to the knights, "What the hell are you doing here?!"

One of the braver knights steps forward, "The king thinks you and your knights are dead, sire. He believes Emrys to have killed you. We were sent to raid this camp and rid this land of these barbarians."

"You have killed innocent men," his voice is dripping with venom.

"We're sorry, sire. But you've been gone a week. We are glad, thrilled even, to see you alive. The whole of Camelot will be relieved."

Another knight, one of the younger ones, steps forward, his eyes far too alight for someone that has just committed murder against women and children, "Is Emrys dead, sire? Have you defeated him?"

Merlin, because he's a strange man and doesn't under how to negotiate, takes that as his cue to stand up and face the knights. Arthur can hear him behind him, can see the knights take a step back, swords raised and eyes fearful.

He scowls. Stupid Merlin.

He hears one knight whisper to the other, "It's the golden eyed man! It's Emrys."

"I have made plans with your prince to return to Camelot tonight. He was kept here this week under my command. I am just a man and wanted a chance to spend a final week with the people I love."

"You are an animal!" One of the knights screams.

Arthur feels something hot and angry rush down his arm, but he feels Merlin's hand on his arm and he can breathe again.

The knights see the touch, however, and one instantly rushes forward, another yelling, "How dare you touch our prince! Arrest him!"

Arthur moves to step in front of them, to defend Merlin, but he finds himself frozen in his spot, feet literally rooted to the ground. He turns over his shoulder to see Merlin staring at him, silently, shaking his head.

Then there are two knights pushing Merlin's shoulders down and Merlin sinks to his knees. One of the knights presses Merlin's face into the dirt, the sole of his boot pressed to the back of his head, while the other knight binds his hands behind his back.

They lift him up, by the hair and he can hear Merlin hiss in pain, but he still does not fight and Arthur is still powerless to fight for him.

Their eyes connect and Merlin again shakes his head. The knight tears off a section of his cape and blindfolds him.

Then, out of nowhere, Arthur can feel a nagging presence in the back of his head. It feels like a whisper and Arthur strains to hear it.

Don't fight with them, Arthur. It's better this way. It's meant to happen this way. They won't stop until they have me in their dungeons and you back on Camelot's throne. This is the only way, I won't have more blood shed on my account. I need to keep my people safe. Please, please don't fight them. Please trust me.

And then the voice is gone, leaving Arthur empty and hollow, but he can move again. But even then, he doesn't, not until they are hauling Merlin towards the meadow, where he can see their horses and a few other knights and hunting dogs are waiting.

He looks back towards the cave, to see a few druids huddled in the mouth of it, watching him. Most of them are crying, some of them embracing each other as they watch their leader dragged away. A few of them look murderous, but none of them are charging forward, and then Arthur sees it.

There's a slight shimmering surrounding the cave. It almost looks like an invisible shield, but Arthur realizes what it is. It's keeping them from leaving the cave, from stopping the soldiers. Merlin is holding everyone back that would possibly try and save him.

He has no idea why unless Merlin is really stupid enough to try and be the hero.

One of the men is cradling a woman against his chest, angry tears running down his face. He raises his eyes to meet Arthur's and Arthur freezes. It's Mordred and he's holding the too pale, too still body of Kara, and his eyes are murderous.

Arthur can feel that nagging sensation in that back of his mind again, but this time the whispers are cold, stone, venomous.

I shall never forgive this. And I will never forget.

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