A/N: And now for what you've all been waiting for... but first, on a side note, I need to address a little hiccup in last chapter, namely the scene in which Gwaine and Lancelot are escorting Merlin into Ealdor but Percival isn't with them. I had meant to mention that Percival had gone back to the camp to report to Arthur. Why I forgot to mention that, I have no idea. All I can figure is that it was one of those things that I kept thinking about changing so much that I guess I'd thought I had changed it, when in reality I hadn't (because I could have sworn I had). And that's what happened to Percival. I apologize for that trip-up.

Ch. 5

Merlin thought for sure his heart was going to pulverize itself on his ribcage. Its beats were so hard and so fast it made him think of a bird that would rather thrash itself against the bars of its prison than stay caged. His hands were shaking so hard that even clasping them together barely mollified them, and sweat was tickling down the canal of his spine.

Gwaine said, quite a number of times and as reassuringly as he could, that Merlin wasn't in trouble.

"We're the ones in the pig sty, mate, not you," he said, and chuckled nervously. "Arthur just wants to hear your side of the story, that's all.

They were escorting him out of the village and up the hill to the camps, and the closer they came, the harder Merlin's heart pounded until he thought he was going to be sick. He barely even felt the weight of Gwaine's arm settling across his shoulders, but when he did, he tensed, feeling suddenly and inexplicably trapped. Gwaine must have sensed this when he pulled his arm away.

Merlin let Gwaine's words echo in his head – he wasn't in trouble, he wasn't in trouble, he wasn't in trouble - but what his ears heard and his brain repeated the primal, instinctual part of him refused to listen to. It drowned the mantra out with only one desire screaming through his skull.

Run.

Merlin had no idea how he managed not to listen to that part of himself. Logic, perhaps, gently countering that running often only made matters worse, and that if he were in trouble then he'd be in chains. Thank goodness for that quiet, subtle logic, because without it Merlin was quite sure he would have bolted.

Their destination was not Arthur's camp but a neutral spot between Arthur's camp and Lot's. There they stood as the three soldiers who had tormented Merlin argued their case, Percival arguing back, while Lot and Arthur and another, scowling fellow listened. As Merlin and the others approached, Lot raised a hand, silencing the three.

"Is this the lad you claim they were tormenting?" Lot asked.

"It is," Lancelot said.

Merlin glanced at Arthur, but he was unreadable as he often was when dealing with official matters.

"Boy," Lot said, pulling Merlin's attention away from Arthur. "Is it true? Were these three men harassing you?"

Lesk rolled his eyes and said imploringly, "Sire, please, there's no possible way you can take his word for it. He's a wild idiot, barely civilized."

"Yeah!" Ansel piped up. "Yeah, he exchanges sexual favors so he can learn how to talk and things."

The wide-eyed looks of pure incredulity touched with just a hint of fury (more than a hint on Gwaine's part) silenced Ansel and made him shrink back. Lot, however, looked more amused than annoyed.

"So this is the feral lad I've been hearing so much about?" Lot said, grinning. Merlin's face flushed hot with embarrassment, anger shoving back some of his terror. He opened his mouth with a ready, if possibly foolish (but he didn't care), retort on the tip of his tongue.

"Actually," Arthur said before Merlin had a chance to speak, making Merlin jump. Arthur's voice was tight, controlled, but tainted with irritation. "I know this young man. He is… was…" Arthur faltered, and for a moment – no longer than it took to blink the eyes – he seemed uncertain, even nervous. Then he twitched out of his hesitation and pushed on. "My manservant. And I promise you that he's incredibly intelligent…" he added under his breath, "Much to my own surprise most of the time." Which nearly made Merlin forget his current situation and smile. It certainly surprised him.

"Circumstances…" Arthur went on, but again hesitated, no doubt trying to find the right words without giving too much away. "There were circumstances – that is, an issue, one of a personal nature that brought him back to his home in Ealdor." He glared daggers at the three soldiers. "To recuperate."

Lot looked from Merlin to the soldiers and back. "Is this true, lad?" he asked.

"Yes," Merlin said softly, and hated how timid he sounded.

"And did these men harass you?"

Merlin scowled, and said with a hard voice, "Yes."

"Do you have any proof of their misdeeds?" Lot asked.

Merlin swallowed, feeling his face grow hot again. He took the hem of his shirt and slowly lifted it, just along his side, exposing where some of the rocks and pinecones had struck him.

"They were throwing things at him," Gwaine clarified, also glaring at the men.

Lot, looking grim, nodded. "I see." Then turned to his men. "So you not only tormented a man from one of my villages but the manservant to the king of Camelot," he stated.

The men could only stare, their eyes so wide they seemed about to pop out of their heads. Ansel stuttered weakly, "We – we didn't… know." As if that could possibly make a difference.

Lot sighed and turned to Arthur. "I sincerely apologize for this and swear that these men will be dealt with. Even if the boy had been wild he is still a part of Essetir and under my protection. My men acted dishonorably. For that reason, they will be made an example of."

The three men paled, Ansel gaping with a gasp.

Lot turned to the sour-faced man. "Landes, I believe Ealdor has stocks that they use to punish thieves, yes? I want these men stripped of their armor and placed in those stocks until nightfall, then placed in the wagon cages. I want the men to know what happens when they disregard honor for sport."

"Yes, sire," Landes said, and none too happy about it.

Lot faced Arthur. "I hope you find this punishment to your satisfaction," he said.

"So long as it involves them being pelted with rotten vegetables," Arthur said with a smile.

Lot smiled back, then left, heading back to his camp with Landes and the three soldiers in tow. As they left, passing close by Merlin, Merlin heard Landes complaining, something about having shown weakness in front of Camelot, and Lot arguing to the contrary. Apparently Landes was a man who favored pride above honor.

"Well," Arthur said, yanking Merlin's attention back to him. "Now that that's settled." He looked at Merlin, and there was that discomfort, again; that uncertainty that was so alien on Arthur, hidden behind a thin, brittle mask of kingly stoicism.

"Thank you, Merlin," he said formally. His mouth opened, as if about to say more. But then he snapped it shut with a click of his teeth. He nodded once to Merlin, then walked off back to the Camelot side of the hill.

Merlin watched him go, feeling lost and uncertain himself. He had expected… he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, really. But he remembered expecting something more than what had just happened, and the lack of anything happening left him feeling dazed.

"You're free to go, Merlin," Gwaine said with some concern.

Merlin blinked out of his reverie, and with a nod, started back down the hill. Halfway down, he glanced back in the direction of Camelot's camp, where Arthur would be making battle plans and fretting silently over what the hell they were going to do if none of the challengers were able to defeat the giant. Merlin was currently alone, Gwaine, Lancelot and Percival heading back to the camp, barely visible except for their red cloaks.

Merlin looked away and cupped his hands as he would when about to scoop water. He breathed a word of magic at his palms, the magic that should have summoned the light that had been his only friend in the darkness when Clive had disappeared.

Nothing happened.

Merlin's throat tightened until he could barely breathe, and his eyes stung. He blinked rapidly until the coming tears finally receded.

Had Arthur been here, he would have called him an infant girl. And maybe, this time, he would have been right, because crying like a child wasn't going to solve anything.

Merlin dropped his hands to his sides and hurried back to his mother's hut. He would figure this out. He had always been good at figuring things out if he did say so himself, and he would figure this out.

The resolve did nothing to lessen the fear clenching his heart.

~oOo~

Arthur decided that life in general was out to punish him. Here he'd been, so firm in his promise to leave Merlin be, and doing quite nicely by it, and instead it's Merlin who comes to him and not by choice. Which was monumentally unfair almost to the point of cruel, all the more so with circumstances being uncomfortably similar to a trial, even if Merlin was only a witness.

But Merlin had been pale to the point that Arthur was amazed he hadn't passed out, and Arthur couldn't have ignored the way Merlin's hands had been shaking if he'd wanted to. It was unfair that them finally meeting face to face had to be forced, with Merlin no doubt under the misconception that he was in trouble, or going to be. And it was unfair that Arthur had wanted to say so much – I'm sorry, it will be all right, you will be all right – but he couldn't, because Arthur had wanted to end the matter before Merlin really did pass out.

Arthur sat sprawled in a chair within his tent before a rickety table groaning under the weight of maps of the area. What was done was done, he supposed. Merlin hadn't passed out, the idiot soldiers who'd tormented his manservant had been dealt with, and Arthur could only hope that Merlin processed the outcome as something positive.

That Merlin didn't have to be afraid of Arthur.

But making Merlin not afraid of him was an issue for another time. There was a giant with an army, and a village that would need defending if this monstrosity couldn't be defeated. He'd sent out men to search the area (and thus Gwaine, Lancelot and Percival coming across Merlin and his tormentors), searching for caves, ruins – hell, even a magical portal if such things existed - that would explain where the blasted giant and his immense army had vanished to. Reports had already begun coming in, but all of them stating the same lack of discovery. Arthur had already asked Gaius if it were possible to make an entire army temporarily invisible or hide them behind some type of illusion. Apparently it was possible, but not for very long. Magic did have its limits, it seemed, and both invisibility and illusions weren't something you could summon and discard on a whim. Invisibility, for example, required a very complicated potion.

It continued to unnerve Arthur how much Gaius knew about magic. Arthur knew why Gaius knew, of course – from his years of helping Merlin – but it was still an uncomfortable reminder of all that had happened behind Arthur's back, both for and against him.

Leon entered the tent, and Arthur was more than happy to be pulled from his increasingly depressing thoughts. He sat up straight, ready to receive more reports.

"Please tell me someone has found something by now?" Arthur said.

Leon's expression went immediately apologetic. "I'm afraid not, sire. Kay, Ludwick, Gyre and Hensworth have just returned. Gyre and Hensworth report being hindered by a group of hunters from the north. They… er… blocked the bridge with nettles and thorn bushes while crowing something about finding the giant first. I'm afraid some are starting to see this matter as little more than a game."

Arthur gave Leon a flat stare. "A game?"

Leon pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded.

Arthur sagged back against his chair, rubbing his forehead. "Lords, that's all we need. I wouldn't be surprised if half the challengers here came because of some rumor about getting a mountain of gold for killing the giant or some rubbish. And right now those idiots are the only thing standing between that giant and Ealdor's destruction." He sighed wearily. "But at least their idiocy buys us time, I suppose. Although time for what I have no idea."

"There's still your plan to have the giant followed," Leon said.

Arthur grimaced. "True, but I still worry about the giant taking it as an act of war. He seems the type who enjoys an excuse to wreak havoc."

"But he seems to enjoy the challenges even more," Leon said. "Any retaliation would be toward the one attempting to follow him." Leon winced. "Not that that's any better."

Arthur nodded. He then stood and leaned over his maps, studying them. "We could place spies…" He grunted. "No. Blast it, they'd have to be miles out without being seen, and we have no idea if the giant's path to where ever he's hiding goes through the woods, so hiding men in the trees would be pointless."

"I also worry about Lot's men," Leon said.

Arthur looked up in alarm. "How so?"

Which prompted Leon to shift uncomfortably. "It's nothing serious, but there are complaints of some of Lots men heckling some of our men. Mostly the usual of telling our boys to give up, they'll find the giant first, they'll only get in the way and so on. But…"

"But also viewing our situation as little more than a game," Arthur spat bitterly, whirling around to pace the short distance from the table to chair. "Except I'm guessing that with them it's less about hoping to win a mountain of gold and more about upstaging Camelot. Damn it, we need to be working together on this, not use it as a means to inflate our bloody pride," he growled.

Arthur flopped back into his chair, rubbed his knuckle against his chin as he thought, then scooted the chair closer to the table and leaned over his maps, tapping various points with his finger.

"We'll just have to follow the blighter. We'll position men here, here and here…"

~oOo~

Merlin woke with a strangled gasp, flailing a little against the dark that closed in on him like a fist. His eyes rolled wildly in their sockets until finally landing on the fading embers of the dead fire. Panic made his heart race, hands shake and body generally uncooperative as he fumbled his way across the floor toward the wood pile and the stick his mother used as a poker. His knuckles collided painfully with the pile of wood, but he ignored the throbbing pain, grabbing a handful of sticks that he tossed into the hearth. He stirred the embers until some of them caught the wood and a small blaze began to rise. Merlin then added logs, one after another until the fire crackled merrily.

But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. The darkness waited beyond the light like a solid wall, cold and hungry. Merlin's shaking hands tipped his little candle as he tried to grab it. He had to wrap both hands around it, and when he touched the wick to the flames of the fire, he nearly burned himself.

He didn't care. The wick caught a flame, adding to the light and driving the darkness back, but only a little.

It still wasn't enough. Merlin looked around frantically for another candle, but instead saw silver-white moonlight pouring through the gaps in the shutters. Merlin gripped his candle like a weapon and untangled himself from his heap of blankets on the floor. Hunith hadn't let him go back to his shack, not after what happened, but like it mattered, because he would have stumbled his way back to his mother's, anyway.

And now he was about to stumble away from it. He shuffled quickly but quietly to the door. He opened it slowly, trying not to make the hinges creak, but the very second it was wide enough he slipped out into the cool night.

Moonlight wasn't sunlight, but it was still light, bright and silver and putting details to the shapes the darkness tried to hide. Normally, on these nights where the darkness felt like it was closing in on Merlin, if the night was as clear and the moon as bright as it was now, he would go to the hill, lie on his back and stare at the open night sky flooded with stars until he either dozed or no longer felt so confined, then he would return his mother's house or his shack and get what sleep he could.

But the hill was occupied, and to get to other hills would mean having to go past wary guards and men itching for a row. So Merlin walked, letting his feet take him where they would. They brought him to the base of the hill well away from the camps. It wasn't the same as the hilltops, but it was still open and the sky was still wide and endless above him.

Merlin's feet seemed to have a mind of their own, taking him past the Camelot side of the hill. He saw the light of cooking fires and the softer lights of candles glowing within the thin walls of the tents. The light flashed off the armor of those men posted on guard, and Merlin could almost make out the lumps of men wrapped in their bedrolls.

"Merlin?"

The sound of his name being said by a painfully familiar voice made Merlin startle so bad he dropped his candle while spinning around. He stumbled back, nearly falling, and wondering if he was dreaming, hallucinating, something, because there was Arthur in only his red shirt and breeches – no armor or cloak – with a small lantern in one hand like those spirits said to guide the dead through the dark into the afterlife. Arthur held out the other hand, but made no move to approach Merlin.

"Merlin, calm down, it's all right." He added under his breath, "Gods, you're skittish." Then said loudly, "What the hell are you doing out here? Do you know how dangerous it is? We've got so many bloody nervous guards they keep firing their crossbow if so much as an owl swoops by. What do you think they'd do if they spotted you wandering along, hm?"

Merlin couldn't speak, or even think to speak. Arthur's sudden appearance and the near-normalcy of the situation, of Arthur's reprimand, addled Merlin's brain to the point where he was now dead certain it had to be a dream. Nothing had come even close to normal since the day Arthur had discovered Merlin's magic. Merlin was surprised he even remembered what normal was.

Arthur's face slowly morphed from annoyed to concern as Merlin's silence stretched on for almost a minute.

"Merlin?" Arthur said with so much worry that it threw Merlin for even more of a loop. "Merlin, are you all right?"

Merlin twitched, blinked and nodded. "Um… I was just taking a walk," he said weakly.

"Ah," Arthur said, still troubled. "I suppose I can't fault you for that, seeing as I'm out here myself for the same reason."

"Bad dreams?" Merlin blurted without thinking.

"No. More… troubled thoughts actually," Arthur said, and there was that concern again. "Then I saw the light from your candle and…"

"Went to make sure it wasn't some vile beast come to wreak havoc on your men," Merlin blurted again. "Giving no thought to your own well-being what so ever." It wasn't a reprimand, nor could it even be called banter. It was stating a fact, because that's who Arthur was. Ride into danger first, consider own well-being only after everyone else was safe.

Except when they have magic, said Merlin's treacherous mind. Then they don't matter. Then they're forgotten.

Merlin twitched his head, flinging those thoughts back to the shadowy corners of his brain where they normally liked to skulk.

Arthur chuffed and tried to scowl, although it was rather marred by his amusement. "I take my well-being into consideration just fine, thank you very much."

"No," Merlin stated again, sadly, "You don't. Because at some point in time –after everyone else has failed – you're going to challenge the giant… and fail."

Arthur's small smile faded. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I see… I see I damaged your faith in me as well as your trust."

Merlin, however, immediately shook his head. "It has nothing to do with what you're capable of, Arthur, because you're capable of quite a lot, actually. It's just… it is what it is. The giant has magic, powerful magic. I mean, he's doing all this for the bloody fun of it, Arthur. You could see it on his face the first day of the challenge. He knows he's going to win because he has yet to lose. So it doesn't matter how capable you are, he will defeat you, and I won't be able to stop him because my bloody magic…"

Merlin snapped his jaw shut, realizing his mouth had run away with the words he hadn't thought himself ready to say in front of Arthur. Except that Arthur needed to know. He needed to understand that swords and valor would not be enough. He needed to consider his own bloody well-being.

Arthur stared at Merlin, pale and shocked. Then slowly, like warm candle wax, his features softened though the amazement remained.

"I thought you wouldn't care," Arthur said, his voice hushed.

Merlin's eyes darted left and right as growing agitation and a need to leave made him shift like an impatient horse. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to talk about this.

"Why wouldn't I care?" he said.

"Well, just, after everything and…" Arthur said. "I was under the impression you might have hated me."

Merlin shrugged, still looking away. "Doesn't mean I want you trotting off and getting yourself killed."

"So you do hate me," Arthur said, his tone neutral.

Merlin growled, running both his hands through his hair and wishing he had something to kick at. He didn't want to be here, having this conversation. And yet here he was, because apparently mortals really were the playthings of gods.

"I don't know!" Merlin snapped, dropping his hands to his sides. "And what does it matter? None of it matters because you're going to die because you're going to stupidly march out there at some point in time during this mess and face that giant and I'm going to die with you because for some bloody reason I can't possibly begin to fathom I refuse to let you do that despite the fact that there's not a bloody thing I can do about it!"

Arthur stared at him, bewildered and unnerved. "What do you mean there's nothing you can do about it?"

Merlin shook his head. "Arthur, please, if you know what's good for you, don't face this giant." With that, and before Merlin could say anything else, he turned and walked quickly away.

"Merlin!" Arthur called. "Merlin, what do you mean there's nothing you can do? Merlin!"

Merlin stopped. He glanced over his shoulder to see Arthur hovering in the dark.

"I can't use my magic," Merlin said, because Arthur needed to know.

Merlin continued on. Arthur didn't stop him.

TBC...

A/N: Don't worry. Even more Merlin and Arthur interactions to come :D