A/N: So I started this one more than a year ago, then got stuck and left it to rot for all this time. Tonight I got stuck writing on Illusion of Merlins (my current multi-chapter which you should totally check out ^_~) so I went back to this and finished it up. Unfortunately I couldn't quite remember what I was going to do with the ending - though I know it wasn't this. Anyway, it's a bit rushed at the end but I hope you enjoy it :)

"Guess I was wrong." Arthur choked on the words ever-so-slightly, acknowledging they weren't true even as he said them, and turned away to avoid Merlin's heartbroken gaze. That was wrong, he should look - after all, he had said it to hurt him. But no, Arthur didn't want his last words to his best friend to be such a painful lie, and this very well may be the last time they saw each other. He took a moment to compose himself and spun around, apology ready to spring from his lips until the distinct lack of Merlin hit him like a gust of cold air.

The feeling that something was not right took hold of his heart. Truthfully, he'd felt this way for some time, even trying to get his servant to talk about what was causing such unusual melancholy in him. Now it intensified to the point of nearly being a physical pain. Something is wrong with Merlin.

The overwhelming urge to do something about it warred with his duty. He had to leave now, had to travel with his men to Camlann. Staring out the window as he brooded, Arthur caught sight of Merlin and Gwaine riding out. That tears it. If Gwaine had time for a side-trip then so did Arthur.

The king had just dismounted to tie his horse next to Gwaine and Merlin's when he heard a scuffle up ahead. He drew his sword and rushed forward. Nothing good happens in the valley of the Fallen Kings; why would they come here? He came within sight of them just as Merlin fell to the ground, shouting for help as a bandit prepared to cleave him in two. Arthur's heart jolted as he realized he wouldn't make it in time, but settled when Gwaine ran the fiend through. He had never heard Merlin sound so genuinely afraid before. Honestly, it shook him. What is it, Merlin? And why could you go to Gwaine for help and not I?

Realizing he hadn't been seen, Arthur snuck along behind the pair as they approached a dark cave opening. There was a sort of aura about the place; he couldn't quite place it... but they were speaking now and he drew his attention back, ducking behind a tree.

"You needn't come any further," Merlin was saying, "I'll be fine."

What?

"How will you get back to Camelot? There are bandits everywhere."

Exactly. Don't be an idiot, Merlin.

"Soon as I have what I'm looking for I'll be perfectly safe, I promise you."

His tone was odd; sentimental, hopeful, strained. You can never just make sense, can you Merlin?

Gwaine stepped forward a bit. "What are you looking for?"

Arthur couldn't see his face, but the servant's shoulders heaved as if he were breathing hard. "I can't tell you that, Gwaine. You just have to trust me." He shifted and Arthur's worry grew exponentially at the intensity in those eyes. "You should get going; Arthur will need you by his side."

Not as much as I need you.

"Look after yourself, Merlin." And since when had Arthur become sensitive enough to recognize the distress in both men's body language?

They exchanged goodbyes, Gwaine handing Merlin his sword before reluctantly watching the younger man enter the cave alone, torch held aloft. After a moment's deliberation Arthur remained hidden as Gwaine started heading for his horse, not sparing a thought for what would happen when the man found three where there should only be two.

The king stared at the cave entrance, internal war raging. Should he follow? Wait here? The tiniest of voices suggested returning to Camelot. Then a great rumbling resounded and a cloud of debris erupted from the cave. "Merlin..." he stumbled forward, choking slightly on the dust in his haste to approach. He heard hooves tearing through the leaves nearby and looked up to see Morgana riding away. Arthur's chest turned to ice. What was she doing here? Attacking Merlin, apparently. It couldn't have been a coincidence, but why-? No time for that now. The king shook his head to rid himself of distracting thoughts, rushing into the cave and feeling his way down a tunnel before meeting with a solid wall of fallen rock.

"Merlin!" No answer. Cursing between coughs, he tested the rocks, slowly climbing to the top and starting to dig his way through.

Merlin woke to hazy, dark surroundings, brain taking a moment to remember where he was and why. Morgana... Arthur! The servant tried to rise but found himself pinned under a large pile of rubble, various injuries making themselves known in the wetness of blood and the pain of consciousness. He scrabbled desperately at the stones, pushing and pulling to no avail. Hands torn and bleeding, he cried out in frustration, sobbing himself into exhausted slumber.

A gut-wrenching cry echoed through the cavern, bouncing through the tunnels and out the small hole Arthur had managed to make in the rock wall. Fear froze him in place for a moment before he relaxed slightly in relief - Merlin is alive; I can still save him. "I'm coming, Merlin!" He tore through the obstruction with renewed vigor, soon making a gap large enough to crawl through. He poked his head into the space beyond and scanned it for any sign of his friend but wasn't able to see well enough in the gloom. Jaw clenched, he went through feet-first and dropped to the ground carefully.

"Merlin? Can you hear me?" Arthur took a hesitant step forward and nearly fell when he trod on the torch. Fumbling with the fire-starter from his belt pouch he managed to light the proper end, eyes immediately falling on a figure slumped against the rocks.

Merlin was still, forehead resting on the debris currently crushing his legs.

"Merlin?" He reached out and grasped his friend's face to tilt it toward the light. Blood flowed from gashes on his cheek and forehead; a veritable river had gushed from his nostrils and the cut on his broken nose. "Merlin, answer me." He patted the uninjured cheek, then progressed to shaking his shoulder. Frowning and clamping down on rising panic, Arthur pressed his fingers against the servant's neck. It took a moment and some readjustment, but he found the pulse and sighed in relief. It seemed normal to him, maybe a bit slow, but he was hardly a physician.

Leaning the injured man's back against the wall, Arthur began the arduous task of removing the rocks covering Merlin. The king's endurance had already been strained by digging his way into the cave, but he pushed further, surpassing his limits through pure force of will. After the last and largest stone was carefully rolled off Merlin groaned and shifted weakly, feeling returning to his battered limbs. Muscles quivering, the king sank to the ground and panted for a few moments, completely incapable of movement - though his eyes remained fastened to his companion's shuddering frame. He had just regained enough breath to call out when Merlin's eyes opened, though it was clear he wasn't quite present yet. "Merlin?"

The servant paid him no heed, shakily rising to his feet and stumbling further into the tunnels. Arthur cursed and also struggled into an upright position, eventually managing to follow. He caught up just in time to grab the other man as he dropped to the ground, unconscious once more. Unfortunately, the warrior was unable to support the additional weight and they both took a tumble.

Arthur could feel himself fading, the fatigue overwhelming. Get up! Merlin needs you; your people need you!

He was still mumbling to himself when sleep came.

"You are magic itself; you cannot lose what you are."

Words danced at the edge of his comprehension as he battled for wakefulness.

"Believe what your heart knows to be true."

Merlin was speaking, but he couldn't make out what was being said. It was as if someone were holding their hands over his ears.

"Rest now. Rest..."

He fought the voice's instruction, opening his eyes to the luminous blue of the cave's crystals and the ghostly presence of... Balinor? He frowned at the dragonlord, sitting up and reaching for his sword as he threw off the last vestiges of sleep.

"My apologies, but I wanted to have a moment alone with my son."

Arthur frowned in confusion, not wanting to comprehend the look the apparition gave Merlin, who was still lying on the cave floor just an arm's reach away.

"Merlin?"

"He won't wake for a bit; it's our time to talk." Balinor knelt beside the king. "You may have heard some of our conversation and I want to make sure you're not misunderstanding anything."

Arthur was silent, grasping his sword but not raising it.

"Merlin is my son, but that is not all that he is. Merlin is the greatest sorcerer to have ever lived, prophesied to bring about a golden age of peace and prosperity at your side. He is magic, and he is your biggest champion. Do not cast aside all that you know of him simply because you have learned something new." Balinor gazed at his slumbering child and Arthur absently wondered if the dead were capable of tears. "I envy your relationship. You already know him far more than I ever will."

The royal was frozen in place, completely unable to think. He couldn't look away from his friend's body, even when Balinor broke the silence.

"You have a choice to make, young king. Merlin has lost the ability to use his magic due to Morgana's treachery. You can take him as he is and pretend none of this ever happened, watching as he suffers through life with half of himself missing – or you can take him into the heart of the cave where he will be healed, his true power unlocked. It is your choice, for he cannot walk out on his own as he is. I can keep him asleep while you think – or I can wake him if you wish to have words."

Arthur swallowed, the weight of this decision heavy in his chest, and knelt to gather Merlin into his arms.

"No need."

The king rose and carried his servant into the light.