This doesn't take place in a particular time. Uther is still alive, that much I know. If I write more to this, I'll figure out the timeline.

Thanks for reading!

Words: 2,787

Settling his cloak over his head, the small figure of a young man slides gracefully through the trees. He's nothing but a shadow, unseen by all but the creatures of the forest.

Coming to a stop, Merlin peeks around the large trunk of a tree, waiting until Cenred's men pass by on the trail not twenty feet away from him. Sighing once he's in the clear, the boy runs a hand over his hair, pushing his hood off his head. Moving to collect some wood for a fire, the young warlock sets up camp for the night. With a few mumbled words, his eyes glow like gold and the flames rise through the wood.

After eating a far from filling dinner, Merlin sits with his back against a tree. His knees are bent, his elbows resting on them and he twists a small vine between his fingers. He looks up from his fidgeting and lets his gaze stare into the small fire eating away at the wood in front of him.

Merlin looks down when the small fire starts to warp in his vision. When it brings forth memories of much bigger flames. Houses, homes, on fire. Crops, lands, families. He can still hear their screams, their pleading. He can still feel the helplessness he felt. The guilt over not stopping it.

Shaking his head, Merlin closes his eyes and runs his hands over his face. He kicks his feet out, snuffing out the small flame with dirt from the forest floor. No need to think about things long past. It'll do him no good.

Shifting until he's lying on his back, Merlin stares up at the treetops and the few stars shining through the leaves. He lifts a hand as if reaching for them. Oh, what it would be like, to live amongst the stars and their beauty. It sounds peaceful. With these fleeting thoughts in mind, Merlin lets himself drift into sleep.

Same as the day before, Merlin treks through the forest. There's no real destination in mind, just to get away from where he'd been. It's risky, staying in one place for too long and doing what he does. Word of a mystical healer, fixing wounds and curing illnesses, travels fast. It wouldn't be wise to stick around for long.

The sound of sword hitting sword has Merlin crouching behind a tree. He listens carefully to the sound of fighting and slowly creeps forward until he's resting atop a hill. Below him, what looks like bandits gang up against a single man in silver armor.

Merlin doesn't have to watch long before the man goes down. He's clearly been injured, whether in this fight or by something else, Merlin is unsure. It's beyond an unfair fight and being already injured, the man goes down, unconcious. Merlin stands quickly as the bandits approach, ready to end the man's life. But with a single flick of his hand, the men go flying back.

Sliding down the heel with ease, Merlin move to the man once his feet are firmly back under him. He walks to the man with silent steps and crouches by his side. Hands braced against his shoulder and arm, he gently turns him onto his back. It's not hard to put it together. His features, the seal on the hilt of his sword. Merlin's never actually seen him before but it's not hard to determine that the man lying before him is Arthur Pendragon, the Prince of Camelot.

"Great," Sighing loudly, Merlin looks around. All the bandits are down, no longer a threat. But it's still not good to stay here.

It's a little more difficult than he'd like to admit, moving the prince to a safer part of the forest. Must be all those feasts and banquets that come with the job. Merlin shakes his head at his own thoughts and quickly sets up a small fire before tending to the prince. Left unattended, his wounds would surely lead to death. But with Merlin's magic, Arthur is soon on the mend.

It's merely an hour before there's any movement from the prince. Merlin looks at him but doesn't move from his place on the other side of the fire. He sits, his arms prompt onto his knees and Arthur slowly comes to. He watches the blond lift a hand to his head, groggy at first but jolting to awareness in the next second.

Arthur quickly observes his surroundings. His eyes dart all around him before finally stopping on the man sitting across from him. Quickly, Arthur pulls himself into a sitting position but falters when his vision blurs.

"Careful," Merlin warns the young man and moves towards him with his waterskin. Though he healed his wounds, Merlin can't replenish the blood he lost. "Here, drink, slowly."

"Who are you?" Arthur asks instead of doing what he was told. Merlin huffs and sits back on his heels.

"A weary traveler who came across someone needing help," Merlin says in a monotone voice. He's not invested in hiding who he is from the prince. Maybe he should be considering who Arthur is. Considering who he is. But he's not. "Drink." But Arthur only continues to eye him warily. Merlin rolls his eyes. "Why would I help you only to poison you?" Finally, Arthur takes the offered water and takes a small sip. After the first drop of liquid hits his tongue, he gulps the rest of it down.

"Why did you help me?" Arthur asks while Merlin stands. But before the younger man can answer, the prince takes stock of himself and his injuries. Or lack thereof. Merlin sighs for the moment he predicted but keeps his back to the prince. "You-"

"Looking for this?" Merlin takes pity on the man searching for his sword and holds the weapon up in his own hands. Arthur turns his wide eyes back to him and pulls himself to his feet with the help of the tree beside him. "Relax, I mean you no harm."

"You have magic," Arthur says in an accusing tone. Merlin takes a deep, patient breath.

"Yes," He admits easily. "Magic that I used to save your life. You're welcome, by the way." Merlin's glad Arthur has yet to try anything. Not that he would get very far, it just makes things easier. He's still clearly uneasy. Scared even, though Merlin doesn't even have to know him to know that he'll never confess to that. "I took a great risk helping you, I'd appreciate you not trying to kill me. And need I remind you, we're not in Camelot, magic isn't illegal here."

Arthur continues to stare, looking baffled and confused. Still a little scared. Merlin loosens his grip on the prince's sword and drops his shoulders. He takes Arthur's stunned silence as a chance. A chance to instill knowledge into the blinded prince's mind.

"I can't blame you for reacting to magic the way you do. You were brought up only hearing of the evils it can do. It's what you were taught," Moving further away from Arthur, Merlin leans his back against a tree. "But maybe you should start seeing things for yourself rather than through your father's eyes. Magic doesn't corrupt, it isn't evil. I was born like this. I could move things with my mind before I could speak, before I could walk. I didn't choose this. But I did choose to use my magic for good. Because it's people's choice, how they use magic. They're in control of their own actions. Evil is in their hearts, not magic."

Arthur's still leaning against his own tree, eyes still closely watching Merlin's every move. But he is listening, he does hear the young warlock's words. Merlin offers the prince a small smile and slowly steps forward. "You're not a child anymore, sire. You make your own choices," Turning the sword, Merlin carefully holds the blade and holds the hilt towards Arthur. The man looks surprised by the action but slowly lifts his arm to take back his weapon. Merlin breathes a sigh of relief when it's not immediately turned on him.

"Cenred isn't a friend of Camelot," Merlin starts again before Arthur can speak. "May I ask why you're in his kingdom?"

"Investigating claims of a sorcerer," Arthur answers, his voice not as steady as usual. "Incurable illnesses being cured, mortal wounds healing overnight."

"Alone?"

"We were ambushed," Arthur clears his throat and stands up straighter. He keeps a tight hold on his weapon but lets it hang by his side. "Separated." He keeps his eyes on the warlock as he crouches by the fire, stirring the pot of stew he hadn't noticed before. "I guess I found what I was looking for. It is you, isn't it? The one healing people?"

"And that's a bad thing?" Merlin turns his head to look up at the prince, his eyebrows furrowed. "Since when is helping people, healing them, a bad thing?" Arthur opens his mouth as if to retort but no words come out. "It's not, your king just thinks so because he's blinded by hatred. But really there is no different than when a physician heals someone. Just different methods. Tell me, are there physicians in Camelot?"

Arthur slumps back against his tree and slides back into a seated position. The question was rhetorical, he knows that so he doesn't bother to answer. "You shouldn't form an opinion on anything through someone else words, on their thoughts. You should see things for yourself, learn about them, then decide what's true to you. Learn to think for yourself."

Merlin glances back at the prince to see, that for the first time, the blonde-haired boy has looked away from him. Instead, his eyes are cast down to the ground, his expression one of deep thought. Merlin smiles a little to himself. His words might not be much but he'll accept just a small seed of doubt planted against his father's false teachings about magic.

"You should eat," Merlin says after a moment. He fills a bowl with rabbit stew and offers it to the prince. "Might not be up to par with what you're used to but it's gotten me this far." With a less but still hesitant hand, Arthur takes the offered food.

With his own bowl, Merlin settles on the other side of the fire. He pretends not to notice Arthur hesitating, descrectly watching Merlin take a bite of the food before doing so himself.

"You know, I'd thought you'd talk more," Merlin's voice fills the silence around them minutes later.

"You've been doing enough of that for the both of us," Arthur almost looks surprised at his own words but Merlin only laughs.

"You're not wrong there," He concedes. Arthur relaxes a little more but he still watches Merlin closely. "It's a uh, a bad habit of mine. I ramble when I'm nervous."

"You're nervous?" Arthur asks incredulously before he can stop himself, his eyebrows rising on his pale forehead.

"I am in Arthur Pendragon's presence, after all. The man who's destined to rule a kingdom who condemns people like me to death," Merlin shrugs casually but his words carry a heavyweight. "Only because I was born differently."

Arthur sighs at that, his expression almost looking pained. "I'm sorry," The prince's apology surprises both himself and the warlock. "I do not...completely agree with my father's view on things." The smallest spark of hope alights in Merlin's heart but the only response he gives is a small smile. "Why do you do it? Help people."

Looking up from his empty bowl, Merlin considers Arthur's question before answering. "I feel...it is what I was born to do. Magic is like a tool, those who have it choose how to use it. Yes, it can be a weapon, just as that sword by your side," He gestures towards the steel gripped in Arthur's free hand. The prince glances down at it. "It's not up to the sword how it is used, but the wielder. I choose to use my magic for good. To heal people."

"I suppose I should be grateful for that," Arthur sounds reluctant to admit.

"I did save your life," Merlin shrugs nonchalantly.

"I wouldn't say that," Arthur scoffs. "You... lent a hand. I would've been fine."

"Mm-hmm, sure," Merlin nods and pulls his lips into a thin line. "Whatever you say."

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing," Merlin shakes his head, his words purposely mumbled just loud enough for the prince to hear. "I'm sure your right. Despite being knocked unconscious, I'm sure you would've defeated the bandits that greatly outnumbered you, and dragged your mortally wounded self back to Camelot."

Arthur scoffs and shakes his head. "You don't talk to royalty much, do you?"

"Eh, royalty, noblemen, commoners," Merlin lists. "All the same really. We all live and we all die. I never cared for status."

"Clearly," Arthur mumbles. Merlin watches him take in his surroundings as a silence falls over them. He should only be feeling a little weak from his previous injuries. Merlin is very good at what he does, if he says so himself. Now with something in his stomach, he should be alright to travel soon.

Soon, the silence becomes too much for the young warlock. "You know, despite what Uther has done, what he continues to do, I hold no ill will towards you," The prince looks back to him when he starts to speak. "Nor him, not really. I did, for a while but..." Merlin trails off with a shake of his head. He doesn't know why he speaks these things, he just feels the need to voice them. He needs the prince to know. "If I let that hatred consume me, if I wanted him dead, then I would be no better than him."

Arthur's eyebrows furrow in what appears to be confusion. Merlin sees him thinking so hard it almost looks painful. He takes pity on him and starts again. "I'll accompany you back to the border. Wouldn't want you passing out and all my hard work going to waste."

"I think I can manage," Arthur argues but when he stands, his vision spins.

"Hm, sure," Merlin notices and nods sarcastically. "Should rest a bit more, there's still much light left in the day."

"Might not be such a bad idea," Arthur retakes his seat by the fire and leans back against a tree. He's relaxed since first waking but he's still wary. Merlin doesn't blame him, this goes against everything he's been taught his entire life.

Once a little more color has returned to the princes cheeks, Merlin buries the remnants of fire in the loose dirt surrounding it. He packs up his meager supplies before he and the prince start towards Camelot. The trip is mostly silent. Merlin speaks of random things when the silence starts to become heavy for him. It's not often that he has company to travel with. If ever, really. He doesn't stick around towns and villages long enough to speak about anything other than what he's there for. There's few people in the world who he'd dare call freind. So it's actually nice just to talk. Despite who his company is.

Arthur himself doesn't respond to his mindless rambling but he doesn't tell him to shut up either. Merlin wonders if it's because he still fears his magic or if he doesn't mind. Or he's just completely ignoring him. That seems the most likely option to the young boy.

At the edge of the forest, nearing Camelot's border, Merlin stops. "This is as far as I go," He tells the prince when he turns to look back at him.

Arthur opens his mouth and closes it. He says nothing for a moment and looks to the ground. "I'm sorry," He says softly. "I wish things were different."

"Yes, me too," Merlin nods and offers the prince a small smile. "One day, that will be your choice."

"It's not quite so simple," Arthur argues and Merlin's eyebrows pull together.

"Isn't it?" He questions. "You'll be king, you'll rule this land. Do you not set the laws as you see fit?"

"Well..." Arthur starts only to trail off.

"One day, Arthur Pendragon," Merlin speaks in his silence. "We will meet again. And I hope it won't be on the other side of your sword."

"No," Arthur shakes his head. "I should hope not." Looking over his shoulder, the prince hesitates to turn towards his home. "Thank you," He finally says. "For saving my life."

A bright smile pulls Merlin's lips up. "You're welcome, Sire."

Nodding once, Arthur seems to think a moment before lifting his arm. Merlin glances between it and Arthur's eyes before stepping forward to clasp his hand right under the prince's elbow. He nods back silently and steps back. From the cover of the trees, he watches the prince make his way back towards his home. A home that would one day become his own.

So? What did you think? My first published Merlin fic. I have quite a few in my drafts I need to finish up. I'm still not over how this show ended.

'-'