A/N: I'm back!

I know it's been a while, and I know this isn't how many of you expected me to return to writing stories. But let me explain.

My life had been pretty crazy at the moment. Finished my mission. Got a job. Moving houses. Writer's block. Among other things. But the main reason why I haven't been updating here is because I've been busy writing on Wattpad. I enjoy writing on there and I've been writing this crossover story between Transformers and MHA called My Prime Academia. The gist, Optimus is reincarnated as a human in the MHA world and attends U.A. along with the rest of Class A. I hope you guys go read it, it's under the same account name.

Now as to this story. This is different than a story I've written before. Mainly because it's the continuation of another story written by a different Author. "The Bat Warlock" by Greymon Leader Batx flashpoint. It's only three chapters but it's incredibly well written. It does a good job of establishing how Merlin could operate in Camelot as Batman. I'm surprised not a lot of people have read such a hidden gem. But I guess that's what makes it a hidden gem. Read that story before you read this one. A lot of what happens in the first chapter will seem confusing to those who don't read the original story. And don't worry, I got the original Author's permission to write this story. They're even helping me.

So, as usual, I do not own Batman or Merlin. They are owned by DC Comics and BBC.

A Night and Day in Camelot

Thursday, October 31st, All Hallow's Eve.

The Lower Town streets are crowded for the holiday. Even with the rain.

But I'm there too. Watching. Waiting. Months of nights have turned me into a nocturnal animal. The prat will complain that I've spent too much time celebrating in the Tavern when morning comes. Let him. It helps keep me hidden.

I must choose my targets carefully. It's a big kingdom. I can't be everywhere. But they don't know where I am.

I recently learned a new spell that sends a signal into the sky. It lets them know I'm nearby. Fear, if one truly understands it, can be a tool. Uther himself used fear to help in the Purge. Now... I will use that fear to protect the people of Camelot, from them.

Scum, bandits, those who think they can abuse their power to hurt the innocent. I won't let any of them get away with hurting people. It's what I promised Gauis.

Ah. There are my latest victims. Time to remind them why all those with evil intentions in Camelot, should fear the Bat.

A small family, a father, mother, and daughter, made their way home after a good amount of time celebrating the holidays. They stayed out later than they agreed, but seeing the bright smile on their daughter's face was enough to convince them to risk it.

As they walked, the father soon noticed that they were being followed. A group of nearly a dozen men. By their clothes, they must be some bandits from out of town.

He kept walking, trying to pretend like everything was fine for the sake of his wife and daughter. He still heard the large number of footsteps behind him. He picked up the pace, motioning his family to do so too, much to their surprise. He heard that their pursuers' footsteps were also beginning to move faster. He started running, grabbing his family and pulling them along. He took a turn to try and lose them but ended up running into a dead end.

He turned, only to see the exit blocked by the men. The father got in front of his wife and daughter, keeping them behind him. He saw the look of fear in his daughter's eyes and tried to give a small to calm her down.

He walked up to the men, hoping that he could negotiate with them. They wanted his money, and he was fine to part with it so long as his family wasn't harmed. He reached into his pocket, about to speak when one bandit punched him in the face and sent him to the ground. He heard his wife cry out and his daughter whimper.

He was kicked around for a bit before he felt two pairs of hands grab him by the shoulders and push him against the wall while another pair started to shake him down. Soon they found his coin purse and they all laughed at the success of their robbery, save one. The youngest lad in the back looked uncomfortable with this whole thing. Must've been his first time.

"Go on." Said the leader of these bandits, to the young lad, trying to egg him on, handing him a small knife. The young man took a few steps forward, allowing the father to get a good look at him. He couldn't have been more than his friend's daughter's age, and here he was, throwing his life away with these degenerates.

"Please. Just don't hurt my family." The father said. He didn't care what happened to him now. He just didn't want his wife and daughter to suffer at the hands of these brutes.

The young man's grip on the knife faltered and his hands shook with uncertainty.

"Here. This'll make it easier." The leader came in with a club and hit the father in the back of the head, knocking him out. "Heh, lightweight!" The leader and the rest of the bandits turned toward the mother and daughter, a predator smile on all of their faces, except the young man's. "What do you boys say we have a little fun? After all, it is the holidays."

Murmurs of agreement left the mouth of every robber, causing the mother to hold tighter to her daughter and close her eyes, praying that someone would come to save them.

That's when she heard it.

OOOOOOWWWWWWOOOOOOOOO

The wind howled. Howled with an ethereal sense, one the mother had never heard before. And neither have the bandits holding him and they all stopped laughing and looked around nervously.

The woman opened her eyes and looked toward the exit of the alley, beginning to see something emerge from the shadows, and so did the others. It was like it was growing from nothing and slowly forming a shape, the shape of a man, with pointy ears, and glowing gold eyes.

The leader of the bandits pulled out his sword, being ready for anything.

The shadow stepped forward, his action causing the whole band of robbers to step back before he continued stalking toward them, less like a man and more like an animal.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the shadow. He was covered head to toe, in the darkest fabric the mother had ever seen. Wore dark blue armor around his chest, shoulders, base, and boots. Red wrappings around his arms, waist, and lower legs. What looked to be a crossbow was attached to his right forearm, three arrows already nocked and ready to fire if needed. A sword sheathed in its scabbard. He wore a dark blue helmet with pointy ears, glowing gold eyes seen through thin eye slits. The only thing that wasn't covered was the face below the noise, exposing a clear show of skin, indicating that he was indeed human, or at least appeared human.

The robbers, except for the young lad, all laughed. They all thought he was just some fool in a costume trying to get a scare out of them.

"You see this guy?" The leader said, not intimidated. But the mother knew who, or rather what was walking toward them.

She heard the stories. Hells, heard from her family friend Tom that his daughter Guienevre was the first to see him. That these fools weren't running away scared at the sight of him proved they were new to Camelot.

"The Hell are you supposed to be?" The leader mocked as the shadow was in striking distance. He then swung.

It happened in an instant. The Shadow caught the sword arm and delivered swift strikes to the man's face before breaking his arm with a loud crack. He then continued to pound his face repeatedly till he was on the ground. And then continued to beat him. The shadow stopped before he placed his hands on the man's lower face.

"I'm Vengeance." The Bat Warlock said before snapping the man's neck.

His voice and the swiftness of his execution, caused all the robbers to back away in terror. That terror only grew as he raised his head and looked at them with those golden eyes and rose to his full height. The bandits moved away from her husband, allowing the wife and child to go over to him, holding him up in her arms. She saw he had a wound on his forehead, no doubt from those brutes who knocked him unconscious. She then looked back to the vigilante.

"One chance," The Bat Warlock said. "Walk away."

The mother didn't know if it was bravery or foolishness (definitely the latter) that took hold of his family's would-be robbers. But as one, the men drew their swords, some had clubs and at least one nocked an arrow. The only own who didn't draw a weapon was the young lad who almost gutted him, having dropped his knife in fear. The Bat Warlock sighed.

"Fine. Have it your way."

He drew his own sword. Having a blacksmith as a best friend, the mother had seen many blades in her life. She saw the masterpiece that Tom had just completed last week, and she would say such a blade was worthy of a king. But even that paled in comparison to the beauty of the blade the outlaw sorcerer held in his hand.

The metal looked unnatural, like none she'd ever seen before. The craftsmanship was divine. The crossguard on the sword was in the shape of a bat, which makes sense given its owner's namesake.

The Bat Warlock twirled the sword in his right hand a couple of times before he gave a "come at me" gesture with his left. The one with the bow let loose his arrow. The Bat Warlock swung his sword and batted the arrow out of the air, thanks in no small part to his magical enhancements.

The lead bandit charged, the Bat Warlock parried, sliced at his stomach, and stabbed him in the neck. He wretched sword out to meet another attack before slicing open the attacker's abdomen. He cut through another man's club before stabbing his leg. He moved to block another's attack, holding his sword in a reverse grip, and grabbed the bandit's own sword before cutting his neck. The Bat Warlock then blocked another attacker with the fallen bandit's sword before slicing off the attacker's hand. The archer tried to fire another arrow but the Bat Warlock was quicker as he aimed his right hand and fired an arrow from his wrist-mounted crossbow, hitting the man dead in the eye.

He then walked toward the remaining three, the mother saw the outlaw's mouth moving, but couldn't make out the words as he threw his left hand out and a magical blast of air was sent out, causing the last three men to stumble. One recovered soon enough to take a swing at him, but the Bat Warlock knocked the blade aside and stabbed the man in the neck. He then grabbed the next attacker's wrist before stabbing him in the stomach.

He then began to make his way to the final bandit, who, possibly driven mad due to the fear, raised his sword high and moved to strike. The Bat Warlock lifted his sword and ran his left hand across the blade, the sword began to glow red in the night, steam coming off as the rain hit it. He must've used magic to superheat the blade.

The final bandit swung his sword, the exiled ghost met his attack. The Bat Warlock's superheated blade managed to cut through the bandit's sword like a knife through melted butter. The bandit didn't have long to ponder as the Bat Warlock ran his blade through the man's chest. The superheated blade burned the man's insides, invoking a painful, agonizing death.

However, the bandit wasn't done yet. In one last act of defiance, he pulled a dagger and stabbed the Dark Knight in his side where his armor was exposed. The Bat Warlock let out an animalistic growl as he then twisted the burning sword deeper into the man's gut, causing more pain. He then wrenched the blade from the man as he crumbled. The vigilante then pulled the dagger out of him

And then there were five. The Exiled Ghost, the family of three, and the young lad too afraid to move as he stared at the outlaw, who glanced at him. The mother wondered what the vigilante would do to the boy. Sure he participated in the robbing and nearly killed her husband, but he was only a boy, probably with nowhere to go, and he didn't want to do anything to them. Would he also kill someone for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time?

"Go."

The word made both the family and the boy jump. The Bat Warlock continued to look at the boy, gesturing with his head to the exit of the alley as he sheathed his sword. The lad moved faster than the mother had ever seen someone run as he left the alley without looking back, his footsteps soon becoming faint in the distance.

"Are you all alright?"

The mother looked at the sorcerer, fear in her eyes.

"P-Please don't hurt us?!" The wife cried as she held on more tightly to her daughter and crumpled husband.

The Bat Warlock faltered in his steps, seemingly taken aback by the reaction. But he soon resigned himself as he seemed to understand the situation.

He glanced down at the injured father.

"I can heal him. If you'll let me."

The wife looked down at her husband. She wanted to say no, as she remembered the king's laws, of how magic was illegal in Camelot. She and her family could be executed for allowing a sorcerer to heal her husband.

But she was also born before the purge. She saw witness to how magic was able to help those in need. Plus, they didn't have the coin to afford a physician to help them. Plus, she heard the kingdom's Court Physician, Gaius, died months ago. So she looked up at the Bat Warlock and gave a small nod.

The outlaw kneeled over the husband. He placed a gloved hand over the man's head and began to speak in a language the mother didn't know. His eyes flashed gold, causing both mother and daughter to flinch, a gold light coming from his hand. The light soon faded and the Bat Warlock removed his hand to reveal the wound was now gone.

The husband groaned as he cracked open his eyes and saw his wife and daughter looking down at him. Both had tears of relief in their eyes as they wrapped their arms around him, and he wrapped his around both.

After a heartfelt moment, the wife looked back at the Bat Warlock. "Thank y–"

Only to see that he had vanished.

Sneaking his way back to the Dragon's cave had gotten much easier thanks to all the practice he'd gotten over the past few months. He approached a wall, placed a hand on it, muttered a spell and soon the fake wall disappeared to reveal several workbenches and cabinets for his armor.

Merlin quickly tore his blue helmet off him to reveal his dark natural hair and blue eyes. He took several deep breaths to calm down his raging heart. Being the Bat Warlock always came with a rush of adrenaline. One that left him when he took off the mask. Sometimes, he could feel his body almost fighting him. Like it was begging him to keep the mask and armor on, forever.

But he knew there was no way such a thing was possible. Maybe if he had taken this mantle when he first arrived in Camelot.

"Another rough night, young warlock?"

Merlin turned to the source of the voice to see the Great Dragon, Kilgharrah, looking down on him with amusement in his eyes.

"You could say that?" Merlin managed to get out as he finished tearing off the rest of the enchanted armor, groaning in pain as he did so. His hand hovered over his stab wound, palm painted red with blood.

"Do you need me to heal your injuries?" The dragon asked.

"No. I'll do it myself, I need to practice anyway." Merlin said moving to the bench where several bandages and potions were, not unlike the ones in the physician's chambers.

Ever since the Scarecrow outbreak months ago, Merlin was made the temporary Court Physician till a suitable replacement for Gauis could be found. Not that there ever would be a suitable replacement. In the beginning, Merlin relied heavily upon his magic and newfound skills to heal others. It was only after an incident with an Afanc poisoning the water, where Merlin's reckless use of his magic to heal someone nearly got his friend Gwen executed for using sorcery, that he learned he mustn't rely so much on magic to heal others.

So, whenever he came back from his nightly patrols, beaten, cut, and bruised all over, he got to work practicing his skills on himself. He ran into many trials and errors, but as they say, practice makes perfect. For any serious life-threatening injuries, he would have Kilgharrah heal, but for small injuries like this stab wound, he wanted to tend to it himself.

"You were careless. Let your guard down." Kilgharrah admonished.

"It's not a big deal. The armor managed to stop the knife before it got too deep." Merlin retorted, trying to focus on stitching the wound, really not wanting to listen to another of Kilgharrah's lectures on personal safety.

"Yes. This time it wasn't. But what about tomorrow? Or the day after that? You mustn't be so reckless, Young Warlock."

"I thought you had confidence in me and my skills?" Merlin reminded the Great Dragon.

A great puff of smoke emerges from Kilgharrah's nose.

"I do. But head my cousal Young Warlock. I've been alive for far longer a time than you, and have seen thousands, if not tens of thousands of warriors, many of them mighty and skilled, all have fallen to the same flaw. Do you know what that is, Merlin?"

"Back problems?" Merlin said in jest.

Kilgharrah was not amused.

"Arrogance. It is the undoing of every warrior that has ever lived, and every warrior that will live. Even you, should you be lifted in pride."

Merlin fell silent at the dragon's council. Much as he usually hated to admit it, Kilgharrah was right.

"You're right. I'll be more careful." Merlin relented.

"Be sure that you are. For if you die, so too does Albion's hope for a golden age."

"Ah right. Nearly forgot about the impossible destiny before me. Too bad." Merlin thought sardonically. If having to keep his secret double life as a vigilante sorcerer wasn't enough pressure, he also had the immense destiny of turning Arthur "The Prat" Pendragon into the greatest king that ever lived, who would unite the land of Albion and return magic to the realm. Yeah, no pressure or anything.

But destiny could wait for another hour or two. Right now, his bed was calling for him. After locking up his armor and placing the enchantment to hide his gear, he made his way up the stairs out of the cave.

"Where do you think you're going Young Warlock?" Kilgharrah asked.

"Where do you think?" Merlin asked with a yawn. "Still have at least an hour before Arthur needs me to wake him up. And that is an hour I plan to take full advantage of and catch up on some much, much-needed sleep."

"I think you mean using that hour to refine your swordsmanship. You did after all say you would not let yourself become so arrogant. I assume that means not letting your physical abilities go lax now would it?"

Merlin felt his eyebrow twitch. He swears. This dragon enjoys making him suffer.

But the dragon was right. The crack of dawn was usually the best time for him to train himself, as no one in their right mind would ever think to wake up at this ungodly hour.

But Merlin is a man who dresses like a bat so he's not exactly what one would call right-minded.

She dreamed.

She dreamed of Camelot, frozen in eternal ice. Of roots and vines covering the castle. The lower towns were burned to a cinder by a dragon. A one-eyed man. The sound of a twisted laugh echoed through her mind. And there, in the center of it all, stood a lone figure.

The Bat Warlock. His back was turned to her, but slowly, his gaze turned to meet hers, and her breath was caught in her throat. Slowly, his hands went up to remove his mask, but the moment he moved to remove it, a bright golden light blinded her.

With a gasp, Morgana Le Fey woke from her dream, shooting up from her bed. She was breathing heavily, trying to calm down her racing heart. After calming down, she then thought back to her most recent dream.

In the past several months, she had these intense dreams, much like the ones she had before the Scarecrow attacked Camelot. While she saw many different things in her dreams, things like a green bow, a golden trident, and other objects and people, there were always two constants.

The haunting laughter and the Bat Warlock.

While she wasn't sure about the former's meaning, she couldn't shake the idea that The Bat Warlock was the center of the events of her dreams. He had to be, else why would he constantly show up in her dreams? Gwen would probably see something like "Because you idolize him", which Morgana would then try to deny.

She did indeed admire the outlaw. He did what was right and damned the consequences, something she admired. But he was also a terrifying figure, one that haunted her in her dreams during the beginning of his crusade. But that changed after his battle against the Scarecrow army with the Knights when he lost the mouthpiece of his mask to reveal that he was human underneath that armor, and not some monster.

Uther still wanted him dead, even after all the help he gave them. Even after all the help he continues to give in the lower towns, clearing out gangs and bandits that have slipped through the guards' and knights' fingers because Uther was so focused on clearing out sorcery. He wouldn't allow magic to be seen as a force for good, or else it undermines his authority.

Unfortunately, it may have been too late. Despite not visiting the lower town much, she heard from Gwen the rumors and words coming from everyone's lips. How the Bat Warlock was growing into a hero among the small folk. How they began to feel safe going out at night. How they were beginning to see magic can be a force for good. Of course, they kept such matters mostly to themselves, for fear of execution by Uther.

She hated the way how things were in the kingdom. She hated that people had to be put down for things they were talented in, things they loved doing, despite not hurting anyone with it. It made her wish Arthur was already king.

Despite being a blockhead and a stubborn fool at times, she knew Arthur to be more just and fair than Uther when it came to passing out sentences. At worst, he would probably exile a sorcerer for having magic in Camelot instead of outright executing them, unless they did something to endanger the people.

Putting thoughts of punishment aside, she looked outside her window and saw the sun begin to rise over the horizon. Realizing that she wasn't gonna get any more sleep till it was time for her to wake, Morgana quickly changed into a dress that was comfortable to move around in and decided to take a walk around the grounds to clear her head.

She always enjoyed walks. They were a light exercise and they always helped clear her head when it was a jumble of thoughts, like now. She made it outside the castle and walked by the training grounds when she heard the sound of something hitting another object.

Morgana had an amused smile. "Probably Arthur working off last night's feast. Trying to stay 'fighting fit' as he calls it. If only he stopped eating so much like a pig then he wouldn't have to worry about it." She thought as she then gained the devious idea to surprise him. Arthur would usually get so focused on a single task, that he became blind to his surroundings, which made him the perfect target to sneak up on.

She crept slowly around the tents and equipment, making sure to be as quiet as possible. It was a skill she picked up on to avoid the guards during her rebellious phase when she first stayed at Camelot. Oh, the trouble she got in brought a nostalgic smile to her face.

As she approached closer to her target, she stopped short when she saw who was swinging a practice sword against the dummy. It wasn't Arthur or any of the knights and squires. It was possibly the last person Morgana expected to be training this early in the morning.

Merlin, Arthur's manservant and temporary Court Physician, was swinging his sword against the dummy. And if his footwork, along with where and from what angle he was swinging, he was by no means a beginner. He may be more skilled than most Knights in Camelot.

Which didn't make any sense.

Arthur would constantly complain about Merlin to her whenever he got the chance. About how the country boy would constantly whine and complain about having too much to do, would show up late to his duties, fall asleep on the job, and how clumsy of a practice partner (translated living training dummy) he was.

While she couldn't deny his tardiness, nor his list of chores in addition to being the Court Physician, what she saw contradicted what Arthur said of Merlin being a lousy training partner. If anything, he was the perfect sparring partner for someone like Arthur. So either Arthur was downplaying Merlin's skills to inflate his ego, which she doubted because if there was one thing Arthur respected and would praise, it was one's skill with a blade, or Merlin was hiding his real abilities.

The question is why? Was he trying to bait Arthur into thinking he was weaker than he was so that he could blindside him later? Or was he playing the role of a pitiful servant and letting Arthur win so his pride wouldn't be hurt, which would make Merlin's life harder than it already was? Or was it another reason entirely?

She wouldn't know until she asked him, which she resolved to do. She was about to do so when her mind and eyes caught hold of another detail. One that caused her cheeks to flush red.

Merlin was currently shirtless.

"Oh my goodness!" Morgana shouted in her mind. While Merlin was in no way 'Mr. Tower of Strength' Like most Knights, he was a far cry from a skinny twig that Arthur compared him to. His muscles could be well seen and there was little fat to his body. While Morgana utterly detested those brutes who develop their muscles for the sake of showing off, she did appreciate a well-maintained body. "Do all country boys who move to the capital have a body sculpted by the gods or is it just Merlin? Not even the scars ruin the picture."

Morgana blinked. Scars? Taking another look over at his exposed back–wow his shoulders were broad–she saw numerous cuts and bruises littered across his back. Some small. Some big. Some faded over time. Others were much more recent.

"W-What happened to him?" Morgana asked herself, horrified. She may not known Merlin for long, nor all that well, but she knew he was such a sweet and kind young man. He argued with Arthur, but that was mostly just playful banter. Merlin never seemed like the kind of person who would go around picking fights. So how did he get those scars?

A horrifying thought occurred to her.

"Was... Is he being abused?" Morgana wondered as the sickening thought crossed her mind. If he was then who was doing it? The much older scars made her think that it was maybe his family. This would explain why a country boy came to Camelot on a whim. But what about the more recent scars? Her stomach dropped. Could it be... Arthur?

She didn't want to believe it. Despite hearing and seeing many examples of masters abusing their servants, she believed Arthur would be the last person to do such a thing. Sure he would beat Merlin on the practice fields during sparing, but they were both wearing armor and Arthur always held back to not seriously hurt Merlin, claiming he didn't want to give the manservant more to whine about. There was also when Arthur defended Merlin from King Luthor when the former King was demeaning the servant.

Then again, that act of defiance got Arthur banned from the tournament. He could have taken his anger and frustration out on Merlin physically. And given how often Arthur is dissatisfied with Merlin, he may continue to take his frustrations out on the poor boy. That could also be another reason why Merlin refused to spar with Arthur like he was on the training dummy, not wanting the Prince's wounded pride to be an excuse to beat him. Or could it be someone else?

Regardless, a look of determination filled Morgana's eyes. No one who worked as hard as Merlin should be forced to go through such abuse. She remembered the night before the Scarecrow attack, how he had comforted her in her time of need after he nightmare. She never forgot how safe she felt in his presence, the first person she felt safe around since Gwen and Gaius, who were no longer here. She would repay him.

If Arthur was indeed abusing Merlin, she would request, Hells even beg Uther if she had to, for Merlin to be placed under her servitude. She would offer him better pay, and a much lighter work schedule, and he would not have to spare with Arthur or any Knights.

(And ordered him to take off his shirt whenever she wanted.)

She shook her mind to rid herself of the embarrassing thoughts. That wasn't why she wanted to do this! She wanted to help him! Not ogle him!

She then stood behind Merlin as he continued to swing the practice sword at the dummy. She cleared her throat. "Merl–"

It happened in the blink of an eye. One second he was winding up for another swing at the dummy. The next, his practice sword was just an inch away from hitting her in the neck. Morgana froze.

Never before had she been taken off guard like that, he moved so fast she couldn't even react. Nor had her sneaking up behind someone in the middle of practice produced such a response. Even Arthur when he was surprised would have yelped or accidently thrown his sword to the side, not almost attack her.

She looked from the practice sword to Merlin's face, an expression she'd never before seen on the boy's face. He was focused, laser-focused, more so than Arthur thought he could be, as if in that moment, he could kill her with little to no issue. And, it may have been a trick of the light from the sun, but she could've sworn his eyes glowed gold.

Then he blinked and his eyes went back to blue. He then seemed to register what he'd done as he looked at her. He then took a step back, looked at her, then the sword in his hands, then back to her, growing paler and paler by the second. He soon threw the blade as far away as possible as then went to his knees and bowed his head down on the grass.

"Forgive me, my lady! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I-I just–" He trailed off in his apology, his body trembling in fear.

Morgana was still in shock from how fast Merlin moved to respond at first but finally managed to find her voice as she looked down at him. "I-it's fine Merlin. I shouldn't have snuck up on you. Especially not so close."

"No need to apologize my lady! I almost attacked you! Please forgive this humble and pitiful servant! I'll do anything to make this right! Anything you ask!"

She was about to order him up, but "anything" sounded strangely appetizing. Maybe she could order him always to take off his shirt whenever he is in her presence. She shook her head away from the scandalous thought.

"Just get up Merlin. I won't tell on you or send you to the gallows."

Merlin was silent for a moment before he peaked his head out. His eyes resembled that of a kicked puppy. Seriously, how could someone with a body like his look so adorable?

"You promise?" He asked weakly.

"I promise."

He let out a sigh of relief as he stood to his feet, scratching the back of his head. (Goodness he had a six-pack!)

"So what do require of me, my lady?" Merlin asked, being respectful

Morgana had to make a conscious effort to look at his face and not his abs. Eventually, she cleared her throat and spoke, "I just wanted to check in on you. And make sure you adjusting well to Camelot."

Merlin had a small grin. "I remember you asked me the same question several moons ago, my lady. I assure you, my answer is the same now as it was then."

It took a moment for Morgana to recall their conversation. He told her he was getting by, then said he was just the type who gets by. But that wasn't satisfactory for her, not after seeing the scars.

"Do those scars have anything to do with 'getting by'?" Her words caused Merlin to freeze. It seemed at that moment, he realized that he was shirtless in front of a noble lady, the King's Ward at that. He scrambled to grab his shirt and throw it over his body (covering up his abs much to Morgana's small displeasure).

"Apologizes for my immodesty my lady. I should get this cleaned up before I wake the Crown Prince." He moved passed her to pick up the sword he threw away and tried to clean up everything around him in an attempt to escape, but Morgana wouldn't let him.

"Is it Arthur?!" Her question caused Merlin to stop what he was doing and look at her in surprise. "Is he abusing you? Cause if he is, I can help you. I can talk to Uther. Have you placed under my servitude to get away from him. Just tell me and I'll–"

"NO!" His shout caused her to back up at the volume he used. He seemed to realize he spoke too loud and adjusted his voice. "I mean, no thank you, my lady. I assure you, while the Crown Prince Arthur can be a prat, don't tell him I said that, I swear that he had not physically harmed me, at least more than the occasional slap and punch to the arm."

Morgana didn't seem convinced but decided to believe him, not just because of his words but also because she knew Arthur would never do such a thing to those beneath him. He may be arrogant, but he truly cared for the people he was serving. Even if some drove him mad.

"Then what about the scars?" Merlin looked away at her question. "Was it your parents? Did they do this to you? Is that why you came to Camelot to get away from the abuse?"

"No! I swear, even more so than Arthur, my Mother never laid her hands on me in an attempt to hurt me?" He looked almost offended that someone would even think that his mother could do such a horrible thing.

"Well, what about your father?" Merlin looked away at that, looking almost uncomfortable. Morgana thought she had struck gold but then he spoke.

"I never knew my father."

His confession brought her train of thought to a halt. "What?"

He had a small, sad smile on his face as if he was forced to accept a truth he'd long since known. "To tell you the truth, my lady, I'm a bastard."

"Oh." That was all Morgana could say, and she hated herself for it.

"Yes, that's what everyone says when they find out. I was the only bastard in all of my village, Ealdor. And that made me the target of many bullies growing up. Some would even throw stones at me. Call me a freak. But it wasn't just all that that made me come to Camelot. Never really did quite fit in living in Ealdor. Thought a change of scenery would help, and my mother suggested Camelot."

Morgana was horrified to hear such a thing could happen to someone like Merlin. And yet, she was amazed that despite such a difficult childhood, he was still able to grow up into such a kind person instead of someone bitter. He must have an amazing mother.

"I know what it's like growing up without a parent. I lost my mother when I was just a baby." She confessed, much to Merlin's surprise. "My father was still around for the majority of my life. But during a time when he was called to battle, he died, leaving me an orphan."

"My condolences, my lady," Merlin said, and she could feel his was being completely sincere, which caused her to smile.

"But what about the more recent scars? If it's not Arthur, is it one of the noble houses, or even another servant? Because I can still help you if you tell me." She asked, getting back on topic.

"No, it's nothing like that, my lady, it's... well... it's a bit embarrassing to admit." He scratched the back of his head, nervous. "You see, putting up with Arthur, as well as all this other responsibility can be a lot, so most nights I go and spend some time in the Tavern."

Morgana raised her eyebrows. The Tavern? She never would once expect Merlin to degrade himself by going to the Tavern. But given Arthur's personality, and his responsibility as a Court Physician, it makes sense that he would need a way to release that tension. But what did that have to do with his scars?

"Some of the other patrons can get a bit... rough. A fight breaks out every few minutes and I find myself swept up in it. Some of those recent cuts and bruises come from those fights."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't spend your time in Taverns then."

He shrugged. "I don't mind. The fights help release that built-up tension from the day. And just between us, whenever I clock someone good in the face, I imagine I'm hitting Arthur."

She laughed along with him at his confession. She could also understand the idea of hitting something to release any tension one may have. She found it to be very therapeutic as well when she swung her sword at training dummies.

"Well, I believe I must hurry before the prat wakes up on his own. No doubt he's dreaming about more creative ways to make my life miserable. Need to wake him up before he gets any more ideas." Merlin said with a good-natured grin. "By your leave, my lady."

"Morgana."

He looked at her in surprise, his expression saying 'what?'.

"I usually prefer those I consider friends to call me by my name when we are alone. So when we're alone, call me Morgana."

Merlin seemed confused. "We're friends?"

Morgana frowned in pity. "You didn't have a lot of friends in Ealdor, did you?"

Merlin looked sheepish. "Well I mean, I had one friend. A good lad named Will. Never really cared I was a bastard and about my... other quirks."

"But besides him?"

"No one else. Especially a lady as beautiful as you."

Morgana once again flushed at his compliments. She heard such thing as dime a dozen from knights and lords. But from him, it was so much more real.

"Well, now you can add such a beautiful woman to your friend's list." She said with a smile. A smile he returned.

"I'm grateful, my la–Morgana." He corrected himself, causing her to giggle. They stared at each other for a good few moments, getting lost in each other's company.

Eventually, Merlin cleared his throat awkwardly. "I should... I should go and wake Arthur now."

"Yeah. Yeah, you go do that." Morgana said, tucking a piece of hair behind her head.

Merlin then turned, and tripped over something, landing him face-first in a patch of mud. Morgana winced in sympathy.

"I'm okay," Merlin called, his face still buried in mud.

Arthur Pendragon had found his bane.

He had once thought it was his incompetent manservant Merlin (who for once, showed up on time to wake him, with a face full of mud. Must've been a wild night at the Tavern). Then he suspected his bane was the Bat Warlock, how the fiend had constantly alluded him and the Knights, raising his father's ire and disappointment in him. But no. He now realized who his true enemy was as he stared at the monstrosity before him.

Paperwork.

Mountains of paperwork.

Arthur couldn't keep the groan of utter boredom from escaping him if he tried. He should be out in the field, training with his Knights (and beating on Merlin), not being stuck here reading the same old report just worded slightly differently. This was the thing he hated most about being the Crown Prince. But he couldn't shrink on his duty, not to his kingdom, nor his people.

So he powered on through his boredom and worked on the reports, his mind working on new training drills that could help him and the Knights.

He just glanced over most of the reports, speed reading then stamping his seal on them, however, one report caught his eye. A report on a mugging that was thwarted, by outside interference.

"Two heavily injured. Eight dead. One with a stab wound that seemed to burn his insides. The survivors testified that the interloper used sorcery. They say a demon came to them."

The mugging victims didn't name their rescuer, but Arthur knew exactly who the interloper was. With the use of sorcery, as well as the demonic appearance, Arthur knew only one man in all of Albion who fit the bill.

Camelot's Most Wanted, with a bounty of 50,000 Gold: The Bat Warlock.

Thinking about the outlaw made Arthur put his hands to his face in thought. He's been thinking a lot about this vigilante during the past several months. In the beginning, he saw him as nothing more than a criminal sorcerer who sought only to destabilize the peace his father brought to the kingdom. It was as simple as that. Black and White.

Then the man had revealed King Luthor's plot to murder Uther and frame Arthur for it. Not only that, he saved and fought alongside Arthur to defeat the traitor. He also gifted Arthur the armor he used in the tournament. Arthur hasn't worn that armor since the night of the Scarecrow.

The Scarecrow. Another example of how conflicted he was concerning the Bat Warlock. The man risked his life to defend Camelot, a place he should want to see burned to the ground, fought with a bravery Arthur had seldom seen in his life. Seeing such courage inspired Arthur to lead his Knights to help the sorcerer. Then they all fought together to save Camelot.

In the months that followed, Uther had ordered a search be organized to hunt down the outlaw, but the man was more slippery than a sponge. He hadn't made any major appearances or done anything public since the Scarecrow. He's been operating mostly out in the lower town, where the most crime happens in Camelot. A theory is that the Bat Warlock is a resident of the lower town and investigations are underway to find his identity, but it was slow. Despite knowing he was indeed human underneath that armor of his, a shock to many of the people of Camelot, they were still no closer to discovering his identity.

The man was cunning. He knew how to cover his tracks. So well that they scarcely got any reports that confirmed his involvement. Like the one involving the Alfac that had poisoned Camelot's water supply. Uther did what he could to try and hide the Bat Warlock's role in defeating the monster, but rumors spread among the people. Uther was determined that the people never saw that magic could be used as a force for good.

"Magic as a force of good?"

At that thought, Arthur leaned back in his chair in thought. Since he was a young boy, he's been taught that magic was the most heinous thing in all of existence. A cancer in the world that needs to be wiped clean. And for a long time, he did what he could to try and wipe that cancer. Leading raids that–

He shook his head at the unpleasant memory.

But now... now he wasn't so sure anymore. Sure, magic has been the cause of lots of problems in Camelot. But he also couldn't deny that magic helped solve those problems. Even end such crises' that had nothing to do with magic like King Luther's coup.

Plus, he could feel in his heart that the Bat Warlock, despite his frightening appearance, was not evil. He was brutal, certainly, but only killed those who were truly evil, like bandits and scum. Even those times he encountered the guards or Knights, he never killed one of them, only fought them off before retreating. Uther wanted to believe it was because the sorcerer was no match for even one man of Camelot, but Arthur knew better.

Some may call him slow in mind, others dimwitted, and dollop-head (that was a Merlin exclusive). But if there was one thing Arthur knew, it was combat. And he knew, just from the few times the two had fought together, that the Bat Warlock was a master swordsman on par with himself. That, and combined with his magic, Arthur was certain that no man in all of Albion could stand a chance against the outlaw.

If he wasn't actively breaking the law by practicing magic and didn't wear such scary armor, Arthur would be the first to offer him a place among the Knights of Camelot.

So it was obvious to Arthur that he showed mercy to the Knights and guards. He could easily kill them if he wanted, but instead, chose not to. To have that kind of power, and still show mercy. People like his father may call it a weakness. But Arthur saw it as a strength. Strength of heart.

And it made him doubt all the things he knew about magic, especially that it corrupts a man's heart. If that was indeed a lie, if magic truly didn't turn people evil, then how many innocent people did his father put to death simply because they had magic? How many people did he kill in a misguided sense of justice?

Arthur's hands began to shake as the faces of all the sorcerers and sorceresses that he killed flashed through his mind. How many of those men, women, and children were innocents that he slaughtered? How much blood did he have on his hands? How many lives had he taken in cold blood because of his ignorance?

"Supper's here!"

Arthur yelped at the sudden intrusion drew his sword and moved to attack the intruder. Only to stop when he saw it was Merlin, who clumsily dropped the Prince's food on the floor after being startled by such an attack. Arthur recovered from his shock and tried to hide with a look of displeasure.

"Ah, look what you've done Merlin?!" Arthur yelled in anger as he gestured to his spilled food.

"Me?! You're the one who's swinging pointy things at me outside the training ground. At least I know it's coming out there." Merlin fired back as he moved to pick up the spilled food. He then muttered under his breath. "Maybe I should have taken Morgana's offer."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!"

"That's what I thought. Now go back down to the kitchens and grab me my supper. And don't spill it this time. It's a miracle you were able to carry it all the way here without dropping it."

Merlin groaned. "Yes sire." He picked up the last of the discarded food and moved to the exit of the room.

Arthur would never admit this for as long as he lived, but he was glad Merlin had come into the room when he did. He helped keep Arthur's thoughts from spiraling any further by being the clumsy fool he always was, which brought a level of reprieve to Arthur's mind.

But by the time Merlin returned, that reprieve had disappeared and he was once again left alone with his dark thoughts. It ruined the appetite he had built up over the day. So, being the generous master he was, he gave a small piece of chicken over to Merlin to eat. Like a good master should.

As he looked at Merlin eat his generous offering (without even saying thanks!) he suddenly had a stupid idea. What could he possibly gain by discussing such intelligent topics with Merlin, the biggest idiot in all of Camelot?! Still, he had to admit, his manservant did have some moments of wisdom that surprised the future King. So he decided to take a gamble.

"Merlin," His voice caused his servant to stop eating and look at the Prince, "What should you do if you suddenly... learned something about yourself, or something that you believed, that changed the way you see everything and yourself?"

Merlin was silent for a long moment. Then his eyes widened and he went red with embarrassment.

"Sire... I mean... I'm flattered, truly... but you see the thing is... I'm not into men you see. And even if I was, you're not my type. You're loud, and mean, and constantly hit me. I can see how that might attract some people but not me. Sorry sire."

Arthur grabbed the nearest projectile, a knife, and threw it at Merlin, who in a surprise burst of speed, managed to catch the knife before it stabbed him in his eyes. Arthur would have been shocked in disbelief at his manservant's feat, if not wholly embarrassed by Merlin's stupid response.

"I do not have those kinds of feelings! Especially not for you!" To even imply that Arthur had in any way played for the other team was absurd. And to think that even if he did, he would find Merlin of all people attractive. The thought made him want to vomit his dinner, all over Merlin.

"I don't even know why I asked you. I shouldn't have expected a serious answer from you." Arthur said as he was about to stand.

"I think it would depend. Is this something good or something bad that you learned?" Merlin's serious question caused Arthur to halt in his action.

"Bad," Arthur answered. He didn't go into details. Didn't want to. He looked to see Merlin thinking. Really thinking about this.

"I suppose it depends on what you do next then. If you realize something you've always believed in was wrong and worked to change it, then I don't see a problem with that. It's only recognizing a flaw and working to change it. But if you sit there and do nothing and continue, now actively ignoring the wrong you're doing, then that's when there is a problem. Ignorance is bliss, but you shouldn't try to return to it if you don't like what you learn."

Arthur just stared at the boy. It was times like these that he couldn't help but think he was dreaming. Merlin had shown great wisdom in his words. And his words couldn't just be used to apply to his situation, but to anyone else who was struggling with the same dilemma. Goodness, why couldn't Merlin show this side of himself more often?

"Thank you, Merlin," Arthur said, leaving Merlin to look rather pleased with himself. Great, now he was gonna act all smug about it going forward. "Don't let it go to your head. You're still an idiot most if not all the time."

"I'll be sure to do my best sire." Merlin said cheekily as he gathered the plates and moved to leave the room. Only to forget he had to pull the door and run straight into it, spilling the leftovers of his dinner on his clothes.

Arthur laugh.

Kilgharrah opened his eyes, waking from his nap as he felt the presence of Emrys, or Merlin as was his human name, enter the cave.

"Sometimes it's hard to believe, that the greatest hope for both my freedom and magic's return relies so much on a young boy with little to no formal training. Still to come so far with such little training, is impressive. You would be proud Balinor."

"How was your day, Young Warlock?"

"Oh you know, the usual. Running around ragged. Doing chores and getting yelled at by Arthur. Keeping my facade as a clumsy manservant intact."

Kilgharrah hummed in approvement. It was good that he had committed to playing the role of a clumsy fool in his day persona. That way no one would suspect who he really was. It helped greatly that most of that behavior was not a facade, much as the boy would try to argue.

"Good, but were there any outliers to the day?"

Merlin stiffened and hesitated to answer. Clear signs that something had indeed happened.

"What did you do Merlin?"

"Nothing! I swear! It's just..." He trailed off as his human ears burned red. "The Lady Morgana may have walked in on me during my sword training this morning."

"What did she say to your sudden, abnormal skill with a blade?" The Great Dragon asked wearily.

"Northing. She asked me mainly about my scars and wondered if I was being abused by Arthur."

"And what did you tell her."

"The truth. That as a bastard, I was bullied a lot as a kid, and that I do get into a lot of fights at night. Though I only mentioned that one brawl in the Tavern." He then looked away and had a wistful smile on his face. "She has such a good heart."

Kilgharrah frowned (or frowned as best a dragon could) at this development. He knew the prophecies of the Lady Morgana. Of how she was destined to be Emrys greatest adversary. However, ever since the boy accepted the mantle of the Bat Warlock, he felt destiny shift, including the young witch's. He had no idea what destiny had in store for her, but he hoped she would still follow the course destiny had played out for her and become his greatest enemy.

If only for the boy to avoid facing an even more dangerous enemy.

"Oh! There was also some development with Arthur!" Merlin said excitedly, pulling the Dragon from his thoughts. "I think he's really coming around to magic!"

"You're certain of this?" The Dragon asked, doubtful. While he knew it was Arthur's destiny as the Once and Future King to unite the land of Albion and return magic alongside Merlin, he knew the hearts of man. Someone so engraved in Uther's beliefs couldn't be changed completely overnight, or over a few months. Merlin needed to be careful before he revealed his true nature to Arthur.

"Yes! Well, sort of." Merlin sounded less sure now. "I mean he did ask me what someone should do when they learned that something they believed in was in fact wrong."

"And what did you tell him?"

"I told him if that was the case, that should he work to change, then it's fine. It's only if he does nothing and ignores the truth."

Kilgharrah hummed in approval. "Wise council Young Warlock. You're turning into quite the advisor. The old physician would have been proud."

At that, Merlin's eyes widened and began to water, and he looked away to try and hide his tears from the dragon. Kilgharrah sighed. He had meant it as a compliment, but he had forgotten that humans were such sensitive creatures, especially with their short lifespan. But to be fair, he was trapped underground for two decades all alone. If there was someone to blame, blame Uther who trapped Kilgharrah down here.

Merlin shook his head and regained his composure. "I'm going on patrol now." He then moved to the cabinet and retrieved his armor before making his way out of the cave.

"Merlin," The young outlaw stopped as the dragon called his name. "Remember what I said this morning. Arrogance will be your downfall. But so too will shame and guilt if you let it consume you."

Merlin said nothing as he resumed walking and slipped on the rest of the armor.

As he watched him leave, Kilgharrah sighed. "The boy is so much like you Balinor. He has your courage, spirit, and, tragically, your family's innate darkness. He has been working to forge that darkness into a weapon against evil, and he has done well so far. But he is balancing on a very thin edge. I only hope and pray his darkness doesn't consume him as it did with him. And that I had no hand in bringing him that much closer to falling into the abyss. Otherwise, all of Albion will suffer."

As darkness covered the kingdom of Camelot, a lone figure stood atop the tallest tower of the citadel, crouching down on a gargoyle statue.

Merlin, suited up in his enchanted armor, minus the mask for the moment, looked out at the kingdom. He's lived her for several months now. Yet he still couldn't get the wonder out of his eyes as he looked out at the kingdom, especially at night. He figured it was the country boy in him that still allowed him to look at it was amazement.

And it was suffering.

Not just the people who had magic, but also those who didn't. They lived in fear. If not from Uther, then from his corrupt noblemen and the gangs that infested the lower towns. And the Knights were doing nothing to stop it. So it was up to him.

He may fail. May die at the pye or the chopping block like so many others like him. May even die before he's invoked any real change.

But he has to try.

The alternative was doing nothing. And he already knew the consequences that came with doing nothing.

"Gauis." He thought to himself as he clutched a hand over his heart, the pain from losing the man who took him in still fresh, despite it being months ago now, and the guilt he felt from not doing anything when he should've.

But that guilt and pain fueled his crusade against the evil in this kingdom. He would do right by Gauis. He would show the people of Camelot that magic wasn't something to fear and could be used for good. He would protect... his home.

Home.

That's right. Camelot was his home. He may not have been born here, nor was he born in the kingdom's borders, but in the short months he's been here, he had grown to love this kingdom as if it was his own. And he would do whatever he could to protect it.

"Help me!"

He heard a cry for help, thanks to magic enhancing his hearing. Nearby.

Taking the mask, he looked at it for a short moment before slipping it on his face. The eye slits flashed gold as he stood to his full height. He then aimed his wrist-mounted crossbow and fired a grapple line to a nearby tower. He then jumped off the gargoyle and swung into the night, to defend his kingdom.

In the scrying pool, he watched the boy slip on his little mask and swing out into the lower towns, no doubt eager to play the hero. Why he wastes so much time doing so was beyond his understanding.

Heroes were so boring! You had to follow so many rules and whatnot.

It was so much fun to be the villain. You could do whatever you wanted! It was like being king! And he should know, after all, he was once a king. Before that pompous rude arse of a knight, Uther stole his throne.

But don't worry, he'll get it back. And when he does all of Camelot would burn with Uther Pendragon.

As for the Bat Warlock, well, that was really up to him. But the suspense was both killing and also exciting him, causing him to smile his large blood-red grin.

"Oh, this is going to be fun!"

A/N: What do you guys think for a start? I'll be posting this story also on Wattpad with some illustrations and such. First time posting a single story on two sites.