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Chapter Text

Merlin awoke to the sound of someone talking. What exactly they were talking about, he could not tell, but he could hear the occasional word. Something about the sun, the heat, and visitors.

Would there be someone coming to visit? Well, if that was the case, Merlin would have better things to do than waste away inside. If they were expecting visitors, actual new people coming to Ealdor, they would need all hands-on deck. And all hands would, of course, include Merlin. So, who was he to waste the daylight away?

A quick look around revealed that he was the only one here, but that was okay. They may just have forgotten to wake him. There was no harm in that. Merlin would just get something quick to eat, and then he could get out, and do his part.

There was some soup on the table, left specifically for Merlin. It had gone cold, but Merlin could not bring himself to care about that, choosing instead to take a few spoonsful before abandoning the bowl entirely.

Rising from his spot, he scanned the room, looking for his boots and his jacket. Only to realise that his jacket had been left on an otherwise unoccupied chair, and his boots were standing right next to it. And his neckerchief was… somewhere.

Merlin walked over to the chair, pulling his jacket on first. Then, he sat down, and he put on his boots. And then, without any further delay, he walked over to the door, and he opened it.

The fresh air hit him like a gust of wind. And it was bright, as the sun seemed to be hitting each spot that it could with its light. And people were walking by, some carrying baskets of laundry with them. And there was a man, carrying a basket filled with something that Merlin could not quite make out.

He kept walking, letting his gaze follow each person that he could see. What were they doing on this beautiful day? And was there any use for him, anywhere?

But as he was looking around, he could see no sign of anyone preparing for a visit. But had he not just heard…

“There you are, Merlin. I have been looking for you.”

“Hey Will,” Merlin turned around, just as Will came up behind him, “Do you know if there is anything happening today?”

“Nothing that I am aware of,” Will shook his head, “Why do you ask?”

“I thought I overheard Matthew speak of visitors.”

“Matthew?” Will went quiet for a few seconds, before he shrugged, “Last I saw him, he was looking for his wife. But I never heard him mention anything about anyone coming to visit.”

“Oh…” Merlin sucked in a breath, trying to contain his disappointment.

“Who exactly would be coming here?” Will shot him a look, a smile present on his lips, “I can almost guarantee that no one of importance knows of our village.”

“Oh, I would not say that,” Merlin crossed his arms, “King Cendred always seems to know where to send the tax collectors.”

“Barring that, no one of importance knows of our village,” Will cast him this small smile, “And I would rather have to pay our taxes to Cendred, than have to deal with whatever they are dealing with in Camelot.”

Merlin could understand why Will thought that. Sure, Cendred was not a saint of any kind, but from what little Merlin knew of the situation in Camelot, the people there had drawn the short end of the stick.

The occasional traveler that stopped by Ealdor, spoke of famine, of unease, and of a people beaten so far down, that they were physically incapable of standing up for themselves. Enslavement was apparently also a risk for the people there. And their ruler, whoever that may be, had apparently gone paranoid, for reasons unknown to the general public.

Merlin’s mother had once thought of sending him to Camelot, in hopes that her brother, Gaius, could help Merlin learn to control his magic. But then the news of what was going on in Camelot had reached them, and she had seemed horrified by the mere thought of sending her son there. His magic would fade, not long after.

But occasionally, when Merlin looked at the people in the village, he had a feeling that most of them would rather she sent him away than keep him here.

“Come on,” Will cast him a look, “I can see old man Simmons looking for a reason to come over and yell at us.”

Merlin was barely able to spot the old man, before Will pulled him away from that spot. And he had a feeling that he knew where Will wanted them to go. To the forest, just outside of the village, where no one would be paying attention to them. Where they could hide out, and where Merlin could avoid the annoyed glances of the other villagers.

As they walked, Merlin took the time to take in the details of their surroundings. The grass, that was coloured in a bright green, and the sunlight danced around the growing flowers. But then came the trees, the edge of the forest, casting their own shadow on the world.

Merlin and Will would usually remain just out of reach of the shadows. But this time, they wandered in, and they walked for a bit. But not too far. As once you get deep enough, the colour would be lost to the world of shadows.

Merlin had always been cautious of shadows. He had always expected something to hide in the shadows and then jump out and attack him. Will had teased him about it, and Merlin could not tell why this was a fear of his, but it was also something he had never been able to shake.

“I think it’ll be a while before they come looking for us,” Will said as he sat down, so he could lean up on the tree behind him, “If they ever do.”

“Someone will come,” Merlin looked around for a few seconds, trying to find the ideal place to sit, “If only because they have work that needs to be done.”

“There is always work to be done,” Will let out a sigh, “Even now, when there is no harvest, there will be-,”

As Merlin sat down, he could feel something sharp hit his chest. And it took everything he had, to not make an audible reaction, as Will had started talking about something which old man Simmons had forced him to do, earlier that week.

Merlin let his hand fall to his chest, trying to feel for whatever had stabbed him. For there was a chance that he had just imagined it, but… no, he could feel something. There was something under his tunic, that had apparently just stabbed his chest. It took him a moment before he was able to find it, and fish it out from under his shirt to have a look.

It looked like it may have been some sort of amulet. A crystal, which he at some point had tied up to a string and decided that he wanted to wear it around his neck… only problem with that was, Merlin could not remember doing so. In fact, he could not remember having seen this crystal before, in his life.

“Do you not think that is stupid, Merlin?” He could hear Will ask.

“Uh… yes, of course.”

Merlin had no idea what Will was talking about. But it worked out, as Will had apparently not realised that Merlin was no longer paying attention to the conversation at hand, too focused on the mysterious crystal that had appeared on his person.

Had his mother tied it around his neck while he slept? It was the only thing that could make sense, but should Merlin not have woken up, when she did it? He was not that heavy of a sleeper, at least as far as he was aware.

He turned it around in his hand, just to take it in. It was beautiful, that was for sure. A small, sharp, white crystal, which looked like it may have been meant for a Queen yet had somehow found its way into his hands instead.

This crystal seemed a bit too expensive for his mother to have purchased it… and Merlin could not be expected to believe that she had gone out to search for a crystal, just to give to him. He could also not imagine that Will, nor anyone else had done it… but that, again, left the question of, how had it come into Merlin’s possession? And around his neck, at that.

He could probably ask Will about it, but what answer could he then expect? Would Will even confirm it, had it been him?

No, Merlin was acting paranoid about it. His mother could probably answer this question, once he got back to their house, and could ask her about it. Until then, however, he could only leave it under his shirt, resting against his skin as it had done before.

He let his head rest against the tree behind him, as he listened to Will talk. It seemed like his friend had quite a lot to say about… whatever the conversation had turned to.

Chapter Text

Merlin could see his own reflection in that little jewel he held between his fingers. And though it stung to hold it like he was, the sharp tips of the jewel digging into his skin, Merlin could ignore it in favour of trying to work out where he might have gotten it from, and why he could not remember having seen it before.

He might have received it from someone, but would he not then remember it? Would he not remember putting it on, or the fact that he was still wearing it around his neck? Would he not remember who had gifted it to him?

He tried to consider other options. Perhaps whoever had gifted it to him, had been the one to tie it around his neck. But no, that made no sense either. For either he would remember it, or it would have to have been done while he was asleep… and why would anyone tie a necklace around his neck, while he was asleep? Why not just give it to him instead?

No, this crystal remained a mystery to him. And at this point, the best he could hope for would be that his mother held the answer to this mystery, and that she had merely forgotten to tell him about it. Because it felt important, somehow. Like it might be the key to some treasure, some mystery, that Merlin had not come across yet.

Merlin turned it around in his hand, observing his own reflection in the crystal. It was truly remarkable, just how clear his image seemed to be, despite the fact that the crystal was not fully reflective. But he could see his blue eyes, sharp facial features, blonde hair… wait, what?

Unless his hair had somehow changed colour within the last few hours, he felt safe to say that he was not looking at his own reflection anymore. No, this man had blonde hair, a fuller face than Merlin’s own, and a terrified look on his face. And the mere sight of him caused Merlin to look around, but no… he was the only person in the house at this time. So how was the reflection in the crystal, one of another man?

The man’s lips were moving, but no sound ever reached Merlin’s ears. He supposed he could have made some attempt to read the man’s lips, but the man was moving his lips too fast for Merlin to really get anything useful. Not that Merlin was that good at reading lips in the first place. 

But it was not something he needed to worry about for long, as he could hear the door open, which meant that his mother had made it back home. So, he let his fingers wrap around the crystal, hiding it away in his palm as he turned to greet her.

“Hello Merlin.”

She was smiling when she saw him, balancing a bucket in one hand, and what seemed to be clothes in the other one. Merlin rose from his seat immediately, walking over to take the bucket from her. And as he placed the bucket on the ground, she was laying the clothes out across the table.

She sat down on one side of the table, and Merlin sat down next to her, just in case she wanted some help sorting through the few articles of clothing that covered the table. She never did, but he still remained there, just in case.

“What have you been up to today?”

“A bit of this, and a bit of that,” Merlin told her, because that was technically the truth, “Will was complaining about the harvest, as usual… and then I found this crystal.”

Merlin was not usually one to lie to his mother. But the words had escaped from his lips before he could reign them back in. And he supposed he had technically found it, had he not? Sure, he had found it tied to a string around his own neck, but he had still found it. So, it was technically not a lie after all.

“Oh, did you really?” And his mother sounded interested.

“Yeah,” Merlin nodded, forcing his hand open and holding it out for his mother to see, “I found this one, out in the forest.”

His mother was looking at it for a bit, though she never took it from Merlin’s hand. And for a few moments, she remained unreadable, showing neither signs of recognition nor of confusion.

“Well, that one is quite beautiful,” She then spoke, “But are you sure you found it out in the forest?”

Her question left Merlin confused. Did she know where it was from? Had she seen this crystal before? Was it perhaps she who had gifted it to him? Could this mystery have been solved, just like that?

She continued, “For I could have sworn I saw it in your hand last night. You had your fingers wrapped around it, holding onto it like it was the most important thing in the world.”

He had it during the night? But would he not remember it?

“It sounded like you had a nightmare,” His mother continued, “You were holding onto that one, as you were shouting for Arthur. It sounded like you thought he might be in danger.”

And as such, another mystery had appeared. For Merlin did not know of anyone by the name of Arthur, did he? There was no one in Ealdor who went by that name, as far as he knew, and Merlin had not really anyone he was familiar with, outside of the village. So then, who was Arthur?

“Arthur?” He repeated, “Are you sure I said Arthur?”

“Well, you were repeating the name a lot,” His mother shrugged, “It was the only thing I could make out, between the words of the other language you were yelling in.”

Merlin was left even more confused, as he only knew one language… and he thought his mother did the same, “Other language? What other language?”

Judging by her demeanour, Merlin might as well have been asking about what sort of porridge they would be eating later. She seemed unfazed by the mere idea that her son had spoken words in a language that he did not know and had been shouting for a man that neither one of them would have heard of before. And that confused him.

“Oh, and that reminds me,” She turned to him, “There was a knight of Camelot down in the village. He claimed to be looking for you.”

Merlin just blinked. He had nothing to do with the knights of Camelot. He had no knowledge of the knights of Camelot, beyond the fact that they were just that. Knights of Camelot. Knights of the neighbouring kingdom. Knights of a kingdom which Merlin had never stepped foot in. So why would one of them be looking for him?

It was the third mystery of the day. Though this one might get a quicker answer than the other two.

“Is he still here?”

His mother nodded as she put the last of the clothes back into her basket, “Yes, he is waiting outside.”

Merlin rose to his feet, his movements somehow feeling unlike his own. Each of his steps dragged on, both with curiosity but also with a sense of concern. A sense of dread. For supposedly, outside of the door, stood the knight of a kingdom that Merlin had nothing to do with… yet her knights knew of him. And they were actively looking for him, for goodness knows what reasons.

Even doing something as simple as opening the door was a slow affair. But his mother was right in what she had said.

Outside of their door stood a man, dressed up in that known, grey armour, and with a red cloak attached, that the wind had seemingly gotten its hands on, as it was flowing graciously behind him. It meant that Merlin could barely see the entire crest that showed him as a knight of Camelot, and not… say, a knight of Cendred’s army.

His expression seemed rather gentle, despite the fact that he was dressed as if he were going to war. Merlin could see the smile that crossed his lips the moment their eyes met, as his entire body seemed to relax. Then, unlike most of the knights he had seen before, this one held out his hand.

“Hello, Merlin,” Even his voice seemed somewhat gentle, “I am not sure you remember, but my name is Lancelot.”

Chapter Text

Merlin just blinked. There was a man outside of his home, wearing armour from a kingdom he had never had anything to do with, yet he was standing here, acting like they were old friends… and he felt like he would remember it if he had ever met this man… Lancelot, did he say his name was? He felt like he would remember this man, had they ever met before… which was what he was standing there, claiming that they had.

Something in his facial expression must have revealed Merlin's confusion… probably his tilted head, or his mouth which was left slightly open, or the fact that he was not saying a word. Not that there was much to say… and even if there was, Merlin was lacking the words he would need, in order to say it.

Lancelot just stood there, his smile unwavering, and it looked like even the sun favoured this man. With how he was standing in that moment, one would think he was an angel of sorts, with how the sunlight seemed to make him glow. It was as unnerving as it was beautiful.

He could hear Lancelot clear his throat, “May I enter?”

Now, to be fair to him, he did ask to enter. He did not just push his way inside, as Merlin might have expected him to do. And maybe that was why he found it so easy to step away, and to let this knight of another kingdom enter his home.

But at least he was nice as he entered. He took a few seconds to look around, and Merlin thought he could make out some sense of approval in the knight’s expression, before he ultimately wound up sat down on the spot where Merlin had just sat, moments before. Merlin found his way to the other side of the table, taking a seat next to his mother.

He had only taken his eyes of Lancelot for a few seconds, but in those few seconds, Lancelot’s mood seemed to have dropped. The man, who had looked like he held no concern in this world just moments before, now looked like the fate of the world might be on his shoulders. A change that Merlin found to be quite jarring and slightly worrying. Whatever he was here for, could not be good. 

“You must be wondering why I am here,” Merlin was not sure if Lancelot was speaking to him, or to his mother, “And I fear the story is quite… complicated, to say the least.”

“Oh?” Merlin’s mother gave the knight a semi-confused look, “And why do you say that?”

“Because parts of it remains unknown to me as well.”

Even though Lancelot’s gaze was never pointed directly at Merlin, he was still left with the feeling that the knight was watching him at all times. Observing him, trying to gather intel on if Merlin was a potential threat or not. And while Merlin may not be able to beat this knight in a fight, he would also not make it easy for him.

Lancelot cleared his throat, “I am here because we have gotten word that someone wants to take your son’s life.”

Well. If anything could dampen the mood, the news of the fact that someone wanted him dead would do it. Even his mother, who usually remained calm and collected, even in the most stressful of situations, had tensed beside him. But Merlin could not help but wonder, why would a knight of Camelot care?

“Her name is Morgana. Powerful sorceress and ward of the former king of Camelot, Uther Pendragon. The danger she poses cannot be overstated.”

Merlin’s mother sounded concerned as she spoke, “And this… Morgana wishes death on Merlin? But how can that be, when he has never set foot in Camelot, and she has never set foot here?”

“That part remains unclear to me as well,” Lancelot let out a sigh, “But she has made it known that she wishes your son dead, under any circumstance. Though, if I had to guess, she would prefer it to be done by her own hand.”

“And you are sure that it is he whom she speaks of?”

Lancelot nodded, a grim look now present on his face, “I am afraid so. And for reasons I cannot fathom, he- our ruler, wishes to ensure that your son lives to see the days coming. Therefore, I have been sent here to collect your son, so he can be brought to Camelot, where he will be protected.”

Merlin was not sure what his mother made of the things she had just been told. But Merlin himself had spaced out somewhere else. The mention of a ruler, the ruler of Camelot, who wanted to see him safe. It was... well, it was a strange feeling to say the least.

Things were not making any sense to him at this moment, and Merlin could only sit there in silence as his mother tried to work out whatever was on her mind at this time.

“But if the danger is as grave as what you make it out to be, why would you only send one knight to retrieve my son?”

“Well,” Lancelot sounded hesitant, “We are technically overstepping some boundaries and breaking some laws, considering how your son is not a citizen of Camelot. Sending a battalion would not only seem like a declaration of war to King Lot, but it might also be noticed by our enemies. A single knight, on the other hand, generally goes unnoticed.”

“And you will escort Merlin to Camelot? Will you keep him safe?”

“Of course,” Lancelot flashed a smile, “It is my duty to serve the throne.”

Merlin’s mother turned to him, and Merlin could see the traces of tears that might be forming in her eyes. He wanted to speak, but should he tell her that things would be okay? That he did not want to go, and would rather stay in Ealdor and take his chances? That if he had to go, he wanted her to come with him, despite knowing that it would be difficult for the knight to bring them both?

“Merlin,” She was quick to wipe any trace of a tear from her eyes, “When you get to Camelot, look for a man named Gaius. Tell him… tell him of your name and mine.”

“But mother,” Merlin started, desperation present in his tone, “I cannot leave you here, on your own.”

“But I fear that choice is neither yours nor mine,” There was a small smile present on her lips, “For I would not be able to live with myself if I let you lose your life, knowing that there was a way to prevent it.”

And Merlin could see her point, as well as she could see his. It was a decision outside of their control, and they would have to handle it as such. And they would. For if there was one thing Merlin knew, it was that the two of them could handle anything the universe might throw their way.

“Alright,” He sent a quick look in Lancelot’s direction, “I will go with you.”

And Lancelot sent him a smile in return, “Thank you, Merlin.”

“Will I have time to pack some things before we leave?”

“Of course,” Lancelot nodded, “Though it might be wise to pack lightly.”

As if he could do anything else. Merlin did not own enough to do anything but ‘pack lightly’. But he was not about to tell Lancelot this.

As he was tracking down the few belongings that he had, Merlin’s mind began to wander. Curiosity about Camelot, excitement about leaving the village behind, wondering for a moment who this ‘Gaius’ character was, and why his mother had acted the way that she had. Curiosity about life there, about this mysterious ruler who apparently knew about him. There were a lot of questions, and few answers.

But most of all, Merlin was curious about this Morgana character. For why would she want him dead, when Merlin was fairly confident that he had never met her before? And as he had not met her before, how could he have done something so outrageously wrong that she would want him dead because of it?

He might just have to bring it all up with Will, if he got the chance to see him before they left… for what would Will think of it all? About a powerful sorceress who wanted Merlin dead, and the fact that he had to be taken to the neighbouring kingdom, to ensure that he would make it to the next year? About the fact that the ruler and the knights knew about him, despite the fact that he knew nothing about any of them? What would Will say if... when he found out?

Things would probably make sense when he got to Camelot. When the king or queen could take the time to explain this all to him. For at the moment, as Merlin cast a glance back to the table, where the knight of another kingdom was still sitting, now making casual conversation with Merlin’s mother, he found that absolutely nothing was making sense.

Chapter Text

Lancelot stood by his horse, and Merlin almost thought it looked like he was speaking to it... which was something that should probably remain private. It was the only reason he had made no effort to join the knight, despite knowing that he would have to do so eventually.

People were staring as they walked past. Though fortunately, most of these stares were focused on Lancelot, the knight of a foreign kingdom, who sounded like he was talking to a babe. But no, he was speaking to a great stallion, who seemed to be just as annoyed with the way Lancelot was speaking as Merlin was.

He could not be sure if it was a blessing or a curse when Will made a sudden appearance.

“Hey Merlin,” Will’s gaze kept moving between Merlin and Lancelot, “What is going on with that one?”

Merlin shrugged, “Who can say? Perhaps they just hold passionate conversations with their stallions over in Camelot.”

“Hang on,” Will was just staring at him for a bit, before his gaze found itself back at Lancelot, “He comes from Camelot?”

“It is Camelot’s crest which he wears on his cape,” Merlin gave a short nod in the general direction of Lancelot’s cape, “And he has claimed to be one of Camelot’s knights, himself.”

“Has he indeed? Is he lost?”

“One would think so, but he claims to have come here with intent,” Merlin could only shrug, never taking his eyes off the knight, “Though I must admit that his story is… vague, at best.”

He had to stand there and really consider if it was worth finishing that sentence, as there was more he wanted to say. In the end, he decided against it. He had a vague feeling that Lancelot was listening, and if he was to travel with this knight, which it appeared he was, it would probably be best to maintain at least a cordial relationship with him. And the rest of that sentence would probably not have helped with that.

“Is it not always so?” Will let out a weak sigh, “They come around, under the guise of ‘official business for the state’, when really, they are just bored, and in need of some form of entertainment.”

Merlin wondered if he should expose the flaw in Will’s statement. If he should remind Will that this was a knight from another kingdom, and not one of Cendred’s men. But in the end, he decided against it. He saw no need to bring it up. It was not like Lancelot was bound to care about it. He had better things to worry about.

And let it be known that Merlin did not fear Lancelot. Lancelot was just… a man. A man who had neither impressed him nor threatened him. A man that, in Merlin’s own opinion, he could have been friends with, had their situation been different.

But at this time, Merlin could not find it in himself to like him. He could not bring himself to like the man who was pulling him away from his family, from his home, and from all he had ever known, because some sorceress he had never heard of apparently wanted him dead.

But he could also not bring himself to hate this man either, because he was technically saving Merlin’s life... by taking him away from his family, from his home, and from all he had ever known…

And speaking of, he should probably tell Will about this whole ordeal. Being his closest friend, Will deserved to know about the mess that Merlin had somehow gotten himself into. He could only hope that Will would take it in stride.

Merlin turned to his friend, opened his mouth and took a breath. But he was not given the chance to speak. Because, at some point, Lancelot had turned to them, and as Merlin had worked out the courage to turn to Will and say his piece, Lancelot had spoken instead.

“Well, I believe that to be it,” He was looking at Merlin, “Are you ready, Merlin?”

Okay, that was… not how he meant for things to go. Still, Merlin could only let out a sigh of his own as he started his trek over to where Lancelot stood. If it was time to go, it was time to go.

“Hold on a minute,” Will’s gaze moved between Merlin and Lancelot, “You came here for Merlin?”

Lancelot gave him a quick nod, “I did indeed. Have you got a problem with that?”

“Must I only have one?” His gaze seemed to settle on Merlin, “Merlin, what is going on here? Why are you going with this knight? Is he threatening you?”

“He is not threatening me,” Merlin countered, “Need we be technical about it, he is attempting to save me from this sorceress who wishes me dead.”

“And you believe that?” Will gave Merlin a doubtful look, “Take my word for it, Merlin, he lies. They always do.”

“I speak only the truth,” Lancelot replied when Merlin said nothing, “If Merlin remains here, Morgana will be able to track him down, and she will not hesitate to take his life, as she took her father’s life before.”

“Wait,” Will fell quiet for a few seconds, before he asked, “This… this sorceress is the reason for Uther Pendragon’s death?”

“Well, yes…” Lancelot looked hesitant as he nodded, “Were you not aware?”

“We hear no news of other kingdoms,” Merlin replied with a tired, dry tone in his voice, “The only reason we were ever informed of his death was because of some visiting travellers, who shared the news.”

“Well, that… makes sense, I suppose… must admit, that has never really crossed my mind before.”

Will rolled his eyes, “Well, obviously not. There is not a knight, nor a royal in this land, who ever thinks about the people they are supposed to protect.”

“Well, I must say, I am sorry to hear that you think so. Are the knights that serve Cendred really that awful?”

“These days we barely see them, as for reasons unknown, they appear to try and avoid Ealdor,” Merlin spoke before Will could, “But the few times we have seen them, they treat us like lower-class citizens, who are only here for their amusement.”

“Then you are right to be angry,” Lancelot looked to Will, “That is not how things should be.”

“As if Camelot is any better,” Will said, arms crossed over his chest, "Rumours reach us of mass starvation, and people going missing without a trace or anyone to care. Yet you expect me to let you bring my friend there?”

“I can assure you that no harm will come to him. I will personally see to that,” Merlin could feel Lancelot’s gaze hit him, “As long as the lady Morgana wants him, he is much too valuable to us.”

Lancelot was not helping his case much, making Merlin feel a lot more like he was some simple bait than a human being. But it was nice to hear him say that he intended to protect him, considering how he was about to drag Merlin into a foreign kingdom and use him as bait to lure out some apparently powerful sorceress.

“Will,” Merlin could only wait until his friend’s attention was now on him, before he continued, “The thought that Lancelot’s story is false has crossed my mind already. However, I find that the consequences of inaction, should his story be real, are much worse. Which is why I agreed to go.”

The look of betrayal that had manifested on Will's face stung more than what Merlin cared to admit. He could only hope that Will could see this from Merlin’s point of view and understand why he had chosen to go through with it. But judging by the sour expression on his face, Merlin dared not expect it.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Lancelot look up at the sky, “I fear we should prepare to take our leave, Merlin. I would rather like to get as far as we can before the darkness sets.”

“If you say so,” He nodded, though his eyes never left Will, “I will… I will be back, Will. When all of this is over, and this sorceress is dealt with, I will return.”

But Will, with his arms crossed over his chest, shook his head, “You should really not make promises which you cannot keep.”

Merlin wanted to argue. He wanted to say something, anything, that might tell Will that he was sure of this. He would make it out, he was sure of it. But he never got the chance to say it, because Will simply turned on his heel and walked away, his anger clearly visible.

Leaving Merlin to stand there, next to a knight he felt a sudden urge to punch.

“Oh dear,” He could hear Lancelot say, “I am sorry about that, Merlin. It was not my intention to anger your friend like that.”

“Well, it has happened,” Merlin just shook his head, refusing to meet eyes with Lancelot as he turned to the horse, “Can we just get going?”

He could now say for certain that he liked Lancelot a lot less than he had earlier.  

Chapter Text

Everything hurt.

Breathe.

Was he dead?

There was light. And a lot of it too.

The smell of smoke was quite heavy.

Something was running down the side of his head. Be it sweat or blood, he couldn’t tell.

He was able to tap his fingers against the ground.

There was movement in his legs.

His left arm hurt. A lot.

As did his ribs.

Only one of his eyes would open. Had something happened to his other eye?

The sky was blue. One cloud passed by as he laid there, just staring at the world above him.

He had to get up.

Using his right arm, he tried to search for anything that might help him get up. The attempted movement sent a shiver down his spine, as his entire body seemed to scream in pain. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from screaming too.

His fingers wrapped around something.

He recognised it as the hilt of his sword. If he had enough strength in his right arm, he might be able to fish it out and use it as support.

He pulled the sword out of the sheath, as far as he could manage. It took a few minutes, and he was surely running low on strength afterwards, but he was able to get it.

Using whatever strength he had left, he stabbed it into the ground. It didn’t stand straight, not that he would have expected it to. But if it was sturdy enough for him to get up on his feet, then it was good enough.

Biting back the scream that threatened to escape his lungs, he used the sword and whatever strength remained in his legs to get up to a seated position. The whole ordeal left him feeling dizzy. He had to force himself to move his head enough so that he would be able to survey the area.

There was a hovel… it seemed to be in quite bad shape.

He did not think he had the strength to get to it.

It seemed likely that he had been in it when whatever happened to it happened.

“Arthur, get back!”

No… he had been in it.

“Merlin? What is that?”

He had been in it. He was sure of that.

“Morgana, you must know that you cannot defeat me.”

And he had not been alone.

“I do not need to defeat you, Emrys-”

His hand flew up to his neck, almost by instinct. But there was nothing there.

What… what had happened in that hovel?

He had to bite his tongue again as he forced himself to stand. It was time to get some answers.

The extent of his injuries was not clear to him yet. But he considered it nothing less than a miracle that his legs were still working. That he could stand, without too much of a hassle. Moving them might be a completely different problem, but not one he bothered with right now.

His headache was getting worse.

He was fairly sure he could taste blood at this point.

He took a deep breath. It stung.

Then, he took the first step. He almost lost his balance as one of his legs nearly gave out under the weight. But he was able to hold himself steady, thanks in part to the sword he had resorted to use as a sort of make-shift cane. Sure, it made walking feel extremely strange, but he was managing… somehow.

Each step felt like someone was trying to stab him with a sword. Each breath felt like several small knives were poking his lungs. He should probably try to figure out his own injuries, but other things were currently on his mind.

If he was not alone here before… where were Merlin and Morgana? Were they still in the hovel?

He had lost complete track of time when he finally made it over to the hovel. It looked like someone had blown a hole through the roof of the place. Not to mention the hole in the wall, where he had a vague memory of there once being a window. But the walls remained.

At this point, he dared not question such things, not when there was magic involved.

The door opened with a gentle push. However, the floor was littered with debris, likely from the hole in the roof. There was also the sound of something dripping, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, or where it came from.

He cast a glance around the room. Between the rubble and the fact that the floors looked charred, he wasn’t sure he would be able to see either of them.

He took a few seconds to gather himself, using the doorway for support. For as unlikely as it was that he would find either Merlin or Morgana here, he still had to search. If not for them, then for some clue as to what had happened here. What part of it was he missing?

He kicked a piece of charred wood to the side. Glared at it like it had personally harmed him. And it might have; he could not recall.

Arthur forced himself to take another step in. He cast another look around, hoping that this extra step would somehow let him see what he could not see from the doorway.

A bottle had tipped over, and some strange, orange liquid was spilling out of it in drops. Arthur forced himself to walk over there, trying his best not to accidentally stab his support-sword through something. He wanted to get some idea of what the scene looked like, and destroying it would not help achieve that.

He picked the bottle up to study. It was almost empty, but he could see some traces of the orange liquid at the bottom of the bottle. It was not comparable to the orange puddle on the floor, but at least it was something.

The bottle was left on the shelf as Arthur continued his very slow search of Morgana’s hovel. There had to be something here; some sort of clue as to what had happened to Merlin and Morgana. Where they were. He… he did not want to face the idea that Merlin might be dead.

His gaze moved to the hole in the roof.

“Arthur, get back!”

Arthur sucked in a deep breath, “Merlin? What is that?”

His question went unanswered as his presence went ignored, “Morgana, you must know that you cannot defeat me.”

“I do not need to defeat you, Emrys,” Morgana’s eyes remained on Merlin, but her attention had fallen to Arthur, “If my dear brother perishes, you lose.”

It felt like she was holding her hands around his throat, but her hands never touched him. Yet Arthur could not take a breath, however hard he tried. He could feel his throat close up, and his hands went up to his neck, trying to fight off a force that was not there.

He fell to his knees, still fighting to take a breath. Everything around him went ignored. He could not concern himself with what Morgana and Merlin were yelling to each other, not when he was sure he was mere minutes away from death. He should not have come. He should…

Arthur fell to the floor, unconsciousness threatening to claim him. But his eyes had found something he had not seen before. Something… weird.

Arthur turned his attention to the other side of the hovel. The side where he, in his final moment of consciousness, had seen something. What it was, he could not remember. But he had seen something. Something noteworthy enough that he could still recall.

He waddled over, one step at a time. Given that there was nothing physically wrong with his legs, he was unsure of why he was struggling to walk so much. It could be the uneven ground or his other injuries, leaving him struggling to walk as he should. He did not know right now, and figuring that out remained low on his list of priorities.

He found it by what looked like it had once been a bed. Or maybe it was a bench; he could not really tell.

But the remains of a human body, however bad shape it was in, were clear. Arthur did not see the need to check and see if they were alive. No one could have survived the wounds that had been inflicted on this person.

Arthur sat down on what he thought was a bed and took a deep breath. Then, using his sword, he made attempts to remove the cape, notably a cape that belonged to a knight of Camelot, that had been draped over the body. He had to check whose family he would have to contact when he got back.

And in the off chance that it was Merlin… well, he would cross that bridge later. But given that Arthur was alive, he couldn’t help but believe that Merlin was too. Consider it… wishful thinking.

It took him a few tries to flip the cape away, at the risk of accidentally injuring the body itself. And well… Arthur found it hard to come up with any potential explanations for why he was currently staring at his own corpse.

Chapter Text

Arthur had lost track of time as he tried to work out what could possibly cause this… situation he was faced with. He was sure Merlin would have the answers, and could have explained it, but Arthur had no idea where the man was… or if he was still alive.

No. He was alive. Arthur refused to believe otherwise. After everything they had been through, Arthur refused to believe that Merlin was dead. He might not be here, right now, but he was not dead. Arthur was the one who was dead. It was, after all, his corpse on the floor.

And speaking of, he had come up with a few possible explanations as to why his corpse was on the floor, despite Arthur clearly being… well, not dead. Some ideas made more sense than others, but out of everything he could come up with, he found three of them to be more likely than the rest:

Idea one. He had managed to lose his life during the confrontation and was now haunting this hovel for the rest of time. It seemed unlikely, given how he could still touch what surrounded him, but he did not know enough to say for sure. From what he could remember, he had never tried to be an undead spirit before.

Idea two. Some stray spell had hit him, and he was currently living through a dream. If it was his own or someone else’s, he could not say for sure. He sincerely hoped that this was not the case, given the lack of an idea of what to expect, should it be so.

Idea three. They had somehow managed to end up in the wrong universe. For now, this seemed like the most likely option, but he did not have enough information to say for sure. He would have to actually leave this hovel and find other people, before he could even try to make a guess.

He forced himself to stand, relying on the bedframe to support himself. There was this voice in the back of his head, one which sounded a lot like Gaius, telling him to sit down again. To get some idea of the extent of his injuries, before he made a foolish attempt to do something that could injure him further.

Unfortunately, he had too many questions, and he was in need of some answers. And this need for answers was urgent, because lives could be on the line. Merlin’s life could be on the line.

The image of another- the other Merlin flashed through his mind. Lifeless, but not dead. At ease, but not peaceful. Ashen but still shining, even though it was clear that his light was almost out. It was an image he would be happy to never see again, if he was given the choice.

He forced himself to take a step. But the moment his foot hit the ground; he could feel a jolt of pain move through his foot and then through the rest of his body. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from having an audible reaction. Which was pretty stupid, he realised afterwards. He was alone here. No one would care if he screamed. No one would care if he cursed. No one would know.

His sword had become little less than a make-shift cane, but Arthur had nothing else. There was nothing in the immediate view that he could take, that would be able to support him. As impractical as the sword was at that moment, it was also the only thing here that he could lean on, as he attempted to walk.

It probably looked rather silly, but again; there was no one else here. No one would know.

The walk from the bed and over to the door gave him a few key pieces of information. Both his legs were injured, though the extent of said injuries differed. His right leg could maintain his weight well enough without support, but his left one could not. His physical strength was about half of what it would usually be, and he would not be surprised if there was some major injury to his left shoulder somewhere.

He was able to get back outside, stopping only for about a minute, in hopes that he might be able to catch his breath. The wind was cold, and the air smelled like it might soon rain. Arthur forced himself to take a deep breath, wincing when it felt like someone was stabbing his chest with a ton of tiny needles.

Given his own state, he dared not question how Merlin and Morgana were doing. Though… they must have been in better shape than him, given how they had been able to leave this area. But that just left him questioning why they would leave him behind. Why would Merlin leave him behind?

No.

He would not let himself fall down that trap. That… line of thought. If he started thinking like that; doubting himself and his allies, he would make mistakes. And now was not the time for mistakes.

So he trudged on. Doing his best to ignore the stinging feeling that came to him with each breath he took, and that jolt of pain that shot through his body each time his foot made contact with the ground. It had not worked out so well and he might have, by instinct, bitten down far enough to where he could taste his own blood.

But he was able to leave the hovel behind, one step at a time. And sure, he really missed his horse, but he would be able to make it back to Camelot on foot. It would only take him…

Accounting for his injuries… and his lack of provisions…

Alright, so it might take a really long time. But as the king of Camelot, was it not Arthur’s duty to make this journey back? To let them know that he was okay?

Perhaps Merlin and Morgana were having some grand old battle somewhere else. Perhaps Merlin had managed to move the fight away from the hovel, and Arthur had just fallen unconscious before that. At this point, who could say?

The distant sound of hoofs had not gone unnoticed. But there was no sign of anyone else. It was just Arthur and the trees, so where was that sound coming from? And was it coming… closer?

His instincts won the fight against his logic, and Arthur dove straight into the bushes, with no care for the fact that he was severely injured. Another jolt of pain rang through his body, and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from screaming, as he could now hear voices on top of hooves.

“Are you confident that it is out here?” Wait, was that not Elyan?

“Yes, it should be…” The other voice sounded a lot like Percival, “This is the direction they said the sounds were coming from.”

The sounds? And who… who were ‘they’?

“I just hope Arthur and Merlin are alright,” Elyan let out a sigh, while sounding kind of in a panic at the same time, “Whatever it was that Morgana did, whatever caused that explosion… it could have killed them both.”

“Yes, I know.”

So they were on their way to Morgana’s hovel, to see if they could find Merlin and Arthur there… but neither Merlin nor Arthur were there, if you do not count the second corpse, and…

Arthur cleared his throat. Then, mustering up whatever strength he could find, which was not much at this time, he forced himself to shout.

“Elyan! Percival!”

If that would catch their attention, he could not be sure. He could not even tell if it had been audible at all. But it was what he could muster. Now, he just had to wait and see if Elyan and Percival had heard him.

His entire body was hurting, and Arthur closed his eyes, having every intention of trying to ride this wave of pain out… if that was even possible. He had no other choice but to try; and it was not like he knew another way to make the pain go away. Gaius had a pretty effective tonic for that, but Gaius was not here. Arthur was alone.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. If he were able to stop thinking, then maybe-

“Arthur!” That sounded like Elyan again, “Percival, over here! It’s Arthur!”

It took him a few seconds to reopen his eyes, but when he did, he found that Elyan was sitting by him, a worried look on his knight’s face. And Percival was coming in from… some angle…

“Hey,” Arthur forced a smile, “It is good to see some familiar faces.”

Chapter Text

He had probably been lapsing in and out of consciousness, given how the next few moments were only flashes; images, and nothing more. Looking up at Percival as the knight was carrying him further into the forest. Looking at Elyan, as he guided the horses after them. Percival stoking a fire, as Elyan was looking anxiously in Arthur’s direction.

His knights were trained to deal with injuries that may occur in the field, be it a sprained ancle, a broken arm, or anything of that nature. The fact that Elyan looked so anxious where he stood, was enough to tell Arthur that his injuries were deemed worse than so.

But they were doing what they could. When Arthur got to again, he found that Elyan had been trying to wrap his arm in a make-shift sling. He had drawn back when he had noticed that Arthur had regained consciousness, but Arthur had signalled for him to continue.

Silence reigned between the two, as Elyan finished what he was doing. And at some point, Arthur was not sure exactly when, Percival reemerged, carrying a big stick. What the point of it was, only Percival knew. But it was… well, at least they had it.

Arthur laid his head back against the tree he had been leaning against, closing his eyes for a few moments. Then, while trying to force his voice to remain steady, he forced himself to speak.

“Did you make it to Ealdor?”

“Yes, we did,” Elyan replied, “And we saw the weirdest thing.”

“What was that?”

“Lancelot.”

Hearing the name, caused Arthur to sit up almost immediately. An action he found himself regretting almost right away, when a wave of pain seemed to shoot through his body. Still, he forced himself to remain as steady as he could, despite it.

His voice was still shaking though, “You saw Lancelot?”

“We did,” Elyan nodded, “And from what we could gather, he was looking for Merlin.”

“Wait, Merlin?”

But that made no sense. Merlin was… he had been with Arthur. They had gone to Morgana’s hovel together. And sure, Merlin had not been there when Arthur had left, but why would he have gone to Ealdor, of all places? It made… it made no sense. He would not have left Arthur by himself in that hovel, unless he absolutely had to… so why had he? And why had he gone to Ealdor?

“It confused us too,” Elyan nodded, his gaze locked on Arthur, “We thought Merlin was with you.”

“He-he was. Or, at least, I think he was?”

But he had no proof of it. And at this point, he might as well have imagined it. For who could tell what was real anymore?

“Well, we were not able to stick around and see if he was there or not. Some of the other villagers spotted us, and we feared they might make a fuzz if we stayed.”

“We had to flee further into Cendred’s land to avoid being spotted by him,” Percival added as he was stoking the fire, “Almost got ourselves captured by some of Cendred’s men, but we were able to escape.”

“And you are sure it was Lancelot?”

“Positive. He looked like him, he moved like him, he sounded like him… who else could it be?”

Right…he had no idea why he had even bothered to ask. Because he knew it was possible, and that at this point, it was almost probable. It seemed like Lancelot had become the universe’s favourite weapon to use against him. First, with Morgana trying to separate him and Gwen, and then the other Lancelot of the other universe, kidnapping Merlin…

What was this one going to do?

“But Lancelot is dead…” Arthur paused for a moment, before mumbling, “So what was he doing in Ealdor? What did he want with Merlin?”

Elyan tilted his head slightly, “Should the question not be, how could a dead man be in Ealdor?”

“No,” Arthur shook his head, “This is the second time it has happened now. It is safe to assume that what brought him back to life last time, happened again.”

“Last time? What do you mean, ‘last time’?”

“I can explain it to you later,” Arthur bit his tongue as he made an attempt to shift position, “So Lancelot was in Ealdor, looking for Merlin. Merlin and Morgana are both missing-,”

“Wait, what do you mean, Morgana is missing?!”

“Oh, uh… yes. I was the only one in the hovel when I woke up,” Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting to keep himself on track, “There was no sign of either of the other two. And, uh… where was I… right, Merlin and Morgana are both missing, and we will probably have to assume that we are up against some form of magic.”

“Well, we have been up against magic before and come out victorious-,” Elyan shrugged, “I am sure we can do it again.”

Well, sure… but the story was not as simple as that, was it? How many of those victories were because of Merlin? Because of something he had done, or because of something he knew? What were their odds now, when they were on their own? He had a feeling it was much lower than what Elyan was thinking.

He cast a glance over to his sword. Sure, it could take out magical threats, but was that really going to be enough? He could take the life of a person with magic, but would that really be the right way to deal with this? Especially when he had no idea of what ‘this’ was?

Currently, it was all a wild guess, at best. But something… something felt wrong about this whole situation. And the fact that Lancelot was apparently alive was only adding to that feeling. But Arthur was struggling to put it all together.

His mind felt foggy, and it was getting difficult to keep coherent. Not to mention the pounding headache. If he did not have to keep coherent, keep himself awake for the sake of his knights, he might have made some attempt to knock himself unconscious, just to escape it. To escape that pain, even if just for a little bit.

He took another breath, as it felt like something was scraping against the inside of his chest. The feeling was unfortunately not a stranger to him anymore. Now, it was more like… an annoyance. A really painful annoyance, but still. An annoyance.

Another glance at his sword. The blade that had taken out Merlin and Morgause. The blade that was, as the other Arthur had said, his destiny. The blade that had felt more like a curse than a blessing, at least these past few weeks.

Why did this have to be his destiny? When had he signed up for… for this?

Arthur closed his eyes again. He seemed to be doing little else. But currently, it felt like his eyelids were some of the only parts of his body, still functioning as they should… he should really be checked out by a healer, should he not?

“Uh, Elyan?” Arthur barely bothered to react to the fact that Percival was speaking, “I think we should get moving.”

“Why?” Elyan asked, sounding confused, “We should really stay in place, considering how it is almost nighttime.”

“Normally, I would agree. However, I’m not sure how comfortable I am with how pale Arthur has gone. Especially given how we have no idea as to the extent of his injuries. So, I think we should get him some help, as soon as possible.”

There was silence for a few seconds… but then, he could hear Elyan hum… and then,

“… yes, I see what you mean. But we are a long way from Camelot-,”

“I believe there is a druid camp nearby. We can probably get some help there.”

“Hmmm… alright. Do you think you will be able to ride with him, or should I?”

“I’ve got him.”

“Alright. Just give me a second to untie the horses, and then-,”

Arthur did not catch what was said next. Or anything else, really. He did recognize when he was lifted up off the ground, and though a warning would have been nice, he elected to keep quiet about it. There were more important things to worry about right now… but his head was spinning, and-

“You know, I was expecting better than this, Arthur. This is really not dignified.”

Chapter Text

Have you ever lost consciousness in one place, only to wake up in a completely different place? Arthur had, a few times now. And he found it extremely disorienting each time it happened. And the fact that it had happened about five times within the past twelve hours, was really messing with his head.

The first thing that struck him, when he came to, was the fact that the open sky had been replaced with the roof of a tent. He was no longer outside… but that headache was still there. It appeared to be a constant companion at this point. The companion he did not want.

“Ah. You are awake.”

Arthur turned his head to the side, taking in the sight of the other man in the tent. His appearance was… hazy, at best. Though so was everything else, so it might just have been a problem with Arthur’s vision. At this point, anything was possible.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” The man, whoever he was, continued, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I have been trampled by a horse,” Arthur’s reply came out dry, “Where… where are Elyan and Percival?”

“They are resting in another tent. Though I am sure they will be here, when they wake up and find out that you are awake as well.”

“Right…”

Both parties remained silent for a few minutes. But then Arthur could see the other man move slightly, taking a few steps closer to him. And he looked a bit hesitant, with even his hands trembling a little bit. His attempt to hide that, was also not really successful.

“This might not be any of my business,” He sounded hesitant as well, “But given the extent of your injuries, I just have to ask… what exactly happened to you?”

Yeah, that was the big question, “I cannot remember. Something with Merlin and Morgana… but maybe not? And the hovel looked like it had exploded, but… I cannot say so for sure.”

“Yes, I suppose the head injury might have given you some form of amnesia,” The man nodded, “But there was an explosion recently… may it be, that you were caught up in the epicentre of it?”

“I don’t know… how long ago was it? Since the explosion happened?”

That had apparently been the wrong thing to ask, as the man had gone over to only staring at him. Granting him no response to the question. It made him wonder if he had even asked it, or if he had just imagined himself asking it. God, why did everything just seem to be wrong?

He let out a sigh, “Yes, I might have been.”

“Then you might stand outside of it all. Your confusion might be partly because of it… because you got caught up in the epicentre, meaning…”

He couldn’t hear more of what was said, not that he had really been following along with the parts he had heard either. It probably made sense to the man, but Arthur was not him. He was also struggling to keep up in general, with his mind constantly wandering elsewhere.

But then the man straightened himself, “Whatever happened in that hovel, changed something. And you might just be our best clue to figure out how.”

And Arthur could only stare at him, before finally asking, “How?”

“How things changed,” The druid was just giving him a blank stare, “Can you not feel it? Is there not a nagging feeling in your stomach, telling you that something is amiss?”

His mind immediately went to Lancelot. The dead knight who was not so dead after all. The sudden disappearances of Merlin and Morgana, who had supposedly been in that hovel with him. Speaking off, maybe the druids had eyes on Merlin? He was their Emrys after all.

“Do you have eyes on Emrys, currently?” Arthur tried to sit up again, “I might have an idea, but I need him for it. And I seem to have lost track of him.”

This just earnt him another blank stare. Almost as if, what he was saying could not physically compute within the mind of the man he was talking to. And yes, that was certainly strange. He made a note of it, intending to deal with it later…

But Elyan and Percival had understood it all. They knew about Merlin and Morgana, and they knew that Lancelot was not meant to be there. But they had not been in the epicentre of the explosion… so, what was that all about?

“Anyhow-,” Arthur might have jumped, when the man suddenly spoke again, “I have brought you some food and some water. As well as a staff, to help you walk until your leg is strong enough to carry you again.”

The man was gone before Arthur could fully understand what had just happened. His silence, the sudden change of subject, before abruptly leaving. And seemingly doing so in a hurry. It was weird, even if it did put what had just been said, into perspective.

Arthur cast a quick glance over to the bowl of stew. It looked rather appetizing, he would admit. However, he was fairly sure that if he tried to eat anything right now, it would just end up coming right back up again. So, it seemed best to not make the effort.

Instead, he laid back down, searching for some random spot of interest on the roof. Anything that could take his mind off the current situation, at least for long enough to where someone else might come in and distract him. Maybe Elyan and Percival would arrive soon.

There was some form of rustling noise coming from the entrance of the tent.

Arthur forced himself to sit up, a bit surprised that someone had already come. Maybe it was the man again, and he would get some answers to his questions about the pretty weird behaviour. Or maybe it was Elyan and Percival who could fill him in on how they got here. Or maybe-

“Ah. You have finally woken up.”

Maybe it was himself. Maybe he was staring at himself. But that should be impossible… and at the same time, Arthur had already done this. The body in the hovel. That had also been him. So, of course, now he was seeing an alive version of himself. Next, he might just see himself as a child or an old man or something.

“I will be honest,” The other him continued, an annoyed look on his face, “I expected more of this world. I expected it to be different, somehow. But it is just the same as mine. They are both just the same.”

Okay… so it was not himself he was looking at… rather, it was the alternate universe variant of himself? As if his headache could not get any worse…

“You seem surprised to see me,” The other him remarked with a smirk.

“Well, yeah?” Arthur remarked, still staring at the man in front of him, “You are not meant to be here. You are meant to be in your own universe, with your friends and your Morgana. So, why are you here?”

“I am not sure why I am here,” Why was he still smirking, “But you would appear to have gotten the story wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“That is for me to know, and you to find out,” The other him spent a few moments looking around, before his gaze settled on Arthur again, “You look really awful, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Arthur replied, dead-panned, “Explosions tend to mess you up.”

“If you say so.”

The tent fell silent again, and Arthur debated upon closing his eyes and trying to get some rest. But would his alternate self allow that, or would he start trying to annoy him again? All bets were currently on the latter. And Arthur would prefer to be the one in control of the situation, instead of allowing the other Arthur to take control.

He closed his eyes anyway, “Are you here to help me?”

“Help you?” It almost sounded like the other one was on the verge of laughing, “Why would I help you?”

“Because you know that deep down, it is the right thing to do? Or maybe, it is your key to finding your way back to your own universe? Honestly, the possibilities are endless.”

There was silence for as much as 10 seconds, before the other him responded, “You are not funny.”

“I was not trying to be funny.”

“If you say so,” One could almost hear the other Arthur roll his eyes, “I do not know why I am here, and it does not matter. I am here, that is what matters.”

“Yes, you are here,” Arthur nodded, “And no offense, I would prefer it if you were not.”

“Alright, alright. There is no need to be insulting,” The other Arthur was just sounding bored now, “It is not like I want to be here.”

“Great. Then leave.”

“If only it were that simple,” There was an audible sigh, followed by, “Unfortunately, we appear to be stuck with each other.”

Chapter Text

Even with the staff as support, it was hard to walk. It was hard because, instinctively, he wanted to place his weight on the injured foot. And he kept forgetting that the leg was injured, and that he should really not be standing on it. There had been about seven times now, where he had put his weight on that leg, and almost let out a blood-curdling scream because of it.

But in the time he had spent trying to walk around this camp, he had noticed one person of interest. Who looked quite a lot younger than the man he had met before this all started, but looked quite a lot older than the boy he had met back in Camelot, so many years ago.

Despite it all, there was no doubt in his mind. The boy, who was currently walking around with a basket of different herbs. Who kept sending Arthur amazed looks when he thought the man was not watching. Who almost stumbled when he looked over and realised that Arthur was watching him. That was Mordred. It could be no one else.

“Wow,” Other-Arthur remarked, not exactly trying to be quiet about it, “He can barely keep himself standing around you.”

Arthur mumbled under his breath, “Please, just shut up.”

“Oh, are we embarrassed now?”

Arthur dared a glance in the direction where his other self was sitting, “Were you ever an actual threat, or were you only ever a nuisance?”

That gave him a few moments of silence, that he desperately needed. Having to constantly listen to someone, especially someone you did not really like, and with no way of escaping it was… exhausting, to say the least. Especially when the offending voice both sounded like yours and sounded nothing like yours at the same time.

“Arthur,” A friendlier voice, who Arthur recognised as Percival’s, spoke up, “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“A bit better,” Arthur forced a smile, “How are you and Elyan holding up?”

“Alright, considering the circumstances,” Percival shrugged, “Though I am pretty sure we will both sleep easier, once we know where Morgana has gone.”

“Me too.”

Mordred caught his attention again, the young man seeming to absently be staring at Arthur and Percival, with his basket of herbs tilting a dangerous amount… it looked like perhaps some of the herbs might fall out of the basket, if he tilted it forward any more than he currently was.

Percival followed Arthur’s gaze, and from the corner of his eye, Arthur could see the knight smile, as it became clear who was on the other end of Arthur’s gaze. He rose to his feet, just slightly, waving the boy over to them. And Mordred came, with a little pep in his step.

“Arthur, this is one of the druids of this camp,” Percival introduced them, “His name is Mordred.”

“Hello, Arthur,” Mordred bowed, ever so slightly, “It is an honour to meet you.”

Meet you? So Mordred did not remember their meeting before, back when he was a child? Well, Arthur would not say he was disappointed, but he was honestly not far from it.

“Mordred,” He repeated, as if he did not already know, “The honour is all mine.”

“Mordred has been looking after the horses, while we have been staying here,” Percival continued, turning to Mordred, “Are they well?”

“Oh, yes. They should be ready to go as soon as Sir Elyan wakes up.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Mordred,” Percival turned back to Arthur, “The question now is, where do we want to go?”

Arthur had to stop and think for a moment. There were several places where they logically should go, be it Camelot or Ealdor. Or perhaps they could chase down this universe’s Kilgharrah and demand some answers from him. There were endless options… but there was one place that kept coming up in his mind, again and again.

“I think I want to return to Morgana’s hovel,” Arthur’s response had drawn some strange facial expressions from the other two, who seemed like they did not agree with him, “If that is where the explosion happened, it might hold some clues as to what happened to Merlin and Morgana.”

It felt wrong to be talking about an explosion, given how from Arthur’s point of view, there had been no sign of one. The hovel had still stood, any visible signs of an explosion being minor. But everyone else had called it an explosion, so who was he to argue?

“Are you sure that is the place to go?” Percival was asking, his concern written across his face, “Would it not be better if we head back to Camelot, so Gaius can have a look at your injuries?”

“It probably would, and I suppose we could do that later… but I cannot help but think that I missed some important clue, while I was there.”

Some important clue, like how the other him had died. Or how there was three of him now. Or, perhaps some clue about where Merlin had gone. Or how Lancelot had come back to life. He was not exactly sure what he was looking for, but if he were to find it, it would be in that hovel. There was no doubt in his mind about it.

“You need not come with me. I would completely understand it, if you would rather travel back to Camelot,” He was quick to add, “However, I have to head back to that hovel. If nothing else, then for my own peace of mind.”

Percival looked like he was considering it. Really considering it. Like he was hesitant to let Arthur go off on his own, but also hesitant to go with him. Which was fair enough, because what Arthur was suggesting, did probably not make much sense to him… or anyone, except for Arthur himself.

He could order them to come with him. But that did not seem fair, especially given how Arthur probably sounded less than sane at the moment. He did not want to force the knights to baby-sit him, so if they wanted to tap out, he would allow it. He would not blame them if they did. In fact, he would fully understand.

“I will…bring it up with Elyan when he wakes,” Percival looked over to Arthur, “But if this is something you really need to do, then I suppose we will make it our priority.”

Fortunately for him, Arthur’s knights were loyal enough, to where they would follow him despite how weird his ideas might be. And perhaps that should be a little concerning, considering the fact that blind loyalty could lead to disastrous consequences, but Arthur did not care for that right now. In fact, he could only smile, as a sense of relief flooded through him.

“But wait,” If he was honest, Arthur had forgotten that Mordred was still there, “If you are leaving soon… could I come with you?”

Arthur and Percival exchanged a glance, before Percival asked, “Whatever for?”

“It sounds like you plan on dealing with Morgana, and I wish to lend a hand,” Mordred crossed his arms, “She claims to be the voice of people with magic, yet she has brought us nothing but trouble.”

That caused Arthur some confusion, “But I thought she wanted to help those with magic…?”

“Sure, she does. As long as you agree with her stand on things. But the moment you think for yourself, the moment you might not agree with how she sees things, you become her enemy.”

“That sounds familiar,” Arthur mumbled to himself, before raising his voice, stating, “Should we stand any chance of coming out victorious of this, we will need any help we can get. I will allow you to come if that is what you want, but you are aware that this mission might cost you your health, right? At worst… it might even cost you your life.”

“I figured as much,” Mordred chuckled, though it came out sounding awkward, “But if no one dares to do anything, we stand no chance at making a change, do we?”

Okay, he was smarter than what Arthur had given him credit for. But in his defence, Arthur had last spoken to the boy when he was a child. And he had barely said anything since they were reunited… and it was probably not fair to be judging him based on a brief interaction with the other universe’s Mordred.  

“No, you would be right there…”

“Well, we seem to be leading another one straight to slaughter,” Other-Arthur had appeared, and Arthur could feel a chill run down his spine when he felt a hand on his shoulder, “What would make this one any different from the other few, hm?”

While the other him had spoken, Arthur had kept his gaze locked on Mordred and Percival. He had been waiting for one of them to react to the fact that there was a second Arthur there. He had been waiting for someone to call out what was being said… but nothing. It was like they did not even know he was there.

It could mean several things, but Arthur was inclined to believe one of the explanations above the others. Because it seemed more likely that he was hallucinating, based on the lack of a reaction the other two had, both to his appearance and to what had been said by the other Arthur. But that just left him wondering, why could he not be hallucinating anyone else? Why did it have to be his alternate universe counterpart?... and had he hallucinated the man in the hovel too? 

Arthur cleared his throat, trying to disguise the horror he was feeling, “We leave as soon as Elyan is awake and ready.”

In the meantime, he could figure out how best to be rid of his hallucination. The sooner, the better.