Just an idea that possessed me recently. =) I don't plan to continue it for about another month or so, until I finish "Consequences," but I thought I'd post the first chapter and see what people thought?

I don't actually know if the proper rating for this is T or M. A little help please?

WARNING FOR GRAPHIC DEATH.

"I'm a sorcerer, Arthur. I have magic. And I use it for you… only for you."

Fingers curling together. A fist flying through the air. A blue-eyed young manservant sprawled on the floor, shock written across his face.

And then, a week. A long week of ignoring. Of pushing aside. Of cold shoulders and crestfallen expressions, because something at once beautiful and powerful and fragile had been shattered like thin glass.

Hunting trip. To clear the mind. Just like old times. Except it wasn't, because that thing had been lost, and Merlin was…. but that was to be ignored, forgotten, shoved away as best as it could be.

Then, suddenly, while trying to relax…. bandits. Men pouring out of the trees, and then it was the heat of battle, all swords and arrows and snarling faces and flying limbs and pumping hearts, adrenaline and the thrill of the fight running through the veins. Then, as it ended, turning, checking, making sure everyone was there, accounted for, looking out for your people, as a king should- and Merlin. Merlin. Blood everywhere, face nearly unrecognizable, mouth open in a pitiful cry even with the skull half gone… and last week you had been so horrible, and now, now…. Merlin.

Eyelids fluttered… a harsh, unidentifiable whisper that sounded like your name and forgiveness and love, and a swelling heart and watering eyes because you didn't deserve this wonderful man and he didn't deserve to die… and then a wheeze, more blood, a small choking noise, and then….

Nothing.

-Merlin-

Arthur's eyes flew open, and the king shot upright with a gasp. He stared for a moment into the dark, heart throbbing against his breastbone.

"Merlin," he whispered, his voice choked.

The blankets stirred beside him, but Guinevere did not wake. Arthur was glad- his night terrors woke her often enough as it was, and she had had a long day. He cast a accusingglance at the potion vial by his bed- like Morgana, he seemed to be immune to its influence.

Sighing, he rose quietly from his bed, knowing he would not be able to sleep any longer like this. Creeping across the room, he slipped out the door, careful not to wake his wife.

He padded silently down the cold, quiet corridors of his castle. At one time, he had cared so much for its people and for the citizens of Camelot and inhabitants of Albion. Now that concern, like everything else but his grief, was muted and dull, as though it had been buried by his tears.

Within a few minutes, he had reached his destination and knocked softly on the door.

Alice answered immediately.

"Oh, my lord," she sighed upon seeing him, far too accustomed to this sight. "Come in." She held the door open wider, and he stepped inside.

"I suppose you're here for a sleeping tonic, then?" she inquired, already searching her shelves for the potion.

"You know I am," murmured the king, seating himself upon the old wooden bench.

"Of course," murmured the elderly woman. "Well, here you are, then." She set the vial down before him. "You know how to take it."

The blonde nodded and reached for the potion, but made no move to leave.

"My lord?" enquired Alice softly.

The king sat in silence for a moment, before choking out, "It's been ten years, Alice. Ten years. Should it not have gotten easier by now?"

The physician gave a sad sigh in reply and sat down beside Arthur, resting a hand on her monarch's back. "One would think," she murmured. "It usually does, you know. After Gaius passed on, I was devastated. I could barely keep myself alive. You remember."

The king nodded silently.

"But I recovered," she continued. "Everyone does. Life moves on; people move on. It's the way things work. It's how it worked for me, how it worked for my father after my mother's passing, how it worked for your wife… but apparently not how it worked for you. And, you know, Gaius used to talk about you two all the time. He was so proud of you, both of you. He said that you had a… bond. That you were special. That your friendship and brotherhood had been prophesied since the beginning of time. A relationship like that, Arthur… you don't just forget that. The stuff of legends… you don't just move on from that. Those are the things that stay with you, the things you remember. And so I think… that's why it's like this for you. That's why it feels as though you lost your little brother yesterday, not your friend ten years ago. That's the reason for the nightmares and the guilt. You understand?"

Arthur nodded, feeling moisture prickle his eyes, but he did not try to blink it away out of embarrassment or fear of showing weakness. He was far past that point with Alice.

"Thank you," he whispered, gazing down at the brown liquid in his hands. "I feel as though I… understand better now."

The elderly woman smiled sadly and rubbed his shoulder blade. "Anything I can do to ease the burden, my lord. Anything at all."

-Merlin-

Arthur had just fallen into a fitful doze when bright sunshine fell across his face, waking him. Groaning, he rolled over in an attempt to block out the light.

"Good morning, sire," came a professional voice, and Arthur had to resist the urge to strangle the man, as he'd had to do for the past ten years, because he wasn't the person Arthur wanted to hear.

It suddenly struck Arthur that, outside his dreams, he could not remember his former manservant's voice. His heart twisted, and he felt tears pricking in his eyes.

Was it going to be this way, he wondered, until the day he died? Yearning for someone long dead, forgetting them bit by bit, until, at the end, it wasn't even a person he was longing to see anymore, just a nameless feeling of… something…. that he couldn't quite remember?

He thought he might choke on his grief, the way his throat closed up at the thought.

"My lord, you must rise." George's voice pierced his gloomy thoughts. "You have a meeting with the leader of the druids in an hour. They say it is an urgent matter that concerns the safety of Albion."

Albion. A dream he had finally achieved seven years ago. Peace and prosperity across the isles.

But it didn't mean anything to him anymore. Not if his brother was not by his side.

Albion had originally been Merlin's dream, so Arthur had toiled long and hard for it, hoping that the achievement of the goal would bring him…. he didn't know exactly what. Peace? Closure? A good night's sleep? He wasn't sure.

Whatever it was, he had not found it when he was crowned High King of Albion.

If anything, his grief had only grown worse, because the person to whom the coronation was most important, the person who had put this dream in his heart, had not lived to see its realization.

"Arthur? Come on, you've got to get up."

Squinting in the bright light, Arthur raised his head just enough to see his wife walking from the dressing screen to the table.

She took one look at her husband's exhausted face- the paleness, the dark marks underneath his eyes- and sighed, shaking her head slightly. Seating herself, she began to fill her plate in silence.

Guinevere had done her very best to help Arthur, to bring her husband back to the man he'd been before. She'd tried everything from sympathy to anger to pity to silence to denial, but to no effect- he still grieved as though it had been ten days, not ten years.

Not even ten days, she thought sometimes. Ten hours.

Although she had been close to both the warlock and the king, she had never quite understood their bond or its depth, so she could not comprehend Arthur's grief, or why it was so impossible for him to move on. What had made it more difficult was the instinctive knowledge that this grief was reserved especially for Merlin, that, he had lost anyone else instead, even his wife, he would have been able to recover.

The anger phase had lasted a long time.

Now, however, she had mellowed to numb acceptance, a phase that, she suspected, would have to last her the rest of their lives.

After a moment, she heard the rustling of bedclothes as he rose, and then he was seating himself across from her.

"What's this meeting with the druids about?" he inquired of George. Pleasantries and greetings were rarely exchanged between the king and queen now. After Merlin's brutal death, Arthur had been too grieved, and Gwen too hurt, to take time for such small things, and eventually they, like so much else in the royals' lives, had slipped away.

"They would not say, your majesty. They just requested to speak with you on an urgent matter."

Arthur sighed in annoyance. The druids' secrecy even after swearing loyalty to him irritated the king immensely. "Very well then." He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to banish his exhaustion. "I suppose I'd better prepare. Tell a guard to assemble the Round Table."

-Merlin-

"Did you not sleep well, my lord?"

Arthur glanced up at Leon, who had taken Gaius' place at the king's right hand after the physician's passing. "I'm afraid not," he sighed.

Leon fell silent. Arthur had never been quite able to discern Leon's feelings on the matter of Merlin's death and the king's reaction. The man never revealed anything but absolute loyalty to his monarch, but, at times, Arthur had thought he sensed strong disapproval.

Gwaine, on the other hand, had never had any issues with expressing his feelings on the matter. Sadly, the king's eyes drifted over to the empty chair almost directly across from him. Not long after the terrible event, the brash young knight had called Arthur a coward and a weakling in a fit of rage, told him it was his fault Merlin had died, and stormed out of Camelot to avenge the young man's death.

He had never returned- whether because he had met his end somewhere, had not yet found the bandits responsible, or had simply decided life in Camelot was not worth it without his closest friend, Arthur had never heard.

He suspected he never would.

The royal was just dozing off in his chair when the doors were thrust open and three druids strode in.

Starting, the king sat straight up and attempted to appear somewhat lucid.

"Your majesty," stated the tallest druid, bowing. Arthur instantly recognized the voice of Iseldir, the elderly leader of the druids.

"Iseldir," he replied. "Why have you come?"

"I bring news of a magical matter of great importance."

Arthur's eyes instantly went to his Court Sorcerer- a man not much younger than himself named Gilli. After the legalization of magic, the man had come to Camelot, inquiring after Merlin. The king had broken the news to him, and, after hours of exchanging stories about the young warlock, Arthur had appointed him to this position.

"Speak," he ordered.

"My lord, have you heard of the Order of Emrys?"

Emrys. Merlin's magical name. Arthur's heart sped up, and his mouth felt dry. When he spoke, his voice was somewhat hoarse. "No, I have not."

"They are an… extremist group of druids who believe that the Once and Future King and Emrys are one and the same person. Forgive me, my lord, but they view you as an impostor and believe you took Emrys' life out of a desire for power."

Blood all over the ground, a huge pool of it. A skull smashed open. Lips gasping, struggling for words.

Arthur shuddered, and a wave of nausea swept over him. Did those people really…. could they actually think… that he had done that horrendous thing to Merlin? That he had brutally, cruelly, ripped away the life of the best man he had ever known?

The monarch was barely able to restrain himself from speaking, knowing that what would come out of his mouth would not be at all appropriate or befitting a king. Instead, he merely nodded for Iseldir to continue.

"After Emrys' death, the Order wasquiet, inactive, for many years. Then, recently, our tribe noticed a surge of magical activity from their camps. We investigated and discovered that they had actually discovered a way to travel through time using magic- a feat that many esteemed warlocks and witches have deemed impossible."

"What… what are you saying? Why does this matter?" demanded Arthur, a feeling of… something (hope, perhaps?) stirring inside him.

"My lord, they now have the ability to go back in time, to the past. They believe they can change the past, and thus also the present and the future."

Change the past. The present. The future. Arthur's heart was pounding against his breastbone, the blood roaring in his ears.

Could he actually…. would it really be possible….

"They want to go back in time to Emrys' childhood and change him, raise him to assassinate you and assume the throne of Camelot. My lord, someone must travel back to stop them. However, as you know, the druids are a peaceful people and will not engage in combat. So we managed to acquire the spell they used, and will give it to your court sorcerer to use as you wish, my lord."

Arthur could barely make sense of the man's words. Change the past…

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," he managed to stammer. "I will act upon this information immediately. Please speak to my court sorcerer about the spell."

Iseldir's words rang again in his ears. They believe they can change the past, and thus also the present and the future.

Arthur thought he might cry.

-Merlin-

"You understand the spell, Gilli? You can send people back in time?"

The court sorcerer gave a firm nod. "Yes, my lord. However…"

"Yes?" Arthur looked up from his meal. He was dining privately, in his chambers, with the younger magician.

"It would be best if we could create as few disturbances as possible."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, going back in time can cause a disturbance. Something that shouldn't be there, something from the future, is there, and that can change the past, even if you don't intend it to. You see what I mean?"

Arthur nodded.

"So, I thought, the fewer people we send back, the smaller the chance of our creating a drastic change in Merlin's past."

"I see. One warrior and one sorcerer, perhaps? I will send you and Leon, then."

"You don't want to go back yourself, sire?" inquired Gilli in surprise, glancing up from his food.

"No. No. I, ah… there are some other things I want to take care of elsewhere."

"I see," replied the sorcerer carefully, setting down his roll. "And I think it best I don't go. We should have a sorcerer who is familiar with the spell in the present in case something goes wrong."

"I see. I shall consider who to send in your place."

"Very well, my lord. Is that all?"

He made to rise, but the king cut him off, "Actually, there is one thing."

"Yes, your majesty?" inquired Gilli, seating himself once again.

"I… I want to go the past."

"My lord? Did you not just…"

"No, I don't want to go to stop this… order. I want to go somewhere else…change something in the past."

Gilli sucked in a breath and leaned back. "Merlin's death," he whispered. "You want to save him."

Arthur's throat suddenly closed, and all he could do was nod.

"My lord, I must tell you- time travel is still a very obscure art. As you know, the Order of Emrys is the very first to travel back in time. Leon and his companion will be the second. We know nothing of what time travel is actually like or what effects it has. It may be impossible to change the past at all."

"But I have to try. Please, Gilli, I can't…" His voice choked off, and the king pressed a hand to his mouth, fighting desperately to keep the tears from overflowing.

"I understand, my lord." The sorcerer leaned back in his chair, sighing slightly. "Very well, then. I will do as you ask. I will send you back in time to save Merlin."

A/N: Apologies to everyone who's following my other stories. I'm sure you're all ready to strangle me at this point. We just moved halfway across the world, so we've been super busy, hence the lack of updates. However, we are now back on schedule and I've got lots of time, so hopefully updates will start coming in a lot faster!

Feedback (including criticism) would be awesome.