So so so sorry for the long silence! I hope this makes up for it. *hopeful smile* Heh heh...?

Thank youuu ever so much for all the sweet reviews you guys dropped in the box, this chapter is of course, written purely for fun and purely for you. :3

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing at all, everything recognizable goes to BBC.

Chapter 15

Arthur galloped off into the forest on his steed in a foul mood.

It was all completely unfair. He had been anticipating an almost fun and nice day ahead, for once, but Merlin had been – to put it mildly - steadily trampling on all these hopes right from the start of dawn.

First when he'd nearly tripped over the threshold at his door (it hadn't been that high in his old universe), then when he'd left the grapes to rot in a dismal corner on his tray, and even when he insisted on dressing himself instead of letting the alarming-Merlin help him, Merlin would develop this very knowing look and give him a hateful shiny, fake smile, accompanied by equally hateful comments.

"Oh, I would think the real prince Arthur would be used to his chambers by now?" then"Oh, I'd thought the real prince Arthur liked grapes?" and "Oh, I just thought the real prince Arthur was less capable at dressing himself… how foolish of me, har har."

End result was, Arthur was silently stewing himself to rage as they departed from the Castle, Merlin very much regrettably in tow.

He shouldn't even have tried to be nice to Merlin at all last night, he fumed to himself angrily. This universe's Merlin was a creepy mentally disturbed, conceited idiot.

Arthur kicked at his horse in an outlet of his pent-up frustration, and it immediately picked up its speed in obedience. In retrospect it had been a rather rash action, but it was too late. Arthur's eyes widened as he noticed a faraway low branch suddenly grew alarmingly large in his vision, and he cursed as he pressed threw himself forwards at the last minute.

Something rough whipped across his cheek, stinging his skin, followed by a loud thwack as the branch came loose and got tangled in his hair. Great. Just great. He was fine, although his cheek was probably bleeding – but even with the wind roaring in his ears, Arthur could hear his knights calling out to each other and to himself. Arthur gritted his teeth in annoyance, but finally forced himself to slow down and turn back. It wouldn't be fair to take it out on the others just because of Merlin.

"Are you alright sire?" It was Sir Leon who reached him first, closely followed by Merlin. Arthur averted his gaze from his current stand-in manservant purposely just in case he ended up murdering the boy for his insufferably smug expression.

"I'm fine Sir Leon," Arthur replied in the most controlled voice he could muster. He gave the other knights a tight smile for their benefit. "Was trying to go a little too fast, that is all."

He forced a light laugh, in which the others joined in. But despite his best efforts, his forced laughter soon petered out when Merlin gave one of his ultra-fake laughs before looking back at him in a painfully innocent expression. Arthur ground his teeth at the irritating sound he'd been treated to at least five times since dawn.

"Do you have a problem Merlin?" he drawled out, dangerously.

"Oh," Merlin began customarily with another of his fake laughs. Arthur instantly felt like murdering the other at the very first syllable. "Oh, of course not sire. I just thought that the real Prince Arthur would have a better commandeering of his own horse… no offence sire, of course. It's just the exaggerated rumours Jeffrey's gone on and about." Merlin then offered him a very polite smile.

Arthur literally felt his heart explode in the peak of irritation, sending his blood spurting in all directions especially to his face, where he could feel it rush up his brain and his ears grew warm. The knights shifted uncertainly in the background, torn between arresting Merlin for the slight and Arthur's obvious brewing temper and wondering if Arthur would behave as he usually did and let it slide as a joke.

Arthur gritted his teeth and inhaled loudly.

"Merlin," he began icily.

"Yes sire."

"If you do not wish to end up in the stocks by the time we're back, do us all a favour, and keep your mouth permanently shut for the rest of the journey."

Merlin trilled a fake nervous laugh which had Arthur seriously wondering if Merlin wished for an instant death sentence. "Oh, oh, yes of course, sire. Anything for you sire."

Arthur shot Merlin the fiercest glare he could master, before turning on his back and continuing to ride, his mood if possible even fouler than before. To top it off he was so steeped into annoyance that he doubted that he could concentrate on hearing the approaching sounds of any sort of animal. So much for a peaceful day of hunting.

The silence which followed the exchange was thunderous. No one else dared to say anything, and the knights' previous merry-making had quickly fallen away like stampeded dry leaves. Arthur continued riding in front of the pack, a stormy black cloud hovering over his head, while Sir Leon kept throwing the prince wary glances. Merlin lingered slightly behind the prince, ignoring the hostile looks the other knights were shooting him.

First breakfast, now hunting, Arthur thought to himself with no little shade of bitterness. Merlin had the tendency to ruin every activity he used to take pleasure in.

And so, that was how the party came to pass the next thirty minutes in brittle silence. They passed by a river, in which Arthur did not pause for their horses to have a short drink, but continued to ride off in blind determination to pursue their so far non-existent game; and of course everyone else was much too wise to comment anything. Then they came to a clearing which even to the less experienced eye, showed clear signs of destruction by what seemed like a very large animal.

It was this sight that made Arthur snap out of his thoughts of turning around and wringing Merlin's neck, and to behave like the actual leader he was. Quietly he motioned for the knights to stop, as he slowly drew his sword out of its scabbard with the other hand.

This was slightly hindered, however, when somebody's horse failed to stop in time and bumped into his. Arthur whirled around with a deadly glare to find Merlin smiling back nervously at him. But before the other could so much as open his mouth, the prince beat him to it and held up the blade directly to Merlin's neck, menacingly.

"Not – a – word," he hissed with as much venom as he could muster.

To his credit, Merlin didn't say anything else, but his insufferable expression made the smug 'oh' ring all but audibly in the air. A vein pulsed in Arthur's temple, but he forced himself to turn away. Now was not the time.

He signaled for the knights to dismount, and quickly did so himself. There was a strange rustling up ahead, and by the sound of it they had stumbled upon quite a large animal. Arthur briefly had time to hope that it was an animal with edible meat, before a wild keening sound split the air.

"What was that?" at the back of the formation, Rynelf was beginning to show signs of doubt.

"Stay together," Arthur warned, trying to sound more confident than he felt. It didn't sound like any kind of animal he knew. But, well, even if it was any kind of magical creature, they still had Merlin on their side, so there was nothing to fear… right? Providing, of course, that this Merlin would be half as willing to intervene for his sake when compared with the last.

Arthur felt a tiny niggling doubt gnaw at his heart. Perhaps he shouldn't have let a death threat be the last thing he said to Merlin.

Quite unfortunately for Arthur, however, his fears, as he was about to find out – were about to be confirmed very soon.

A large winged creature burst out abruptly from the bushes, letting loose a hideous shriek which pierced the very middle of his eardrums. Even in the aftermath his ears still rang from the horrible sound, but there was little time to address this issue. On instinct the creature had reared around to look at their party of men, and upon spotting their shiny armour it immediately identified them as the enemy. Without hesitation, it began bounding towards them on four powerful legs, its mean yellow eyes gleaming in a predatory fashion as it let loose a ferocious growl.

"What on earth is that!" one of the knights cried.

Arthur, on the other hand, had recognized the cruel curved beak and the strong body which rippled with muscles instantly. But unlike the rest of the knights, Arthur only got the strangest urge to throw a tantrum.

It was the sodding Gryffin.

Why did it have to be today of all days? WHY?

In the next second however, the Gryffin had begun to lunge its first attack, and Arthur's mind was forced to snap back to reality and function normally – well, as normally as a time-traveler who'd had a similar experience before in his past life could. He swung his sword in a wide arc, successfully clanging his sword with the monster's steel-like claws before narrowly rolling out of the way. The Gryffin, enraged, swung out wildly in another attack, and this time it was much more successful – it slashed through Sir Cain's chainmail and flung the knight across the clearing, where he landed in a heap at the foot of a tree, bleeding profusely.

Arthur felt the first twinge of doubt gnaw at his mind. They were more than thirty minutes' ride away from Camelot; if any of his men were grievously hurt he didn't know if they could make it back on time. After all during the first time round, he'd faced off the Gryffin near Camelot hadn't he?

He looked up and managed to narrowly dodge another swipe of the Gryffin's claws, just as someone cried 'Look out!' Arthur rolled round so that he was at the back of the creature and made another half-hearted stab at the creature's flank, but like he'd known it would, his blade only glanced off the Gryffin without leaving so much as a scratch. The Gryffin gave another shriek and pounced on the rest of the knights, forcing them to break up the formation they'd been holding.

The creature was now backing Camelot's knights into a corner, and Arthur himself was separated from his men by a good six feet or so – too far for any of his men to be of help to him if the Gryffin decided to round on him at the last minute. Furiously Arthur picked himself up and scanned the clearing for any sign of his manservant being hurt, but he soon located Merlin easily – crouching behind a tree and looking very ready to flee the scene altogether. The sight made his previous worry vanish instantly and a familiar spark of frustration ignited his temper.

"What do you think you're doing!" Arthur all but shouted at Merlin, whose head shot up to look at him with a panicky expression, but still the boy did nothing productive. Unless making wild gestures and pinwheeling with his arms meant he was conjuring some kind of spell.

Arthur felt his patience with the boy snap.

"DO SOMETHING!"

Perhaps he'd conveniently forgotten that he could hardly expect Merlin to perform magic right in front of him when he was glaring daggers at the other, or perhaps he'd thought that Merlin would oblige anyway given it was a very serious life-and-death situation. But either way Arthur's shouting didn't seem to have their desired effect, and in fact as he was soon to find out – only brought trouble upon himself.

Disturbed by the racket he was making, the Gryffin whirled around angrily, and with a well-timed attack its lashing tail caught Arthur right in the chest. The sheer force of it sent Arthur catapulting into the air, his sword spinning helplessly out of his grip.

The last thing he saw was the upside-down image of his knights yelling something and charging at the Gryffin, and Merlin's mouth opened to form a comically, and typically still irritating, 'O'. And then there was a huge tremendous crash, a sharp ringing pain – then his eyes rolled and everything went black.

. . .

-X-

"Thank you very much, dear Lady of the Lake," Arthur muttered deliriously. "I enjoyed the trip very much… yes, such a wonderful chance… yes."

Merlin eyed Arthur a little worriedly. He had no idea what the prince was muttering about, but all things aside, watching his once best friend bleeding everywhere and unconscious was enough to make him doubt his conspiracy theory, just for a fraction. He was still stubbornly set on insisting that Arthur was half-possessed or something, but that didn't mean that he shouldn't try to save the prince. Imposter or no imposter, it was still the Once and Future King's body after all.

Grunting to himself, Merlin tugged harder at Arthur's armour as he tried to remove them as well as the chainmail off the prince. The rest of the knights were currently still knocked out and scattered all over the clearing, and he hadn't checked if they were in any way grievously wounded as well, but he had to tend to Arthur first. Arthur had always been his main priority.

At this Arthur moaned again, causing Merlin to pause in his actions, but he didn't stop. He'd finally managed to locate the main wound. It was an ugly, deep gash which stretched from Arthur's stomach right up to his armpit, and blood was pooling everywhere from the cut. Instantly Merlin knew that Arthur wouldn't survive long enough to get help; he was losing too much blood.

Without hesitating further, Merlin immediately pressed his palm over the wound and dredged up the memory of a once much-used spell. "Gehælan", he muttered under his breath.

Merlin's eyes flashed a molten gold, and when he finally looked down, he saw that the spell had worked perfectly; the bleeding had been completely staunched. Fresh blood had now caked into what seemed like a days-old cut on the way to recovery. Merlin allowed himself to heave a silent breath of relief. The prince would survive. And hopefully, Arthur would even wake up soon enough to take charge of the situation. Merlin found that he wouldn't mind half as much even if it was the imposter who would rise to consciousness first (providing Arthur was indeed under a possession) if it meant that Merlin wouldn't be the one responsible for transporting all the knocked out knights and the horses back to Camelot, and form an explanation to the king. The last responsibility would probably be the worst among all.

Out of habit, Merlin began cleaning off the remaining blood off Arthur's stomach. Arthur's current tunic was almost certainly another ruined one – it was thoroughly soaked through with red. Merlin scrubbed at the last of it which caked against Arthur's skin gently, taking hope in the way that Arthur's chest was beginning to rise and fall evenly. If Arthur wasn't awake by the time he was through with a makeshift bandage, perhaps Merlin would try the water-slap method. He wasn't going to sit there in the heart of such a questionable situation by himself.

Merlin had just finished cleaning off most of the blood, and was about to start on a quick bandage by using Arthur's own fresh tunic (tucked in Merlin's saddle), when suddenly he stopped short. He hadn't noticed it before, what with the blood covering every inch of Arthur – but there, pale against the prince's skin was a deep ugly scar, and it was sitting right next to his heart. As Merlin had seen his fair share of wounds, he knew instantly that it was a stab wound; but even more than that, Merlin knew every single scar Arthur had on his body after he'd been forced to dress Arthur for years, and not to mention Arthur's love of sharing the epic glorious tales that came with them.

Even more than that, the scar he was witnessing was one he would never forget.

It was the last one Arthur had ever accumulated, and the prince never got to brag about it. Because it had been the fatal wound which had ultimately killed him and taken his life.

Merlin felt his breath jar up in his throat. No. It couldn't be; it was impossible. His fingers traced over the scar shakily, his eyes wide and disbelieving. Perhaps there was another incident which had occurred before he came to Camelot which had given Arthur the scar; perhaps the prince had had a… surgery or something. His blood pounded loud in his ears. Perhaps –

"Nononooo I don't want a third ch – aghhh!" Arthur cried abruptly. His body jerked upwards violently, his blue eyes fluttering open, before the pain assaulted him and he was forced to lie back down with a groan and a curse. He could feel a hand resting rather questionably on his stomach, since it didn't seem to be doing anything to help, but he was too worn out to kick the other, so he cracked open an eye and shot the figure kneeling beside him a half-hearted glare.

"What are you doing," he managed to say in a rather dignified less-than-pleased voice. Slowly, his vision began to sharpen gradually, and Arthur found himself staring back at Merlin. Figures. The boy was oddly pale though, and if Arthur didn't know better he could have sworn that the other was shaking. That, and the self-satisfied expression was gone from Merlin's face.

What happened next, though, Arthur had no way of expecting. Instead of helping him to sit up and asking him how he felt, like Merlin normally would, the boy suddenly jabbed a rigid finger into his chest harshly, causing Arthur to hiss in pain.

"For goodness' sake - !" Arthur began, but Merlin did not allow him to continue.

"Explain this!" Merlin said shrilly, a demanding tone in his voice.

Arthur looked at Merlin as though he'd grown another head.

"Explain what?!" he snapped back, his tone higher than before, completely incredulous.

"You are not going anywhere until you do," Merlin growled, looking increasingly determined. His eyes bore into Arthur's own. "Explain this. Start, now!"

Arthur looked down at his chest, alarmed by Merlin's serious manner, but found nothing absolutely questionable that warranted such a fierce expression from his former manservant. For a moment then he'd almost expected there to be a tattoo emblazoned across his chest declaring that he was a sorcerer or something.

"I have muscles," Arthur said in a tone that tread the fine line between sarcasm and co-operation. "You would have them too if you trained with the knights. You should try it some time."

Merlin looked as though he could have ripped out Arthur's hair there and then. "Not that!" he all but half-shouted in Arthur's face. "The scar, the scar!"

Arthur looked down and noted for the first time where exactly Merlin was pointing – the scar where Mordred had stabbed him and wounded him mortally a whole lifetime ago. Of course the Lady of the Lake had healed him and brought him back to life, but it had still left a scar behind. A reminder of his universe which he had lost.

Feeling abruptly defensive, Arthur pushed off Merlin's hands roughly and made to sit up, though the effort caused a wave of dizziness to sweep through him.

"Since when were you so bloody interested in my scars?!" he snapped back.

But Merlin wasn't called a stubborn warlock for nothing, he wasn't about to give up so easily. His arm reached up to grip Arthur's before the other could move away, and his blue eyes were unreadable as he met Arthur's glare head-on unflinchingly. They were dead serious.

"Since some prat got stabbed by a blade forged in dragon's breath and died on top of me," Merlin snapped back, fiercely, in a tone to match his.

The words rang loudly in his ears, repeating themselves over and over in his head. For few precious seconds Arthur blinked rapidly, unable to process what he was hearing.

Perhaps, if Arthur hadn't been a knight, and if he hadn't been still recovering from his latest wound, he would have officially freaked out. Perhaps he would have resorted to a fit of violence, which involved accidentally knocking out Merlin. But as it was, he merely let the words wash over him before blanching visibly, his pupils so wide that it looked as though he were on the verge of collapsing back into unconsciousness. His wide blue eyes snapped back to Merlin with utter incredibility, his mouth torn between opening and closing.

No way. No no no no way!

Merlin, on the contrary, seemed to take this as a positive sign of confirmation. At the sight of Arthur getting as close as he probably would get to hyperventilating, Merlin's fierce expression had abruptly melted away, and very soon Arthur found himself looking at the more familiar sight of a cheerful Merlin, with an idiotic grin so wide it threatened to split his face in half.

"Arthur!" Merlin cried out, breaking the abrupt silence with a hysterical laugh, in a voice which suggested that he hadn't seen the other for years on end.

And then, that done, Merlin burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

. . .

A/N: Yay! Reveal done. Now say: liked it? Hated it? Expected it?

I hope this doesn't classify much as a cliffie. I've been focusing on other projects nowadays, but I found that I missed writing plain simple humour too much, hence the update. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing, this was just sooo fun :p

Oh yeah, and tattoos probably existed by the Neolithic era, so it's legit. :D I wasn't sure, so I looked it up haha.

Reviewww? :3