Um, so I should be writing IWC. And I am! It's just... the characters aren't co-operating. So one-shots and little random things are popping up everywhere. But, hey, at least those people who asked for a sequel got their wish! Not that this has any plot or anything. It's just a little scene that came to mind when I was re-reading LtT.

I've sorta got a third part forming in my mind but this finishes so nicely and I'm not sure if I want to change that. We'll see. I think this'll be one of those fic's I add random bits onto whenever the mood strikes me. And so it shall remain 'complete'. Because there's no point changing that and then never updating it again... Especially since I don't really watch Merlin any more. (Season 4, ep 4 I think I'm up to. That was a while ago...)

This is quite a bit longer than the first part. I may actually go back and edit that, now that I look back on it. Anyway, hope you enjoy. And please leave a review! I love to hear from people. :D

"Do you realise what this means?"

"Um, that I have magic?"

"Well, yes, but for me. Do you realise what this means for me!"

"That you're a self-centred prat?"

"Merlin!"

Merlin sent Arthur a doleful glare, eyes following the Prince's figure as he stalked back and forth past the campfire. "Sorry, Sire. I momentarily forgot the world revolves around you."

"Merlin!" Arthur pinched two fingers over the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache he could feel forming there. "Will you take this seriously? I mean, you're some kind of a- a sorcerer-"

"Warlock."

Arthur froze in place, surprised at the interruption, and turned narrowed eyes on his servant. "What?"

Said servant just shrugged and poked the spluttering fire with a stick, sending sparks up into the air. "I'm not any kind of druid or seer, so warlock is the correct term."

"Does it matter!" the Prince exploded. "You can use magic! The kind of power you threw around before - that doesn't just come out of nowhere. You've been taught, somehow. You've studied magic- Wait. Camelot. Merlin, did you-"

"Oh be quiet." Merlin poked the fire again, rotated the spit holding the fish for their dinner, then finally looked up at Arthur. "Yes, I have studied magic. Yes, even while I was in Camelot. But I didn't choose to do it."

Arthur glared from across the fire, eyes reflecting the leaping flames, and crossed his arms petulantly. "So you were somehow forced to learn a forbidden art, were you?"

"I was born with magic."

After a minute of silence the Prince, brain sufficiently broken by the implications of that, lowered himself onto the log opposite to avoid his shaking legs giving out on him. "And how many such people are there?"

Merlin shrugged again, eyes now skittering between the shadows of the trees. That and his clenching hands were the only outward signs of his anxiety. "Not many. The world would probably go out of balance if there were too many of us. Or something."

"'Or something'?" Arthur sounded incredulous. "That sounds bad - really bad - and I don't even know anything about magic. Yet all you can say is 'or something'!"

That prompted Merlin to look up again, though his glare was undermined by the apprehension in his gaze. "Well sor-ry. I'm usually too busy saving your arse to worry about things like the balance of the universe!"

Arthur scoffed, his back straightening slightly as the familiar bantering entered the conversation. "Saving me? When on earth did you do that, Merlin? Apart from the incident earlier today, all I can remember is you tripping and going missing and just generally getting in the way!"

Merlin threw his fire-poking stick at the Prince, only slightly annoyed when it missed. "Like you would have noticed. You were always too busy parading around and being a royal prat!"

The Prince glared, not even bothering to dignify that with an answer.

Yet as the minutes passed the silence grew oppressive, the occasional pops of the fire or night sounds of the forest only magnifying the weight of the atmosphere around the camp fire.

Eventually, Arthur leaned forward, hands out to warm in the heat of the fire and eyes firmly focused on the flickering flames, and muttered softly, "Merlin?"

The warlock didn't even need to ask, a small smile curving his lips as he relaxed back against his log, fingers flickering through the leaves and grass beside him. Nothing more needed to be said; that one word contained all the thanks, forgiveness and curiosity that Merlin needed to hear but knew he wouldn't. At least for now.

"Well, it started like this..."

And, as the fire burnt down and the fish slowly cooked, eventually devoured between mostly true story telling and playful arguments, both young men felt the string of destiny tighten its hold, weaving them all the more closely together.

Forever.