Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, all rights belong to the BBC.

This story is essentially finished, all be it in skeletal form. All the chapters are written. They just need to be edited, shaped and moulded into something worthy of posting.

I would like to thank Veilwuarrah and Caldera32 for their help with that process.

Veilwuarrah, for all her support and advice, and Caldera32 for being such a wonderful Beta – Thank you both very much!

Chapter 1: The Fall

The situation was not good, in fact it was disastrous. Merlin would die soon. He needed to act quickly, but for some reason the servant was not inclined to do so.

As a powerful warlock he had command over all the elements and yet he harboured a paralysing fear of one of them. Despite being able to cup a flame in his palm, impervious to the heat, fire still scared him. He would be lying if he said he did not visualise what had befallen his kin when he saw a pig on a spit.

The servant had a real terror of being roasted alive for what he had been born with and had no choice over. Hundreds had perished at the hand of Uther: women and children, innocent along with the guilty; the tyrant did not care. They were all the same to him -evil. Burning was the king's favourite form of execution, perhaps because even a mighty sorcerer would fail to rise from the ashes. The genocide would never have stopped, Uther took too much pleasure from it.

These thoughts plagued Merlin when he felt vulnerable and alone, and were enough to turn his stomach. As the cook, he would be forced to leave the campsite, for fear of vomiting over the meal he prepared. No one knew why he took himself off to seek solitude in some petty task, but he did; returning later, composed but hungry.

Funny what flashes through your head when your life seems to be slipping away, he mused.

Merlin's lungs were ablaze, a sharp pain seared his chest as he tried and failed to catch his breath. Sweet air, so often taken for granted, was out of reach. His throat was raw and the lifeblood so vital to his being was turning to acid, scorching him from within.

Merlin would have found the irony funny if the circumstances had not been quite so dire. His worst fear was realised, he was being consumed by fire and asphyxiated, but instead of flames the warlock was engulfed in salty liquid. Drowning amidst an ocean, a sea of endless cold so intense he felt hot and numb. The helpless servant could no longer feel his extremities or work out where he was. He was disorientated, the darkness around him so absolute he wasn't even sure if his eyes were open or closed.

His brain was running out of oxygen, his thoughts becoming harder to catch and piece together.

Why was he even here?

Did it matter? He would see her again, be with her again, no longer alone...she was here wasn't she?

Had it not been her voice that beckoned him, full of promises that ensnared his heart?

It had been her song that caught his attention and summoned him to the deck where he scanned the water, looking for her form. He'd caught fleeting glances but had to get closer, had to see her face again. It had been so long the details were starting to fade and that could not be allowed to happen. He could not forget her.

Suddenly the fog lifted and his thoughts sharpened, all too late Merlin realised his mistake.

Freya rests peacefully in Avalon - in the lake, not here. She would never have tricked me or made me follow.

Arms clamped tightly around his torso and pulled. He was incapable of stopping them.

A wicked voice lanced through his mind.

"Welcome Emrys, we have been waiting for you."

Arthur strode regally across the stern of the ship, sure-footed despite the gentle rocking from side to side. He looked in every way the 'Once and Future King' he was. The royal relished the crisp breeze that caressed his face and blew through his blond hair, taking a deep breath and enjoying the exhilaration of being on the open sea.

It was a small party: the king, two knights - and he'd brought Merlin of course. It would be good for the naive young man to see other kingdoms and broaden his horizons. Arthur had been somewhat amused when he'd seen his manservant staring transfixed at the blue waves breaking against the bow. He'd been like that for an hour, as if nothing else mattered. Merlin always was one to be in awe of nature.

The king had been on this journey as a boy, but had never been allowed on deck as they had passed through this part. His father's hatred of all things mystical had prevented that.

There were stories that this bit of the ocean was not safe. Sirens called and ships were wrecked, dignitaries and kings were no exception. Allegedly the strongest and most powerful on the vessel would be targeted and seduced by sweet voices and singing that could not be resisted. The force of their grip was such that the victim would willingly throw themselves overboard to be with a loved one only to sink into the limitless depths and die in the arms of a monster.

The ship's captain was a suspicious man and did not like taking this route. However, it was the fastest and Arthur had not wanted their return journey to be delayed. Despite Merlin's protests that the old man may have a point they had pressed on with the original course. The captain had suggested the monarch go below deck but Arthur had dismissed the notion. He had finally compromised and tried to humour the man by tying a coil of rope tightly around his waist and attaching it to the mast, leaving just enough slack for freedom of movement - even if he did look slightly ridiculous.

The knight's barely concealed sniggers had not been lost on the king, however his servant had been strangely quiet. Merlin's incessant chatter could be tiresome but its absence felt wrong, he missed it – like a bird without its song.

Arthur looked up, aware that the atmosphere had changed. It had suddenly gone cold, the air still and devoid of any sound.

The sight he saw froze his heart, words caught in his throat. Merlin was standing on the rail, his body rigid as if he were an extension of the wooden platform he was standing on, a figurehead. His black hair swept from his usually animated face, which instead was stony and blank; his tall slender frame accentuated with arms splayed away from his sides.

The king knew what was going to happen. He could see it before the event took place but was powerless to prevent it. He called out and ran towards his servant as Merlin tipped forward, displacing himself from his perch and plunging down. Arthur heard the splash and reached the side just in time to see his friend disappear beneath the waves, leaving a white circle of foam and spray in his wake which quickly dispersed, the water claiming its prey and hiding the evidence.