Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, I do not own APH. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, O WRECKERS OF DREAMS!

Anyway, on with the show! Please enjoy.

Gaius, it turns out, has a worse reaction than Gwen.

He turns around as Merlin enters with…Arthur on his heels.

"Merlin, I need you to-" he cuts off, his eyes wide.

Merlin sighs (yet again) and prepares to explain. (Yet again)

"You!"

That was not the reaction Merlin has been expecting at all, and it leaves him speechless for a moment. Gaius doesn't seem to notice.

"What are you doing here!" Gaius snaps at the boy as he practically dashes to the door, moving faster than Merlin has ever seen him move, slamming it shut behind them, before returning to the center of the room to glare at Merlin's companion.

"Are you witless?" He is trembling with rage. "If Uther sees you-"

"You know him?" Merlin manages to blurt out around his shock. Gaius turns the glare on him.

"Of course I know him!" he barks. "What were you thinking? Bringing him to Camelot!" Gaius is pacing now, from one side of the small tower to another.

Merlin just stares, not sure what to say.

Gaius comes to a halt in front of the "little boy."

"Do you even know what he is Merlin?"

"Well…" Merlin hesitates, reluctant to voice the creeping suspicions that have been gnawing on the edges of his thoughts. The Eyebrow climbs threateningly upwards.

"The other boy called him Albion."

Gaius looks surprised, the second Eyebrow joins the first. "Albion?" He turns on the topic of conversation. "I was under the impression that you are the personification of Logres?"

The "boy" nods. "I am. But I am also Albion." That frightening, adoring gaze returns to Merlin.

"Emrys is supposed to take care of me."

Gaius looks about ready to explode, and Merlin figures he had probably better do something before that happens.

"What is he Gaius?" He turns on his most pleading look, and allows the confusion and worry and frustration of the past day show.

Gaius sighs (Merlin can't help but feel vindictively pleased.) and sits down at the table. "I suppose you wouldn't know." He acknowledges as he gestures for Merlin and Albion to join him. They do so.

"Back before the purge," Gaius begins. "This boy lived here in Camelot, in the royal court." He raises a hand, silencing the question Merlin had been about to ask. "Many who had magic made Camelot their home in those days. Magic was viewed with suspicion everywhere, but here there was security of a sort." He pauses. "But that was not why he was here."

Albion nods solemnly.

"There is a kind of people," Gaius continues. "That represent nations. Caledonia, Rome, Cymru, Gaul, Hispania…" He pauses, giving Albion a significant glance. "Logres."

"What do you mean," Merlin can hear his heart beating. It's very loud. "What do you mean Gaius, 'represent'."

"I am Albion." The child pipes up. "That's what my Mam used to be named, before she died. She called me Logres, but since you and the Once and Future King have come I'll be bigger."

Merlin doesn't really know what to say to that, other than beg the boy to please stop looking at him with that look in his green eyes. (He resists the urge.) Gaius shakes his head.

"You can't come back yet Logres." His voice is stern. "Arthur may be the Once and Future King, but Uther still sits upon the throne of Camelot."

Logres/Albion frowns. "I'm tired of hiding Gaius." Suddenly he doesn't sound so young. He sounds old and tired. His eyes have changed from bright, green light to worn, sad windows. "Ever since Uther began this war against magic I have had to hide. I don't want to anymore."

Merlin takes a ragged breath and feels a strong kinship with the boy he has named Arthur.

Gaius himself seems to age ten years in the space of that same breath. "I understand. But I did not smuggle you out of Camelot and away from Uther, simply for you to come back too early and get yourself hurt."

"He can't kill me." Albion crosses his little arms and glares at the table, the effect is somewhat spoiled by his small stature, but the eyebrows actually do help him look more fierce.

"No." Gaius acknowledges. "But, he knows what you are, and he can hurt you." He leans forward. "If not for your own sake, then for the sake of your people, please wait at least until Arthur is king."

Merlin fidgets. "So you are Albion?"

Gaius and Albion look at him.

"How is that possible?"

Albion shrugs. "It just is. I feel what happens to this land and these people. I am their hopes and dreams and fears. Their ideals and their darkest secrets." His eyes, so very green, seem to peer into Merlin's soul and he doesn't like it. "I suppose you could say that we are made of magic."

"Made of magic?" Merlin asks intrigued. "Really?"

Albion smiles, a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. "There are a great many creatures of Magic, if you know where to look. You are one such being. My kind are others."

"So there are others?" Merlin says. "Like the others in the forest? They are like you?"

Albion waves a hand in a dismissive gesture that is rather jarring coming from such a small person. "My brothers and sister. Rather barbaric unfortunately. They are all older than me save for Kernow, my younger sister. Her land is to the South and the East. Lady Morgana comes from there."

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?" Merlin can't help his curiosity, despite the look of disapproval from Gaius.

Albion counts them off on his stubby young fingers. "Caledonia is the eldest. He lives in the North, when Roma came they built a wall to keep him and his people out. Eire is second. She is an island to the West. A savage land, I haven't seen her in many years, not since I was very young, before Mam died. Cymru is third. He is your people, Essetir and Gwynedd and other, smaller kingdoms. Then there is me and Kernow." He looked around the tower room.

"Do you have anything to eat?"

And it was as if he was an ordinary child again.

As Gaius bustles around preparing a meal, Merlin sits at the table, head in his hands, trying to ignore the way the old piece of furniture wobbles as Albion kicks at one of the uneven legs.

What is he supposed to do?

According to Gaius it isn't safe here for Albion. Little Arthur. Uther knows about these magical people-who-are-not-people-but-so-much-more. These…Nations.

And somehow, Merlin has to figure out what to do.

Again.

A/N: Alright, lets see…

I guess the only thing that needs to be explained is that Logres is a form of the Welsh word Lloegr, an old name for the lands roughly corresponding to modern day England. Another name is Prydain, but although Prydain is actually more common historically, Logres/Lloegr is often associated with Arthurian legends, so I opted to use it instead.

And yes, Eire is Ireland.

Also, in the past several weeks, my broken fingers have healed and are as good as new. Without surgery. they have gone from being actually rather mangled, to healed with full range of motion. All I can say is praise God.

Have a Happy New Years!

Please review? The dragon's name is Bob. He likes reviews.