Dragonlord Chapter 1, a merlin fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

It was Balinor who first saw the horse. It wasn't often that people came to this part of the woods, and was almost never for a good reason. Often, it was thieves, or rogues hoping to earn a bit of cash by finding the Dragonlord who was rumored to live here. When people began to go missing in the woods, the rumors started going around that Balinor had killed them. It was never the case, but no almost nobody entered the jungle-like forest anymore, and that was the way Balinor liked it. The forest was nearly impossible to navigate if you hadn't already lived there for years. Luckily, Balinor was one of the two people who had. He was about to disappear into the shadows, sure that he didn't want to be seen by whoever was riding past, when he first caught a glimpse of the rider. It was a child, a boy of no more than twelve years old, who was huddled over the horses' curved neck, clutching onto it's mane like it was his lifeline. He was almost unconscious, going by the way every step of the horse had him swaying from side to side.

Balinor swung the satchel filled with the herbs he had been collecting over his shoulder, and began to make his way forward. The horse turned towards him immediately, eyes wild, coat matted with dirt, and whinnied, obviously trying to warn it's rider of danger. The boy only mumbled something unintelligible, and swayed in the saddle. Balinor raised his hands and moved forward slowly, so as not to startle the animal. It watched him distrustfully, before he finally was close enough to place a gentle hand on it's nose, murmuring comforting words to it. After a second, it butted it's head against his shoulder affectionately, and, for the first time, he noticed that it's bridle had snapped on one side, leaving it hanging off one side over the horse's left eye. Gently, Balinor pulled it off, hanging the halter around the horse's neck so that he could lead it, before turning his attention to it's rider.

It was obvious the boy had been traveling for days. His hair was matter with dirt and spiderwebs, his clothes were torn, and there was a swilled gash in his right thigh that would need attending to. The boy was barely conscious, so Balinor placed a gentle hand on his back before guiding him down from the saddle. The boy struggled against him for a second, before exhaustion overcame him and he stopped fighting. Balinor held him cradled like a child, murmuring words of comfort to the boy. "It's alright, kid, you're safe. Just sleep now." Apparently, the boy was too exhausted to refuse, and his eyes closed.

Balinor adjusted his hold on the boy, cradling him with one arm, taking the horse's halter with another, and beginning the walk back to the cave.

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"Merlin! Come here, I need your help!" Merlin blinked, standing up from where he had been weaving vines together just outside the cave. As he watched the tree line, he saw his father appear, leading a horse and carrying a young boy. Merlin ran towards him, confusion furrowing his brow. His father never let anyone get close to their home. Ever. He wouldn't even let Merlin keep pets. "Look after the horse for a while, Merlin. I need to tend to the boy." Balinor handed the reins to Merlin, and continued into the cave, the bloodied form of the boy cradled in his arms. Merlin turned to the horse, whose eyes were wide with fear. He murmured quietly, using his magic to soothe it. He stroked it's nose gently, glancing up at the sun, still high in the sky.

"You could use a bath," he said to the horse, and led it down to the stream which passed close by the cave entrance. By the riverbank, he unbuckled it's saddle, lifting it off the horse's back, leaving it on the bank, and lifted the reins from around it's neck. Then, he led it into the stream of water, his bare feet easily maneuvering the smooth stones on the river bed. The horse followed uncertainly, plodding into the water. Merlin led it into the water until it was in up to the bottom of it's chest, and he was in up almost to his neck. He let out a bubbling laugh, and swam around the horse, rubbing it's coat so that clouds of dirt were released into the water. The horse slowly became less tense, until it was whinnying happily, and splashing water towards him with it's nose. Finally, when the animal was clean, they emerged from the river, sopping wet but happy. Merlin slung the reins around he horse's neck, and led it back to the cave, the sun beginning to dry them as they walked. He spoke casually to the horse, which was partly to put it at ease, and partly because he hadn't had anyone but his father to talk to for a long time.

When they got back to the cave, Merlin seated himself outside on a rock, and spoke softly to the horse, whose coat was now revealed to be a gleaming copper. He knew that his father had no need of his assistance right now, or he would have asked. Until then, the best thing Merlin could do was stay out of the way.

His father didn't call for him until almost nightfall. Merlin was up in an instant, giving the horse a steady look and saying, "Stay here," before hurrying into the cave. Years spent in the cave had drastically improved Merlin's night vision, and he maneuvered his way easily through the darkness of the cave. He reached the place where his father was crouched next to the blonde-haired boy. There were thick bandages wrapped around the boy's right thigh, and one shoulder was held tightly against his chest with a sling. The boy was muttering in his sleep, twitching, his eyes roaming beneath closed eyelids.

"Just watch him for a bit," said Balinor. "I need to gather some more herbs."

"Where is he from?"

"Camelot," replied Balinor. Merlin frowned.

"How can you tell?"

"His tunic," said Balinor simply. Merlin looked, and saw the the red tunic, though torn and dirty, still bore the symbol of Camelot. His gaze was then caught by the sling that appeared to be supporting his shoulder.

"What happened to his shoulder?" questioned Merlin.

"Dislocated. I had to put it back into place. Just watch him for a moment. I'll be right back." Merlin nodded, and his father left. Turning his attention back to the boy, he watched as the boy mumbled in his sleep. Quietly, Merlin murmured a spell for sleep, and watched as the boy fell still, his breaths coming easily now.

"He's got a fever," Merlin informed his father the moment he returned. The boy's peaceful sleep hadn't lasted long, and he was now muttering in his sleep, tossing and turning, aggravating the injured he had already sustained.

"How long has he been like this?" asked Balinor.

"About five minutes," said Merlin. "I put him in an enchanted sleep - I thought it would help him heal, but it didn't last long."

Balinor grabbed a nearby satchel, and started sifting through the contents, the soft chink of glass vials knocking together audible to Merlin's ears. Finally, Balinor pulled one out. "This should help," he murmured. "One of Gaius' old remedies."

"What does it do?" asked Merlin curiously.

"It reduces fever and helps the patient to sleep," Balinor told him. He handed the vial to Merlin. "He probably won't want to take it. I'll hold him still, but I need you to make him drink it, alright?" Merlin nodded.

Balinor moved to sit behind the boy, before lifting him up slightly so the boy was almost in a sitting position. The boy cried out, flailing in Balinor's arms, but Balinor easily pinned his arms with one of his own, and held his head still with the other. The boy tried to break his hold, his movements were growing more and more feeble. Balinor pried open the boy's mouth, ignoring the whimper of pain it produced. "Now, Merlin," he ordered, and his son leant forward, tipping the contents of the vial into the boy's mouth. The boy gagged, and tried to spit it out, only to have Balinor clamp a hand over his mouth. "Swallow it," he murmured in the boy's ear. "Come on, boy, swallow! You're not doing yourself any favors by resisting." The boy struggled for another second before finally swallowing. Balinor released him, and the boy's eyelids flickered open for a second as he gasped for air. Only moments later, however, his eyelids began to droop, then he was fast asleep.

Arthur woke up in agony. He cried out, struggling to break free of whatever was restricting his movement, only feel calloused hands press down gently on his shoulder. He cried out again, opening his eyes only to find darkness. He tried to kick out, but his leg seared with pain.

"Woah, boy, just calm down. You're safe now. Merlin, bring a candle, will you?"

A golden light flickered somewhere to his right, and Arthur twisted his head to the side, catching sight of a young boy with black hair and blue eyes. He placed the candle down beside Arthur, giving him a small smile, before retreating a short distance. Arthur could now see the man in front of him, the candlelight creating sharp contrast on the man's features so that the shadows on his face were black.

"Where am I?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"Safe."

"That doesn't answer the question." The man didn't reply. "I order you to answer me! I'm–"

"I know who you are, boy."

Arthur's voice shook as he replied, "Well, you should know that my father won't take kindly to you kidnapping me." The man sighed heavily, and knelt to examine the bandage around Arthur's leg.

"I'm not holding you prisoner, Arthur. We found you almost unconscious on your horse in the woods this morning. You've been here ever since."

Arthur let himself breathe a little easier. He couldn't sense a lie in the man's words. "Who are you?" he asked finally.

"I am Balinor, and this is my son, Merlin. He's been helping me heal you, he's better at magic than I am," the man gestured to the boy nearby, who waved innocently at Arthur. Arthur looked at him with alarm.

"Are you going to kill me?" he asked fearfully.

Balinor cocked a head to one side. "Why would you think that?"

"Magic's evil."

"And yet it has already been used to save your life today. Not all magic wielder's are evil, boy. Remember that."

"How's your shoulder?" asked Balinor, noticing that Arthur had sat up. Arthur shrugged it a little, frowning.

"It's not so bad today, sir."

Balinor scowled at the boy. "What've I told you about this 'sir' business, Arthur? You can call me Balinor."

"Yes, Balinor."

There was a long silence, while Balinor thought furiously for another topic. What were you supposed to talk to young boys about? He spoke to Merlin often enough, but that was usually about what they would eat for dinner, or whether or not the fruit trees were in season yet.

"…And your leg?" he asked. Arthur glanced down at it. The gash had been closed, thanks to Merlin's magic, and healing ability, but it would still take several days to fully heal.

"Getting there," he replied. "It's still a bit sore." Balinor nodded. The silence stretched another few minutes. Balinor started wishing that Merlin would come back from the stream soon - the silence was getting uncomfortable.

"Boy…" he began slowly, and Arthur looked up at him. "I don't want to pry, but it's not everyday you find an injured kid in the woods. How were you injured?"

Arthur sighed heavily, and looked down at his hands as he tried to think of where to start.

"…We were out hunting - me and a group of knights. It was supposed to be safe, nobody knew that the bandits were there. I don't know what they wanted - probably to hold me for ransom. They caught us by surprise, attacked us… There were so many of them, we were just getting slaughtered. Sir Edmund told me to run, just get as far away as possible. He said they'd be able to track me later, that they'd be able to find me. I didn't want to go, but…" Tears had started welling in his eyes, and he angrily wiped them away, turning away from Balinor. He's going to think I'm weak, that I can't handle myself. Pull yourself together! "I-I could hear them, as I rode. They were…screaming. They were crying out, and I couldn't do anything." It was hard to stop his voice shaking now. "One of the bandits found me - he was on foot, he wasn't fast, so I spurred the horse to go faster. We were almost clear, but his sword caught me in the leg. After that I rode as hard as I could - I didn't e-even know where I was going. I hurt my shoulder when I fell off once, but I had to keep going… I don't remember anything after that, just waking up here." He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. "You- you must think I'm weak," he said with a sniffle.

"Boy, listen to what I'm about to say to you, and listen well," said Balinor. "There is nothing wrong with crying. There is no cowardice in it. It's a natural response. You cry because you have been through a lot these past few days. Don't you ever let anyone tell you that crying indicates weakness." Balinor approached the boy, crouching beside him, and placing a hand on his shoulder. "You have every right to cry. But I promise you this; I will get you home."

"My father says all magic is evil."

"Your father is an idiot."

"He's also the king, Merlin."

Merlin shrugged. "Then he's a royal idiot. Makes no difference to me."

Arthur glared at him. "Magic is dangerous. It's a weapon."

Merlin held out a cupped hand, and a small flame appeared. Arthur peered at it with badly-hidden curiosity. "Fire is dangerous," said Merlin. "In the wrong hands. But fire also brings warmth, and light. Fire can save a life just as easily as it can take it."

"That's completely different," said Arthur.

"How?" asked Merlin. He tried a different approach. "If a group of swordsmen came to Camelot and killed a lot of people, would you hunt down everyone who owned a sword, because, given the right circumstances, they could do the same? Would you?"

"No," mumbled Arthur.

"And why not?"

Arthur had to think about it. "It wouldn't be fair," he said slowly. Merlin nodded.

"Exactly. It's not the magic that's the problem, it the person."

Arthur's eyes were wide as he took this in. Merlin smiled.

Merlin nudged the sleeping boy with his big toe. "Get up, lazybones. Get up." Arthur groaned and rolled slightly away. Merlin nudged him harder. "Get up, you clotpole." One of Arthur's blue eyes opened to glare at the dark-haired boy.

"Clotpole isn't a word."

"Yes it is," said Merlin cheerfully. "Now get up. We're picking fruit today, and I need you to hold the basket." Arthur dragged himself to his feet, and stretched his muscles with a yawn. Merlin regarded him for a second. "You've been lyings down too long. It will be good for you to get some fresh air."

"Shut up, Merlin," said Arthur, but his heart wasn't really in it. Merlin just grinned at him.

"What're you gonna do? Execute me?" taunted Merlin "You've got no power here Arthur." Arthur glared at him.

"I'm the king's son. Prince of Camelot. I can do what I want."

"We're not in Camelot. Out here, you're no more important than anyone else. Now put your shoes on."

Arthur did so, but still grumbled under his breath about annoying sorcerers. Merlin just grinned. "Come on," he said cheerfully once Arthur had pulled on his boots, handing him a large basket. As they exited the cave, Arthur noticed that Merlin's feet were bare. He took a few larger steps to catch up with Merlin.

"Don't your feet get cold?" he asked, taking his his surroundings as they walked so that he'd know the way back. Merlin smiled innocently up at him.

"Not really. They get used to it. I have a pair that I wear during winter when it snows, but otherwise I like going barefoot. Besides, if it gets too cold, I can always do a warming charm."

"Could…could you show me?" asked Arthur, who was slightly chilly after the stuffiness of the cave, and whose curiosity had gotten the better of his fear of magic. Merlin stopped walking, turned to face him, and after a second, his eyes flashed gold. Arthur's eyes widened, and a second later, he felt warmth rush through his body. "Wow," he said, wide-eyed. Merlin just grinned at him, before setting off again.

A few minutes later, they arrived in a grove of trees, all of which were covered in ripe fruits. Merlin grinned and ran towards the trees, scurrying up one like a possum. Arthur followed him to the base of the tree, looking up uncertainly as the boy climbed higher and higher."Aren't you coming?" asked Merlin. Arthur gave the tree a wary look.

"I'm not fond of climbing," he said. Merlin shrugged.

"Suit yourself," he said, scurrying further up the tree.

"Be careful," Arthur called, only for Merlin to drop a fruit on top of his head. It bounced slightly, and his the grass with a soft thump.

"You're supposed to catch them, clotpole," called Merlin, laughing. Arthur glared up at him, dodging the second fruit. "With your basket!"

Arthur managed to catch the next one in the basket, and, after that, kept his eyes on Merlin, and watched as he threw the fruits. "Why don't you just get them with magic?" asked Arthur as he caught the ninth.

"It's more fun this way!" called Merlin, leaping across to the next tree. Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat, and he hurried over to stand beneath the branches, watching the younger boy's progress as he moved about the tree. Merlin tossed another fruit down to Arthur, before starting to hum a little rhyme.

"The trees in the grove are like a market, with branches for their shelves

Pick the fruit or rats will come and take it for themselves."

Arthur frowned up at Merlin as the boy hummed the tune quietly to himself. "What are you singing?" he asked. Merlin paused in his fruit picking, turning slightly so that Arthur could see that he was using the brim of his tunic as a basket, and that it was nearly overflowing with fruit.

"You have to pick the fruit the first day it's ripe," Merlin called down. "Otherwise rats and other creatures come and take it, but they don't mind it if it's not ripe. It's fair that we get it when it's ripe, and they get it afterwards. Everyone's happy."

Several minutes later, he climbed down from the tree, and tipped the fruit he had in his tunic into the basket Arthur was carrying.

"Why don't we collect some more?" asked Arthur with a frown. "There's much more, and there's still daylight left."

"This is all we can eat," said Merlin. "There's no sense in taking more than that."

Arthur frowned at that. Merlin left him to his thoughts as they began the walk back to the cave.

"Where…are…we…going?" gasped Arthur, clutching at a stitch in his side. Although he had been fit back home in Camelot, his bed-ridded (cave-ridden?) week had left him feeling out of shape. Now, the harsh climb up the seemingly vertical side of the mountain had him gasping for breath. "And why did we need to bring towels?"

"You'll see," sang Merlin from in front of him. The younger boy seemed to be feeling no ill-effects of the climb, and was still scampering up the narrow path - if it could even be called that - as quickly as he had been when they first started. Arthur glared at the boy's back. The sun was shining brightly above them, as innocent as Merlin's smile when he told Arthur they were going for a walk, and just as irritating. Arthur winced as he felt the almost-healed cut in his thigh throb with pain. His ears picked up a faint rushing sound, but quickly dismissed it.

"It had better not be much further," he grumbled, and Merlin tossed him a smile over his shoulder.

"Just around the corner," he said, as the ground leveled out beneath Arthur's feet. Merlin led him through a tangle of vines, then up through the branches of a tree, before finally, out onto a rocky ledge. The source of the rushing sound Arthur had heard before was revealed - for half the ledge was obscured by the waterfall, which tumbled gently from the top of the mountain. Merlin let out a whoop of happiness and leapt lightly from the tree to the ledge, helping Arthur after him. They placed the thin towels- which were really just old pieces of fabric - to one side where they would be dry, and then Merlin started shedding his clothes. Arthur turned his back, his face pink.

"What are you doing?" he asked loudly. He heard Merlin pause, and glanced over his shoulder to see the boy looking at him.

"What do you mean?" asked Merlin. "I'm dirty, I'm going to bathe. Don't you want to?"

"It's not decent," Arthur said. "Taking your clothes off like that."

"Why not?" Merlin tilted his head to the side, before resuming the shedding of his clothing. Arthur turned away.

"It's just not right."

Merlin shrugged. "If you want to continue being covered in dirt, fine by me, but I'm going to bathe." He shed the last of his clothing, and stepped under the stream of water. Arthur glanced over, taking some comfort in the fact that the spray of water concealed the majority of Merlin's body, before taking off his shoes. Truth be told, he did feel incredibly dirty, but there was no way he was stripping naked. Finally resolving to keep only his undergarments on, he went to stand under the waterfall with Merlin.

He let out a gasp as the icy water hit him, and backed out of it immediately. "Merlin!" he howled. "It's bloody freezing!" He heard Merlin laugh, and glared through his dripping hair at the dark haired boy as he emerged. Keeping his gaze determinedly fixed on the boy's face (because there was no way he needed to see anything below there, he assured himself), he scowled at the boy. "It's freezing," he grumbled.

"You'll get used to it," promised Merlin. He held out a hand, and, grudgingly, Arthur took it, flinching as the icy water hit him again as the boy led him into the stream of water. He watched as dirty water pooled at his feet before running down the mountain in search of the river. On the far side of the ledge, the afternoon sun lit the falling water gold, and they sat on the edge for almost an hour as Merlin pointed out the different landmarks they could see over the tops of the trees. The cave was barely visible, but Merlin pointed to where it was, and Arthur imagined that he could see Balinor there, tending to his horse, or building a fire to cook their dinner on.

"And that's the grove where we were picking fruit last week - and if you squint, you can just see the top of a building - that's where the village starts, after that it's just pastures, and boring things. Not as much fun as a forest. And the river runs down from the bottom of the mountain, winding all the way through there, then curving to the side - see, you can see a bit of it there, and there's a deer on the bank. And," Merlin squinted one eye shut, pointing to the horizon slightly to the right. "If you kept walking that way, you'd eventually get to Camelot."

Finally, once the cold started to get to them, and their skin had become wrinkled the way it did if Arthur spent too long in the bath, and Merlin said if they didn't go now, the sun wouldn't have time to warm them before night fell, they went back to where their towels lay, and dried themselves enough for the climb back down the mountain.

"Why are you making me get up so early, Merlin?"

"Shh!"

"What?"

"Shh!"

The two children exited the cave in the darkness, creeping past Balinor's sleeping form near the mouth. Merlin, with his eyes used to seeing in the dark, led a stumbling Arthur through the trees. "What's your father going to say if he finds out we're gone?"

"Oh, he already knows."

Arthur paused. "He was fast asleep, I saw him!"

"He was pretending. He knows we're gone, I guarantee it."

Arthur stubbed his toe on a rock and swore loudly.

"Shut up, clotpole," whispered Merlin. "You'll wake them up." He double his pace, ignoring Arthur's confused "Who?", practically dragging Arthur behind him. It was growing steadily lighter, and Merlin was becoming more and more agitated. "Oh no, we're going to miss it!"

"Merlin, where are we going? We must be halfway around the mountain by now!"

Merlin scowled and stomped a foot in anger. "Damn. Quickly, climb up the tree!" He gestured to the tree on Arthur's left. Arthur frowned.

"What?"

Merlin let out an annoyed huff, and pushed him out of the way, scaling the tree easily, and leaving Arthur to climb up next to him. Finally, they poked their heads above the tree line, and Merlin pointed. "There." Arthur watched the spot on the horizon he pointed to, frowning for a second, before seeing a glimmer of light appear. Merlin let out a low, trilling whistle. Arthur turned to look at him in confusion.

"What are you–?"

There was an answering call somewhere off to the right. Arthur peered through the trees but could see nothing. Merlin whistled again. Three more called back. Then more, and more, before a group of birds took off from the treetops, whistling back Merlin's tune as the sun rose. Merlin grinned as he turned back to Arthur, shifting his position on the branch. His eyes were alight with joy.

"Don't you love their songs?" he questioned Arthur. Arthur shrugged.

"I never really thought about it."

"Never got up early enough?" suggested Merlin with a grin. Arthur blushed slightly.

"I guess not." More of the birds took off into the sky, the colours of their feathers flashing gold in the sunlight. "But it's beautiful, I suppose."

"Yeah, it is," said Merlin, leaning back to look at the sun again. Arthur felt his gaze captured by the way the sunlight hit the boy's face, making his eyes glow gold like they did when he did magic. Beautiful.

The journey back to the cave was anything but quiet. Merlin decided that walking was boring, and elected instead to leap from tree to tree. Arthur, much less certain of his hand and foot holds in the trees, stayed with both feet planted firmly on the ground, and followed Merlin's progress through the trees with his heart in his mouth. There were a few moments when Merlin lost his grip as he tried to catch onto a branch, but he easily caught himself - magic was involved, Arthur was sure of it (nobody could react that quickly without it, he was certain) - and seemed to laugh off the possibility of plummeting to his death easily.

Balinor had set up a campfire outside the cave by the time they got back. "Enjoy the sunrise, boys?" he asked calmly. Merlin gave Arthur an I told you so look. Arthur scowled.

Over the weeks that passed, Arthur grew fond of the warm cave beneath the mountains, the forest surrounding it. But mostly, he grew attached to the wild boy with black hair and eyes like the sky. The boy who rose before the sun to sing with the birds, who climbed mountains for the sole purpose of climbing down again, who knew the forest like the back of his hand. Without even realizing it, Arthur fell in love with the boy whose voice was always singing, whose smile was like the sunrise. He fell in love with the scent of pine needles that followed the boy everywhere, and the twigs that got tangled in his hair. Sitting in the sun near the cave, with Merlin's head resting on his shoulder, their fingers loosely entwined, Arthur knew for certain, that right here, right now, his life was perfect.

"You need to leave, Arthur."

The words struck him like a physical blow. He took half a pace backwards, staring at Balinor. The man sighed, hanging his head. "Arthur," he said, "You went missing from Camelot nearly a month ago. You need to go home. I'm sure your father is frantic with worry."

Arthur raised his eyes to look Balinor in the face. "But… what if I want to stay?"

"You can't," said Balinor sadly. "As much as I wish you could, I can't let you stay."

"But…but," Arthur's eyes were wide and slowly filling with tears, his shoulders shaking as he stared at Balinor. "…I- I can't go! I need to be here, this is where I belong!"

"You belong with your father," said Balinor calmly.

"I belong here! With Merlin!" Arthur said the words angrily before he'd thought about them, and immediately clamped his mouth shut. He averted his eyes. Balinor would be angry now, he just knew it.

He wasn't.

"Arthur," said Balinor gently, placing a hand on one of the boy's shaking shoulder. Arthur didn't look at him. "Arthur, look at me. Look at me, Arthur." Slowly, Arthur raised his eyes. "I know how you feel about Merlin. It's clear as day. But as much as I love having you here, as much as I love seeing you and Merlin together, I know that back in Camelot, your father will be grieving. He is missing his son, and I cannot keep you apart any longer. You need to go home."

Arthur hung his head.

"No!"

"Merlin-"

"You can't make him leave!"

"Merlin, really–"

"You can't!"

Merlin's blue eyes were filled with tears as he looked at his father. "Tell him Arthur," he yelled, swinging around to face the other boy. Arthur hung his head and avoided Merlin's eyes.

"Merlin," said Balinor gently. "Arthur has to go home."

"This is his home! This is where he belongs!" Merlin's voice grew louder and louder, distress evident in his voice.

"It isn't, Merlin."

"I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!" Merlin screamed at his father, running off into the cave.

Balinor sighed heavily. "He'll come around. Would you mind waiting out here for a moment, Arthur? He wouldn't want you to see him in this state," he murmured. Arthur nodded wordlessly, and Balinor retreated into the cave. Arthur sat down on a rock, listening to Merlin screaming at his father, interspersed with the occasional shattering of an object against the rock wall of the cave. Finally, all he could hear was Merlin's sobs.

It was much later that a silent, black-haired boy came and sat next to Arthur on the rock, eyes red and swollen, still spilling tears. Arthur wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Merlin leaned against the boy, resting his head on Arthur's shoulder.

"I have to go, Merlin," whispered Arthur. "I don't want to, but–"

"Then don't," Merlin said quietly. "Stay here, please."

"I can't. I'm sorry, Merlin, I wish I could stay, but I can't. My dad needs me."

Merlin sniffled quietly, and Arthur felt tears wetting the fabric covering his shoulder. "I don't want you to go."

"I know," whispered Arthur.

They said their goodbyes just outside the border of Camelot, a tearful Merlin refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Arthur was seated high on his horse, gripping the reins with white-knuckled hands. His eyes had a slight shine that was difficult to see in the early morning light, and he sat rather stiffly in the saddle, looking down at Balinor and Merlin with sad eyes. Balinor reached up to clap a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"Ride safely, Arthur." He hesitated for a second, then continued, "And you should know that you'll always be welcome at our home. …But please understand that our location remains a secret to everyone else. If your father knows that I am alive, he will hunt me down. I need to know that you will not give us away."

"I won't, I swear," said Arthur solemnly. He then looked to Merlin, whose gaze was fixed solidly on the ground. "Merlin?" The boy raised his eyes to look at the older boy. "I will come back. I promise."

"I'll wait for you," said Merlin quietly. Arthur nodded at him, eyes shining with tears.

Then he turned away, and nudged his horse forward, riding away from the two figures who stood in the shadows, towards the great stone castle where his father was waiting.

He didn't look back - he had already said his goodbyes.

The two shadowed figures in the shade of the trees watched until the boy and the horse were out of sight, then the man put his hand on the shoulder of the boy next to him, and slowly lead him away from Camelot.