An: So, you thought the last update was a while in coming. Sorry. It turns out that me and life don't get on very well. On the other hand, at least you know that this hasn't been abandoned, right?

As usual, I'd like five reviews before continuing. Which, y'know, I will. Eventually. As one reviewer pointed out, I'm behind on my one chapter per year! Also, thanks to Ryne42 who pointed out that Arthur seemed more upset about Merlin's death than Uther's. I've tried to rectify that in this chapter, but you can probably tell that I may like Merlin just a tiny bit more than Uther.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Two

It crept up on Arthur slowly, sneaking up until he wasn't sure for how long he had been aware of it, just that he had.

Uther is gone. My father is gone.

It would hit him while he was working by the fire, the soft warmth and crackles bringing back memories that would leave him shaking as he tried to repress his emotions. Sometimes he would be talking to someone, listening to the problem and think that they should see the King, not him. Then he realised he was the King. It hurt like nothing else, except, maybe, Merlin - but no, even that was different.

Arthur had felt the loss of his best friend immediately, purely because he was always there, even when he wasn't supposed to be. A constant part of his life for the past five years, Merlin had been a irritating, incompetent buffoon, but somehow, he'd wound his way into Arthur's heart.

Uther's role in his life, on the other hand, had been from a distance, a fact he had resented since he was a toddler. He'd had to request an audience just to speak to him, for goodness sake, and then there was all the times he'd been thrown in the dungeons for simply daring to speak to him as to a father.

But for all his faults, Uther had been the only father Arthur had ever known, and although it took longer than with Merlin, the loss hit him just as hard.

Gwen was a rock in these times. She was there with words of sympathy whenever he felt the world was conspiring against him, visions of the future for when every second was a struggle, and a kiss and an embrace to help fill in the dark abyss left by the absence of the two most important people in his life.

Most importantly, however, she was there when Gaius came into his chambers one afternoon, armed with a heavy tome and a grim look.

"What is it?" Arthur had asked wearily. He hadn't got much sleep the night before due to dreams full of corpses that looked suspiciously like his father and manservant, and it had left him in a dark mood.

"It's about Merlin, sire," the physician replied.

For a brief, wonderful, glorious moment, Arthur felt a burst of hope, for if it was about Merlin, then it must mean there was news, and if that were so, then it meant Merlin was alive! His hopes fell as soon as they rose, however; Gaius would not look so troubled if that was the case.

"What about Merlin?" he asked warily.

"I - it's hard to say, sire. It's something he wanted to tell you very much, but felt he couldn't. I thought that since - since he's not with us anymore, I should let you know."

"Gaius, what do you mean?"

"You might want to sit down. You too, Gwen."

Arthur shared a glance with his lover, then sat down in a stiff, wooden chair obediently. "What is it?" he repeated.

"Merlin had a secret," Gaius said after a large, hefty sigh. "He used it to save your life, Arthur, you have to understand that. That was the point, and it wasn't even as if he had much choice about the matter-"

"You're babbling," Arthur said bluntly and took note of the way the old man seemed to sag slightly, as though there was no longer any place to run or hide. Then, finally, he came out with it.

"Merlin had magic."

Whispers On The Wind :: Whispers On The Wind

The first thing Merlin thought when awoke was; I'm alive. It was a surprise. Last time he'd been conscious, there had been no strength in his bones and his mind was sluggish and unresponsive. He'd barely had the good sense to use his neckerchief as a bandage on Uther's - well, he was pretty sure it was Uther - head wound. Perhaps his magic had something to do with it.

"You're awake, then."

Ah. That was definitely Uther. Slowly, Merlin sat up, glancing around to gather his bearings, his back twinging with a painful reminder of the rock that had cut him when he fell in the river. "Yes, sire," he said quickly, seeing the King sat with his back against the cliff. "Uh, if you don't mind me asking, where are we?"

"Hell. At least, that's Hell's Mouth over there. There is no name for these parts."

Merlin followed Uther's nod to where the river exited the cliff in a large free fall. Now that he thought about it, that must be what the great thundering sound was, where it hit the lake at the bottom. He'd assumed it was something to do with a concussion.

"I've never seen a waterfall so large," he murmured in wonder. "It's a miracle we survived."

"We won't if we don't find something to eat soon," Uther said pointedly.

Merlin took the hint and started to stand up, swaying on the spot before he managed to gain some balance. The pain in his back was much more prominent now and he started to probe the area with his fingers, finding plenty of blood. He grimaced. It would be difficult to bandage accurately, but it needed to be done - at some point at least. Right now, the King was looking at him with something akin to a glare and he didn't need any prompting to get moving.

The ground seemed to move underneath him with every step and a couple of times, Merlin almost fell, only just managing to right himself in time. There were a couple of sticks lying on the ground. They were long dead and would break quite easily but Merlin picked them up anyway; there were the only thing to hand.

He staggered over to the waters edge and picked up a pebble. He wondered what had happened to Arthur - the ambush had been a blur and he vaguely remembered incapacitating a few men with some well concealed magic before a stray horse that was out of it's mind with panic had knocked him over headfirst into the river. Presumably the knights had fought the bandits off but still, Arthur was a magnet for trouble. Who knew what had happened to him?

Thumping the pebble on the ground quickly broke it into several pieces, and if there was a tiny bit of magic involved, no one would ever know. Merlin took the largest of these and broke it again, this time more strategically, to make a sharp point.

Next, he needed a strip of cloth. He'd already used his neckerchief to bandage Uther's wound, so he worked at his shirt instead, eventually managing to rip a piece off that was large enough to do the job. A dizzy spell hit him as he moved for the wood which he'd placed next to him. Black dots swam across his vision and his arms jerked, the pointed shard shooting out of his hands.

As quickly as it came, it passed, leaving Merlin wondering what on Earth had just happened. It didn't matter; he needed to finish this job quickly, so he could deal with the cut on his back. He had no energy to walk so he crawled over to the shard of stone, taking the wood and cloth with him, tying them all together until he had a makeshift spear. He was feeling tired now, the toll of his injuries and the ambush showing, sucking his energy persistently. Don't stop now, he told himself, Uther's right. If you don't eat something soon, then surviving this long will have been pointless.

He stood up slowly. The water lapped at his bare feet - he must have lost his boots somewhere along the line, which was a shame, because he'd liked those - and he took a hesitant step forward, then a few more. He waited for the water to still from this disturbance.

There! Something glided into sight under water and, quick as a snake, Merlin stabbed downwards with his homemade spear, striking it with the first hit. He flicked it onto the shore then had to wait ten minutes for another to come by. He speared it with one strike but had to stab it again before it was dead. The dead stick shattered on the second blow.

Now they had two fish but nothing to cook them on. It was better than nothing he supposed, but his stomach was aching now and he had nothing to fill it with.

When Merlin returned to the cliff-side Uther was asleep, his head lolling against his chest. It occurred to the young man that this was the longest he'd ever been alone with the King. Before, Arthur had always been there - annoying, prattish Arthur who may or may not be alive - acting as a buffer between them. Now he'd have to look after himself for however long it took to get back to Camelot. His secret had never been this dangerous, especially if they were both going to get back to Camelot alive.

Alive. Being alive would be a good start, and while they both were for the moment, they wouldn't stay that way for long without food and water.

Food, which required fire - for heaven's sake, why couldn't he concentrate? Concussion, he reminded himself.

Right. Fire. Well, there was no wood about and any plants in the lake would be soaked through, making them completely useless. There wasn't even any grass, he realised, glancing around in desperation. There was nothing else for it. Reluctantly, he pulled off his shirt, the red one that he liked so much, and laid it on the ground. It looked forlorn, lying there by itself, crumpled in a heap like that.

Merlin, it's a shirt, said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Arthur.

He scowled. Yes, it was a shirt, but it was favourite shirt - and that made all the difference. Oh well, he told himself, and with a furtive glance at Uther to make sure he was still asleep, he allowed his eyes to flash gold, once, no, twice. A flame leapt up immediately, pleasantly warm on his face. Without further ado, Merlin held the two fish above it and settled down for a wait.

.

With a little bit of magic to speed the process of cooking up, the fish was soon done. Merlin poked it just to make sure, then headed over to the still sleeping Uther.

"Sire?" he called cautiously, wondering what the correct procedure was for waking royalty. Somehow, he didn't think that a, 'Let's have you, lazy Daisy' was part of it.

It seemed to work. The king stirred and raised his head, eyes instantly narrowing on the food. "Finally," he drawled.

Merlin resisted the urge to snap - 'like you did any better' - and handed him a fish. "My lord." He bowed, then backed away so he could eat in peace.

Whatever type of fish it was, it tasted like heaven. Its natural juices exploded in his mouth and seemed to melt on his tongue. His stomach, finally realising that there was food around, growled in response and reminded him of just how hungry he really was.

It was Uther that interrupted him, just as he started to rip into the meat properly with his teeth, spitting out tiny bones as he came across them.

"You're missing your shirt," the King observed, his voice clipped.

Merlin looked down at his skinny frame, embarrassment colouring his cheeks. "We needed a fire," was the only explanation he gave. It was bad enough that he was stuck in an unknown place with a man who stood against everything that he was, but now his body was exposed in a way he had hoped it never to be.

Uther nodded, and resumed eating. He made no further comment, but Merlin continue to feel his eyes on his skin and it was with great relief that he finished his meal and stood up, turning towards the lake.

The dirt and mud smeared onto his feet as he walked, stones pressing uncomfortably into skin. It was tedious that he had no shoes, especially if they would have to walk back to Camelot, but it was not the first time he had had to cope barefoot. Back in Ealdor, the materials needed to make shoes were expensive due to a lack of them in the area. Hunith did not have much money - life was hard for anyone in the outlying villages, more so for the mother of a bastard child - and what little they had was often spent on food and repairs for their house. The few times Merlin had managed to buy footwear was when traders passed through, which was not very often, and barter for some.

He reached the waters edge and started to strip off his remaining clothes, refusing to look behind him to where Uther was no doubt watching. He could almost pretend that he still had his dignity if he did not acknowledge the other's presence.

"What are you doing?"

Well, so much for that. Merlin straightened, laying out his clothes neatly next to him in the driest spot he could find. "Bathing," he replied as he turned to look at Uther. "I can't easily reach the cut on my back, and I'd rather not risk infection."

Uther nodded, but his face twisted uncomfortably. Whatever he was thinking, however, he kept to himself and resumed leaning against the cliff, picking his fingers idly. Satisfied that he would not watch nor interrupt, Merlin turned back to the water and waded in, closing his eyes and shivering as the cold seeped through his body. After acclimatising himself, he dived under and scooped some sand from the bottom of the lake, and rose back to the surface, treading water. Around him, the clear aqua was discoloured with a weak rusty brown as the dried blood from some of his wounds released its hold on his skin and washed away.

After taking a moment to relax, he began to scrub at his skin with the sand, twisting around awkwardly to get to some of the cuts until he felt he was clean enough. Then, he waded back out of the water and picked up his clothes. A wind had picked up while he was swimming and he allowed this to dry him off, shivering with his arms across his chest. He noted that Uther had moved further up the cliff in an effort to shelter himself more, and then dragged his clothes back on, glad for the little protection they offered.

Finally, he began to walk back to the hostile king, weariness clutching him as he wondered what they would do now.

Whispers On The Wind :: Whispers On The Wind

"Magic?" Arthur laughed hollowly, and it was only Gwen's hand on his arm that stopped him from rising to his feet. "If you're attempting to distract me from my grief, it's working, but please don't tell me falsehoods."

Gaius smiled grimly. "I'm not lying, Arthur. Merlin-" he sighed. "Merlin was complicated. He did not seek magic; it chose him. From the moment he was born, he could wield its power."

"You're wrong!" Arthur shouted, one hand balling into a fist, the other gripping Gwen's tightly. "Please. You have to be."

"I'm sorry, Arthur, but it's the truth."

Arthur hid his face in his hands, fingers pressing into his skull uncomfortably and his took pleasure in the pain, allowing it to sweep over him. "Not him," he whispered. "Anyone but him."

"I don't understand," Gwen murmured, her voice breaking, and it was only now that Arthur thought that perhaps she would need comforting too, that Merlin's betrayal would hurt her just as much. "What do you mean magic chose him? Are you saying he was born with it? How - how do you know about it?"

Gaius sighed again, and Arthur can see him in his mind's eye, closing his eyes, lips tightening. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor told him that the old man was taking a seat.

"I mean exactly that," he said finally. "Merlin had no choice in the matter. He was born with magic. He could no better held it than he could help having those ears of his."

"I didn't know that was possible," Gwen whispered.

"It doesn't happen often. I- Fie, I am not explaining this well at all. To explain this properly, I need to start at the beginning, back before the Purge. Before magic was outlawed."

Arthur raised his head briefly, made brief eye contact with the physician and then dropped it back down again when he realised that he lacked the strength to keep it there. "Magic is evil," he muttered to the floor.

"It was not always thought of that way," Gaius said. "Magic used to be celebrated. In fact, when it was found that Ygraine could not get pregnant, it was magic that Uther turned to."

"No," Arthur said. "No, I have heard this before. Morgouse, she told me this. But she lied!"

"That is what your father told you," Gaius said gently. "He was trying not to lose you. He didn't want to be accountable for what happened. Nimueh did cast the spell that allowed your mother fall pregnant, she did warn Uther of the price, and it is because of this that Yrgraine ultimately died. It is one of the most fundamental laws of magic; for every life given, one must be taken. When you were born, when Ygraine died, Uther realised what had happened. He went mad, tried to kill Nimueh but she ran and he was left with an all consuming hatred and guilt. Without being able to resolve the pain that he felt, he turned on all magic kind. That was when the Purge began."

Beside him, Gwen gasped. Arthur trembled, a tear leaking from his eyes. "But Merlin told me it was a trick," he said.

"You were going to kill your own father. It was the only way in which you would listen."

"Then he should have let me!" Arthur roared and he stood up, his chair scraping backwards as he slammed his palms against the table. Gwen jumped, her face pale. "Is it not enough that my mother was taken from me, that my father lied to me? How much more do I have to suffer?"

"Arthur, please," Gwen whispered.

"No! I am fed up of people hiding the truth! Is honesty too much to ask for?" His legs shook, and fell back into his chair before they gave up on him. "I- He was my friend."

"And he was yours." Gaius clasped his hands over the book he had brought with him. "Do not think even for a second, that although he had to hide from you, that he lied to you, that he did not love you as a brother. Everything he did was for you. His greatest dream was that one day, he would tell you, that he could live without fear for his life, that that there would be no secrets between you." Gaius's voice turned sharp. "And don't forget, for as long as your father was king, to reveal his secret to anyone would mean almost certain death."

"Do you think that that makes it any better?" Arthur demanded. "He had magic! Sorcery! Magic corrupts, it twists even the purest of hearts."

"No," Gaius corrected. "I used to practice magic, before the Purge. Would you consider me evil?"

"Of course not," Gwen said when Arthur didn't answer, although her voice now seemed uncertain.

"Please understand, when Merlin came to Camelot it was because he needed protecting. He had no control over his magic, had no training. Hunith was at her wit's end and this was the best solution she could think of. He came here Arthur, and he found a purpose - he found you. You see, there is a prophecy, one that the druids are very fond of." Gaius paused, then pushed the book forwards, flipping it open to a certain page, the crease in the spine suggesting it was often looked at. "Here, read it for yourself."

With shaking hands, Arthur pulled the book closer, blinking several times to clear his eyes so that he could focus properly. Next to him, Gwen shifted closer, her dark curls brushing against him. 'The Once and Future King' were the first words on the page, and he was sure he had heard them before some time, but his mind was in so much turmoil it would be useless to try and find the memory. He narrowed his eyes, one finger tracing underneath the words as he read of an all powerful warlock who assisted a king in uniting Albion and bringing about a golden age, where magic was accepted. He laughed.

"You can't be serious. What has this got to do with me?"

Gaius raised an eyebrow as if expecting Arthur to have worked it out by now, and perhaps he should have. "The druids believe that Merlin is - I mean, that Merlin was - Emrys. And he, in turn, believed that he had found the Once and Future King."

Arthur swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pain of hearing Merlin referred to in the past tense. The anger was rising again, the hurt never having left and he was overcome with so many emotions that he had never learnt how to deal with except when Merlin (traitor) was there. He clenches his jaw.

"I think you should leave," he said quietly, his voice low and dangerous.

"Arthur, please hear me out," Gaius continued, his voice tinged with a desperation that Arthur pretended not to hear.

"Leave!"

There was a moment of silence where Gwen looked at him with disapproval, where Gaius hunched over with pain etched into his features, and then the elderly physician stood up and shuffled out of the room with resignation.

"Arthur," Gwen murmured, reaching out to him. He didn't respond, knowing that if he spoke now, he would not be able to hold back the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to engulf him. He stood up, paced the room twice and then lay on his bed, curling up in an effort to feel more secure. A few moments later there was a dip in the mattress behind him. Arms slowly encircled him around his waist and that, it turned out, was the final straw.

Tears fell swiftly down his face as he sobbed, his only thoughts of betrayaltraitormagic and could not separate them from either Merlin or Uther. A wetness at his back told him that Gwen was faring just as well, and this made it even worse as he realised the full extent of the repercussions of the knowledge he had just been given, and he could hardly breathe, couldn't think, could just feel pain.

They did not move for a few hours and simply lay there, crying.

Together.