Time frame: A few days after S04.03, The Wicked Day.
Note: I can't believe that no one has written about this yet or had the show address this serious issue.
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No credits have changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.

"Arthur, no!" Merlin was already struggling against hands too strong to resist, knights' hands trained to sword and lance, hands he knew, hands of friends trying to keep him from making perhaps the biggest mistake of his life. But he didn't care. He couldn't let Arthur do this, not and live with himself afterwards.

"You are better than this. Don't let your fear of magic make you into a murderer." But the king's glare was cold, staring at him with furious eyes, his mouth as hard as Uther's had ever been. "Arthur, you can't!"

"Sir Leon, remove him from my court." If Merlin were not so frantic, he might have noticed how no one was looking at Arthur, how his friends, especially Gwaine, were as unhappy about the situation as he was but no one was objecting, no one was saying what needed to be said. "Take him to the dungeons and leave him there until I have time to deal with him."

Leon, good soldier that he was, only nodded. His hand gripped Merlin's arm and he was being pulled backwards, dragging his feet and objecting all the way. "Arthur, no, this isn't right. You can't…."

Before the doors closed, he looked back to see the boy, kneeling before Arthur, crying and his parents beside him, the woman wailing out her anguish and the man white and silent. Beside Arthur, Lord Agravaine stood, his smile triumphant and full of malice.

The dungeons were always the same, stale straw and mice rustling in the corners, the dank smell of despair and mould clogging his throat. Leon had been gentle enough, not quite tossing him into the cell but insistent all the same. When the iron bars clanged shut, he said, "Sorry, Merlin, but you'll have to stay here until things calm down."

"Can you at least get him to see reason? Maybe postpone the execution?" He could understand Leon's position. After all, he'd seen Uther's court and had his thinking and duty shaped by it but still the man had a good heart. If Arthur would listen to anyone, it would be Leon.

The knight nodded. "I will try but I can't promise anything."

They both knew it would do no good. Once Arthur determined a course of action, he'd not back down. It would show weakness and with Uther dead not a week past, the king had to prove that he was just as strong as his father had been. That it was this test appalled Merlin.

By the time he looked up again, Leon was already gone.

He had to do something. He couldn't let a boy die just because the people of Camelot were so blind to magic's true nature that even a child's silence would condemn him. It was insane.

But more importantly, he couldn't believe that Arthur would do this. His compassion for those not born of nobility had only grown and he was a fair man, listening with an open mind about most things. Yet when it came to magic, he was just as hard-hearted as his father had been. And that was all Merlin's fault.

Had he not tried to show Arthur how magic could heal, if he had not tried to save Uther's life, his friend, his king might now be more accepting of magic's gifts and a boy might not be condemned to death.

What a fool he'd been.

Now, he didn't know what to do. He couldn't let the boy die but aside from persuading Arthur otherwise, he had few options. Smuggling the child out of Camelot had its own dangers. Since Merlin was now the king's personal servant, more people seemed to pay attention to him, even petitioning him for favours and sneaking out without being seen had become difficult.

Worse, Arthur knew how he felt about this and since Merlin was never one for listening, he'd be under close surveillance to make sure he followed the king's commands. So unless he could get someone to help him get the boy out of Camelot, young Rob would die by fire and soon.

He knew Gaius wouldn't do anything. He loved the old man but he wasn't always brave and sometimes Merlin wondered just what had happened in his past to make him so reticent to help others with magic. Gwen might be willing if he could get out of the cell in time and talk to her or maybe Gwaine but Merlin was reluctant to make things worse for his friends by going against Arthur this time. He'd sacrifice himself if that's what it took but he didn't want anyone else to pay the cost for his mistakes.

No, not Gwen or Gwaine or any of the others. He had to find a way to do it himself and hopefully not get caught.

"What the hell were you thinking, challenging me like that in front of my whole court?"

The king stood outside the cell, glaring down at him, the frown on his face pulling the skin into a tight knot of fury. He looked as if ready to throttle Merlin; there was certainly no forgiveness in his gaze.

"Arthur, I…."

Whatever he was going to say was cut off as Arthur grabbed the bars with his bare hands, knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip, and said sharply, "You made me look a fool or worse, weak enough or stupid enough to let my idiot manservant berate me like an errant boy without so much as a by-your-leave. Did you really think you could get away with it? That I would let it pass?"

He knew he should soften his stance, back off from Arthur's anger but this was too important to play the bumbling fool. Not this time. Lifting his chin, he said, "You are going to murder a child. What else was I supposed to do? Pretend that it was okay?"

Arthur pushed himself backward, frown deepening even as he raised his fingertips to his head, mocking Merlin for idiocy with a simple gesture.

"That child has magic, Merlin. He used it and Brand's son died because of it." He held Merlin's gaze a moment, then he turned away, Arthur's frustration and fury back in the way he was pacing, the clench of his jaw and the fierce colour in his face. "Magic is evil at any age, young or old. Or have you forgotten that old sorcerer promising to use magic to heal my father and murdering him instead?"

"I have not forgotten."

Of course, he had not forgotten. Every night he dreamed of what he had done: the sudden silence of Uther's last breath, the way Arthur had come after him with a sword ready to taste his blood, the knowledge that he'd destroyed whatever chance he had of bringing magic back to Camelot, that he'd shattered his destiny into dust. Every night, he woke to tear-soaked pillows and a throat raw with grief. But he shook those memories off. There were more important things at stake than his own guilt.

"I'm sure that the boy didn't do it on purpose. It had to have been an accident."

Arthur stopped, looked at him with disbelief in his eyes. "Were you there? Did you see something or is it just because you are too addle-brained to understand how things truly are?"

"I don't think…."

"No, you don't think." He tried not to scowl at the insult but Arthur wasn't even paying attention, was growing more agitated with every word. "He used magic, Merlin. We've seen how it corrupts, how even the innocent or those closest to us can turn to evil. I will not have my father's legacy questioned just because you are too soft-hearted for your own good."

"Arthur…."

"Magic is banned in Camelot on penalty of death. The boy will die tomorrow. It gives me no pleasure to do so but the law is the law," Arthur said flatly.

"You are the law." Merlin stepped closer, wrapped his hands around the same bars Arthur had a moment ago. There was no warmth there, only cold iron and accusations. "Sire, he's just a child and you let other children go when your father was king."

He'd hoped to remind Arthur of the compassion he'd shown all those years ago but it was to no avail. The king just stood there, shaking his head. It was almost more than Merlin could take, his heart sinking, despair and desperation setting in. But he had to try one last time.

"Your uncle talked you into this, didn't he? He's probably told you that you have to be just as ruthless as Uther was to be a good king. That you need an iron fist to rule Camelot as he did. But you are more than that. I know you are."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Straightening, lines stark on his face, with daggered looks and fury, Arthur said, "For the sake of our friendship, I will ignore the insult to my father's memory. But only this once." He stepped back, fingered the sword at his side, never taking his eyes from Merlin's. "I will not have you going against me in front of my court again, not after my decision has already been made. Do you understand?"

Throat closing with grief, knowing that he'd lost, that he'd have to choose another, more dangerous path now, still he waited a long, long moment before he said, "Yes, I understand."

Arthur seemed to take his reluctance as defiance. Grasping onto his sword more tightly, he stared down at him. "Don't do anything stupid. I mean it, Merlin."

"Yes, sire, of course." He stepped back, bowed his head, not wanting Arthur to see the disillusionment in his eyes.

There was a jingling of keys in locks and as the cell door creaked open, he looked up. Off to one side, Arthur was standing there, but his grip on his sword hadn't lessened, seemed to tighten as Merlin took one hesitant step toward him.

"Go home. I expect you to stand with me tomorrow when the sorcerer is executed. As a show of support. Don't make me send my guards to find you."

The cruelty of it was so unlike Arthur that he almost reeled back. Likely another one of Agravaine's ideas, to show that the king was strong enough to control his wayward servant. He wanted to protest, desperately wanted to try again to get him to change his mind. This wasn't right on so many levels.

And for a brief moment, he thought he could see uncertainty lurking there but when he opened his mouth to speak, the king's gaze hardened and any concern was gone.

Merlin bowed his head again and hurried up the stairs away from his friend, his king, the man he wasn't sure he knew any more. Behind him, there was only silence.

That Gaius was waiting for him wasn't a surprise nor was the shouting that followed. As soon as he closed the door, the old man was yelling at him, telling him that he'd been a fool to confront Arthur like that and he needed to think before he opened his mouth and what could he possibly accomplish by talking back to the king.

"Think, boy, think!" Gaius's words seemed to echo off the walls, a familiar litany of Merlin's faults and missteps and he might have listened more closely if he didn't have other more pressing things to worry about.

He didn't have time for it; he was already planning what to do next, how to get the boy out and not get caught. He'd need something to get past the guards, a sleeping draught in their drink perhaps. His fingers were reaching for the ingredients when Gaius pulled a bottle out of his grasp.

Startled, as he glanced up, he could see that the old man was looking both exasperated and smug. "I believe this will suit you better." Thrusting a different vial of some dark liquid into his hand, Gaius said, "One drop into a flagon of ale or water will be enough for an hour or two of sleep."

For a moment, Merlin stood there, gaping at him. For all his shouting, with all the talk of caution and dire warnings, Gaius had just given him proof that he was on Merlin's side in this. Still, he wanted to be sure. "I thought you said that it was too dangerous, that I was an idiot."

"You are an idiot." Letting out a long, slow breath, Gaius reached over, clasped one hand on Merlin's shoulder and shook him a bit. "Only an idiot would stand up to the king and then plan to break the boy out of the dungeons. Better to have held your tongue and waited for the right moment to act. He will be highly suspicious of you if young Rob escapes now." Letting go, he stepped back, looked down and away, looking as pale and old as Merlin had ever seen him. "But I've stood by too many times, and to my deep shame, let Uther murder innocents. I won't allow it to happen again."

Letting his fingers graze the old man's arm, hoping to show understanding and acceptance in a simple touch, he smiled when Gaius looked up at him. A moment of connection between two men willing to do what was right. Then Merlin got back to the urgent business of escape. "I'll need a horse. The Druids are in the Forest of Ascetir. I'm sure they will take in the boy if I can get there without Arthur knowing."

"If you don't return by first light, he will know for certain. He may suspect you anyway, once Rob is gone." Gaius paused, gazing at him with sombre determination and not a little worry. "Are you willing to accept the consequences if you are caught?"

Merlin just shrugged. There was no choice after all; he'd accepted that long ago. "I can't let him kill a child, not this way. It would make him no better than his father. And I think the guilt would eat at him once he sees reason again."

"Grief can be a powerful force. Uther's war on sorcery was proof of that. But I don't think Arthur will react the same way if he's given a chance to heal first."

"And I'm going to give him that chance."

He tried to sound certain but Arthur had disappointed him before, sometimes badly. He tried not to think about the child in the cave when they'd gone to get the Cup of Life and how Arthur had held a sword to the young boy's throat, how he'd ordered the guards to take no prisoners when Camelot's forces had descended on the peaceful Druid encampment, how driven he'd been to obey his father's commands in seeking out sorcerers and those who kept to the Old Religion. That he'd followed his father in more ways than Merlin was happy with.

He could only hope that Arthur would make the right choice this time. If he didn't… well, Merlin would do what he had to do. A child's life was at stake

Gaius sent him a worn smile. "Then you best be gone. I will bring a horse to the postern by the south gate."

As Merlin turned away, knowing that he'd need to disguise himself, he grabbed a cloak he'd been attempting to mend for Arthur when all this happened, threw it over his shoulders. His usual outfit was too distinctive for stealth but the dark mantle would blend in with the shadows nicely.

Then as he tried to think if he'd forgotten anything, Gaius said, "Merlin…." And the old man held up a key.

Frowning, he stared at it. It wasn't the key to the cells. He knew the shape of those all too well. Gaius gave him another exasperated look, full of fondness and worry. "It unlocks the postern gate… unless you were going to use magic in front of the boy?"

"Wasn't planning on it." He grabbed the iron key and tucked it away. "Any reason why you have a key that only Arthur is supposed to have?"

"I did help a few people escape in my time. And unlike you, I used my wits." Gaius gestured toward the door. "Off you go. And be careful."

A quick nod, then as he slipped into the hallway, he looked back one last time, grinned at Gaius. "Aren't I always?"

Luck was running with him for once. The guards were shockingly easy to overcome. Standing over the entrance to the dungeons, high above the alcove where the men were seated, he used a touch of magic to make sure the sleeping draught made it into their drinks. That they were using dice again and gambling while they were supposed to be guarding - hence the name guard, didn't speak well for the dungeon staff and some day when he had no more need of escape, he would talk to Arthur about it. But for now, unconscious guards were exactly what he wanted.

Gingerly, he lifted the keys and headed down toward the section of the dungeon where sorcerers were held, far away from the other prisoners, as if magic could contaminate them somehow. As far as he knew, there was only the boy in the cell.

But then his luck ran out.

Rob's mother, Letha, was there, comforting the child. Not unexpected but Merlin wished that for once, the woman was somewhere else, not sitting just outside the cell, holding Rob's hand and talking softly with him.

Merlin couldn't transport them both and he didn't want her to know who he was anyway. He'd already thought about and rejected turning into Dragoon again to hide his identity; he'd had too many run-ins with Arthur's knights already and besides, an 80 year old wasn't exactly quick on his feet. So all he could do was stick to the shadows and hope the woman wouldn't recognize him.

Choosing a dark corner, he said softly, "Letha…," As her head snapped around and her eyes sought to find out who was speaking, Merlin stepped back further into the blackness, surrounded himself with the dark cloak. "I've got a key and I'm going to help Rob escape if you'll let me."

"Who are you? Why are you in the shadows?" She let out a sound of desperation and hope. Whispering back, she said, "Are you really going to help him escape?"

Half-listening for the tell-tale sign of guards rousing from sleep, worried that he'd not used enough of the potion or perhaps a servant would come across their unconscious bodies, he was almost buzzing with apprehension. "Yes, I will. Look, we need to hurry before the guards wake up. Say your goodbyes and we'll…."

"I'm going with him." She stood up, lifting her chin in defiance, looking strong and fierce and immovable.

His mother would have been as obstinate as Rob's and for a brief instant, he wanted to see Hunith so badly that he ached with it. But he shrugged the feeling off. He had to focus on getting the boy out and this conversation wasn't helping the situation. "It's too dangerous. I only have the one horse and if I have to steal another, it will take too long."

Letha shook her head. "We'll only need one if it's me and Rob. Just get us out and I'll take care of the rest. You won't need to put yourself in any more danger."

"And what will you do? Can you hide your tracks so that the knights won't follow? They know the surrounding countryside. They know where you are likely to go and they have experience tracking escaped prisoners. You wouldn't get ten miles before you are caught."

If they were caught, it wouldn't just be Rob in the square but his mother as well - if they made it back to Camelot at all. Some of the older knights from Uther's faction were not very understanding of magic, and eager to prove their worth to the new king, might act first and make excuses later.

Still hostile, still concerned about her son, Letha said, "And you can do better?"

"I know how they think. They won't find me or Rob." He wanted to reassure her but there was really nothing he could say that wouldn't give away his identity and that was too dangerous. They all had too much to lose for him to reveal himself to her now. "I understand your worry. If the king found out that I helped Rob…, well, he isn't in a forgiving mood these days." She shook her head, still stubborn enough for them both, and Merlin was getting worried about the time and their escape and whether or not she'd listen to reason. "I'll send word when it's safe to join him. Please, Letha, trust me. I don't want Rob hurt any more than you do.

Peering again into the darkness, clearly trying to see if she could find out who he was, Letha said, "I don't…."

It was taking too long. From the window high above them, Merlin could hear the rustling of guards making their rounds. If he didn't leave soon, it could be disastrous for them all. "Letha, we don't have time for this. It's your choice but you have to decide now, one way or the other."

All this time the boy had been listening to them arguing. He'd been fidgeting, pale as death, his face wet with grief. His voice quavered in the darkness. "Mum, I didn't mean to… Alan was my friend and I… maybe I deserve… it."

A sharp intact of breath, looking wild and horrified and distraught, Letha leaned down, captured the boy's face between her hands. "Don't you ever think that!" Her back to Merlin, her fears clear in the sound of a choked-back sob and the way her hands trembled as she stroked Rob's face, she said, "Take him. Take him far from this place."

Rob started to shake, looking wild-eyed and lost, but she strained forward, kissed her son tenderly. "I love you, love you, my boy. We will come for you as soon as we can. But you had to go now."

"I will keep him safe. I swear it." Merlin was already planning on their next move, trying not to push Letha into hurried goodbyes but time was running out.

She must have realized it as well. Gathering herself up, she gave her son one last caress and then strode down the hallway. As she passed Merlin, she didn't try and seek him out, didn't look in his direction, but she paused there and putting the sharp edge of determination into her voice, said distinctly, "If anything happens to him, anything at all, I will find you. And you will wish you had never been born!"

Then head held high, body rigid, she walked around the corner and out of sight.

Merlin waited a heartbeat, two, until the sound of her footsteps faded. Then he pushed forward into the light, and one hand gripping the key, opened the cell door.

The boy had been cowering back, apparently still afraid of a cloaked stranger, but as he looked up, he must have seen his face. A soft gasp and Rob was calling out to him, smiling. "Merlin! Why….?"

Shaking his head, he whispered, "Not now, Rob. The guards may be waking up any minute and we have to get past them to escape. Come on and be quiet, okay?"

Rob nodded and hurried to Merlin's side. As he closed the cell door, he thrust the boy behind him and softly, trying to make as little noise as possible, walked toward the entryway.

Heads back, snoring loudly, the two guards lay sprawled on the floor, their arms flung out as if trying to finish their game, the dice still in one man's hands. Gingerly, as quietly as he could, he replaced the keys on the guard's belt and then a finger to his lips, he signalled Rob to follow.

The postern gate wasn't hard to find, even in the maze of underground tunnels. Over the years, Merlin had been curious and a bit far-sighted, thinking that he might have to use the passageways for escape if he'd ever been caught doing magic and Arthur reacted badly, horrifying as that thought might seem. Now, he finally got the chance to use his knowledge to help someone else.

Key fitting into the lock, it was easy enough to open it - he's worried that Gaius had given him the wrong one but nothing had gone amiss. Even the horse was there by the gate, waiting for them both.

It wasn't until they'd ridden away from the citadel, a good mile or so, before the warning bell started to ring. Too loud in the night, the sounds seemed to follow them, urging them away. At that, Merlin pushed the horse into a gallop, dangerous as that might be in the darkness. He knew they needed to put more distance between Arthur's injustice and Rob's freedom.

As the horse huffed in his effort, Merlin was already whispering a spell to hide their tracks. "Hile pæþ, come on, faster, hile pæþ, faster." He hoped that the boy wouldn't hear him but there was nothing to be done about it. He had to keep the knights from finding them both; they were too good at tracking otherwise.

So he pushed on, occasionally muttering under his breath, turning his head to see the trees whipping in the wind, the leaves dancing on the ground over their hoof-prints, the path obscured and their escape untraceable.

The sky was already lightening when he let the horse slow to a walk, let himself take in their bearings. Rob was asleep, obviously exhausted from his fears for his life and their reckless ride.

He hoped that they weren't far from the Druid encampment. Merlin had only vague rumours about their last known location and if they weren't there, if it took too long to find them, he knew when he returned to Camelot, there would be hell to pay.

That he would return was not even a question. Arthur needed him whether he knew it or not and a small thing like the stocks or time in the dungeon would not be enough to keep Merlin away.

But that was for another time. Right now he had to find the Druids and deliver Rob into their safe hands. "Abeþece druwids," he whispered, hoping that magic would lead him to them but the golden trail he conjured up quickly dissipated.

No luck then. Apparently, he'd used it all up. Either that, or the Druids were hiding somehow.

With a long, frustrated sigh, he nudged the horse further into the woods. Under the chatter of dawn's birdsong, a stream's faint sound beckoned. If nothing else, the horse would need to rest and drink; perhaps there would be grass for it, too, to give strength in the hours of riding ahead.

He certainly wasn't going to go back until Rob was out of Arthur's reach. And if that meant wandering around until he found the Druids, then so be it.

The trickle of water was mist-shrouded but thick with grass, a jumble of rock and tiny fish glimmering in the shallows. He let the horse plod over to it and bow its head to drink. He didn't slide off, much as he wanted to, just sat there, stretching a bit to ease the pain of riding for too long and too hard. He'd be paying for it once he got back to Camelot but he didn't want to wake the boy just yet.

But the change in motion jostled the boy awake anyway. Rob started, wiggled himself around a bit, looked back at Merlin with worried eyes. "Where… where are we? Are we there?"

"No, not yet." Merlin climbed down, his back spasming in protest but he ignored his own pain, and reaching up, pulled Rob off and onto the ground. "We need to let the horse rest a bit and then we'll try and find the Druids, okay?"

The boy just nodded, bowing his head, hunching in as if cold. Merlin shrugged off his cloak, settled it onto Rob's shoulders; he meant to give him a gentle squeeze, a pat on the back for comfort but Rob shied away, hiding his face against the horse's neck.

"I want my mum." Merlin almost didn't hear him; it was a bare whisper on the wind, a choked murmur, so laden with hopelessness that it hurt to hear it; his heart ached in sympathy. He'd had his own losses over the years and somehow this young boy brought them all to the fore again, the despair, the desperation to change what had happened in the past, to somehow make things different, better. His was supposed to be a golden destiny, not this travesty of secrets and betrayal and loneliness.

As Rob began to cry, Merlin shook off his own memories. He had a child to comfort, not wallow in his own misery.

Sinking to one knee, he tugged on Rob's sleeve, whispered that it would be alright, that he'd see his family again. Something must have gotten through because the boy twisted suddenly, buried his face in Merlin's shirt, soaking it with tears.

Still murmuring comfort, Merlin rose again, lifted the boy in his arms and finding a more comfortable spot, sunk down onto soft grass, settling Rob beside him, all the while hugging him close, warmth and understanding in a gentle touch.

Rob cried for a long time, sometimes sniffling, sometimes wailing with loss. Merlin didn't push him to stop, no matter that the sun was up and Arthur would be sure to be looking for him. It was already too late for excuses anyway. Instead he settled in, waited out the storm of grief.

When at last Rob was reduced to hiccups and quiet breathing, Merlin said, "Can you tell me what happened? I heard what the witnesses said but I'd like to hear your side of it."

A shudder and Rob seemed to grow smaller somehow. "I… I didn't…."

"Rob, it's okay that you used magic." The boy shook his head, obviously trying to deny it, looking ashamed and scared and so very young. "I promise you that we are going to a place where they'll teach you how to control it."

He seemed to shy away, trying not to look in Merlin's direction. "I want my mum. She said…."

"She told you not to say anything, didn't she? To keep it a secret." Rob glanced up, shaking his head, fearful eyes and a frown turning his skin pale with worry. "Your mother is pretty smart. Arth… the king isn't seeing clearly about magic right now and it has to remain hidden until he does. But it is a gift and one you should be proud of."

Curling inward, his head pressed into his knees, his body shaking with fear, Rob stammered out, "No, not proud, not… I couldn't control it. I… Alan died because of me."

"Rob…." He didn't want to frighten the child any more than he already was but Merlin needed to know the real reason Alan died. There had been so many accusations, so many voices calling for blood, that Rob had grown silent, had seemed to accept every foul word, had denied nothing. "What happened?"

"He died." As the boy glanced upward, guilt and grief in his eyes, and then away again, Merlin squeezed his shoulder, gave him a sharp hug and then let him go.

"Rob, it was an accident, wasn't it." A statement, not a question and one Merlin hoped would get the boy to open up.

Shrugging, helpless and hopeless in the way he refused to look at Merlin, Rob said, "We were just fooling around, Alan and me. He knew about my… and stuff and he didn't care. He…." Another glance toward Merlin as if trying to gauge whether he believed him or not, Rob looked out over the small dell, watched the trickle of water in the growing light. "He liked it, to see what I'd do. We used to go out into the woods and I'd do stuff, lifting rocks and making water into balls that I'd pelt him with. Even made a rabbit out of smoke once, got it to hop around. Alan loved it."

Rob began to rock, his face digging into his knees, his back curling down and down, bow-taut. Shivering, his words coming faster and faster as if he needed to get them out before he drown in the memories, he was nearly incoherent. "But Alan was going away to Willowdale to see his cousins and he wanted some fun before he left. So we went… we went into the barn and I lifted up the hammer and some of the horses' tack, a pitchfork and some stones one of the masons had left and I was making them go around in a circle and Alan was laughing and telling me to go faster and I did, I did. And then, I don't know, someone found us and started shouting and everything fell down and Alan got hit with one of the stones and he fell and started bleeding and a man was screaming at me and…."

Breathless, unable to speak for a moment, Rob covered his head with his hands, seemed to be trying to crawl inside himself, into the small ball of flesh he had become. "I tried to stop it. He was bleeding so much and I knew something was wrong. Tried to use magic but it didn't work and I kept trying. People were pulling me off Alan and yelling and I was throwing stuff at them with magic and trying to help Alan and … then I don't remember anything else."

It hurt to see a child like that, so filled with loathing and guilt. Merlin didn't know what to do but his mother had always comforted him with soft words, stroking his hair, her hands creating slow circles of warmth across his back and he could only follow her lead.

Letting his actions speak for him for a while, watching as Rob's breathing finally calmed down, he said, "It was an accident, Rob. You couldn't have known it would end like that."

Rob lifted his face, tear-stained and miserable, and shook his head. "He was laughing and then covered in blood and I tried… I tried so hard."

"Sometimes magic isn't enough. I know you tried your best but it was already too late." He knew enough of magic's limitations, of trying desperately to save someone and have destiny turn to dust in a single moment.

"Alan is dead because of me. I should be, too." There was a finality in the way Rob said it but underneath, Merlin could hear a plea for redemption, a hope that maybe it wasn't his fault after all.

He could understand that feeling all too well.

"Do you think Alan would want that?" When the boy looked away, down at his clenched hands and shook his head, Merlin said, "Rob, listen to me. It was an accident; you didn't mean to hurt your friend and you tried to fix it when it went wrong." He put his arm around the boy's shoulders, could feel the boy still shivering in grief. "I knew someone just like Alan once and when he died, like you, I blamed myself. But in time I came to realize that he wouldn't have wanted me to give up and I don't think Alan would, either."

Scrubbing at his face, Rob said, "I don't… I don't know what to do."

Letting go, Merlin turned toward the boy, facing him squarely. His voice was calm, certain as he said, "Magic isn't meant for power or riches or hurting people. It's meant to be used for good. You will learn that in time. The Druids will help you if you let them. I think that's what your mother and father would want, don't you? And Alan, too?"

"What if I'm evil, like they say?"

Merlin wanted to throttle the cruel fools who had hurt this child so much. "They are wrong."

"Are you sure?" Rob was looking at him, exhaustion and the longing for redemption in his eyes.

"Yes, I am." He tried not to sigh in relief when the boy slumped against him, gave Merlin a tentative nod. "It will be alright, I promise."

He looked up, peered into the forest, trying to figure out exactly what he should do next. To tell the truth, he hadn't a clue. There was no sign of wood smoke or the sound of children laughing or the smell of breakfast fires, nothing to guide him to the Druid's camp.

All he had left was magic and while he didn't want the child to know about his powers, there wasn't much choice. Drawing a deep breath, about to speak in the tongue of the Old Religion, he felt a touch in his mind. A gentle Emrys.

Closing his eyes, he sent back, I need your help.

We are aware. We are nearly there. Wait for us.

A frission of annoyance and then he strained upward, listened for footsteps or the clop of horses. Easy enough for you to say, he thought, but you couldn't have gotten here a little sooner? I am already late.

The child had to understand and who better to teach him caution than someone who still hides his gifts.

At that, Merlin scowled, muttered a few choice words under his breath and settled back to wait. Sometimes the Druids were almost as meddlesome as the dragon and he'd had enough arguments for one day.

Between one blink and another, out of the mists, the Druids appeared, the silver-haired leader in front, hands folded before him, standing by the stream as if he'd been rooted there since the beginning of time.

Merlin nudged Rob up, stood beside him, one hand on his shoulder and said, "This is Rob. I ask that you take him in and teach him how to use his gifts for good."

"Arthur Pendragon searches for him even now." A thoughtful frown on the man's face, he kept staring at Merlin, not Rob, unsettling in his gaze. But then every time he'd been with the Druids, it hadn't been any different, as if they were waiting for him to do better, be better. Gaius was just the same, exasperation and expectation in a single glance. As if he wasn't trying hard enough and for a second, it frustrated the hell out of him.

"Yes. As he searches for every magic user in the kingdom," Merlin said sharply. "Will you turn him away because he isn't one of you?"

The Druid gazed down at young Rob and gave the boy a warm smile, nodded to him. "No, we welcome him. In time, he will be one of us, using his gifts for the betterment of all." As he stepped forward, looking as if he were ready to gather up the child and whisk him away, he stared right at Merlin. It is you that we question, Emrys. You have made things worse in your haste.

Merlin knew he wasn't talking about Rob's escape but Uther's death and his own hand in it. But before he could protest that it hadn't been his fault, again the wordless voice echoed in his mind. Choose wisely in future. Albion's destiny is in your hands.

He could have argued or grown more frustrated or even told them off but it was true. He had been hasty and now they were all paying the price for it. With a sigh, shoulders slumping, he nodded, sending back a resigned, I will.

Apparently that was enough for them, at least for now. The leader lifted his hand, said, "Come, young Rob, say your farewells. We must be away from this place."

The boy turned to Merlin, confusion and worry in the way he stood and the tone of his voice and his fidgeting hands. "Merlin, I… aren't you coming? Do I go with them? How will my mum know where to find me?"

Bending down, close to the tear-streaked face of a boy whose life had been changed forever by magic, Merlin said, "Rob, I have to go back to Camelot. The king will send out search parties for me if I don't and it could make things worse." The child's gaze flicked toward the silent Druids and then back at Merlin, a thousand questions in his eyes and all of them about what to do next, whether to go with people he'd never met and hope for a brighter future or run back to Camelot and face execution. "I know these people. They will keep you safe."

Rob seemed to accept that but still, as with all children, he had to try one last time. "I don't want you to go."

"I know." Merlin gave him a little smile, captured the boy's hands with his own, squeezed understanding into cold fingertips. "Rob, be brave. I promise to tell your mother and when it is safe for her and you and them, I'll send her to you. But for now, be true to yourself and find joy in magic again. It's there, waiting for you if you let it."

As he stood up, he let Rob go, gave him a little nudge toward the Druids. It was hard to watch the boy standing there looking lost and alone but he knew Rob would be alright in the end. As he pulled himself up onto the horse, he said, "Take care of him. I will contact you when I can about his mother."

The Druid leader bowed, gathered Rob next to him. "We will care for him as if he were our own."

And with that, Merlin turned back toward Camelot and the fate that awaited him there.

Merlin was hours late. He knew that Arthur would be furious, likely accuse him of helping the boy to escape, perhaps send him to the dungeons or even worse. Uther would have flogged him in the courtyard and then hanged him or chopped his head off but Arthur wasn't his father.

Still, he'd grown up under Uther's tutelage and Merlin wasn't sure what he'd do.

On his way back, he gathered a bunch of herbs, just in case Arthur would be willing to listen to his lies - he hated lying to him, hated it, but there wasn't much else to be done. Hopefully, Arthur would see the bumbling idiot, the fool rather than someone defiant enough to risk his own life for a child.

But apparently, Arthur was more insightful than he'd realized. The guards met him at the gate, pulled him from his horse and marched him, almost dragging him, into Arthur's chambers. As they shoved him forward, he stumbled, sprawling at the king's feet.

Arthur was silent when the guards shut the door, silent when Merlin pushed himself to his feet, silent when he fidgeted under the stony gaze.

Turning away, Arthur began looking through papers, picking up his quill and ignoring him. One signed document after another, quill to ink, a few scratches on paper and a shake of the drying sand and then another and another and it would seem that the king didn't even realize that he was in the room, just kept working at his desk. But Merlin knew him better than that. He could see Arthur's jaw clenching hard, fingers holding the quill were white sinew and bone and the tense set of his shoulders spoke louder than any words.

Merlin was in trouble.

He probably should have let Arthur work through his anger, let him intimidate Merlin until he felt better about the situation. But his muscles hurt from all the riding, he hadn't eaten and he was exhausted, and after what seemed like hours, Arthur was showing no sign of letting up.

"I…."

Arthur's hand slammed down onto the table, a sharp crack that seemed to echo endlessly across the stone walls. "Silence, you damn fool. I won't have you lying to me again."

Merlin was so startled that, his voice rising in protest, he snapped back, "I haven't said anything yet."

Usually at this point, their natural give-and-take would show up, banter and insults and forgiveness but Arthur was having none of it. He stood up, leaning forward on the papers he'd been signing, staring straight at Merlin. Warrior-furious, he spat out one word at a time, "Where… is… the… boy?"

"What boy?" He tried to look confused, innocent, entirely free of any guilt but Arthur knew him far too well.

Rocking back as if struck, parchment catching on his tunic as he pulled around the table, the ink already spilling onto the floor with the movement, Arthur ignored everything, focused solely on Merlin. "Don't even think about playing games with me. Where is he?"

"I don't know." At least that was not a lie.

"I told you that I won't have you lying to me again. Where is he?"

Of course, Arthur wouldn't believe him. Why should he? Sometimes Merlin was so weighed down by the lies that he felt that he couldn't breathe, that he was drowning in them.

"Arthur, I don't know! I really don't."

Arthur must have heard the truth in it, however surrounded by lies it might be. He folded his arms across his chest, still glaring at him but willing at last to listen. "Where have you been then? And don't tell me the tavern because I had my guards look for you there."

"I couldn't stand the thought of having to watch you kill a child so I left. Gaius needed some rare herbs so I volunteered to get them for him. He's getting old, you know, and I thought…."

"That's just it, Merlin, you don't think." Face cut with frowns and accusations, Arthur stared at him as if trying to discern just how much he could be believed. Apparently, not at all. "How could you possibly understand that your disappearance and the escape of the boy from the dungeons is too much of a coincidence for me to overlook?"

"He escaped?"

He had waited a moment too long and Arthur, already suspicious, pressed him on it, going in for the kill as only a warrior would. "So you did know."

"You just told me that he escaped, Arthur." Trying to backtrack, to cover up his mistake, he said, "I was picking herbs for Gaius. You can look in my pack if you like."

"I don't believe you. I can't." With every word, he was growing more upset, disbelief and anger and disappointment colouring his voice, apparent in the way he stood, the fists clenched white on his sword hilt, the scowl cutting deeper and deeper into his skin. "My uncle said you'd do this and now I can see he's right again."

Agravaine again. A cancer in the heart of the kingdom, growing more powerful every day and Arthur too blind to see him for what he was.

"Your uncle…."

They'd had disagreements before but now Arthur was beyond reasoning.

"Enough!"

"No, it's not enough!" Something snapped in him. All the lies, all the things he'd done for Arthur, all the lives lost and distortions and betrayal and the damnable guilt and he couldn't take it any more. For once, Arthur had to see the truth for what it was.

"You talk about nobility and honour but did you even ask Rob about what happened? You listened to your uncle and the mob that accused him of terrible things and the boy just got quieter and quieter. No, he didn't deny it and why?" Arthur was listening at least but Merlin didn't care. He'd had this weight on his chest for years now and he just wanted to breathe again. "Because Rob felt guilty about it. He'd been fooling around, they both had, and Alan paid the price for it. Yes, he'd been using magic, for fun, for the sheer joy of showing off to his best friend and when things went wrong and Alan died, he wanted to die, too."

Stepping forward, Merlin looked the king squarely in the eye and said, "I know how that feels, Arthur. When my best friend died defending you, it was my fault. I'd talked him into staying; I'd not seen what would happen next and Will paid for it with his life. I watched him bleed to death and helpless to do anything about it. And after that, I just wanted to crawl away and hide and never come out again but you needed me and so I came back and I smiled and nodded and pretended that everything was okay when it wasn't at all."

"Merlin…." Arthur sounded almost contrite, but it wasn't enough. Not now.

Cutting across whatever Arthur was about to say, his voice savage, Merlin said, "You could have pressed for the whole truth, not let your hatred of magic blind you to what really happened. You could have listened with your heart, seen how grief-stricken Rob was, not listened to the lies they fed you. But you did not."

Still breathing hard, his heart pounding as he waited to see if anything had changed, if Arthur could see beyond his grief and to what was really going on, he said, "But it's not too late, sire. Commute the boy's sentence. Banish him if you must but let him live."

Arthur shook his head. "I can't. There were multiple witnesses that saw him use magic to kill Brand's son."

When had Arthur become so hard-hearted? Did kingship change a man so much that a compassionate heart turned into stone with his crowning?

"And you won't even try to find out if they were lying or not? Is this the kind of king you want to become?"

"There is no proof for any of it, only your word and the tale the boy spun for you." He stood there a moment, frowning still but thinking, too. "Besides, when did he tell you this? Not beforehand. You'd have lectured me incessantly about it. And not afterwards because the guards never saw you there." The more Arthur talked, the more Merlin realized that he'd been too quick-tempered, as unwise as Gaius always said he was, that he'd dropped clues that could lead to the right conclusion, that he wouldn't be able to explain it away with an idiotic grin and a shrug this time.

There was a moment of silent realization and then the king turned rigid with fury. "You helped him escape, didn't you? All that talk about guilt and grief and you helped him escape."

"That's what you got out of what I just said?" He tried to side-step it, desperately hoping that Arthur would be distracted enough to ignore it. "Not about how Rob wasn't guilty of murder but how he escaped?"

But it was not to be. Arthur said flatly, "For once, just tell me the damn truth."

Merlin straightened, lifted his chin and without guile, without lies and half-truths and manipulation, finally breathing again, he said, "Here is the truth, Arthur. I knew a man once, someone I admired very much, a prince who defied the law and his father's commands and helped a young Druid boy escape the pyre. How could I do any differently?"

Arthur's frown softened a moment, perhaps remembering that day, too, but then his face turned back to stone. "I wasn't king then."

Merlin had hoped that his Arthur, his friend, would have understood.

"Because of your loyal service, I won't execute you in the boy's place as my father would have done but I can't let this go unpunished." Arthur raised his voice, called out for the guards and when the doors banged open and they rushed in, he gestured toward Merlin. "My servant is under arrest. Take him to one of the cells at the far end of the dungeon. Keep him isolated. He is to have no visitors without my permission. Is that clear?"

The guards nodded quickly and then seizing his arms began to drag him stumbling out of Arthur's chamber.

Stunned, furious, heart-sick, Merlin didn't look back.

The cells were becoming a bit of a habit. Same sour smell, same damp chill, the sound of water drip, dripping and the rustle of mice under the straw. At least this time, Merlin deserved it.

He figured it would take longer for Arthur to come around, if he ever did and he was exhausted anyway with the wild ride and the tumult of emotions he'd been through so he plumped up what little he had for bedding and laying down, stomach ever protesting the lack of food, fell asleep almost immediately.

But Arthur didn't come that day or the next. Gaius told him in the brief time he was allowed to visit that the king was like a bear with a thorn stuck in his paw, irritable and unjust, throwing goblets and helmets and other sundries at his new manservant and beating his knights into the ground. Even Gwen was avoiding him.

And Gaius was only there to make sure Merlin was healthy enough for whatever punishment Arthur was to decide upon - when he got around to it.

Then Gaius stopped coming and Merlin began to worry. He could have escaped easily enough but how he could protect Arthur or fulfil his destiny if he had to remain a strained distance away was beyond him.

Finally, on the fourth day, it would appear that his waiting was over. He woke to find Arthur staring down at him, weighty king's robes bright red against the pale cheek, a golden circlet on his head, his sword at his side. This was not a friend's visit but judgement, final and unmoving. That there weren't guards around was puzzling but then Arthur always did things his own way.

As he turned the key and stepped down into the cell, Merlin couldn't help noticing dark circles under Arthur's eyes and the way he wouldn't look at him, the strain of his mouth and one hand busy on the sword hilt.

Merlin tried not to worry. He could take it, whatever it was: flight, forgiveness, the final fracture of the friendship between them. He'd lived through heartache before; this would be no different and even as he thought about it, he knew he was lying to himself.

Scrambling to his feet, he made himself ready to meet whatever fate Arthur would deal him with a clear conscience and a steady gaze.

When Arthur cleared his throat, straightened, seemed to gather strength enough to face him squarely, if he didn't know better, he would have said that the king was nervous, rather than furious. An odd reaction.

Still, Merlin hated waiting, was ready to jump out of his skin when Arthur said, "It would seem that you, idiot though you are, might have been correct… this once."

Arthur rarely apologized for anything, nobles were always right after all but this was a welcome surprise. He thought he'd be dismissed at least, told to go back to Ealdor and never to return.

"I questioned those who testified against Rob, talked with his mother and those who knew him well. I also looked at the crime scene and discussed with Gaius the possible causes for death for Alan, Brand's son." Arthur pursed his lips, looking as if he'd swallowed something sour, and then with great reluctance, said, "It would appear that it was an accident after all."

Merlin couldn't help it. He felt himself grinning like a madman, his smile so wide it was almost painful.

"Don't look so damn pleased about it." Arthur rolled his eyes, seemed more sheepish rather than irate and then he turned serious again. "The boy used magic and that is still forbidden in the kingdom. But I am willing to change his sentence to banishment, rather than death."

He knew he couldn't wish for more, much as he wanted to but at least for now, Rob was safe. "Thank you, Arthur, thank you so much. I'm sure his family will be happy to hear it."

But the king wasn't done apparently. His hand whitened on the sword hilt, his face turning stony, as he said, "That doesn't mitigate your actions, however. You helped a capital prisoner escape, a crime for which my uncle reminds me constantly is punishable by death. My father would have seen it that way as well." There was a pause, long and hard, and Arthur seemed to be struggling with something. "However, there is no solid proof so I have the luxury of ignoring the situation - this time. But if it happens again, I cannot let it pass, not even for you."

It was not unexpected and he did understand Arthur's position. But Merlin would never let an innocent die, just because he'd get into trouble for it. He'd learned a valuable lesson and one Gaius had tried to teach him before without much success. Next time, he'd be more careful.

As Merlin nodded and started up the cell stairs, eager to be away, Arthur grabbed one arm and stopped him. The king glanced back towards where the guards would normally be standing, obviously looking to see if anyone was there, listening. But there was only an empty corridor and silence.

"One more thing." A long pause, as if he was uncomfortable or reluctant or guilty about something, and his eyes kept searching Merlin's face as he said, "You must not oppose me openly. I've let you get away with far too much and it makes me look weak. I cannot have that, not now. Behind closed doors, I'm sure you will continue as you always have, insulting me with those ridiculous made-up words of yours, losing my laundry, making a general mess out of things. But in council, once I've made a decision, I want you to back me up. Is that understood?"

Arthur didn't know what he was asking. To remain silent like that, to stand by and let something so dishonourable pass without protest was not possible. "Even if you are wrong?"

But Arthur did know. He must have because he sounded almost haunted, a king making a decision brought on by circumstances, not anything that Arthur would have demanded otherwise. "Even if I am wrong. In private, tell me off, get me to change my mind, do what you can to make me see what you think I need to see, but not in public, not for a while. Not until I've consolidated power enough to fend off any threat to Camelot."

Merlin could understand it. The kingdom was surrounded by warlords and monarchs eager to take on Camelot's new ruler and any weakness, perceived or otherwise, would be used against him.

"Arthur, I… I will try." It hurt to say it but he would try, for Arthur's sake.

Nodding, a long sigh of relief and Arthur seemed to lighten, the beginnings of a smile on his face. His hand, once busy on his sword hilt, clapped Merlin's shoulder with a resounding thump and he seemed almost happy.

Turning, walking up the stairs, dragging Merlin along with him, he said, "Good. Now, my rooms are a mess, that manservant they sent me was even worse than you, if you can believe it." When Merlin gave him a put-upon look, Arthur chuckled. "I can't find any of my shirts and my boots… they are caked in mud. My sword needs sharpening and my chainmail needs a severe polish, the links are all tarnished. I believe that is your favourite chore, polishing." When Merlin scowled at him, Arthur just grinned, and gave his arm a little shake. "And my dogs miss you. The stable-hands, too. They've had no one to mock for days."

"So a typical day in the life of a prat's manservant?" He could do this. He could tease and cajole and help Arthur and hopefully someday he could even tell him the truth.

Letting him go, Arthur stood there, nodding, seemed almost boyish in that devilish smile of his.

"Yeah. And once those are done, I'll be sure to find other, more challenging tasks for you. After all, you've had four days to lounge around, catch up on your beauty sleep and I can't have my manservant turning into a layabout, now can I?"

"Oh, thanks, I think."

As if he didn't have enough to do with learning magic and medicine and trying to find ways of keeping Arthur from getting killed. Still, he wouldn't have traded sleep for Arthur's mockery any day.

"I knew you'd be thrilled." He reached up, and as Merlin tried to duck away, he caught his arm, pulling him close enough to pluck a straw from Merlin's hair, tossed it aside and then let him go. "That's better. Can't have my servant all scruffy, now can I? And since you are reinstated, I expect you to serve me at dinner tonight."

When Merlin gave him another disbelieving look, all playful annoyance, Arthur just stared back. "No more late nights at the tavern, either; I have a reputation to uphold." He nodded toward the hall and the stairway beyond. "Now, off you go."

Bowing, knowing that he'd have to think about what to do next, figuring out some way to help others escape if needs be and not get caught again, thinking about destiny and lies and a truth that beat against the cage of circumstances, he started up the stairs.

Only to have Arthur call up to him. "Merlin, thank you. For everything."

With those words, he knew that Arthur finally understood, that he finally realized that Merlin had saved him from a terrible mistake, one which, otherwise, would have haunted him to the end of his days.

And with those words, Merlin knew that somehow it would be alright in the end.

The end

Hile pæþ = hide the path
Abeþece druwids = find the druids