TITLE: Gone

CHAPTER/TITLE: Chapter One/Forgotten

RATING: T (language and mature content)

A/N: My first venture into the Merlin fandom. I'm excited. Are you excited? I'm excited. I have a lot of Merlin ideas and just have yet to post them. I was late to jump on the Merlin wagon and then, because season 5 wasn't available at the library, it wasn't until last night that I FINALLY finished season 5. I already knew just about everything that was going to happen and had scene parts/clips/etc but never in full. I had some Merlin ideas but wanted to wait until I saw the whole series after coming to the game so late. I have had a lot of other ideas before this one, but this is the one that just came out on paper easier so far. The others are still works in progress. Maybe this one is too, depending on what you guys think! Yikes. I hope you like it.

Takes place after the Dolma (Merlin) cures Gwen. Merlin is a little OOC. Sorry. When Arthur forgot about Merlin, yes, it was joke. But it made me very sad and upset. Maybe I'm just crazy. There's some Merlin whump in here fyi because we all know we love to see our favorite characters hurt for some slightly scary reason.

Enjoy.

Read. Review. Repeat.

Chapter One: Forgotten

Merlin, or Dolma, at the moment, stood solemnly on the shore. His - er, well, her, arms were bent, hands flattened against aged hips. Anger flooded him, taking the place of sorrow. The warlock in disguise was about to call out to the trio and remind them of their forgotten friend, maybe even lecture the king a little for good measure as he sometimes did under the guise of Dragoon. Instead, Merlin simply snapped his jaw shut. As quickly as the ire had overcome him, it was drown out by dejection and desolation.

Time and time again, the servant had risked life and limb, self-exposure – everything – for his master. Day after day, Merlin died to himself for Arthur. This was yet another one of those days. A moment in a never-ending list of moments, Merlin had long since lost track of.

In the past few hours alone, Merlin had nearly fallen to his death, saved them from a dragon, undergone transformation into a woman of all things and restored Guinevere, inadvertently sparing Arthur from any future assassination attempts from his own wife. Granted the king knew not of most of these achievements, Arthur knew of some, not to mention the fact that Merlin had told him of the Dolma and led them straight to her.

And did he receive thanks? Gratitude of any kind?

No.

He didn't even remember him.

For all Arthur and Mordred knew, Merlin was currently being held captive by a powerful sorceress to ensure her safety in their presence. Shouldn't that have sparked some semblance of concern? Wasn't he worth his friend's worry? Wasn't he worth being remembered?

It was then that Merlin recalled that it was Mordred, not Arthur, who had noticed the young man's missing presence earlier when Merlin had first appeared as the Dolma. Had Arthur forgotten him then too? Of course, one he realized his servant was missing, the king had been ready to strike the sorceress down. But still – Merlin couldn't help the black pit that was swiftly swallowing his spirit.

He watched in silence as his friends walked off, their backs to him. Arthur was still reveling in the return of his wife, their faces a horsehair's width apart as they strode forward, eyes never leaving the others'. Merlin couldn't blame him for wanting to bask in his nearly lost love's presence. He couldn't be mad at him for being distracted. He couldn't even punish him in the slightest for putting Gwen's wellbeing and interest before his. She was his wife. She must come before all others in Arthur's eyes.

Above a friend.

Especially above a lowly servant, who wasn't even worth remembering.

But Merlin could punish him for forgetting him, for abandoning him. Arthur couldn't put Merlin first, but Merlin always put Arthur first. The only people that could ever possibly come before Arthur in Merlin's mind were his mother, Gaius and, if she were still living, Freya. Even then, Merlin would never simply cast his master aside from his mind.

Of course, somewhere inside himself, Merlin knew he was being a petulant child. He was acting very foolish, and quite selfishly. But after everything he had endured for the king's sake, shouldn't he deserve to be a little of all of those things just this once?

Did Arthur even care what happened to Merlin?

Of course he does!

A voice screamed inside Merlin's head, flashing him back to all those times Arthur too had risked his own life for his friend.

But those memories were of the past. This new wound was still open and fresh, pulsating through every fiber of Merlin's very being.

He had been forgotten.

Just as easily as Arthur often forgot where he put his robes or comb.

Was that all Merlin was to Arthur? An object? A tool? To be used only when needed, like to lead him to the Dolma, but then immediately thrown to the way side?

No! Arthur has proven his friendship to you!

The ache in his chest and fiery anger in his stomach promptly ignored Merlin's common sense once again.

"Wait," a familiar voice sounded from a short distance away, "what about Merlin?"

Even as a small speck of joy flashed inside of it, his heart dropped. It was Mordred asking this question. Not Arthur. Not his friend.

"Merlin?" He heard Gwen's voice, sounding anxious and confused. "Was he with you?"

Arthur didn't answer, but upon hearing the king's sword slip from its sheath, Merlin knew what was coming next. Three sets of footfalls pounded towards him.

With only a moment's hesitation, Merlin sprinted in the opposite direction, down the side of the water and secreted himself away behind a particularly large stone. Seizing a vial from the pockets of his pants that remained hidden underneath the dress, Merlin swallowed the discolored liquid. The wizard watched his hands turn from those of a shriveled, aged woman to his own.

It would be so simple to step out from his place of concealment and reveal himself to his friends. He would trade some sort of verbal sparring with Arthur, a look of concern from Gwen, and one of suspicion from Mordred, before joining them on their return to Camelot.

Why was he being so silly? So stubborn?

Go to them! You idiot!

Still, he remained, perched delicately on his haunches, ducking unnecessarily behind the rock that easily surpassed his standing height. He listened as the three called his name, Arthur also demanding for the Dolma to return and "show herself".

Merlin knew this was cruel, forcing them to worry over him like this, especially Guinevere. She had done him no wrong.

"We did what you asked of us," Arthur shouted to the skies. "No harm came to you! Return our friend to us now!" If Merlin wasn't mistaken, that authoritative and dangerous tone had just a trace of panic laced underneath it. "Give us back Merlin! We will find you!"

What was Merlin doing? He had tried to convince Arthur some sorcerers could be good through the Dolma. Now he was shedding her in this wicked light? He had truly acted on childish impulse indeed! Even as Merlin had earlier thought of disappearing for a few days to make the king truly worry and pay, Merlin knew this cruelty had to come to an end. As hurt and angered as he had been, the good in him was quickly overcoming those feelings. Now all he had room in his heart for was guilt and shame.

As Merlin made to stand, though, something else washed over him entirely.

Pain.

He was barely standing, his voice halfway through calling out to Arthur, when it happened. He felt it strike his leg like fire and ice piercing his skin and burning through his entire body.

Using the stone to keep himself from toppling over, Merlin whirled around just in time to see an oversized man with a crossbow coming straight towards him, along with another arrow. The warlock lifted his hand to stop it, but was too late. The arrow eagerly imbedded itself into Merlin's side.

He could faintly hear his friends calling out his name and shouting varying words of protest. He wasn't sure if they were truly distant, or if it was the fact that he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness that made them feel far away. He turned and squinted, Arthur and Mordred were sprinting towards him from nearly the other side of the water, Gwen following quickly behind, panic in her voice and eyes. Merlin's own gaze twitched and tilted slightly before settling on the two men. Mordred's face was battling some internal conflict; Arthur's teetering between fear and ferocity.

"Merlin!"

This time, the king's voice broke though the haze, ringing loud and clear against Merlin's slowly slipping away mind.

It was the last thing he heard before he finally unwillingly gave into the darkness.