AU. Merlin reaches the crystal of Neahtid before Morgana can steal it.

Re-write of "The Witch's Quickening" (s2 ep11) and onwards.

ooo

The bowels of the castle were dark and dank, causing sporadic shivers to run down Merlin's spine. It was far too cold to linger underground, but it seemed evil sorcerers cared little for the health of frozen manservants. If Merlin ever tried to overthrow the crown, he thought with a scowl, he swore to limit himself to midsummer plots.

Alas, Alvarr did not share his sentiment. Merlin had overheard the man pleading with Morgana to steal the Crystal of Neahtid, and while he shied from the thought of her betrayal, he admitted the man spoke well. The soft, persuasive voice might have seduced Merlin, except for his faith that Arthur, not a crusade for revenge, would save magic. Merlin feared that combined with Mordred's appeal, Morgana might think she'd taken the righteous path. She always wanted justice and vengeance; with her newfound powers, she might be misled. The dragon warned him as such regularly.

"Aliese," he whispered when he reached the proper room. The door unlocked with more of a thud than a click, but he startled more at the soft flash of gold that briefly lit the wood. The eerie yellow didn't quite match the flame of his torch; his eyes glowed with a harsher shade when he used magic.

He suppressed a shiver and slipped inside the room cautiously, the air growing impossibly colder, his first breath creating a huff of mist. Catching his first glimpse of the crystal, he hesitated. Gaius had warned him not to approach it, explaining that the crystal showed futures that drove men mad, but the power called to him. Like attracted like, and Merlin's magic swirled chaotically in response to the crystal's power. He had never been in the presence of something so potent; the dragon was strong, but he was stronger. The crystal surpassed even himself.

Closer and closer he went, until he stared directly into its depths, and screamed.

Future and past, present and alternative presents, possible and true and oh- it hurt. Gaius was right, anyone else would have gone insane, but Merlin's magic protected him from the worst. The connection snapped in an instant, as quickly as it formed, and Merlin stumbled back with a gasp, trembling violently. Only one vision remained with him, but its intensity had burned an irremovable impression on Merlin's mind, and he swore that he must find a way to prevent it. Except he couldn't.

Arthur would die by Mordred's hands. It was written.

But it turned out that Time was not so hasty to deny a plea from Magic.

"We can save the king from his bane and magical foes," the crystal whispered. Its voice was multifaceted and unnatural, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. "We can offer him protection beyond your magic, confined as it is to your human form. But we require a sacrifice for such a selfish request. Defying fate is not impossible, but it is not easy."

Of course Merlin agreed. He'd already dedicated his life, his magic, and his soul to the prince, Albion, and the salvation of magic. Again and again he'd gambled with his life. He agreed blindly to the offer, desperately, not even asking the price.

"Anything," he said, and meant it.

For a fate so entrenched in prophecy as Merlin's and Arthur's, he found out, the price Time asked for proved far more devastating than his life.

Sacrificing his magic felt like dogs tearing him limb from limb, slowly and deliberately. It felt like death cruelly abandoning him, leaving him to suffer, as he bled every drop of blood in his body. It felt like fire, and he could only watch his disembodied corpse burn, and he could feel it burn. Oh, he could feel it. His soul wept; he screamed until he coughed blood, and then he gurgled. He was Magic. Or he had been. Without it, what was he?

He didn't know how long he suffered until he collapsed, and he he didn't know how long he laid on the floor, aching, empty, and unwilling to move. He might have taken a dagger and finished the job, ended the pain, except his body wouldn't obey his commands, only giving an occasional spasm and flare of agony.

Morgana found him. So Alvarr had convinced her to steal the Crystal of Neahtid, after all. Despite the dragon's warnings of her imminent betrayal, Merlin couldn't quite see her as evil. Sometimes he caught a glimpse of how she might fall, but she tried so hard to achieve justice. She defied King Uther and saved young druid boys, displaying more bravery than Merlin had ever done.

He wanted to save her, but after visiting the druids, Merlin knew she now feared Uther far more than her magic, and fear turned so easily to hatred.

He'd failed to help her, but at least he'd saved Arthur, even if his efforts went unknown and he thought this with his dying breath.

"Merlin?" she exclaimed, shocked and horrified by the sight of his motionless form. "Merlin," she said again, panicked this time. Trembling fingers checked his neck for a pulse, but whether she found one or not didn't matter to him. His eyelids fluttered, and he spasmed at her touch.

He heard her urgently calling for the guards as he passed out. His last thought was a vague hope that when Arthur found a manservant to replace him, he chose one who would step on a prince's boots rather than lick them.

ooo

Merlin awoke to the sound of pacing. He stared blankly at the ceiling for a long moment, detachedly recognizing it as Gaius's quarters. Pain pulsed throughout his body, but that too felt distant.

The pacing turned out to be Arthur. The steps stuttered to a halt; the prince had seen him awaken. Merlin wished he hadn't.

"Merlin," Arthur exclaimed. "You're awake!"

Merlin turned his head, ignoring the way his neck throbbed angrily. For the briefest, briefest of seconds, the sight of Arthur made him forget the loss of his magic, his mind automatically searching for a witty retort, insubordinate and blasé. Very observant, sire. There's no fooling you.

Then the emptiness returned, with the pain twofold. Insidious, disparaging whispers told him that he'd outlived his purpose. He'd saved Arthur; he could do little more good without magic. His power remained the only reason Merlin had befriended Arthur in the first place. It had given him the courage to speak against a noble's bullying and the opportunity to work as his manservant. Without his magic, he doubted he could so much as finish Arthur's lists of chores. The prince had said so many times that Merlin had no redeeming skills, and now he was right.

Arthur faltered at the lack of response, but recovered soon enough. Merlin had just woken up, after all; the prince likely tributed his silence to grogginess and pain.

"Does anything hurt? Gaius is out. I volunteered to watch you while he fetched some medicine," Arthur said, crossing his arms. "Lucky I did. I get to be the first to tell you how utterly stupid you were."

Sitting in a chair near the foot of the bed, he crossed his arms and waited a beat, but Merlin said nothing. A sense of unreality blurred the world, as if dulled without his magic to sharpen it.

"You don't deny it, then," Arthur said, this time eying him with a raised eyebrow, for a Merlin without anything to say was unfeasible. A Merlin without his magic would have been equally so, a few days ago. "Morgana told me you went to her about rumors you heard in town, something about a magical crystal being stolen."

His mind apathetically turned over Arthur's words. Morgana had lied to protect them both, it seemed. Wishing distantly that she'd just sent him to the pyre and been done with it, he returned his gaze to the ceiling, turning his head with enormous effort. He wondered if his magic had helped him move and carry himself, since right now he felt like he had a hollow body with a heavy iron shell. At least, for the moment, the world seemed comfortably far away and untouchable, an unsolvable problem with which he need not concern himself.

Then Arthur spoke, dragging him back. He unwillingly listened.

"Why didn't you come to me instead?" Arthur demanded, clenching his fists and gazing at him intently. Merlin could still see him from the corner of his eye. "Why Morgana? I could have helped and brought guards. What made you think you could do anything?"

Closing his eyes, Merlin could reticently admire the irony of the situation. Forever safe from Arthur's discovery of his magic he might be, but he would receive no recognition for any of his heroics or his last, excruciating sacrifice, the most painful of them all. He was now exactly as useless as Arthur claimed.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Arthur snapped, losing his patience at last. "Are you deaf as well as dumb?"

A pause. The prince grew noticeably angrier, and Merlin decided it might be more trouble to leave him be than to give an answer.

"No, sire," he managed at last, a dull, blank rasp. It didn't come easily, given his haze and damaged throat. In fact, he focused so completely on forcing out the words that he didn't immediately recognize Arthur's insult. The prince might not have noticed, either, except for the contrast between their first interaction and their current one. Arthur gave a visible double-take.

"You-" the prince started with irritation, then deflated. He looked down, tugging at his gloves. "Are you all right, Merlin?

Another pause. Merlin had lied to his prince countless times before, yet he thought this one might be the heaviest lie of all, because it might be the very last one he had to tell for his magic. Once he would have been relieved, but this lie was his last for all the wrong reasons.

"I'm fine, sire."

ooo

A/N: Thanks for reading! Umm. Feedback would be very much appreciated, if you can spare a few seconds. :)