DISCLAIMER: I don't own Merlin, the BBC does.

INFO: This is AU. It doesn't follow season 4, although it does vaguely have the plot of one of the episodes, just because it seemed to fit in so perfectly. Morgause DIED at the end of season 3 in this, and Uther recovered well from those events.

I'm going to die, was Merlin's first thought when he woke up. This is the last time I will see the sun rise.

"Breakfast," the guard outside announced, and Merlin jumped. Oh, the irony of ensuring a man about to burn had had his morning meal. Merlin shook his head, and watched the sunlight slowly start to bleed into his cell from the tiny window high up on the wall. He stared at the creeping colour like a starving man would look at bread, and wanted to cry.

"King's orders. You need to eat."

Merlin stifled a hysterical laugh, and covered it with a cough. Of course it was the King's orders. The King had never before cared about the prisoners trapped in this gloomy dungeon; fading away until nothing more of their lives were left. Why would he now?

"Look, Mer-" the guard said gruffly, then stopped and tried again. "Look, I was asked to make sure you ate this."

"By who?" the warlock questioned softly, his voice hoarse from a night in the dingy dungeon air.

"That's . . . It's not for me to say,"

"Then I won't eat it," he replied, and turned away. God knows, someone had probably slipped poison in it or something. He was sure he wasn't Camelot's favourite person right now.

The guard sighed, but merely placed the food inside the cell and glanced at Merlin. The warlock wondered if he was delusional to think that the guard could possibly be feeling sorry for him.

"Let me through," a voice could be heard demanding. Merlin's heart jumped as he recognized Arthur's deep tones. He looked towards the floor and tried to tell himself that it was extremely unlikely that Arthur wanting to say anything good to him. Finding out that he was a sorcerer had kind of put a damper on their relationship.

"Sire, the King's ordered that no one gets to see him."

"And I'm the Prince, and I say let me through."

"Sire-"

Merlin could vaguely hear Arthur's voice whispering harshly to the guard, but paid it no attention. Instead, he inspected some scratches on the wall of his cell and firmly didn't allow himself to think about the last desperate man that had been in here, waiting and waiting for his turn at a scam of a trial, and tortured with the knowledge of his impeding death.

"Merlin," he heard, and looked up, startled, at Arthur standing just outside his cell. The guard was standing behind him, looking uncomfortable. He didn't reply.

"Merlin, please," the Prince pleaded. Merlin closed his eyes briefly, shocked beyond measure that the Prince was begging with him.

"Sire," he said quietly.

"Merlin, I'm- I'm- God, I'm so sorry," Arthur said.

"For what?" Merlin said softly, looking at the ground again. "Your father was the one to put me here."

"I- I didn't fight hard enough"

Merlin snorted. "Arthur, I'm a sorcerer. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Arthur took a deep breath. "I- I don't know," he hurried on. "But you're still Merlin, right? You're still the same useless manservant." His voice held a desperate edge to it, as if he was trying to convince himself.

Merlin rubbed at his eyes and sighed. "Please, Sire, just go. You'll get in trouble being here."

"I'm already in trouble," the Prince said. "But I couldn't just leave you here, thinking that you're all alone when you- you-"

"Thank you," the warlock said, humbled that Arthur – Arthur, the royal prat – couldn't bear the thought of Merlin going to his- his death, alone.

"And Gwen wanted me to say that she believes in you, and to enjoy the meal – she sent that, by the way – and Gwaine says that you better make sure there's beer for him when he arrives at wherever it is we go, and Lance says he-"

"I get it Arthur, thanks," Merlin said, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his head on them.

"I just- Just remember that you're not alone, ok? We're- We're all here for you."

"Thanks," he said, his voice choked and his eyes blurring. "I- Thank you."

"Merlin-"

"Sire, you have to go," the guard interrupted. "It's nearly time."

"We'll find a way, I swear," Arthur said desperately. "Don't- Don't give up on us, Merlin."

"I won't ever give up on you, Arthur," Merlin replied, looking up at the Once and Future King. "You'll- You'll be a great king, I know you will."

"And you'll be at my side, of course, like always."

"Like always," Merlin echoed, and waved sadly as the Prince walked away. Arthur only glanced back once, and Merlin pretended he didn't see the redness of his eyes.

"Someday, we'll see each other again," he murmured. "Someday."

Gwen stood outside in the crowd surrounding the pyre and tried to control the sobs racking her body. Merlin hadn't done anything. All he'd done was try to save a poor little druid girl, and had exposed himself to the King by accident. And now they would burn, Merlin and the druid girl both.

She hadn't been able to get down to the dungeons to see Merlin, but she was grateful for that in a way. She wasn't sure she would have been able to handle seeing Merlin huddled in a cell, shackles rubbing his wrists raw and that horrible magic suppressor hanging around his neck like the mark of a slave. She'd prepared a good breakfast for him, the only thing she could do, and sent it down with a guard she knew well. Many of the knights were on Merlin's side in this case; Uther had picked the wrong person to execute.

"He was a good man," a woman muttered in her ear as Gwen stood there crying.

Another said, "The King is wrong. Merlin is no guiltier of evil than I am."

"He will be missed," a man mumbled.

Oh Merlin, Gwen thought desperately, why can't you see how many lives you have touched?

"The people have to learn," Uther said to Arthur, "that magic can only ever bring evil to this kingdom."

"Merlin wasn't evil," Arthur muttered to himself.

"Those with magic will bring this kingdom down if we don't stop them," Uther continued.

Arthur wanted to curse at the man he called his father. How can such an intelligent man be so blind?

"Today," Uther called out across the square, "we go a step further in the fight against magic.

"Today, we will punish a young man who thought he could slip into our hearts, a man who worked hard to gain our trust and use it for his own ends. But we won't let him! Today, we will show the world that Camelot is not weak!"

"This isn't punishment," Arthur said quietly. "This is murder."

"Bring out the prisoner!" Uther ordered, either ignoring or not hearing the Prince's comments.

Two guards arrived in the square, dragging Merlin between them. Though, perhaps dragging wasn't the correct word. Arthur was proud to see Merlin walking upright between them, his head held high and his gaze fixed upwards towards the sky, as if he might seek some salvation there. His wrists were bloody and red raw, the thick metal of the magic suppressor still hanging around his neck. He had bags under his eyes and a bruise on his face, but his expression was calm. The people were silent on seeing him, a far cry from the normal jeers and cries that usually accompanied an execution.

Merlin was taken up onto the platform and tied above the pile of wood. Still, his face didn't lose that look of unnerving serenity, and his eyes were never drawn from the skies above him. Arthur glanced down into the crowd, his look drawn to Gwen, Lancelot, Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, and Leon, standing together in a group, Elyan's arm around his crying sister. Gaius was standing alone, his eyes never leaving Merlin.

"This man was found guilty of magic and, under the laws that govern Camelot, he shall be executed by fire." Uther declared, and brought his hand down from where he had raised it above his head. One of the guards lit the pyre, and the flames shot up.

Arthur closed his eyes, unwilling to watch the death of the only man he had called a friend.

"Arthur," he heard a voice call. He snapped his eyes open again, and looked down at Merlin, whose face was still calm.

"Someday," Merlin called, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Always," Arthur called back, his voice raised and soaring high above the noise of the people below.

Uther frowned at him, and ordered one of the knights to take him inside. The knights didn't move.

"Always," one of them said.

"Always," the rest echoed.

Far below them, Gwen said loudly, "always"

Leon joined in, "always."

The voices were carried higher and higher on the wind, the one word echoing and echoing, soaring up like an eagle into the sky.

"Always"

Merlin shut his eyes, barely able to feel the pain shooting up his body.

"Always," he murmured.

"No!" a voice cried out, just as Merlin felt himself begin to slip away. He struggled to open his eyes. "No more, Uther, no more!"

Murmurings and cries were erupting around the square, and Merlin finally managed to force his eyelids up.

"Morgana," he muttered, smiling gently to himself.

"Arrest her!" he heard Uther yell.

"I won't let you do this anymore, Father!" she said, her voice ringing around the enclosed courtyard. "No more," she said, quieter.

Merlin was vaguely aware of the heat fading, of being lifted up into gentle arms, but couldn't muster the energy to find out what was happening. His eyes shut again.

"You didn't deserve this," she whispered to him. She lifted her head to the heavens. "No more!" she cried, and disappeared in a whirlwind of smoke, Merlin with her.

Below her, the people were muttering to each other. Only one had a smile on his face.

"I knew it," murmured Gaius.

Morgana gazed at the sleeping warlock in front of her, her heart twisting itself into knots over and over again, until she felt like she would throw up from this torturous uncertainty. Did she do the right thing? What about Morgause? What would her sister – may her soul rest in peace – think about this? The vision last night had filled her with such a deep conviction that she didn't even question her decision to rescue Merlin, but now . . . What was she to do now?

"Always!" the voices cry, echoing around the square. Morgana watches the people's defiance of Uther, and knows that even Merlin, who had dared to poison her, does not deserve this fate. She watches the rising of the flames in disgust, the image of her dying sister flickering behind her eyelids. One sorcerer has already died; she can't let another. At the same time, her gaze is drawn to the small window of the dungeons, and the face of a young girl, tearstreaked and covered with dirt. Her expression is full of fear, and Morgana's heart, which she thought had frozen long ago, twists.

"No," she whispers to herself, knowing instinctively the fate of this tiny – innocent – girl.

She looks at Merlin's serene expression, and again, she says, "no".

She won't let this happen again.

She treated Merlin's burns as best as she could; sheer willpower mixing with her limited knowledge of healing spells. At the moment, she knew it was only Merlin's magic that was keeping him alive. His burns were so extensive and his body so weary that a normal man would have long ago succumbed to the injuries. She closed her eyes briefly in exhaustion, and wished she could untangle the knot of emotions that seemed to weigh like a stone on her heart.

"My lady?" a small voice asked timidly.

"You're awake," Morgana said in surprise, turning to face the little druid girl she had rescued along with Merlin, unseen by anyone else.

The girl nodded her head, afraid to look upwards.

"What's your name?" she asked the girl, aware of the fear radiating from her.

"Esyllt, my lady," she replied.

"Unusual," Morgana murmured, "but very pretty." She smiled at the girl, her twisting emotions fading with this reappearance of her ago-old tradition of helping accused druids. "And it's Morgana," she added, "not 'my lady'. I'm no lady anymore."

The girl nodded.

"Food?" Morgana asked her. "I've only got bread, unfortunately."

"Thank you, my lady," she said quietly.

"Morgana," the woman reminded her, and handed her a piece of bread.

"Why-" the girl started, but then looked down.

"Ask me what you want," Morgana assured her.

"Why are you helping me?" Esyllt asked, looking up at Morgana.

"Because I made a promise to myself a long time ago," she murmured. "And I have regretted breaking it for every day of my life since I left."

The girl's face scrunched up in confusion.

"I once told myself that I would never follow in Uther's footsteps," Morgana explained to Esyllt, looking far away off into the distance. "I swore that no matter what, I would never become a murderer. And that's exactly what I've become."

"You saved me," said the girl, placing her hand on top of Morgana's arm.

"So I did," whispered the woman, echoes of 'always' ringing in her head. If she had stayed, she could have had that loyalty.

"No more," Morgana said to herself, and stood up gracefully to check on the unconscious warlock. She laid her hand against his forehead, muttering to herself, "He's burning up."

"He's hurt," the girl spoke softly from beside her.

"Yes," agreed Morgana, "but there's not much I can do."

"He saved me," Esyllt murmured.

"I'm sure he did," Morgana said, "that's just who Merlin is." She frowned at that thought; then why did he poison her? It had been the last spark that had unleashed the fire that was she and Morgause.

"He got hurt helping me," Esyllt said, and touched Merlin gently on the arm. Her eyes flashed golden, and white light flowed like water from her body to his.

"What are you doing?" asked Morgana.

"Helping him," the druid girl said simply. She had her eyes closed and a look of deep concentration on her face. The white light continued to flicker over the both of them.

"Esyllt?"

"He will live," she proclaimed softly at last, withdrawing her hand from Merlin. She swayed on her feet, and Morgana settled the girl down in a chair.

"What did you do?" she asked Esyllt curiously.

"Helped him," she said, and would say no more.

There you go, the start of my first full-length Merlin fanfiction. This is FINISHED, so will be updated fairly regularly over the next few days.

The name Esyllt is an Athurian name, according to the internet, and means either 'fair aspect' or 'ice- fighter'. I thought the second was quite appropriate. It is pronounced (I think!) AY-SILT.

Hope you liked it!

ForeverChasingDreams