Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.

Summary: "I'll be where I always am. By your side. Protecting you." NO SLASH, NO S4 SPOILERS. Oneshot.

Note: Italicised font is the past, normal font is the present. Also, this is NOT slash. I don't do slash.

Warnings: Possible distressing content. And… angsty.

...

Guardian Angel

...

"I'll be where I always am. By your side. Protecting you."

...

They both ignore the stares they receive as they walk down the hall together, side by side, knowing that the people need some time to adjust to everything that's changed.

Knowing that they need time to adjust, however, doesn't mean it doesn't affect Merlin, and Arthur notices the way the warlock's shoulders slump a little under the weight of all the stares.

"It's ok," Arthur says to him quietly, ignoring the startled look a passing maid gives him. "This is all new for them. They'll get used to it all eventually. You'll see."

Merlin glances up at him, a grateful smile flashing across his face.

"You're right," he says, and Arthur notes the way he straightens his shoulders and lifts his chin a little. "Thanks."

Arthur shoots him a you'rewelcome grin and they continue on their way, uncaring of the stares that follow them.

...

He knows about Merlin; knows about his magic.

But he hasn't known for long, and the awe he feels when watching Merlin do what he does best has not even begun to fade, and Arthur sits frozen in his chair as he watches the proceedings with wide eyes..

The warlock stands in the middle of the hall, stern and commanding and so full of authority that if Arthur wasn't one hundred percent certain of the boy's loyalty, he would worry that Merlin would try to take over Camelot.

"Go," Merlin snarls, fierce and defiant and unyielding, and the sorcerer in front of him quails a little as the light in the hall darkens in response to Merlin's anger.

"Why do you protect them?" the sorcerer – weak, compared to the sheer power that Merlin possesses – demands, glaring at Merlin defiantly. "You know they would burn you as soon as look at you, and yet you defend them!"

Merlin shakes his head, looking down at the sorcerer with something remarkably like pity.

"I protect Arthur, and the world he will build," he says, his voice ringing clearly through the hall and carrying to all who stand witness – guards and nobles and the Prince and the King. "I do not expect you to understand. Now go. If I ever see you again, I will not spare you."

The sorcerer, throwing one last filthy glare at the Pendragons on their thrones, finally heeds Merlin's order and disappears in a swirl of wind.

There's silence in the hall for a long second, and then the King's furious voice splits the air.

"Arrest him!"

...

"You know, they think I'm crazy for even talking to you," Arthur says, relaxing against the grass and watching the clouds flit by overhead.

He sees Merlin turn to look at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Do you think you're crazy?" the warlock asks.

Arthur ponders the question.

"Maybe. But even if I am, I can't bring myself to care."

A smile tugs at Merlin's lips.

"Then they can think what they like," he says easily, rolling back to face the sky. "It won't change anything."

Arthur smiles contentedly.

"True," he says, and watches in fascination as Merlin lifts a lazy hand and the clouds above swirl slowly into dancing patterns.

...

The guards move to draw their swords, but Arthur draws his faster and before Uther can even register what's happening, the Prince is standing protectively in front of Merlin, sword at the ready.

"No one touches him," he warns, glaring imposingly at the knights and refusing to look at the expression of confused fury that he knows must be on his father's face.

The hall is deathly silent now – quieter than it was after the sorcerer disappeared – and finally Uther's voice cuts through the air like a whip.

"Arthur, step aside. He's a sorcerer!"

"Yes," Arthur says, meeting his father's furious eyes, "he is. And he just saved all our lives."

...

"You shouldn't have done that Merlin," Arthur says quietly, a long while later, looking across at the other boy.

Merlin turns from the still-swirling clouds to roll his head towards Arthur, his dark hair splayed out across the bright green grass.

"Done what?" he asks, sounding honestly confused.

"Stepped in like that. With the sorcerer. In front of my father – in front of the whole court. It was a stupid thing to do. You had to know that my father would not forgive your magic just because you used it to save us."

Merlin smiles softly.

"Of course I knew," he says. "But if I'd done nothing... well, sure, my secret would have remained undiscovered. But you would have died. And nothing is worth that. Nothing. Not my magic, not my life. It's my job to protect you, Arthur. Even if it costs me my life."

Arthur looks like he strongly disapproves of that notion, so Merlin speaks again before the Prince has a chance to.

"Besides," he grins. "I'm here, aren't I? No harm done."

...

"Guards!" Uther yells, glaring at Arthur. "My son is enchanted! Restrain him! Arrest the sorcerer!"

All the guards move forward as one, and at the King's holler more come rushing in from outside, and Merlin – brave, selfless, stupidly loyal Merlin who would protect Camelot with his life – ducks and weaves but will not use magic against Camelot's guards, even if they are trying to arrest him, and finally one of them manages to hit him hard on the back of his scull with the pommel of a sword, and Merlin crumples to the floor.

Even Arthur – skilled though he is and fighting valiantly – eventually loses out to their sheer number and finds his arms pinned behind his back as he writhes violently in an attempt to get free.

He can see a puddle of blood growing around Merlin's head, pooling on the cold stone flagstones of the floor. Not dead though – just unconscious. And most likely concussed. Extremely, terribly, really badly concussed, judging by how hard the pommel slammed into his head and how much blood there is.

"I can see that the enchantment placed upon you is strong," Uther says comfortingly as Arthur struggles wildly in his captor's grasp, threats and dire promises pouring from his lips like acid rain as two other guards take a hold of Merlin's limp arms and they start to drag the unconscious warlock out of the hall.

"Don't worry, my son," Uther sooths, his hand on Arthur's shoulder and his eyes hatefully compassionate. "When he burns, you will be freed from his spellwork."

...

Word that Arthur had a secret sorcerer protecting him spreads quickly, and word of the arrest of said secret sorcerer spreads just as fast, and the man who failed in his assassination attempt because of Merlin's intervention wrongly assumes that this means Merlin is no longer around to protect the Prince.

Arthur is meeting with his father when the sorcerer tries again to end the Pendragon line. Merlin is standing next to the Prince – next to, not behind – and Guias and Leon and a select few other knights are present as well as the King tries in vain to talk reason into his son.

"Say what you will, father," Arthur says, his voice firm. "I don't care what you think. Merlin is loyal to me. I trust him with my life."

"Loyaltoyou?" Uther repeats, incredulous and furious. "You have lost your mind! The sorcerer is – "

"You are blinded!" Arthur yells, cutting him off angrily and losing his patience entirely. "Blinded by your hatred of something that is no more evil than the sword you have at your hip! For years you have punished and executed people whose only crime was to exist! Without Merlin, I would not be here, and neither would you. Youowe him your life just as much as I do. For years he has protected both of us, and you will not do anything to harm him."

The King looks like he has a whole lot of things he'd like to say in response to that outburst, but at that moment there's a pair of yells from outside and the doors explode open.

The sorcerer – the one who Merlin thwarted not too long ago at the expense of his secret – wastes no time in launching his attack, apparently not seeing Merlin standing right beside the Prince.

Arthur shouts and draws his sword and Uther cries out in shock and all the knights leap forwards to rush to their Prince's defence, but none move as fast as Merlin. He darts forward with more agility than Arthur's ever seen him display and is in front of the Prince in a heartbeat, hand outstretched and eyes glowing golden, angrier than he has been in a long time.

The ball of blue fire disperses with a bang and the sorcerer finally spots Merlin, and his eyes go wide. He tries to flee – tries to turn on the spot and disappear in a swirl of wind, but something is blocking him and he can't even move, and Merlin's eyes are blazing a constant, furious gold.

"No – you're supposed to be dead!" the sorcerer yelps, staring up at Merlin in shock and fright, struggling against the invisible bonds Merlin has him trapped in.

Merlin smirks coldly.

"And yet, here I am," he says, his eyes like cold flint. "I warned you. I warned you that I would not spare you if I saw you again."

The sorcerer's eyes widen in fright a split-second before his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses, unconscious.

Merlin's eyes fade back to blue and he glares down at the unconscious man contemptuously.

"That spell will keep him out cold for a while," he says, not looking up. "48 hours, at least. It's probably best if you deal with him before he wakes up."

There's no response, and for the first time since the sorcerer's appearance, Merlin glances away from him and takes note of the other people in the room. They are all staring at him, jaws agape and eyes wide.

Uther looks like he can't comprehend what he just saw, his eyes locked unwaveringly on the warlock and his expression one of total and utter shock.

Leon looks like something he suspected has been confirmed, and there's a light of understanding in his eyes as he gives a brief tight-lipped smile to Merlin, who returns the smile before turning to the Prince.

"You alright?" he asks Arthur, who is the only one in the room who looks unsurprised.

The Prince shoots him a grateful grin.

"Fine, thanks to you."

Merlin grins back at him and his anger fades, and he notices out of the corner of his eye Uther blinking blankly before looking away sharply, apparently more confused now than before.

Arthur shoots a smug look at his father.

"I told you," he says, and Uther's wide-eyed expression of utter shock will stay with Merlin forever.

…

"I will not let you do this," Arthur snarls, lunging in the guards' grip at his father. "Upon my life I swear to you, I will not let you do this."

Uther sighs heavily and turns to the guards restraining the Prince.

"Lock him in his chambers. See that he does not leave until the sorcerer is dead. Do not listen to anything he says – the enchantment is affecting his judgement."

"No!" Arthur yells, lunging and thrashing and failing to get free. "I am not enchanted – I won't let you do this! Father! I won't let you do this! I won't let him die!"

The king turns away and Arthur's shouts fade into the distance as he is dragged, fighting furiously, from the hall.

They lock him in his chambers and he spends the rest of the day alternating between storming around his rooms breaking anything he can get his hands on, and staring out the window, watching as they build up the pyre as he plots countless ways to break Merlin out.

There are four guards outside his door, two more in the courtyard below his window.

Through the day, the pyre grows higher.

Finally, night falls and progresses. He waits until it's nearly the end of the guard's shift before he makes his move. Risky, because it means he won't have long before the replacement guards arrive and sound the warning, but it's also the time when the current guards will be at their most tired out and relaxed, so they'll be easier to take.

After the incident a while back with Tristan where Uther drugged Arthur and locked him up to prevent him fighting the wraith, Arthur had a spare key made up in secret, and he keeps it hidden on a ledge under his wardrobe. Now, with not half an hour until the dawn and the guard-change, Arthur slips it from its hiding place and stealthily makes his way over to his doors.

The guards are caught entirely by surprise. The thought that Arthur may have a key to his chambers that no one else knew about had not occurred to them, and especially not after he'd been locked in there for hours without using it. Which, of course, was part of the plan.

Arthur dispatches them quickly, knocking each of them out with a few well aimed punches and blows from the pommel of his sword, and he drags them into his chambers, takes both keys to his doors with him and locks them in. Now the replacement guards will arrive to find the Prince's chambers unguarded but the doors still locked, and it might buy him a few precious minutes.

He hastens down to the dungeons, all about speed now and not caring in the slightest about stealth.

There's a bit of a racket made when he arrives at the dungeons, but he has an advantage in that none of the guards are particularly keen to actually lay a sword on the Crown Prince, and in the end all the guards are sprawled messily about, unconscious and likely to have huge headaches when they eventually wake.

Merlin is in the very last cell, lying down and facing the wall, and he doesn't respond immediately when Arthur unlocks the door and hurries in.

After what seems like an age of Arthur trying with increasing desperation to rouse him, Merlin blinks feebly and opens his eyes a crack.

"Merlin, thank heavens," Arthur says, the knot of terror mostly-dispersing upon his servant's wakening. For a moment there he had thought – – but no. Merlin will be fine, and they'll escape, and all will be well. It will be. Arthur won't allow it to be any other way.

The bloodied lump on the back of Merlin's head might be a bit of an issue, but they'll deal with that later.

"H' Arth'r," Merlin slurs, and Arthur's stomach clenches. "Thou' you were'n allow'd to c'me see me."

Merlin's gaze is unfocussed and he's most definitely got a concussion of the worst kind, if the amount of blood matted into his hair is any suggestion, and Arthur realises he's going to have to carry him out of here.

"Yes, my father changed his mind," Arthur lies quickly. "Now, I'm going to pick you up Merlin – we're going to get you somewhere safe, ok?"

Merlin simply nods and his eyes slip closed again, and Arthur gathers him up into his arms and leaves the cell as quickly as he can, Merlin's head resting limply against his chest.

…

Gwen tries to talk to him that night in his chambers.

"Please, Arthur," she says, her tone just shy of begging. "I know you and Merlin were close, but you can't..."

"Can't what?" Arthur asks shortly, anger brimming just beneath his voice.

Of all the people in Camelot, he'd thought Gwen would have been one of the ones to understand. Clearly he's been mistaken.

"Arthur," she says, and he thinks he can hear tears in her voice. Obviously she hasn't yet heard what happened in the hall earlier that day. "Please. You can't keep doing this. Merlin's – "

"I know," the Prince snaps, cutting her off sharply. "You think I don't know? It doesn't matter, Guinevere. It doesn't change a thing."

He wishes briefly that he could do something to wipe that expression off her face – she looks so distressed, like this was the one last thing she could try to make him see her version of sense, and now that it's failed she doesn't know what she's going to do.

But then Merlin walks through the door, grinning his usual cheerful grin, and Arthur's lips quirk upwards at the sight of him.

"There you are," he says with a slight air of exasperation, looking past Gwen and locking eyes with the warlock. "You realise you're late, I assume?"

Merlin shrugs.

"If I were always on time, you'd never have anything to be cross with me about," he grins unrepentantly. "And I know how you love to throw goblets at me. Evening, Gwen."

Gwen follows Arthur's gaze to throw a worried glance in Merlin's general direction, then turns back to the Prince and starts to say something. Apparently she then thinks better of it, because she shuts her mouth and dashes suddenly from the room, not meeting either of their eyes.

Merlin tries to hide his hurt.

"Was it something I said?" he jokes, the cheerfulness clearly false now, and Arthur glances up at him.

"Don't worry about her, Merlin," he says comfortingly, wanting to erase Merlin's evident sadness. "She just doesn't understand."

And he turns away from the door resolutely.

...

They make it to the stables without incident and not ten minutes later they're riding out, Merlin leaning back against Arthur's chest and barely conscious, held in place by only by the Prince's arms.

They're only just entering the courtyard as dawn breaks, cracking weakly over the horizon as though it's arriving against its will. The pyre ahead of them glimmers vaguely in the early morning sun.

And then Arthur spots a problem at the same time that the problem spots him.

He'd dealt with the guards outside his door, and the guards down in the dungeons, but he's forgotten about the ones that were posted below his window. And as if that weren't enough, he didn't even know about the ones that Uther posted on the far side of the courtyard, standing out of sight of Arthur's window.

One of them gives a shout of warning and Arthur knows the jig is up.

"Merlin?" he says in Merlin's ear, his breath ghosting over the warlock's dark hair. "Merlin – things are going to be a bit rough for a minute, but it will be ok. I need you to hold on, ok? We'll be alright – I promise."

Merlin sighs a response and Arthur knows that's the best he's going to get out of the warlock. It's amazing Merlin's even vaguely conscious, really, with the force of that blow to the head.

Arthur readies his horse and, before the guards have a chance to get properly organised, urges the animal into an all out gallop across the courtyard.

But Camelot's guards are very well practiced in the art of catching fleeing sorcerers, even if they're terrible at then keeping them locked up and – even if only by extension – a fleeing sorcerer is essentially what Arthur is right now.

He's nearly past the first lot of guards when one of them throws his pike out in front of Arthur's horse, and the mare's legs tangle around the length of wood and she goes down with a crash and a whinny of surprise.

Arthur spares a thought for the horse as the three of them go down – hopes wildly that she doesn't injure herself in the fall – but it's barely even a fleeting thought as he cries out in surprise at the sudden attack and hugs Merlin closer to himself in an effort to protect the already-damaged warlock from any more injuries.

They land heavily and both of them cry out at the impact, but Arthur doesn't have the luxury of indulging in his pain and leaps to his feet almost immediately, his hand going to his sword as the first wave of guards moves in and the mare scrambles miraculously to her feet and dashes away, snorting wildly.

He's getting rather desperate now – they're so close, so closeto escaping, and he can't let them be caught now, not when they're so close to freedom. Not when so much is at stake.

There doesn't seem to be any end to the guards that rush continuously at him, who seemingly replace themselves the very second he knocks one aside. He's struggling to keep his position in front of Merlin's vulnerable form as the guards keep trying to separate them, a never-ending crush of men.

He doesn't know how long he fights for, but he knows it's longer than any other man would have been granted; the guards still don't want to hurt him, but he's rapidly losing any concern for the fact that he's attacking his own men as the sun slowly creeps higher and more guards and knights come running to aid their comrades in subduing the Prince and re-capturing the escaped warlock.

It takes a while but, as was inevitable in the face of such numbers, someone finally manages to get under Arthur's guard and he feels his breath leave him in a whoosh as something slams into his stomach and he doubles over instinctively.

They're on him like a pack of rabid wolves then, taking advantage of him while he's at least partially down, and someone hits him across the back even as some other brave soul wrestles his sword from his grip.

He sees them grab Merlin – start dragging him away – and he lashes out viciously, shouting, but to no avail.

His arms are pinned behind his back and when he kicks out violently they sweep his legs out from underneath him and pin him down, and all the while Merlin is being dragged further and further away from him, and closer and closer to the pyre.

They've learnt, apparently. They're not going to waste any more time – they're going to do it right now.

Someone is talking to Arthur, the person's voice concerned and forceful and compassionate, but he doesn't know (or care) who they are or what they're saying as he roars ferociously under all the bodies keeping him pinned and struggles wildly to get free. To get to Merlin.

There's a crowd gathering. Commoners and nobles alike are milling in the courtyard, and even if they hadn't been planning on arriving at dawn to watch the sorcerer burn they would have been attracted by all the commotion.

Gwen and Guias are both there, amongst the crowd; tears are running down both their faces as they're held back at a safe distance by some guards who are keeping them away from both Arthur and Merlin. There will be no help for Merlin from that quarter.

The guards that have Merlin start dragging him up onto the wooden structure, and Arthur's not even aware of the tears that are on his cheeks as he yells and hollers and tries to get free and watches with horror as the guards secure Merlin's limp body to the pyre.

Uther is standing on his balcony, Arthur notices suddenly, and the King looks a strange blend of concerned at Arthur's violent and rageful behaviour and satisfaction that the sorcerer who 'enchanted the prince' is about to burn.

Arthur tries to call to Merlin – tries to tell him to use his magic to get free – to run – but Merlin's barely this side of conscious and doesn't appear to be aware of anything that's going on around him.

"Sire, please, stop," the voice says again, and Arthur realises that it's Leon.

The knight isn't one of the ones restraining him – keeping him pinned to the ground – but he's leaning in close and has his hand on Arthur's shoulder as though his touch might bring some sense back to the Prince.

Leon has that same compassionate face that Uther had the day before as he arrested Merlin and promised Arthur that he'd soon be free from the enchantment, and the Prince wrenches his shoulder away from Leon's hand as best he can, wanting none of the man's incorrectly-formed understanding.

There's movement over Leon's shoulder, and Arthur's attention is re-diverted to the pyre as the last of the guards jump down from the platform, leaving Merlin up there by himself, looking tiny against the hatred of the world.

And then the torch-bearer lowers the flame to the kindling, and Arthur thinks he hears his throat tear open with the force of his scream of denial as the flames catch.

...

"I'm sorry," Arthur says, his voice barely louder than a whisper and his eyes locked on the candle Merlin is busy lighting.

Merlin picks up on the tone immediately and looks over at his prince, then back at the flame that is holding the blonde's attention, and his face lights with understanding.

"Don't be, Arthur," he says soothingly. "There was nothing more you could have done."

Arthur's shaking his head before Merlin's even done speaking.

The prince is in his night clothes, mostly ready for sleep.

But he doesn't really feel like sleeping at the moment.

When he's asleep he remembers, and even though Merlin is always there when he wakes – gasping and shaking and horrified beyond belief – that does nothing to stop the nightmares. Nightmares that are filled with flashes of a rainy courtyard and a waiting pyre and Merlin's pale face and the sound of his own screams.

"Maybe if I'd left sooner – maybe if we'd tried to leave a different way we wouldn't have – "

"Arthur," Merlin chides firmly, reaching to take the Prince by the shoulders and physically stop the anxious and guilty fidgeting. "Please, stop. You did all you could. And that means the world to me."

Arthur tears his gaze from the flame of the candle with an obvious effort, and his eyes are glinting damply in the faint firelight.

"But it wasn't enough," he whispers brokenly.

...

The flames grow higher, and Arthur knows with a shattering heart how this is going to end. He's pinned to the ground, unable to move anything save for his head, and Merlin is barely conscious, tied securely to the pyre and unable to use his magic because of a concussion.

The flames grow higher. Arthur can see Merlin wincing weakly at the heat.

The smoke billows. Merlin coughs feebly.

And then, finally, the flames reach the dark-haired warlock tied firmly in the middle of the pyre, and not even the worst of concussions was ever going to be able to shield someone from the pain of a roaring flame licking ravenously at their skin.

The first time Merlin screams, Arthur screams with him.

Neither of them stop screaming for a long time.

...

"You'll never leave me, will you Merlin?" Arthur asks, settling back into his pillows and glancing up at the dark-haired boy. It's his birthday today, and the Prince has had possibly a little too much to drink, and the warlock has had to catch his arm on more than one occasion to steady him as he walked down the halls and then readied for bed.

Merlin grins at him.

"Leave you to fend for yourself?" he asks cheerfully. "Not likely."

Arthur's lips curl up in a grateful smile and he rolls over, knowing that Merlin will get the candles.

"Thank you," he says, settling in for the night, and it's unclear whether he's talking about the candles or something else entirely.

He senses Merlin's quiet smile in the darkness.

"You're welcome, Arthur."

...

Arthur doesn't move from the courtyard.

The commoners and nobles have all retreated, unnerved and not wanting to intrude upon their Prince's grief. The King has swept back inside, scowling and rather distressed that killing the sorcerer failed to lift the enchantment on his son. Guias and Gwen have disappeared, and the tear-stains on their cheeks will likely take weeks to fade.

Only Leon remains, standing beside him, the knight's mere presence warning off anyone who might even think to approach their Prince, whose wailing sounds of grief are still echoing throughout the courtyard.

He's long since run out of actual tears and his knees are aching from kneeling against the cold, hard flagstones for so long, but he doesn't care about that any more than he cares that everyone in the whole kingdom has likely heard the broken sobs he has shed for his servant.

Frankly, he doesn't care about anything any more.

The ruins of the pyre in front of him are still smoking slightly in the rain. No one has moved to clear it up yet. What is left of Merlin is somewhere in there; lost somewhere in that messy pile of charred wood.

The thought rips another sob through his throat.

"Wow, Arthur, you're making me blush," a voice says, and Arthur's breath hitches in his throat as his head jerks up to look towards the source of the voice.

Merlin is standing right in front of him, looking back towards the pyre with a sad look on his face as he takes in the mess of burnt wood and flesh.

Merlin.

Whole, healthy, unburnt.

Merlin.

"Merlin?" Arthur gasps, his breath catching in his chest. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Leon look up sharply, and the knight's gaze flickers from the Prince to where Arthur's eyes are locked on Merlin and back again, confusion and concern in his gaze.

Merlin turns from the remains of the pyre – from the remains of himself – and shoots a grin at Arthur.

"You know, you're cleverer than you look," the warlock says, echoing Arthur's words from long ago.

"Wha..." the Prince says, breathless with shock and speechless. "How...?"

"You know," Merlin says, raising his hands and inspecting them curiously as though he's not entirely sure how they came into being, "I really have no idea." He gives a short laugh. "Maybe Fate isn't willing to let a little thing like death get in the way of Destiny."

Arthur stares at him, eyes wide and his jaw slack.

He's aware enough to know that he must be hallucinating – Merlin's dead, he's dead, Arthur saw it happen – but he can't help but notice that Merlin looks incredibly alive for someone who's dead.

"...Sire?" Leon asks hesitantly, his worried gaze flicking from where Arthur's kneeling to the spot where Merlin is, but the knight's eyes flicker over the warlock as though he's not there.

He can't see Merlin, Arthur realises. Leon can't see Merlin, even though Merlin's standing right there.

Merlin's gaze softens as he takes in Arthur, still kneeling on the flagstones and soaked to the bone from the still-falling rain.

"Come on," he says, stepping forward and reaching an arm out. "Let's get you inside and dry you off – you'll catch your death out here."

His hand lands on Arthur's shoulder, and the Prince jumps in surprise at the weight of it.

It's solid; warm.

Real.

Not how your average hallucination would feel, Arthur doesn't think.

"M-Merlin?" he asks, his voice soft and breaking halfway through the word, not quite willing to let himself believe just yet.

Merlin smiles gently.

"Yes, Arthur," he says. "It's me."

Hesitantly, his eyes never leaving Merlin's face, Arthur brings his hand up to his own shoulder, and he hovers there for a long moment before he lets his hand drop so that it lands on top of Merlin's.

Merlin's hand is solid; warm.

Real.

And Arthur lets himself believe.

The air gets caught in his lungs as he gives this strange half-sob-half-gasp, and he fists his hand around Merlin's wrist and uses it to pull himself up as he literally launches himself at Merlin, wrapping his arms around the lanky warlock's body and burying his face in the dark-haired boy's neck, struggling to breathe normally.

Merlin's shocked for half a second, and then Arthur senses the warlock's soft smile and feels a pair of arms come up to encircle him, and Merlin drops his head down until his forehead is resting on Arthur's shoulder.

Distantly, Arthur hears Leon gasp in shock and take a hurried step backwards as he draws his sword, but the Prince pays the knight barely any heed, because somehow – insanely, and against all odds and logical thought – Merlin is here. Merlin died in a fiery blaze not an hour ago, and yet he's here, hugging Arthur back with surprisingly strong arms and not looking like he's planning on letting go any time soon.

The warlock smells like he always has – a strange but pleasant mix of various dried herbs and a soft woodsy scent, and Arthur's nose is full of it as he embraces Merlin with the desperation of someone who's just spent the last hour thinking that his closest friend was lost to him for good.

It strikes him that this is the first time he and Merlin have hugged. How is that? They've been best friends for years, nearly died for one another countless times, and yet it takes for Merlin to actually die before they're willing to show each other the kind of brotherly affection they've both felt for years.

Arthur pulls back enough that he can look at Merlin, one hand on the warlock's shoulder and the other around the back of his neck, and he's well aware of the tears that are shimmering in both their eyes as they look at each other with utterly delighted astonishment.

"How can this be happening?" Arthur asks, astounded laughter in his voice.

Merlin shrugs, looking more joyful than Arthur thinks he's ever seen him.

"I honestly have no idea," the warlock says, repeating his words from earlier. "But I'm hardly going to protest it."

Arthur barks a laugh and pulls Merlin in close again to embrace him a second time, and the warlock doesn't hesitate to return the gesture.

Still standing in the courtyard, with Leon right behind him and in perfect view of anyone who may choose to look in his direction, Arthur honestly doesn't give a damn that he's showing such affection in possibly the most public place there is, because he truly thought he'd lost Merlin, and to now find that he hasn't is the greatest feeling he's ever experienced.

"Arthur – Sire – step away from it," Leon says suddenly, and both Merlin and Arthur pull back to look over at the knight.

Unlike before, when his gaze skipped over Merlin like he wasn't even there, now Leon's eyes are locked securely on the warlock and his sword is up and at the ready, and there's no doubt that he can see Merlin perfectly.

"You can see him?" Arthur asks, surprised, but doesn't step away.

"I can now," Leon replies tersely, not looking away from the warlock. "I couldn't before – when you first started talking. But then when you hugged him – he just… appeared."

The knight looks decidedly unnerved by this whole situation, and Arthur can tell he would like nothing better than to shove the Prince away from Merlin and skewer the warlock with his sword, so Arthur takes a half step in front of the dark-haired boy.

The action is slight, but definite, and Leon recognises it instantly for the protective motion it is.

"Leon," Merlin says soothingly from slightly behind Arthur, and the knight jumps at being addressed by him. "I'm not going to hurt him."

Leon looks like he really doesn't believe him, and he takes a threatening step forward and says, "Get away from him."

"Leon," Arthur says, authority in his tone as he cuts across whatever Merlin was going to respond with. "It's fine. Stand down."

It's clear that standing down is pretty much the last thing Leon wants to do right now, but he knows an order when he hears one and reluctantly lowers his sword, though he remains wary and does not put it away entirely.

Arthur turns back to Merlin, and his expression is one of utterly wondrous joy as he tries to make his brain catch up on the fact that Merlin is here, with him, and not showing a single sign of ever having been even within sight of a pyre.

Merlin smiles quietly and his earlier radiant joy fades slightly – not entirely; just a little, so he's no longer practically glowing with happiness but instead just looks joyfully content – and Leon gasps suddenly, his sword springing back up.

"Where did he go?" he demands, looking around wildly, and Arthur glances enquiringly at Merlin, who hasn't moved at all.

"Can you not see him?" he asks, baffled, and Leon shakes his head.

Arthur frowns, pondering this, but then Merlin says, "We'll work it out later, Arthur. For now, we need to get you warmed up. You're shivering."

It's true, Arthur realises with some surprise. He's freezing. He tries to work out how long he's been shivering for, but honestly can't remember. In his defence, it's not exactly like being cold has been at the top of his list of worries over the past hour.

"Come on," Merlin says, his hand on Arthur's shoulder as he starts guiding the Prince gently inside. "A hot bath, some food, and then you look like you could use a decent sleep."

There's no doubt about that, Arthur thinks, taking stock of himself for the first time since Merlin's arrest. He doesn't think he's ever been more exhausted – physically or mentally – in his life.

And yet, despite that, the idea of sleep isn't appealing in the slightest.

He's already lost Merlin once today – what if he wakes up and finds that Merlin's gone? What if he's so deliriously exhausted and distressed right now that he's imagining Merlin's presence? He doesn't know if he'll be able to handle that.

"What... what will you do?" he asks, aware of the wavering tone in his voice and yet too far beyond the realm of his normal emotions to have the energy to be embarrassed by it.

Merlin smiles softly, seeming to understand Arthur's unspoken words.

"I'll stay with you," he says, his voice soft and firm, and his hand on Arthur's shoulder warm and comforting. "And I'll be where I always am. By your side. Protecting you."

...

...end...

...

AN: Ok, I confess – I'm really proud of this one. I wasn't sure I'd be able to pull it off when I first had the idea, so I'd love to know what you thought!

Sorry for not warning you about the character death, but it totally would have ruined the story to give that away. You weren't supposed to realise he hadn't been saved until the last segment.

Please let me know what you think of this one – the present-past-present thing was a new style for me and I'd love to know how it worked, and I'd love to know if you saw it coming or if you were surprised of if you're still totally confused about what's going on.

Thanks so much for reading,

Bundi