AAAGGHHHHH, I know, it's been a while, hasn't it? This time, it wasn't just laziness that made this take so long – the first part of this was REALLY hard to write, and I'm still not quite happy with it. The second half I wrote in a day. THAT is how hard the first part was. I can't promise it's going to be any faster next time, as I have severely underestimated the amount of time A-level takes up. Most likely it will be another wait, so really sorry about that. Thank you for all the amazing support you've been giving me! Look out for a few familiar faces in this chapter… ;D

Right, I know what it's like reading a chapter of a story you haven't read in a while, so with that in mind, here's a recap. For specific details, you might just have to skim through it again.

RECAP OF WHAT'S HAPPENED

Merlin, Arthur, Gwen, Gaius and all the knights (including Lancelot and Elyan, who in this universe survived apparently) are prisoners of Morgana, who has taken over Camelot. Morgana has told Arthur about Merlin, and Merlin has given his memories to Morgana to protect the others. Gaius was also involved in this somehow. She has done something to Merlin's mind to make him scared of Arthur, and then put them in a cell together. Also, there's been a voice talking in his head. Outside the castle, the Druid chief, Iseldir, is making plans with his brother, Elisedd, to rescue Camelot from Morgana, but is desperately in need of a dragon, more people and someone inside the castle. A while ago, Arthur and the Druids met a creature of magic known as the Garred, who looks like a child. She is the one talking to Merlin in his mind. They suspect she is helping them, but aren't wholly sure. Last chapter, the Garred bewitched Arthur's horse to drag a stable-boy called Celyn, who brings Arthur food and news, into the forest for some reason, whilst using wind to create a path for the Druids in the direction of the castle. Morgana has been neglecting her duties as Queen in favour of her vengeance. This chapter begins with Merlin and Arthur's first talk since he found out about the magic.

-0-

Chapter 17: Shared History

Merlin…

That voice again. Merlin felt himself relax as it chased his nightmares into the depths of his subconscious. It had been so long since anyone had called him that. Hello again.

You need to wake up.

What a surprise. He smiled ruefully. That's what you said last time, he thought.

I know, replied the voice.

I think I'd have preferred it if I'd stayed asleep last time.

There was a long, pregnant pause. I'm sorry. You'd no doubt prefer it if you stayed asleep now. But you can't.

Why not? Merlin thought petulantly.

You'll have to face it sooner or later. This will be the hardest part; the first meeting. Was he imagining it, or did the voice sound resigned?

What do you mean?

You'll see. But it can only get better from here.

He sighed internally. Why did all magical creatures have to be this cryptic?

Still, the voice was right, he couldn't stay like this. Besides which, the voice had been a real comfort over the past week.

Thank you, he thought.

It is my pleasure. I know how much difference a little company can make.

A part of him wanted to ask how she knew, and how she'd known what he'd meant – she wasn't reading his mind as far as he could tell – but somehow he knew he wouldn't get an answer.

Rallying his strength, he clawed his way out of the blackness.

As his eyelids flickered open, he was faced with an unfamiliar ceiling. Yep, definitely unfamiliar. You get to know a ceiling pretty well when you have to stare at it day in, day out, and even in the sputtering torchlight he could see that this wasn't his cell.

Torchlight. Probably night time, then.

There was a scuffing sound from somewhere just outside his line of vision. "Merlin…?"

Merlin froze. That voice…

It couldn't be. He twisted his head around, slowly, so slowly, scanning the room until his gaze landed on the darkened face of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed man, watching him from the shadows–

–ARTHUR–

–Magic–

–Uther–

–Freya–

–Liar–

–Kill you–

–Kill You–

–KILL YOU–

Arthur stepped forward–

–NO!–

Merlin jolted up, hands and feet scrabbling backwards. His back thudded against bars – bars on two sides? Mordred's cell, cell for traitors – and he pulled himself along them face as impassive as he could make it till he hit the corner and his legs were too entangled in the blanket – blanket? Where'd that come from? – to move further and he didn't know what he was doing anymore just anything – anything – to keep his life a second longer, to explain – Please, PLEASE –

Arthur was frozen, staring at him.

The tableaux stayed; Merlin panting, eyes afire, in the corner closest to the door, Arthur poised halfway across the room, eyes fixed on the hand that Merlin had raised, fingers splayed and palm pointed directly at his chest.

Merlin stared at his hand too. He didn't even remember raising it, yet when he tried to make it drop, it did nothing but shake. His eyes closed momentarily in exasperation. Damn it, Merlin, this is the last thing you need, just lower the stupid hand. But it didn't move. He couldn't move.

"Alright, alright. I won't come any closer," Arthur said as he raised hid hand in a placating gesture, taking a step back. His already guarded eyes now even more guarded flickering between Merlin's face and arm. "In fact, I actually can't." Arthur rattled his shackles. The put-out look on his face was almost comical.

Still, Merlin's hand refused to move.

Arthur stole another step back into the far corner, then, with a pause, changed direction. Now, instead of manoeuvring towards the furthest possible position from Merlin, he pressed himself up against the side wall of the cell and slid down it.

It was an invitation.

Fingers still splayed, Merlin dragged himself across to his former position. Now he was directly opposite Arthur, who sat ramrod straight, watching him move. A thought seized Merlin, and he studied the king's eyes as they glanced towards him. Was that…? No…no, it couldn't be…. Dread solidified in Merlin's heart as he saw it.

Fear. Arthur was afraid of him. Of him.

Merlin's hand dropped like a rock.

"I wasn't…" he croaked. It had been a while since he'd spoken. "I mean, I wouldn't have actually…I can't…." Why was it so hard to say it? Arthur knew now. There was no denying his magic now, he could see it in Arthur's eyes.

"Are you alright?" Arthur muttered. Merlin could have laughed. He didn't.

"It's my job to ask you that."

For the first time since he'd woken up Arthur met Merlin's eyes, and a small smile pricked at the corner of his mouth. "So I've heard."

There was silence. He didn't smile back.

Gradually Arthur's smile vanished under the onslaught of what stood between them; two separate lifetimes, worlds apart, made manifest and held together by a shared past, a single strand of glimmering friendship. How could a person cross a boundary like that? To have gone through so much with someone, and then found out they were a different person entirely. What were you supposed to say?

"You…don't need to talk. If you don't…want to."

There was no change in Merlin, except for perhaps a slight thinning of the lips.

Damn. Arthur had been hoping he would pick up on the glaring, unspoken please talk to me in his words.

Typical. The one time he didn't want him to shut up.

"So instead…I'm going to talk. And you're going to answer…if you want."

Outside, a soft rain was falling. It pooled just beyond the bars, until it overflowed and began to trickle through the window and run down the wall in a shifting and erratic stream. This wasn't what Merlin was like normally. He continued to maintain his blank expression, but beneath that, Merlin was clearly scared. Merlin had never been scared of him.

Maybe he has, whispered his subconscious, but you've never noticed.

Arthur swallowed, and scrabbled for something to say. "Why the name?"

A look of confusion flickered across Merlin's face, and the words slipped out before he could stop them. "The name?"

"Your name. I mean…shouldn't I be calling you…" he took a deep breath to steel himself "…Emrys"

Merlin's impassive gaze flickered as he flinched. "-Please don't."

The desperation, almost disgust, in Merlin's tone made Arthur blink in surprise. "But that's your name, your…real name…isn't it?"

A huffed laugh escaped Merlin's lips. "No. Merlin is the name I've always been called. I've got Mordred and the Druids to thank for Emrys."

Arthur couldn't help but enjoy the rush of relief he felt as Merlin said that. It had bothered him more than he cared to admit that he might not even had known his best friend's name.

Merlin was staring at him. "You thought my name was actually Emrys? Arthur, you met my mother. You went to my village!"

"Oh. Right." He'd forgotten about that. "They wouldn't have lied for you, would they?"

Merlin shifted uncomfortably. "No." he said shortly. "They wouldn't. Not lied. They love my mother, but if you'd asked, they probably would have…. Most of them hated me. For…" Merlin's eyes drifted to a point somewhere over Arthur's shoulder. "…obvious reasons."

Arthur frowned. "I just thought they hated you because of…well, because of you."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Even now, Merlin couldn't keep the smile of his face, but it faded the moment he met Arthur's eyes.

"Merlin…" Arthur leaned forward. He had to make him see sense. "You have to believe me, but this is a spell. I'm sure of it. Morgana is making you think that you're scared of me."

Merlin closed his eyes and reached up to rub the back of his neck. "No, Arthur."

"You can get past this Merlin. You know that you can trust me, you know it!"

"Arthur–"

"She is making you do this!"

"She's not. Or, not exactly"

He leaned back. "What do you mean, 'not exactly'?"

Merlin's jaw clenched. "She didn't add anything. She isn't making me do anything. She…she just changed things. Exaggerated what was already there."

"Changed things?" Arthur frowned. "How could she do that?"

Unconsciously, Merlin's hands drifted to his neck. "With this."

Arthur looked at where a glint of metal could be seen peeping out over the top of his neckerchief. "The thing that's stopping your…"

"Yes" Merlin interjected, before he could hear Arthur say that fateful word. "It's called a Bind. It doesn't just control magic, it can control the self. With consent, it can be used to affect memories."

"…With consent?" he balked. "You mean…you agreed to this?"

Merlin's gaze had once again returned to its blankest state. "Why do you think you're still alive, Arthur?"

No. His nostrils flared. "You shouldn't have done that."

A pained smile trickled forth. "I've given up more than just my memories for you in the past ten years."

"So, you mean to tell me that your fear was already there, hmm?" Arthur couldn't help the anger that was coming through in his words as he jumped to his feet. "That Morgana is just making you more scared?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe it! Merlin, we've been friends for ten years! You've never been scared of me before!"

"You didn't know about me before."

"And?" He wanted, needed to make Merlin see. "What possible reason could you have to be scared of me?!"

Arthur's voice echoed around the room, temporarily drowning out the rain. Even once the echoes had died, everything seemed to be quieter. Stiller. The flexing in Merlin's jaw and the flickering of his eyes as he stared at Arthur seemed the only movements left, bar the flickering torches and the pattering rain and the shift and turn of life beyond those walls.

"Arthur," Merlin half-whispered. "You're Uther's son."

There was complete silence. Even the rain seemed to stop falling in that second. It was like a punch in the gut, and Arthur found he would like nothing better than to fall to his knees. But he couldn't. He was locked in his place, towering over his friend.

"I have watched you hunt and kill those with magic. I have had to listen while you lectured me on its dangers, and followed your father's guidance. How many times have you stood by your father at the pyre or the execution block?" Merlin gave a small shake of his head "You are a great man, Arthur, the greatest king that Camelot has ever had, and I will follow and protect you till the day you die. But to do that, I have had to give up on the return of magic. It's been a long time since I expected that of you."

"You…" Arthur had to pause for a moment. His throat was too dry. "You really think that?"

A rueful smile twisted Merlin's lips. "I told you that there could be no place for magic in Camelot, didn't I?"

Arthur tried to step closer to his friend, but Merlin flinched and tensed warily. "And if I told you I would do it? If I told you that you were wrong?"

"I'm not."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you. Better than you've ever known me."

Something rose in Arthur's throat, and he could only shake his head in answer

"Then say it. Tell me you will accept magic back." The look on Merlin's face was almost defiant.

Arthur stopped. Think of Merlin, think of Gaius, of Iseldir and the Druids "I will–" he stopped, choking on his own words.

He tried. He really did. But he kept recalling Morgana to his mind. Mordred and all the other sorcerers who had ever raised a hand against him. He saw his father's face and words hovering on the edges of his heart, and couldn't quite let the words slip out. "I want to say it, Merlin, I swear."

"But you can't." Merlin replied, looking resigned. "Because you don't believe it. And that is why you will make a great king, Arthur."

They both fell silent. There was nothing more to say.

-0-

A soft wind was stirring the night air, slanting the rain on its inexorable path to the ground. Stretching out his hand, Iseldir let the breeze play over his skin, and watched as pear-shaped droplets of water ran through the lines and creases in the folds of his palm. Is that you? He thought soberly. Are you watching over us now, drifting past, like dust on a breath of air?

The Garred. Surely, after her most recent miracle, she could be counted an ally, and not a foe? Hard to tell; it was too soon. The machinations of her mind were, as yet, unfathomable. She'd sent the King to Camelot when he came searching for Emrys, which, at the time had seemed like an offer of help. Yet now he rotted in the jail he used to preside over. This affair with the boy…was it a hidden ruse to lay them even lower?

"How is he?" Iseldir called behind him to his brother.

Elisedd blinked. He'd only just walked under the pavilion, and Iseldir was yet to turn his head. "Who? The stable-boy? He is well, as far as we know. His brief absence went relatively unnoticed, and he believes he will be able to sneak away again soon."

The elder Druid nodded. All seemed fine so far.

"Erm…" murmured Elisedd. "There's someone here who wants to speak to you. He doesn't have magic."

Turning sharply, or as sharply as Iseldir ever did turn, he studied Elisedd's features inscrutably. "Take me to him."

The person Elisedd had spoken of was a tall, lean man, scarred of features and with a thatch-roof mop of messy blonde hair atop his head. He stood at the edge of camp in a long brown coat, surveying its daily business with an air of easy, quiet confidence, hands on his hips and one foot on the log that marked the outskirts of their temporary place of rest. There was an almost imperceptible smile on his lips, but his eyes were filled with sadness, as if this look of cynical hilarity was merely a default expression from a time long past. A man of few words, but words well chosen. At their approach, he straightened and assumed a more formal position.

Iseldir bowed. "You wished to speak with me, friend?"

"Yes, I did." gravelled the man. "You won't remember, but we have done business in the past."

Iseldir cast his mind back. The face did seem rather familiar. "A trader. You must forgive me, I don't recall your name."

The man smiled easily. "I'm sure you don't. My trade was not always, shall we say, of a legitimate nature."

"You have come to barter with us?"

"Oh, no." The man's eyes flickered down as a look of immeasurable melancholy passed across his features. "I haven't been engaged in business such as that for years now."

"Then, if I may, what is it that you seek of the Druids?"

The man paused and cast his gaze over the treetops to the spires of Camelot in the hillside in the distance. "You must be pleased with the regime change. Druids have not settled so close to Camelot in many a year."

"Queen Morgana has legalised magic." replied Elisedd, carefully.

"Indeed. Or at least, legalised it for those who are still loyal to her cause."

Iseldir studied the man carefully. "You must be pleased too. Many goods that were illegal in King Arthur's reign are legal now. Does that not make your job easier?"

"As I said, I am no longer in that line of work." He looked back at Iseldir with a wry gaze. "Word is, you are no longer loyal to Morgana's cause."

They stared at each other for a long time, whilst Elisedd ogled them both, a look of horror plastered to his face. "Who told you this?" Iseldir asked urgently.

"A young girl, dark of hair and bright of eye. She said you'd understand."

The Garred. Iseldir felt a rush of hope, but reserved his judgement of the situation until after he had got to know this man's intentions.

"I think you'd better come to my tent." The Druid stepped aside and gestured.

Yet, when the man tried to step across the boundary Iseldir's hand shot out, preventing him from coming in. "Leave the weapon out here please. I will not allow violence to be brought to my people."

The man's hand unintentionally slipped to the hilt of the sword concealed beneath his coat. "It's just for protection. I have no intention of starting anything here."

Iseldir didn't move.

His lip's thinned, and he pulled out the sword with a glare. "Fine." He plunged it into the ground on the outer side of the log, and they continued into the camp in silence.

The man seemed a lot more nervous without his sword, and by the time they reached Iseldir's tent, which was relatively bare, he was flexing his fingers restlessly.

"Before we start," said the man urgently, as Iseldir turned to him from across the tent. "I need to know. Is it true what they say about Merlin, Arthur's friend?"

Iseldir looked, in genuine surprise, from the deeply urgent face of the man to the shocked face of Elisedd, who had taken up a position by the tent flap behind the man.

"You are on first name terms with the King and his manservant?" Elisedd queried.

The man looked over his shoulder at the younger Druid, and seemed to come to a decision. "When I first met Arthur, he wasn't a king. And Merlin certainly wasn't just his servant. So tell me now, is it true? Does Merlin have magic?"

The two Druids exchanged a glance. "Yes, he does. We have been doing our best to help him protect Arthur for some time now."

The man blew the air from his mouth in a rush and ran a hand through his hair, before reaching into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out a hip flask. "Do you mind?"

Iseldir inclined his head, and the man swigged a mouthful of the drink down. When he'd drunk his fill, he tucked it back into his pocket, and began to pace slowly back and forth across the width of the tent, rubbing his neck. "I could see he was different to other servants but…I mean, this was Arthur Pendragon, why would he…I never thought…" Something else struck him, and he turned sharply to the Druid chief. "Does Arthur know?"

"Our sources would suggest that yes, the King does know. The Lady Morgana told him."

The man didn't move. "Has Arthur tried to kill him?"

"Not as far as we know. Morgana has been keeping them apart."

"Good." The man nodded.

"You think Arthur has turned against Merlin?" Iseldir asked, curious.

The man stared at him in surprise. "He's a Pendragon. You think he hasn't?"

Iseldir looked towards Elisedd. To his dismay, he found echoed there the same doubt that was in this man's eyes. "I think that Arthur is different from his father. He has changed much."

"Magic killed both of his parents, and has driven his sister insane."

"It has also been his closest friend these past ten years. Emrys has protected and guided him, since the day they met."

The man stared at him, before giving a single huffed laugh. "So the boy is Emrys now, is he? And Arthur the Once and Future King?" Iseldir tried not to be insulted by the sceptical look on the man's face. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It explains a lot." He stood there, eying the floor and pondering a moment before he looked up at Iseldir once more. "I wish to help you retake Camelot."

Elisedd smiled, and threw him an excited glance, but Iseldir kept his face impassive. The Garred had sent this man, he was sure of it, but they were still yet to know if the Garred could be trusted, and the ex-smuggler clearly had doubts about Arthur's leadership. How could he know what truly lay in this man's heart?

"First, I wish to know something," stated Iseldir carefully. "Why? What are your reasons for joining our cause?"

As it had before, an expression of anguish crossed his visage and was gone, replaced by the mask he had constructed for himself. "Me and my wife, we fought beside him last time Morgana took over Camelot. Arthur and Merlin protected her, took care of her when she was injured." He closed his eyes, as if to brace himself. "She died. In the attack. Arthur tried to offer me a knighthood, and I left. I was…" He gave a frustrated wave of his hand. "…angry at them. She wouldn't have been there if not for them. A little while later, the taxes on goods being brought in and out of Camelot were lowered. It was Arthur's message to me, his apology, his thank you."

There was a pause.

"You gave up smuggling?" Elisedd asked softly

The man nodded. "We were partners, my wife and I. I couldn't do it alone. When news reached me a few days ago about Camelot, it reminded me why we chose to fight. Arthur was a good man, trying to do right by his subjects, and she died fighting for him. I couldn't let that go to waste." The end of his speech was marked with a defiant stare.

Iseldir contemplated a moment longer before nodding. The man had spoken well, and spoken from the heart. And they could hardly do without the help. "What is your name, friend, if you will join our cause?"

"Tristan." said the man with a grin, reaching out to take his hand.

Iseldir grasped Tristan's hand in both his own, smiling back at the smuggler in an attempt to hide the reticence in his eyes. If only the Garred would show which side she has chosen in some more definitive way. She gives us cryptic directions and collaborators of dubious loyalty as signs of her allegiance. If we are to take Camelot, we need people who are loyal without reserve, we need–

"Iseldir?" a woman poked her head through the flap of the tent, interrupting his train of thought. "There's some people who've just arrived asking after you."

"What, more of them?" Elisedd blurted incredulously. He looked over at Iseldir and Tristan, frozen in the act of their alliance.

The woman nodded. "There's a young man, calls himself Gilli. Then a woman turned up after him. Her name was…Oh, Hunith, I think it was?"

"Hunith?" interjected Tristan. He turned to face Iseldir once more, their hands still joined between them. "That's Merlin's mother. She hid us from Morgana's soldiers last time."

The woman continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I tried to send them away, I did, but then they started talking about our plans for Camelot, said some girl had sent them here…"

-0-

Dun Dun DUUUNN. Yeah. Bet you didn't see that coming! I'm sure I'm not the only one who went 'huh?' when Tristan wasn't explained in series 4, and then not mentioned at all in series 5. This is what I think probably happened, knowing them.

This is actually a two parter – Next time on MERLIN…Morgana and Mordred discuss loyalty, the knights develop their theory, with the help of Gwen and Gaius, and Arthur has three discussions – one with himself, one with Celyn, and one with a very mysterious character… There might also be some stuff from the Druids, I have a lot of fun writing them.

Say thanks to Stormageddon, the WONDERFUL Beta, and please REVIEW, FAVOURITE, FOLLOW, AND, ERR, SMILE?