"Oh, I'm not going to kill you," Morgana said, sneering. "I'm not going to make it that easy."

Merlin leaned away from the witch as she leered at him, but he could only move so far, what with his arms strung up above his head. The fire at the center of Morgana's hovel reflected in her eyes as she leaned in, making her appear all the more malicious. Being in her presence for so long, just the two of them alone, filled Merlin with a myriad of confusing emotions that he normally kept repressed. Morgana's proximity alone drew out every emotion he had ever felt for her: first admiration and affection, then guilt and pity, and now fear and anger. Now it was all there for Merlin to feel, and he hated it. Hated what he did to her, hated what she had become.

Morgana grabbed Merlin's face suddenly, then pushed at him playfully before turning away towards a small table in the middle of the room.

"You see, Merlin, I would kill you, but you may actually be more useful to me alive for once. Despite appearances, I know your value. All I have to do is wait for Arthur to come looking for you, which won't take long at all, I'm sure. And he'll be foolish enough to walk right into my trap, like a moth to a flame."

The sorceress released a small laugh that sent a shiver down Merlin's spine. It didn't sound human.

"It won't work. Arthur isn't that stupid. He'll send out patrols, but he won't be coming," Merlin said, his voice surprisingly steady, even though he doubted his own words.

Morgana lifted a knife from the table—the same knife Arthur had given her many moons ago—and whirled around, locking eyes with Merlin.

"You and I both know that's not true, Merlin. Don't sell yourself short." She smiled at him, dark eyes gleaming as she sauntered back over to where Merlin was bound. "All we have to do now is wait."

Merlin clenched his jaw, meeting her gaze defiantly. She leaned in closer to his ear, and the warlock fought to stay neutral. And then her knife dug a jagged line into his chest and Merlin didn't even know he was screaming until his throat suddenly felt raw.

"In the meantime, you and I are going to have so much fun together."

….

Arthur really was getting really tired of people telling him what to do. He was the king, after all. That's why he was secretly grateful that Gwaine had offered to search for Merlin with him. In fact, it appeared that the knight was already planning on going on his own, which technically made Arthur the one accompanying Gwaine. Even if Arthur had been condemned to a day of mindless chatter, he was glad that he wasn't alone. The king also felt comforted by the fact that Gwaine felt the same way—that Merlin needed to be found.

Every time Arthur's mind wandered to his manservant, he could only picture Merlin's prone figure lying on the forest floor, surrounded by a sea of bandits, before the landslide stole Merlin from Arthur's desperate gaze.

There is no sign of Merlin…

Arthur felt the heavy weight of those words, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Merlin was still alive out there. He had a strange inclination that he would've known if Merlin had been killed. He would've felt it. Which meant that either Merlin had made a miraculous escape (which for some reason Arthur knew that was very possible when it came to Merlin), or that he had been left for dead by the bandits and was lost somewhere in the forest, or that he was being held hostage. Arthur shivered at that last possibility. If it were true, he could be anywhere, and he could be badly hurt, or sold off as a slave to some far-off land.

Gwaine's mindless chatter was actually nice. It was like having white noise, and it made it easier for Arthur's mind to focus, and time seemed to pass rather quickly. The sun was already staked on the treetops by the time the duo reached the Valley of the Fallen Kings.

Nothing good ever happens in the Valley of the Fallen Kings.

Arthur smirked at the words of his servant. Merlin was always right when it came to his "bad feelings," even though Arthur would never admit it to him. He felt his face fall. If he had only listened to Merlin, they wouldn't even be here searching for him. He'd be home safe, in Camelot, driving Arthur crazy with his mad ramblings and clumsy demeanor.

Arthur led Gwaine down to where the rockslide occurred, hoping to pick up some kind of trail there. They dismounted when they reached the small trench, tying up their horses and climbing down to where Merlin was last seen. Arthur swallowed, his jaw clenching so hard he thought his teeth might break.

"You alright, mate?" Gwaine asked, taking in Arthur's sudden pallor.

Arthur nodded, reverting back to his usual stoicism.

"This is where I last saw him."

Gwaine huffed, before raising his head to search the area more thoroughly. Arthur stared at the ground, wishing for the thousandth time that he could go back to before that damned rockslide.

Gwaine nudged Arthur's shoulder, startling him from his musings.

"Arthur… does that look like magic to you?"

Arthur felt his eyebrows shoot up as he turned to look where Gwaine had gestured. Sure enough, there was a brightly-lit golden path leading out towards the east side of the woods, where the forest got denser and darker. Arthur shivered.

"Yes, it is magic," the king replied solemnly.

Gwaine turned to look at him. "What d'you think it means?"

"It means that Morgana wants us to come find her."

"You mean, she has Merlin?"

"Most likely. And she's leading us into a trap."

Gwaine started to follow the golden path with a sigh. "Not very subtle, is she?"

"No, I suppose not. She doesn't have to be. She knows I'll come, no matter what."

Gwaine gave a grunt of agreement, and the pair fell into a companionable silence as they both headed to their impending doom.