Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. If I did, Arthur would SOOOO know by now. Seriously.

Eight years previous.

"Merlin, has been found guilty for the crime of sorcery and has been sentenced to death," King Uther's voice rang out over courtyard of Camelot.

Throngs of people had gathered to watch the spectacle. Whispers passed between frightened subjects. Merlin? Wasn't he Prince Arthur's manservant?

Merlin glanced wide eyed at the balcony where the king stood frantically looking for those who weren't there.

Gaius wasn't there. Thankfully. Merlin would have likely had company at the burning stake if he hadn't enchanted Gaius at the last moment. A simple memory charm was all it took and Gaius could honestly claim that he had no memory of the raven-haired boy possessing magic. It was all too easy to make it seem that Gaius was a victim of Merlin's sorcery and couldn't have known about Merlin's magic. However, now Gaius was surprised and broken hearted that Merlin had possessed magic and used it on him. Sick at heart, the Court Physician had opted to stay inside for the execution.

Another face Merlin couldn't see was Gwen's. She had come to visit him in his cell the night before.

"Tell me it isn't true, Merlin," she had said. "Tell me you don't have magic."

"I can't, Gwen," he had said. "I've always had magic. It's a part of me." He paused. "And I'm a part of it."

She had left, confused and weeping, after she had told him that she wasn't coming the next day. She couldn't watch him die.

Out of all these faces Merlin sought one above all others. But Merlin hadn't seen Arthur since he'd been arrested. He had no idea where the young prince might be. The look on Arthur's face when the guards had seized him and dragged him off still haunted Merlin's thoughts. What did that look mean? Shock? Confusion? The feeling of betrayal?

Merlin had tried to call to him, tried to explain to his friend what was going on. He'd called Arthur's name again and again, ignoring the shouts of the king as the guards dragged him to the cells below, but Arthur just stood there, staring at him, his mouth hanging open as a struggling Merlin was pulled from view.

Merlin leaned his head against the stake he was tied to and sighed. Every time he closed his eyes, the Prince's face appeared and Merlin was haunted by the fact that that might be the last time he would ever see his friend.

The warlock shook his head to clear his mind. He had to focus if this spell was to work. He repeated it to himself several times before the unnerving sound of the executioner's drums began. The ominous sound of death itself.

The torch came slowly toward Merlin. Wood was stacked around him up to his chest and coated in oil. They had every intention to make sure this sorcerer burned to a crisp. The wood around Merlin was lit and soon the young warlock was surrounded by fame and intense heat. Gasping for breath as the fire stole the oxygen from the air; Merlin muttered the spell he had practiced.

The flames immediately became less intense and Merlin felt his magic taking control of them. He allowed them to spread a little higher for the sake of his audience. He still struggled to breath and he flinched as one flame briefly escaped his control and seemed to lunge toward his face.

Just as Merlin was about to be engulfed in the powerful flames, a roar ruptured from within the castle as someone came bursting through the main doors into the courtyard.

"MERLIN!"

"He's escaped!" Uther cried. "Guards."

Merlin turned just in time to see the amazing spectacle of the crown prince of Camelot being tackled to the ground by five guards as he tried to charge the executioner's block. It took an additional four guards to hold the prince down.

"Merlin!" the blonde youth cried again. Merlin looked past the flames into his friends eyes. Confusion was still there, but so was the unspoken bond of friendship that the two shared.

Merlin met Arthur's eyes with a sad smile and the Prince's face became distorted with pain and grief.

The entire courtyard was just able to make out the words, "Good-bye, my friend." And then the fire suddenly flared and then entire executioner's stand was engulfed in the golden flames. When it finally died down, nothing was left but the charred remains of the stake and a pile of ashes.

Merlin was gone.

A ragged man stumbled through the woods, continuously glancing over his shoulder. His blonde hair was long, almost reaching his shoulders and a thick beard graced his face. His clothes were travel worn to the point where one could not tell the original value of the fabric.

The young man, who appeared to be in his late twenties, obviously had a strong build, but weeks of travel with meager provisions had left him thin.

The man noticed that light was getting dim and proceeded to seek out a camp site. He spotted a small cave worked into a hill side. It was remote and hardly noticeable; it would be a safe place to spend the night. Gathering firewood, the young man shuffled his way through the underbrush before he stumble weakly into the cave and immediately got busy starting a fire. He'd caught a small rabbit earlier and he was eager to eat.

The fire had just started to blaze when he heard a soft moan come from deeper within the cave. The man leapt to his feet, sword at the ready and the hair on the back of his neck standing erect.

"Who's there?" He demanded of the darkness. Another moan answered, followed by a whimper.

The man squinted into the darkness, and could just make out the shape of a person. The person was sitting oddly, slouching heavily, arms raised above their head. A gentle sheen revealed the person to be shackled to the cave wall.

The man hastened over to the figure and found a deathly thin man there. The first man guessed that the other couldn't be far from his own age. The shackled man had a long bearded face and dark, dark hair. His face was taunt from not being fed, his clothes hung on his thin frame like rags.

The blonde man was just wondering if the man was still alive when chained man opened his eyes and turned to squint at the intruder.

"Who are you?" the blonde one asked.

"Emrys. And who are you? What are you doing here?" the raven-haired man asked softly. The first man shook himself, having been thrown off by such a simple question in such an odd situation.

"I… uh… am traveling. I'm looking for something," he told the man.

"Looking for what?"

The man took a deep breath, not sure if it was safe to say. "Help," he said finally. "I'm seeking help."

"Help for Camelot," Emrys guessed.

The blonde man's mouth dropped open. "How did you know?"

"I've been chained here since before the attacks on Camelot began," the prisoner said. "By the same people who now attack that kingdom." The blonde intruder gapped. Emrys had been chained to this cave for over five weeks! How had he survived that long?

"Why?"

"I tend to get in the way of evil plots," Emrys said dismissively. Then suddenly, "Do you know where Prince Arthur is?"

The man started at first, but then took a deep breath, "I'm not sure anyone knows where he is. He was driven out of Camelot several weeks ago when King Uther was captured."

The prisoner sighed. "You must find him; he's the only one who can help Camelot now."

"Why do you say that?"

"Listen to me. You must find Arthur and tell him: there is a sword, born of dragon's breath and plunged deep into the heart of a stone by Freyan Lake. The sword has special properties and is in a sense undefeatable. It was forged for him and him alone and only Prince Arthur will be able to draw the sword from that stone. That sword will help him defeat the evil that now plagues Camelot."

The blonde young man's head was reeling. He looked as the skinny nothing of a man that he had found chained to the back of a random cave near Camelot who had given him these directions. The whole situation screamed random absurdity.

Just then the blonde young man caught closer sight of the shackles that held Emrys to the cave wall. They looked old and runes were carved deep into the iron. The young man had studied enough about magic to recognize the markings.

"You're a sorcerer," he accused the prisoner. The skinny man looked up at him.

"Nah," the Emrys dismissively. "If I were a sorcerer, I'd just magic my way out of these chains and be on my merry way."

"There are runes of the Old Religion on your shackles. They were designed to restrain sorcerers, and powerful ones at that," the blonde one persisted.

"You seem to know a thing or two about magic," the second man countered.

"I've studied it a bit," was the reply. And then, "Only so that I might recognize it though. I've never used it myself."

"Why'd you study it then?"

"Seemed like a wise thing to do, considering the laws in Camelot. Weird things happen all the time, not all of them are magical. Recognizing the difference would probably be useful."

"Probably."

There was a slight silence, and then.

"Why are you helping Camelot?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're a sorcerer. Why are you helping Camelot? Most sorcerers that I come across are determined to destroy Camelot."

"You got to wonder how you've managed to last so long against magical attacks without a magical defense, don't you?" was the mysterious reply.

"You've been helping us a while, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Emrys gave a deep sigh, and the blonde man sensed that this young sorcerer was getting a substantial amount of relief to say these things.

"Because I believe in a better world for Camelot," the sorcerer began. "I believe that the land of Albion can be re-united once again. That magical and non-magical can live in harmony and in peace. And I believe more than anything else that if that were to happen, Prince Arthur would be the king to bring that about."

The man stood there rather stunned by the answer. "Prince Arthur?" He asked. "I can't imagine he'd amount to that much. There are some who have called him a, well a prat."

The shackled man chuckled. "Yes, but he's a good prat."

The blonde man found himself smirking despite himself. The raven haired prisoner started coughing and gasping.

"What's wrong?" The blonde man said, kneeling down by the prisoner.

Emrys scoffed. "Nobody's going to feel real great after being chained to the wall of a cave for several weeks. I'm fine." He coughed again and then turned to his companion. "Listen, you must find Prince Arthur and tell him what I've told you. Camelot depends on this more than you know."

Several days later, Emrys was woken from a deep sleep by a sharp slap to the face.

"Wake up, traitor!" was the harsh command.

Emrys blinked the stars from his eyes. "What's going on?" Several rough looking men stood in front of him, but as soon as they saw he was awake they moved aside to reveal a young man. He had dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. A blue cloak was draped over his shoulders and a sword was belted to his hip. He stared at Emrys coldly.

This was his captor.

"Where is Prince Arthur?" The young man asked. His voice was as smoothing and haunting as his eyes.

"Nobody knows where Prince Arthur is, Mordred," Emrys told him. "I myself haven't seen him in eight years."

"You don't understand. King Uther is dead. We have to find Prince Arthur. He's the only thing now that stands in the way of us winning this war. He's the only thing that now standing in the way of peace," Mordred said with conviction.

"No, he's Albion's last hope for peace," Emrys responded, closing his eyes. Just then a witch walked into the cave next to Mordred. She was beautiful with long blonde hair.

"Has he said anything, Mordred?"

"No, Morgause," the youth scowled. The witch also scowled.

"Really, Emrys," she told him. "We don't have time for this."

"I on the other hand," Emrys said lightly, "Have all the time in the world." He tugged on his bonds to make his point.

"Well then," Morgause said coldly. "We'll just have to find a more creative way to convey the urgency of the matter." She nodded to two of the large men standing buy and they stepped forward. "Let me know if you make any progress," she told the druid boy, and with that word she left.

The two men stood on either side of the prisoner and each placed a meaty hand upon his bony shoulders. Emrys' deep blue eyes became pools of weariness.

"Mordred," he sighed. "Please don't. I have nothing to say to you."

"Scream then."

A brief ancient word from the two large men and the young sorcerer's face became distorted with pain, but not for long.

There was a roar, a crash and the sucking sound of metal being pulled from flesh. The next thing Emrys knew, the pain had stopped and the blonde intruder from several days earlier stood over him with a very familiar sword in his hands.

Emrys blinked. That didn't make sense; the only person who could have gotten the sword would be-

"Arthur?"

With a mighty swing and a clash, Emrys felt his bonds release. His magic came rushing back to him with such a force that he gasped. Of course the magic sword was probably one of the only things that could have broken those bonds.

Emrys tried to stand but being chained to the wall of a cave for weeks on end was a difficult thing to recover from and he nearly fell over. A strong hand at his elbow helped him catch his balance.

Emrys looked up at who caught him and the two met eyes. Of course it was Arthur! Why hadn't he seen it before? Well, with him being much thinner and all the extra hair, he could see why it was difficult. But now he could see the boyish face and the familiar scowl and the hint of concern behind his blue eyes.

The prince's blue eyes widened when he met the sorcerer's.

"Merlin!"

He chuckled. "Haven't been called that in a long time."

"But you died!"

"Not yet."

Looking around, Merlin could see that Arthur had managed to take out all the men except for Mordred who was backed up against the cave wall, obviously surprised but not shaken.

"Prince Arthur!" He cried. "I've been looking for you." With that stated, his hand flew shot out toward the Prince. But Merlin was ready with years of practice. The unspoken spell and its counter collided with a large bang and flash of light.

"None of that now, Mordred," Merlin laughed. "I have my magic back, that won't help you know. It's best if you leave before I call the Dragon."

Mordred wiped his brow and snarled, pulling out his sword. "The dragon will still take some time to get here." With that he attacked, but Arthur was ready for him.

Their blades met with a might clang and soon a great battle ensued between the two and it became apparent that both were expert swords men. Every once in a while Mordred would try to take out Arthur with a magical attack, but Merlin was always ready with a counter.

It was when Mordred made an attempt at attacking Merlin with his sword that Arthur was able to find an opening and make a deadly blow. The youth cried out and fell to his knees, dropping his weapon.

"You're a traitor, Emrys," he hissed. "A traitor to your own kind. If you had only helped us, Camelot would have been ours. But you have cast your lot in with them." He glared at Arthur now. "You two- you two are like two sides of the same coin. Warlock and Warrior: A powerful, valuable coin." The words powerful and valuable came out of his mouth with a lusty longing and there was an greedy glint in the young druid's eyes.

Both Merlin and Arthur lunged for him, but Mordred vanished. De-materializing in front of them and disappearing entirely. Only a haunting laugh echoed momentarily in the cave.

"Is he-" Arthur started.

"Yes," Merlin said. "He's gone."

The two friends turned to each other and both started to smile.

"Really, Merlin, after all of these years, are you still so much of an idiot that you couldn't recognize the Crown Prince?" Arthur asked, his voice was cracked a little.

"Well how could I?" Merlin asked, trying to hold back tears with a cough. "You'd lost so much weight!"

"I was not. Fat!" Arthur insisted. Merlin only raised his eyebrows at that remark and held that expression until the two burst into laughter and embraced warmly.

When they pulled away, neither man had dry eyes, but both would have denied it.

"Come on, Merlin," Arthur said as he pulled away. Both were grinning from ear to ear. "Let's go save Camelot."