Title: Can't take back Time

Chapter one: Impossible Beginnings

Summary: He never knew their pain. He never knew the anguish. How could he know? How could he understand behind bitter threats and that hatred in their eyes? Sometimes it's too late to say you understand, falling while suffocating in the arms of a dying world. The Purge has never been so vivid to Merlin, so tangible and real.

A/N: So me and Jissai were tossing back and forth PMs and he suggested a story line for me to work on. Being the jackass I am I freely took up the offer though admittedly this story is turning out a lot longer than I expected. Hope it turns out alright over all; props again for inspiration on plot itself go to Jissai as always. Damn ass hole is like my muse now. Go flood his stories with reviews or something. Anyhow. Story set a little over a month or two after season 3's finale.

The cave lit up in lines of gold and green, shining lights of magic tethering shimmering strings together to form a ring around the entire canvasing area to spiral swiftly towards its center. The witch at the front, black hair and blue eyes stood with a smile, back to them as he and Arthur managed to force their way through the entrance, passed the battle raging somewhere behind them.

"Gwaine! Hold them off as long as you can!" Arthur's voice echoed in the clearing, the clash of blade against blade reverberating back towards them.

"Sure thing, sire." Came back the usual sarcastic wit of a reply, Arthur's and Merlin's gaze turning instead to the scene spread out before them, blades in hand. The witch turned, whirling on her feet at a podium, eyes a bright fiery yellow, a great smile twisted against her face. She laughed harshly, the sound bouncing off against the cave walls.

"You're too late, Pendragon. Far too late. You can't stop me. In a few seconds the amulet will be charged, in a few seconds you'll cease to be born. At my hands." She lavished in the words, turning in a flourish of movement, hand clutching at the side of one of the many rock pillars leading towards the ceiling.

"You won't be doing anything if I can help it. You attacked Camelot. You killed good people, you practiced sorcery…I'm sorry. But I can't let that go." Arthur's words were clear and steady, blue gaze narrowed as Merlin nodded his way. They met eyes, a look Merlin knew and without having to speak it the two broke off from each other in clear understanding, Merlin rounding one way up the winding path to the center of the rocky cavern stage while Arthur the other both to meet the center in which the witch stood. With Arthur's back turned the Warlock shifted focus, a rushed mumble of words and a gold flare of his eyes. The ceiling shook violently and with a crash rocks began showering down in large heaps, ominous booms echoing against the cave walls. The witch turned wild eyes, gaze narrowing in disbelief and stumbled back, a sheer rage painted against that face.

"W-what? No. No this can't-this—what is this!" Her eyes flashed and the cave in paused but by this point Merlin was already taking leaps at a time, scrambling up the side of the stage, following the winding path of gold and green magic to rest eyes at the center, by the witch, in which the amulet lay. It rested on a formation of stone, the artistic flawless design clearly huen from magic in the shape of an hour glass, dazzling jewels sparkling, glowing at its side. At the center the amulet hung just off a particular formation of rock that twisted above the hour glass to form a hook, leading those brilliant strings of light straight toward it. And at that the witch, moving quickly, made to grab at the object off the alter with a desperate slash, eyes wild, but she was far too slow. Already his eyes glowed vibrant and sharp; the force of the spell sending the woman flying backwards with a hitch of breath, her bright eyes opening only to suddenly goggle at him in clear disbelief. "…You." She spluttered in sudden dawning realization, pulling herself to her feet. Those eyes of shock twisted quickly, spiraling into hatred, into anger, into pain and betrayal. With a glow of her own blue irises turned gold she lifted herself to her feet, a great number of words and a ball of fire that grew steadily forming in her hands, swelling tremendously. Merlin braced himself, eyes narrowing, sword in hand but preparing a shield incantation in his mind before all at once the witch stopped. Her eyes betrayed another flash of hatred, a deep settled anger and a voice broke against the air.

"Stop. Or I'll run you through." She looked absolutely livid. Upon tilting his head Merlin's face lit up with a grin.

"Arthur."

"Merlin. Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to remove that amulet? The sooner it's destroyed the sooner this entire mess is over." A sharp wince from the woman told the servant Arthur had pushed the blade slightly against the witch's back. "And you aren't going to move a muscle. And… while you're at it. Do us a favor and stop the undead knights."

Merlin surged forward as Arthur spoke, desperate already for this entire mess to be over. Gwaine was still battling the undead knights outside (they never seemed to catch a break from undead knights) along with Lancelot and the rest of Camelot's newly appointed crew; all backing the undead down in order to have allowed him and Merlin in here at all. The sooner the plan, whatever it was, was foiled, the sooner they could go home, the sooner he could be sure his friends were still alive. So he snatched at the amulet just seconds after the woman opened her mouth, a terrible grin spreading across her face.

"Go ahead. Take it, Emrys. Take it and see for yourself what he does to our kind. See for yourself if you wish to protect the kingdom. I invite you."

But the thing was, he already had. His fingers enclosed on the jewel and all at once, before he could blink, before he could so much as see a wild hurtle of magic spread from the amulet and wove its way sickly against his hand. Hot and burning it wove gently but quickly up his arm in the form of a hot, green light, weaving carefully around his chest and legs, the pain so intense now he would've given anything to scream. He couldn't though, frozen by something of an invisible force tight at his chest, keeping him from drawing breath, the pain itself keeping him from thinking anything at all. His eyes briefly met Arthur's shocked blue and for an instant he could see Arthur's lips moving, see the boy's pale face, see the witch and the cave and the brightly glowing shock of magic all around him before…nothing. Nothing at all.

The world came into sharp contrast after Merlin lay there for what felt like ever. His whole body ached and it felt as if, for a few moments, he couldn't feel anything but the weight of his limbs and his painful, shallow breathing burning through his chest. Even after forcing his eyes open he found it difficult to stay conscious and focused, his slow moving brain taking in the fact there was grass pressed up against him and wind that made its way against his hair and body. The boy groaned, wincing and forced himself to stay awake.

"A…Arthur?" He coughed, annoyed at finding it difficult to talk entirely. Blue eyes roamed listless across the scenery, expecting to see the prince or the cave or—

…The cave.

His mind jump started back into action and all at once Merlin felt more alert, more awake, pushing himself to sitting up. Memories forced back to what felt like moments before in which he'd been consumed by a force of light, the residue feeling of that sickly powerful magic still stinging painfully against his skin. But rather than a cave or Arthur or that witch or even Gaius chambers stretched out in front of him all he could see was the open air. And daylight? Hadn't it been night just minutes ago…?

At that Merlin carefully attempted to push himself to his feet, mind focused on Arthur, his head spinning violently, and his whole body suddenly riveting in pain, collapsing hard, useless, back to the ground with a grunt of frustration. The boy's mind spun and he tried desperately to keep a firm hold of the world around him, to keep from slipping back under the heavy weight of unconsciousness, two pair of feet fading in and out in front of his vision. He thought he could hear a voice but it was muffled, far off, somehow distant. The pain was once again creeping up on him, ravaging sore muscles and slipping far beneath his skin.

Once again Merlin blacked out before he could properly goad himself into staying awake, his last thoughts of the prince, of the witch and the knights battling in the opening of the cave somewhere lost against his mind. He had to reach them. He had to find them. He had…to protect Arthur. But nothing came but that sweet abyss.

The second time Merlin woke up it was to a far less barrage of pain. The agony that leaked under his skin and ran against his body seemed distant this time, more manageable. And when he pried his eyes open, while he found them heavy and his brain slow to pick up on the action, there was no nausea and overwhelming desire to fall back into the comforts of unconscious abyss.

The boy was confronted immediately by a stone wall, a fire place nearby crackling somewhere to his right, reflecting light against the otherwise dark room. His eyes shifted, blearily, moving against a table and a shelf filled with books, emblems of dragons and a pile of clothes in a basket near a wooden door. He frowned gently to himself, trying to pick back up on the pieces he left behind, carefully, cautiously pushing himself up to a sitting position. He quickly found that not only did he not collapse again but there was a bed beneath him complete with pillows and blanket and he cast a weary gaze around to try and place just where it was he'd ended.

"Well, I was frightened there for a moment."

He jumped, practically tumbling from the bed and to the ground at his side, only just avoiding it and spinning to take a look at the speaker.

A man laughed at the side of an archway separated by a large cloth, grinning somewhat amused from the place he stood. "I thought it would be quite a while before you woke up. Well. If you woke up." And as he stepped forward out from shadow, the reaches of the flame's light hitting his face, Merlin gaped. All at once it was a horrible sickening feeling like something had tightened, strangling viciously in his chest; as if he'd swallowed a whole quart of ice cold water that wormed his way to very nerve and fiber in his being, bringing his heart to a shuddering and complete stop. All at once his face paled, his eyes wide, a numb nothing reaching over him as if someone had washed a giant bucket of water over the boy's head.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He just stared as if it was everything he was worth standing in front of him, quirk of a grin and an amused look in the front of that fireplace.

"That was some mighty impressive magic you had back there, boy. But there's no need to be afraid…My name is Balinor. And this, as you might see, is my home."