A/N: Please remember I don't write slash :)

Magic? I don't understand. How can he have magic? That's so wrong. It's not like him. I need to ask him. Why? Why? He betrayed me? Weren't we friends? But if he's magic, was it all a lie? If it was all a lie, why do his eyes crinkle like that? Why is there anger and pain on his face? I don't understand. He knows about the pain it's caused… Why magic? Oh, Merlin. Why? I wish I could ask you. I wish I could grab you and shake you and ask you why, idiot, why this? Didn't you know this would happen?

~.~

Breaths ripped painfully fast in and out of his lungs, but he couldn't stop breathing so hard. His side screamed in anguish but he couldn't stop running.

His feet slapped the ground, rocks and twigs pressing on the soles of his boots as he went. His feet ached deeply, and every time they touched the ground they seemed to stretch ever more agonizingly.

He'd passed the point of trying to ignore the pain and run despite it. He was now focusing solely on it, and running with it as his spurring companion.

Merlin had been running with only infrequent rest stops for days. He hadn't even called the dragon. He hadn't gotten far enough ahead. He was headed somewhere—he was trying to get somewhere. He was too tired to remember where, exactly. Had he even really known?

He'd known he couldn't get away on foot for long, but he'd had to leave his horse behind—he hadn't had time to get her, and he wouldn't have been able to feed or rest her anyway. He'd only wanted space. Space from Camelot.

And to get somewhere.

How long had it been? Three days? And now he heard the sound of eager horses rushing after prey – the hunted – him.

It took them long enough, Merlin thought. He could almost think they were giving him a head start. But, as he gasped and sweat ran into his bloodshot blue eyes, he remembered vividly the twisted hatred. Not sadness. Just hate, hate, hate. Enough to drown in.

"Merlin has magic! He must be killed!"

There was no head start. Perhaps they were toying with him. Perhaps. But surely the knights would balk at the order to torment the prey by letting him hope. It was so unlike Arthur.

They were getting closer.

He wouldn't get away. Still he ran. He had to see someone… He needed help…

But as much as he barreled through the forest, uncharacteristically nimble as he jumped over roots and sped past trees, he'd lost as soon as they got on their horses. He looked up, and he was surrounded. Circled by a wall of knights in glittering armor on horses. They were immovable. He would be crushed if he tried to run through them.

And on the horse in front of him, Arthur sat high, proud and regal, head up.

~.~

Look at him. There are twigs in his hair and his face is pale as ash. He's swaying, I think… He's exhausted. I'm exhausted. Why did he have to keep running so long? I hope he doesn't fall over… Please, Merlin, maintain some dignity.

~.~

"Had a good run?" Arthur's voice was completely cold. And there is was. The hatred. The complete and utter hatred. Merlin couldn't look away. He gasped for breath.

"Well, it's over now, sorcerer," Arthur said, swinging down effortlessly from his horse. "It was a nice chase, but it's time to take you in."

Merlin lifted his head. He couldn't betray his real feelings, not this time. He had to be nonchalant, invulnerable. "Perhaps I don't want to go burn at your stake."

~.~

Don't make a fool of yourself, Merlin, please. Sorcerer or no, don't embarrass yourself. You'll make it worse.

~.~

"Sorcerers don't usually choose their method of execution," Arthur responded. It was so sarcastic. It was so Arthur.

Merlin barely even noticed his heart ache, thought, for the rest of his pain. He had to focus.

"I've noticed," Merlin responded just as coldly. He looked at the other knights. He recognized Leon from among his friends. No help from that corner. Leon was kind, but he was Arthur's man through and through. He would not question his king if he was ordered to toss himself from a bridge. Merlin understood well that sort of loyalty. Gwaine was not there. He would never have stood for this. Percival and Elyan were not there. They would have tried to advise Arthur, tried to convince him to let Merlin go, or to at least rethink things. Those men could not be brought. It was Leon and these impassive knights he barely knew and in some cases disliked. A wise move.

"But," Merlin continued, "I think I'd like to." And then he turned, his palm out and his eyes flashing gold.

But before the men fell away, pushed by his force, he felt arms on his, pulling him back, away.

"Don't run, Merlin!" he heard Arthur order.

~.~

Run, Merlin!

~.~

And then Arthur was there, behind him. Merlin could sense him. He struggled, struggled, tried to think of a spell. Tried to break free. He had to get somewhere.

He was so tired. He had the strength of watered-down gruel.

He couldn't get away.

~.~

Escape, Merlin! Don't look so scared. Just go.

~.~

And then something hard hit the back of his head, and even as the world turned dark, he knew he would feel that blow for days.

When he came to, it was dark outside except for a fire's glow. Merlin was bound. Not with rope… with chains. For one lifelong second, he thought they were going to burn him for his magic right here in the forest… Or worse, they were already in Camelot, he'd missed his last few days, and he was just too disoriented to have heard city sounds yet.

But no. It was only a campfire. He was safe for now. The knights were all asleep.

Except for Arthur. Arthur was sitting several feet in front of him, watching the tired servant with an alien expression on his face.

"I told you, sorcerers don't get to choose," Arthur said. Merlin glared.

Arthur came closer. He was now less than a foot away from the bound Merlin. Much too close for comfort. Merlin tensed.

"You're going to be burned at the stake, and it will be more than you deserve," Arthur said. The spite. The hate. Not like Merlin's magnanimous king.

He leaned forward. He was in Merlin's face, nearly nose to nose, his breath washing over the prisoner. He could kiss Merlin if he so chose.

Merlin couldn't move away, but he pulled his face sharply to the side, gaining him some distance and hitting hit head in the wood with a noise that echoed through the clearing. It woke no one. Not even Leon, but he wished it would. Surely Leon would provide some protection.

Arthur did not seem insulted, but amused. "What? Pulling away? But I thought you liked your prince."

Merlin glared again; he could not remain silent. "He's my king, Morgana."

"And you, his faithful pet sorcerer." At last Arthur's face pulled away, and those blue eyes kept watching him intently. "Oh," she said in a tone of disappointed resignation, "you knew the entire time. I guess you said nothing because you wouldn't have been believed."

A crustal on a cord was pulled over Arthur's head and away from his neck, where it had been hanging. Arthur's face began to melt away, paling and becoming more delicate. His eyes turned entirely green. The waist began to narrow and the bosom to form, and within a second or two Morgana sat before him.

"Is this less uncomfortable?" she asked nearly playfully, leaning forward so she was in his face again.

Merlin did not move away again. "What have you done with Arthur?"

Morgana smiled icily. "I was just him! You wanted me to look like Morgana again!"

"The real Arthur. Where is he? What did you do with him?"

"I guess we don't have enough similar sibling characteristics. Tell me, what gave me away?"

It had been her smirk when she caught sight of him using magic and called for him to be killed, but he wasn't going to tell her. Arthur never smirked at magic. But they weren't going to converse about that. "Where is Arthur? What did you do to him, Morgana?"

"Loyal pet sorcerer."

"How long have you been him?" Merlin suddenly had to ask, and she flicked her mussed black hair as she deemed to answer:

"About three or four days. We met hunting."

So about the time he'd figured her out, then. Good. He hissed, "Where is Arthur? The real one? Tell me, Morgana, or I swear…"

"What?" she asked coyly. "Kill me? You've tried that. Besides, you need me… Who else can tell you where Arthur is?"

Did that mean Arthur was alive? Merlin prayed so. Then Arthur could be saved, and the fear Merlin hadn't been able to voice would be put to rest.

"And," she continued, "you can't get out of those bonds. I don't know how you broke Morgause's chains last time, but this time you're being watched."

"Where is Arthur?" He knew she wouldn't answer. But he had to ask.

"One question," she said, leaning forward, too close again. "I know that you won't answer if I ask you why you are so loyal to Arthur… Even with your magic. What I want to know is, how long have you had magic?"

Merlin considered not answering. He didn't owe her anything. (Except he sort of did, lying to her about her own magic and poisoning her… He hadn't wanted to, but hadn't he started this?) "I was born with it."

Her eyes narrowed hatefully as the new lies came to light. "You are going to burn, Merlin."

And then she slipped the chain back over her neck and in seconds Arthur's masculine features twinkled victoriously at a glowering Merlin.

"Good night, Merlin," said Morgana-turned-Arthur, and patted him on the cheek as she stood. "Happy dreams."

Arthur's body walked away.

She thought she'd won. But she hadn't. Not yet. Merlin still had one or two of his lies to keep to himself. And he imagined the appearance of a dragon might make Morgana change her mind about telling him. Might get him out of these chains, too.

He would rescue Arthur.

Meanwhile unbeknownst to him, the king of Camelot sat next to Merlin, unable to be seen by him or anyone but able to hear and follow and watch—and Arthur waited for the rescue.

A/N: Originally this was a threeshot. I have it all written out and everything. BUT then I realized, after the first chapter and about half of the second one, the story started to get really boring and rushed and I hated it. But I liked the idea so much and I felt so attached to the first part that I figured I would tweak it and post it as a oneshot. I won't be continuing this then; please don't ask, I'm afraid I might, and really. It wasn't good. Ahem. Review?

Don't worry, peoples who follow my chapter stories—tomorrow I will update something non oneshot. I will give you X Marks the Man or Vault of Emrys or Polishing Armor. I will make myself ;)