A.N.:// This was more of an experiment, really. But it was fun to write. I hope you like the concept :3

Also ... if you want to imagine what magic feels like to Arthur... my views to this are based on my feeling when listening to 'Low Roar'. (As you can listen to in the video.)
This music gives me chills. The effect is strongest when you listen to it for the first time via headphones or a good surround system.
I would recommend 'I'll keep coming' as THE song that first buzzed my brain. (It works against headaches too for some reason. )
I hope that is kind of accurate XD
I am not getting paid by them, but I love their music. If that doesn't quite fit the writing ... sorry XD But it's still worth listening to :3 

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Three Weeks earlier. Perspective of prince Arthur:

There was something strikingly familiar about this boy.
He looked frightened. Terrified. Confused. As though he didn't even know where he was or how he got here.
But he was what he was. A child at the age of nine years. Brought in front of the court because he was a druid. He had magic, yes. A limited amount. Untrained. Protected by only the druids or so they said.
He was small. Maybe, barely reached Arthur's waist. Brown hair, brown eyes.
He was pale.
Despite the fact that he must have spend most of his time in the sun. Being a nomad and all – the boy looked ashen.

He would burn. Arthur knew, because no less than two knights had reported to the king that the boy had been using magic outside the gates.
The boy – a foreigner – had been found in the lower town. Coming from the dark woods.
Irritated, he had been wandering the forest.
And he had been using magic. All confused, but amazed, like he was testing it. He had looked like magic was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. Or so Leon reported.

He had played with it. Seemingly not caring for the consequences.
Why would he? He was only in Camelot. The one place that would want him burn at the pyre.

The boy stared at Uther Pendragon and the sentence that had just been proclaimed.
"The pyre?", the boy stared at the king, like it was Uther who had gone mad.
"You can't seriously mean that! I mean – I -", he shut his mouth and helplessly turned to stare into Arthur's eyes.
The boy shook his head confused.
Arthur felt a weird sense of dejavu. Did he know this boy? Had they met? Arthur was pretty sure he would know, if he had ever seen a boy such as this.
Arthur could spot sorcerer's from miles away – or so he thought.

"Magic is illegal in Camelot.", the king declared unimpressed. "The only punishment fit for such a crime is death. Guards, lead him to the dungeons."

Arthur couldn't bear watch this. Helplessly, he searched for his best friend. Who – as always stood close to the door. Not too far away. And yet overlooked by everyone but Arthur himself.
Merlin's eyes were fixed on the boy who knelt in front of the king. A certain kind of pain reflected in Merlin's eyes.
And to Arthur's surprise, the boy looked right back at him.
Mouthing something that desperately looked like: 'help me'.

"Father, please. He is just a child.", Arthur finally began, the boy's eyes glancing at his interference.

"Arthur, you know the law. I cannot make any exception."

"Not even for your own son?", the boy suddenly asked, trying to find Uther's eyes. But shrunk into himself, as he realized the king only had an icy glance for him.

Uther looked enraged. But it was cold fury. "Take him away."
Arthur fidgeted in his position, as he watched the boy disappear. "Father?", Arthur asked, just as conflicted as the druid looked earlier.

"Son, I know this is hard for you. Since this is a child. But I cannot let him grow into another monster. He will turn against Camelot, sooner of later. And he will be dangerous to our cause.
I cannot let him live, I hope you understand that."

Arthur's head lowered in understanding. "Yes, Sire."
That wasn't what he had wanted to ask.

The next day, the boy was lead to the pyre. He looked afraid, scared. He was painfully quiet. Accepting and determined about his fate. It was like he had still hope. That this was a dream or that he would somehow survive this.
Arthur shook his head, goosebumps on his arms and neck. Arthur didn't want to watch this.
But he had to.
Like he always did. He needed to appear strong to his people.

Merlin ran over to him, desperation in his eyes. "Arthur, please, you can't kill him!", he pleaded, almost falling to his knees, as he did so.
Arthur's eye twitched, as he forced his servant back on his feet.
"Merlin, there is nothing we can do."
"Arthur, you don't understand who this child is!"

"Merlin, he has to die."

Merlin took a deep breath. "Listen, I know you would never believe this, but this boy isn't a druid. The time they saw him use magic was the first time he ever did it.
He's not dangerous!"

"Merlin, even if I wanted to, my hands are bound."

Merlin stared at him with wide eyes. "Sire, what would you do, if you were this boy?", he finally began. Distant and hesitating in his pleading.
"Merlin -"

"Let me rephrase that. What if you ARE the boy?"
Arthur shook his head, already done with his servants antics.
"If you somehow know this boy, Merlin. Then I would advice you to shut up right now. Or else my father will have your head as well. Conspiring with sorcerer's is just as illegal as being one."

Merlin's eyes widened. And he froze, looking back at the boy who was already being bound to the pyre. He stood on masses of wood. All which would soon burn.
"I can't let you die.", Merlin whispered. "I – I have to stop this."
Arthur grabbed for Merlin's shoulders. "No.", he said and begged for everything he ever had, that Merlin wouldn't fight him on this.
There were tears rolling from Merlin's eyes.
"You're dying.", Merlin whispered. And Arthur wasn't sure who Merlin was even talking to.

"You're dying and you're watching yourself die and nobody is doing anything."

Arthur blinked. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Merlin's mouth was quivering. The pyre was lit at this very moment.

Suddenly Merlin screamed and wiggled himself free from Arthur's grip. "NOOOO!"
He ran towards the pyre, but somehow, someone must have put something highly flammable underneath the pyre.
The explosion was massive. And thankfully covered all of Merlin's screams and curses at the king.
Arthur ran after him and put his hand on the boy's mouth.
Then he dragged him back into the Castle. They were lucky nobody had noticed Merlin's outburst.

When Arthur finally let go, Merlin was a sobbing mess on the ground of his own chambers.
Arthur was about to swallow his guilty conscience, but this scene made him feel even worse than the knowledge that he let a child die at a pyre.
"If you knew him, why didn't you say something earlier?"

Merlin was heaving his breaths. Counting them to somehow calm down.
"I didn't know who he was. Until I talked to him. Arthur – you – this -", Merlin failed to say anything coherent.
He was too shocked to sound reasonable.

"He said, he would safe himself.", Merlin muttered. "You lied to me.

Promise me something.", Merlin finally found his voice.
Arthur sighed. "I can't promise you to protect sorcerers, Merlin. No matter for what reason."
Merlin shook his head.

"In three weeks-", Merlin says and takes a deep breath. "When we're in the valley of kings, don't touch anything."

Arthur frowned. "What?"
This was far from anything he had imagined Merlin to say. In three weeks? Valley of kings? Arthur wasn't even planning of going anywhere!
Merlin stared at him. An intense glare pointed at him.

Arthur thought, whatever this was – it didn't matter. It was just typical Merlin stuff.
So he nodded and shrugged. "I promise you, I won't even be close to the valley of kings. Happy now?"
Merlin smiled hopefully. Then hugged the prince against Arthur's will.
Arthur froze.
"Swear it."
Arthur nodded slowly. "I swear it."

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Now: Prince Arthur's perspective.

He really hadn't planned to go to the valley of kings. He really hadn't planned anything of the sort. He had just been on a walk, really. Merlin close to him, because the man had been insistent to accompany him everywhere ever since the incident with the nameless druid boy.
Also, Merlin had wanted to talk him out of it, but who was Arthur to listen to a servant?

It really wasn't Arthur's fault that bandits attacked them, though.
It never was anyone's fault, when bandits attacked. Except for the bandits. Everything about that was the bandits' fault.

Arthur and Merlin were severely outnumbered. They knew that. The bandits knew that.
And so a hunt began. Arthur and Merlin were fast. Though, Merlin was decidedly faster, as he had his sword clinging to him, as well as his armor. Which was several times heavier than Merlin's simple peasant clothes.

It was pure luck that they had somehow been hunted by the clumsiest and slowest bandits they had ever met. Yet they were good at tracking, apparently. And they were motivated and trained at pace.

Which is how Arthur completely lost his orientation. Merlin ran after him, like he couldn't easily outrun him. "No Arthur! Not that way! PLEASE!", Merlin shouted at some point.
But over his racing heart beat, the adrenaline pumping in his ears and the burning in his lungs, Arthur ignored him.

And that is how they found themselves in the midst of the valley of kings.
Arthur ran head first into the milky mist that had somehow appeared out of nowhere.
He ran blindly, faintly noticing that he had lost Merlin behind him.

He hoped he wouldn't run against the next wall.
He couldn't see anything. But when he finally stopped, unable to hear anyone following, he sank to the floor, trying to catch his breath.
He buried his face in his hands and waited. It was quiet. So the bandits weren't near yet.
Merlin should be here any second though. He waited.

And waited.
And waited.

And when he realized after an hour that Merlin had not followed him here, he also noticed that the mist was finally gone.
He was alone. In the valley of kings. He stumbled to his feet. Right, right. Don't touch anything!

And then – then he frowned.
His hands were small.
His body was too light. He felt like he was floating for some reason. That's how much weight he had suddenly lost.
His armor was gone.
On his arm, his left one, which was suddenly bare, he saw a druid symbol.

"What the hell?", he murmured. 'But I didn't touch anything?' And this voice – he knew this voice. His eyes widened.
"You've got to be kidding."

Three weeks earlier. Arthur the druid's perspective

Arthur stumbled through the forest. Merlin wouldn't be coming after him. He knew this, as he stumbled back to where he knew Camelot must be.
He felt strange. As strange as someone could feel, waking up in a druid's body, all of a sudden.
But his body itself wasn't the only thing that felt weird.

Merlin must have known this would happen. Somehow. He said he knew the boy. Maybe the boy had been using magic to make Arthur look like him! Then it would be dangerous to return to Camelot.... Maybe he should stay here, until his camouflage turned off. Surely this magic could be broken somehow!

'Strange.'
The world around him was – brighter. Somehow.
The colors were more intense. Everything felt strangely alive. And despite his initial fear and confusion, he felt that his surroundings calmed him down.
The life he saw. He had always been wary of the woods. The forest, everything.
Especially if he was alone. Right now – he felt like he belonged here?
It was strange. Maybe this was a dream? For all he knew, he could have fallen on his head and now be in a weird coma sort of condition or something.

Arthur shook his head. Suddenly his senses were full of noises. Full of singing birds in his ears, the taste of leafs and rain on his tongue, the intensity of the colors on his eyes. A gentle breeze like a blanket on his skin.

He felt – strange. As though something was reaching for him. 'This truly is a strange dream.', he thought to himself. But if this was a dream, he could -
Testing the waters – Arthur was now pulling it in. The sensation. It felt nice. Like a warm bristling.

And then – it happened.

Arthur stumbled back. There was a fire in his hand. Heavily he shook his hand, trying to get it off. As ridiculous as that may sound.
But his hand was on fucking fire, what would you do?
In a panic, he ran towards the next river. Which – luckily – wasn't too far off.
Without thinking he jumped into the cold wet.

In an instant, the fire was distinguished. He could focus on his breathing again. And the water. The the water felt – normal. Soft and cold it curved all around him.
Arthur blinked a couple of times. He was soaking wet from head to toe, because he jumped head first into it, the water now ran from his smaller fragile body.
At least he could still stand within the shallow water. The water felt real. So he wasn't dreaming after all. It had him freezing all over.

He stared at his hand – and then he started to laugh. Maybe he was imagining things.

He must be crazy. All this running had his brain in a twist, surely. He ran his smaller hands through his short hair. Hallucinations, that must be it.
The exhaustion truly got to him. From running for who knows how long. Maybe the mist was something like a hallucinogen. Gaius used to warn him from certain mushrooms, when he was younger. As they induced illusions, apparently. Surely that wasn't too far off as an assumption.

He grinned at the reflection in the water. And then his eyes widened.
Back looked the boy that was burned three weeks ago. Arthur shook his head. Yes, he was imagining things surely. His guilty conscience or something.
What had Merlin said? 'You are dying and you're watching yourself die.'
Maybe that's what he meant. Maybe Arthur always saw himself within the people that got burned. That's where his empathy came from.
Not that empathy was enough to get his father to stop murdering children. Dangerous children, yes. But children none the less.

He covered his eyes and then looked at his reflection once again.
Then he looked at his hands. Testing, he reached out for that pulling sensation once more. It was a fluke earlier, right? Arthur had never felt such a sensation before. Earlier must have been a trick of the light!
Sure enough – a second later his hand was on fire again.

Arthur's eyes widened. This time however, not in a panic. But in wonder. How had he done that? What was he reaching for? Was that magic? It didn't feel like something dangerous or mystical.
Just – some kind of energy.
It felt like playing with a toy. Not like something that was inside of him. But something that passed through him, like wind. But it was also attached to him. He could move it like a puppet player. Like he had invisible strings to control it.

Arthur took another deep breath and held out his hands once more. He reached for the feeling again, this time with a different goal in his head.
It felt so easy. He should be able to .....
The water moved. Arthur jumped as it worked. He was moving the water! Not the way he wanted to, but it was moving.
Mesmerized, he watched as the water began to twirl in a circle. It was slow and not quite as fast as Arthur had wanted to make it. But it had worked.

Sheepishly he looked around himself. Magic was illegal in Camelot. But for the first time in his life, Arthur wondered if this even was magic. If it was – then how the hell had he ever thought he understood it at all?
For the first time of his life he could actually FEEL it. And it didn't feel corrupting. It felt – nice. Kind.
Like a friend. Inviting and playful.
For the first time he wondered, what exactly they had been afraid of.
The magic was reacting to HIM. Arthur wasn't forced to do this. He was invited to do what he wanted. Nothing more, nothing less. Arthur made the decision, not the magic.
Or the hallucination. Whatever this was.

He closed his new younger hands together and wondered what he could produce with this.
Something nice. He wanted to make something nice. Something he could show someone, maybe. Without telling him he made it from magic.
Could people actually tell the difference? He thought of Merlin. He could make something for Merlin. Boy, would the boy be surprised to find that magic was actually kinda cool.

Merlin was afraid of magic. Arthur frowned. Yeah, maybe not as much.... he had apparently known the boy from three -
Arthur blinked and then looked at his own reflection again.
He frowned.

Arthur let his hands sink. He couldn't think of anything nice. WAS it three weeks ago? Had Arthur traveled in time?
That was ridiculous.

Unreasonable fear settled inside him. No that couldn't be. He couldn't possibly have traveled through time!!!

Arthur tried to concentrate. To calm himself. That sensation of magic did calm a lot, so he tried to lean himself against it.
Hmm.... That was strange. It seemed like the sensation was leading somewhere.
Irritated, if still curious, Arthur followed the sensation in his head.
It was leading to Camelot?

Now that certainly didn't make any sense. Why on earth would magic lead him to Camelot of all places? It was illegal!
Arthur's eyelashes began to twitch. 'Wait a second, aren't I currently using magic? Am I a traitor to Camelot?' He shook his head. 'No, I'm not. I can't be. I'm the prince. I would never hurt the king or Camelot's citizens.'

In the same thought he knew his father wouldn't care. 'I will just go to Camelot – not use magic, find this source and then -'
He had just reached the end of the forest, when he saw an old woman with a nasty rash on her neck. She had seen him.

Arthur shuffled in his position. She was sick. An outcast. She lived far off the city walls to not endanger the people of Camelot with her contagious sickness.
Arthur stepped towards to see her. Somehow he felt the magic around him protecting him. He knew, without actually knowing that he wouldn't catch her sickness, if he came closer.
And he could also feel the magic reach for her. 'It's empathetic.', he thought in confusion.

How could anyone claim they 'possessed magic?'
It didn't belong to Arthur. It was just ever present and allowed him to use it. It had never before. But it was right now.
Urging him to play with it. So technically – he didn't HAVE magic. It wasn't part of him. It wasn't IN him. So – if he somehow managed to help this woman, as the magic urged him to do – they couldn't burn him at the pyre, could they?
With that childish logic, he raised his hand. The woman screamed, as though she just saw something in his eyes.

The rash was gone in almost an instant, but when she ran, Arthur knew he was done for.
In a panic he tried to escape, but there were knights stationed in this part of the lower town. It took maybe a few minutes of being chased, and then Arthur found himself in the arms of Leon and another knight. In a panic, he realized it were the knights that had captured the druid boy three weeks ago.

Arthur's fear peaked higher and he screamed for the magic to help him.
There was an explosion around him, as the magic reacted to his wish.
Arthur froze, as Leon merely escaped the radius of the explosion. He had his sword drawn at him now, while the other knight lay on the ground. Bleeding.

Arthur froze. Magic had done that? But -
No. Arthur shivered. The magic was weeping. Arthur blinked, breathing heavily as he stepped away from Leon and the other knight.
The magic felt different. It felt like this act of protecting him, had hurt it.
'Magic is sentient.', Arthur thought with wide eyes. 'Magic doesn't want to hurt. It wants to help and protect.'

But that realization had taken his moment chance to escape. A second later, Leon had him captured again. The other knight might be bleeding, but Arthur could fix this. He could -
He didn't dare use magic again.
This time – not because he was afraid of it. He wasn't afraid of using it. He was afraid of using it WRONG.
What if he hurt the knight even further? The magic around him was curling all into itself. Regret sensible with Arthur's new found senses.

And so he let himself be dragged through the crowd of citizens, into the Castle. Where he already knew what was going to happen. It WAS three weeks earlier, he realized painfully.

When he was brought in front of the king, he felt another sense of dejavu wash over him. As he saw himself standing regal next to his father. Himself.
His father ....

And then, someone slipped into the room. Arthur straightened his neck. Wait – that was magic! He could feel it. The source of the magic around him!
It was – it was a person?
He was confused. Terrified, yes, but also very irritated. If only Leon's grip wasn't too strong for him to turn around to see who it was!

He was thrown in front of the king. Uther himself was already speaking of duty and Arthur's sentence.
"You are hereby sentenced to burn at the pyre. Tomorrow morning at dawn."

"The pyre?", Arthur asked, blinking again. He found this boy had extraordinary long eyelashes. They felt strangely heavy on his face.
But also – he could feel the magic curling away from Uther, like the king was poison for it. Which – to be fair – he clearly must be.
But, couldn't Uther see? Arthur hadn't done anything bad! Well – not intentionally.

"You can't seriously mean that! I mean – I -" Should he tell him that he was his son?
Would Uther ever believe it?
Arthur locked eyes with himself.
Confused, he shook his head.

"Magic is illegal in Camelot.", the king declared unimpressed. "The only punishment fit for such a crime is death. Guards, lead him to the dungeons."

Arthur felt all hope leave his body. Couldn't magic help him? Magic was here. Here in Camelot.
And it was kind. It wanted to protect. Now more than ever, so he felt.
So Arthur turned around, only to lock eyes with no other than Merlin himself.
Arthur's eyes opened wide.

'Holy shit.' he mouthed. 'Wait, didn't the boy mouth help me last time?' Maybe Arthur wasn't as good in lip reading as he had thought.

"Father, please. He is just a child.", suddenly a voice spoke up. Arthur turned around to find himself speaking to the king.
Right. His eyes widened. Arthur hadn't wanted him to die! Maybe he could help? Maybe they could still turn this around! If Arthur just found a way for himself to see -

"Arthur, you know the law. I cannot make any exception."

"Not even for your own son?", the druid suddenly exclaimed. And his eyes were wide.
And while he watched the rest of that conversation that he already knew how it ended and witnesses Uther's icy glance at him, he knew all hope was already lost.
Uther would never believe him who he was. He would never care. And he certainly wouldn't make an exception for him.
The magic told him so. The magic was afraid of Uther.

He was dragged down to the dungeons.
Destined to watch the pyre be build from the open window that let only air and magic in.

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It was midnight, when magic arrived. Arthur's head snapped up, as Merlin approached him.
"Merlin? What are you doing here? My father will have your head, if he knew you were -"
Arthur's mouth dropped closed. He couldn't exactly tell anyone he was prince Arthur now, could he?
Then again – he was already sentence to death.

Merlin stared at him in confusion.
"What?", Merlin asked.
Arthur shook his head. "Forget it.", he said and sighed. He was going to die anyway. Merlin would only endanger himself, if he was helping him now.
After all, the man apparently was magic itself! It radiated from him. Before, Arthur would have been mad and angry to know Merlin had been lying to him for years.

But sitting where he was now – he could understand. All to easily. He wouldn't have told himself either. Not if he was afraid of Uther as Merlin apparently was. Not when Arthur kept warning him to even breathe a word about magic in his presence.
No – it made absolute sense that Merlin hid away from everyone.

Also, Arthur finally understood the actual fear from the pyre. And how unreasonable the sentence actually was.

Merlin sat down in front of the bars. "Why are you calling me Merlin?"
Arthur chuckled. "Seriously? That is your name!", he shook his head. Strange. Normally people asked how he would know his name. Not why he was calling him by it.
But Merlin had always been strange.

"Well, yes. But most druids call me Emrys."

Arthur blinked. And then looked up. "They do?", he asked. He really didn't have the energy to lie right now. What worth was that anyway? He was already dying.
And he wouldn't have Merlin die with him. Not with how nice his energy felt.
Magic was totally different from what he had originally thought. He had doubted his father's perception of magic before. And how to treat magic users.
But now that he was one – he finally got just how wrong his father was.

"Yes." , Merlin nodded. "There is some strange prophecy about me and Arthur. How come you don't know any of that? You're a druid! You all know who I am. However you guys always know it, I have no idea. But you all do. Why don't you?"

Arthur stared at him, leaning against the stone wall behind him.
"I don't know what prophecy you're talking about. But -", he tried not to rely too much on his curiosity. "I think I know why they recognize you."
Arthur tilted his head.

Merlin straightened his neck in anticipation. "Yeah? How?", he finally asked.
Arthur blinked. "You really don't know?"
Merlin pressed his lips into a firm line and shook his head.
Arthur sighed. "You are magic. You're radiating it. It feels like -", he stopped. How had he come into a position where he told magic what magic felt like.
"It's like magic is sentient. It does what is asked of it. But it all comes from one source. And that source is you."

Merlin's eyes were wide.
He sat down in front of the bars. He opened his mouth, unsure what to respond to that.
"That – nobody has ever explained that to me.", he finally managed to say.

Arthur smiled. He felt distant from Merlin, somehow. And yet, closer than ever.

Finally, Merlin sighed. "You know, actually I came down here to learn what your plan was."
Arthur blinked. "My what?"
"Your plan. Usually, the sorcerer's that come here try to kill Arthur. Just know that I can't have that. But you don't seem like someone who wants to kill anyone. Why were you using magic in Camelot? You know it's illegal."

'You're illegal.', Arthur's mind childishly complained. He felt insulted. Did Merlin think he didn't already know that?
"I didn't know it was magic.", he said after a while. Merlin blinked – a bit startled. But also empathetic. The magic around him nudged at him in a comforting gesture.
"I – kind of woke up in this body today. And suddenly everything was – so much more."
Dreamily Arthur looked at the stone wall. It was gray. But his new eyes saw hinges of colors in the darkness or gray. Playing and mixing together into a painting of a wall.
It was strange. But also kind of nice.

"You woke up in this body today?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes. And then there was this feeling all around me and suddenly I could set my hand on fire by my own will. It was scary. And beautiful."
He hadn't meant to say the last part. But he was dying anyway. There was no need for him to lie.

Merlin watched him curiously. "Then, you don't remember anything? From yesterday?"

Arthur laughed. "Actually I remember everything."
Merlin looked puzzled now, so Arthur continued.
"I remember today. And I remember tomorrow.", he said and nodded. The servant tilted his head.
"What?"

Arthur smiled.
"You have to promise me something.", he finally said and Merlin nodded warily.

"In three weeks, Arthur will be at the Valley of kings. He must not touch the mist! Alright! He can't. If he does -"

"What will happen then?", Merlin asked, as Arthur didn't finish his sentence.
"He will die.", he said simply.

"How!", Merlin said, and suddenly his empathy was replaced by determination.
Arthur knew that look. That look was prepared to die for Camelot. That look was what Merlin settled on, right before battle. No matter if their enemy was a sorcerer, a bandit, a Wyvern. That didn't matter at all to him. Merlin was always afraid.
But he was always brave enough to fight his fears. Arthur had always admired him for that.
Now that he knew about the magic – he admired him even more.
How difficult it must be for Merlin not to be himself. To hide a fundamental part of who he was.

Strange how sorcerer's die for using Merlin's magic like that.

"He will die at the pyre.", Arthur responded. 'I'm now dying, because I used your powers.' It was confusing. This wasn't Merlin's fault for having magic.
It was Arthur's, for using it. No.

It was Uther's fault for making magic seem like poison. Like darkness. When truly, it was light. And fun. And kind. Uther's law was the mistake. Uther was the one who did this to Arthur.
It was all Uther's fault.
Merlin stared at him, trying to put the pieces of this information together.

"I don't -"

Arthur sighed. "Hi.", he said and waved.

Merlin's eyes widened with realization. Then he backed away. "You're joking.", he whispered in shock and fear. "You can't be Arthur. I saw him only minutes ago!"
Arthur shook his head. "I never meant to travel through time, you know."

Merlin shook his head. "No. NO! You have no idea how important Arthur is to this world! If you are Arthur and this is how you die..."
Merlin pulled at his own hair. "You have to proof it to me. You have to proof you're Arthur."

Arthur blinked. "And how am I supposed to do that?"
"What's your favorite food!", Merlin finally said. Arthur unhinged his jaw.
"Seriously. Of all the questions you could ask me to proof my identity, you're going with that one?", he rolled his eyes. Merlin was seriously still waiting.
"I mean – you could have asked me stuff like – who was knight William? Since only you, Gwen, Gaius and I know it was me.
Or – or I dunno, who killed the Griffin? That was Lancelot. You could ask me how I slayed the dragon.", Arthur shook his head. "It's drumsticks, Merlin. Meat. I like meat."

Merlin stared at him. "It is you.", he said unwavering. Though somehow, Arthur didn't think it was because he had answered Merlin's question. But because of HOW he had answered it.

"We need to get you out of here.", Merlin finally concluded and already held his hand out to bust the dungeon cell open. But Arthur immediately stopped him.
"Don't be stupid, you would be sentenced to death as well!" Like hell was Arthur letting Merlin die with him for no reason.
No.

"I – I have magic now. I can free myself. Maybe go and talk the other me out of this nonsense. We will be fine. I will be fine. I can survive this."

Merlin looked hesitant. "Are you sure?"
Arthur nodded. "I remember how all this plays out, remember?"
He felt dread grow within himself.
Merlin nodded fiercely. "Okay. I trust you. But if anything happens to you -"

"I got this. I won't die, I promise."

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Arthur died at the pyre. And it was more painful than he had ever imagined. He hadn't lied, when he said he would try use magic to get out of this.
But Arthur didn't have magic under control. He pulled at the sensation, hoping he could free himself from the ropes that bound him to the stake.

It made everything worse. He tried to breathe, but only ash and lack of oxygen made their way through his lungs. He coughed as he screamed. The flames licked on his fragile skin. The heat broke his bones and evaporated all the water that his body was made of.
The magic around him calmed him. But the moment he tried to use it, it used itself wrong.
There was an explosion.
The last thing Arthur remembers is being ripped into a hundred tiny pieces.

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Now. Prince Arthur's perspective:

Arthur woke up in the Valley of kings. Merlin came rushing after him, shouting his name.
The bandits must have lost their trail, because Merlin had long stopped running and his breathing was only fast from the fear of having lost Arthur.
Arthur stared at his hands. They were normal again.

He touched his face, unsure if bigger meant he was himself again. Everything was dull again. The world only a whisper of what he used to know from only moments ago.
The pyre had been so bright.

"Arthur!", Merlin had found him. He looked so utterly relieved.
Arthur stared at him. His hands falling to his side. He had his armor on. Everything was heavy again.
"There you are. Thank god. I thought you had -"
Arthur interrupted him, as he hugged him. He could hear his own heart racing in his ears.

Merlin froze ... and waited. "Arthur? Did something happen?"
Arthur shushed him. Merlin's presence was calming.
'Of course it is.', he thought and closed his eyes.

"Arthur?"

"When I am king -", Arthur finally said. "There will never be a pyre again.", he swears.
And he is glad. He is glad he said it, because saying it meant that he meant it.
He would hold to that promise.
And while he knew he still had to explain to Merlin what was going on – just like Merlin had a lot left to tell him too,
Arthur just relished in this moment. Knowing that he was lucky to still be alive.