The Adventures Of Merlin ON HOLD

Prologue: One Lonely, Cold Knight

AN: I don't own the title or the cover of this story (which I am hopelessly in love with), I'm simply borrowing. Nor do I own the characters (unless I make an OC, but I probably won't-too much work). Thank you for your time. I hope you enjoy!

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"This man has committed the highest crime in the land of Camelot. Let it be reiterated that sorcery is forbidden in Camelot, as long as I am king, and my blood reigns." He stopped to look down at the man below, strewn and bound to the pole, face stiff as stone. This man was not guilty. This man committed no treason or crime. He might as well have been the king he was so pure in blood, but not the king of Camelot, of course. More pure. "Let this be yet another reason, for you all. Sorcery will be punished, no excuses. It is a danger to us all, just remember what this man has done to your kin." He paused, taking in a breath and looking to the guards below. "Light the pyre." He ordered, watching as the guards followed his command. They were like machines. Bloody, murderous machines that did only what their orders permitted-nothing more, nothing less. Good little soldiers, Arthur often thought in his young adolecense. Not at all what I want to be. Arthur sighed, there was nothing he could do.

He walked away form the courtyard, unable to watch his father kill an innocent man. And he wasn't sure what Merlin could possibly have to say about it that would make him feel any better, but they conversed. Talking to Merlin was sort of a comfort to the prince, and he took most chances to actually have proper, friendly conversations with him. Merlin had been doing really well with his job lately, getting things done almost as soon as they were started; doing things without being reminded; and his personal favorite, being quiet. He suspected it was illness at first, which then lead to his teasing because he wasn't talking as much. But it wasn't just that; he was acting like a smitten little boy who's having his first crush. Blushing at the look of anyone like they know something; being fairly clumsy around people, especially the people in the castle. It was hilarious, good fun for Arthur. He didn't even want to know who it was, because that would ruin his frankly adorable boyishness. Not that he found Merlin adorable-god no-just what he was doing, how he was acting with his ridiculous ears and Cheshire grin that seemed almost too big sometimes to be real.  

Eventually he had to sleep. So Merlin helped him get ready for bed and put out his candles with his breath and qlicked the door closed. Usually, Arthur sleeps like a baby, and doesn't need him. Merlin will leave and fall asleep soundly in his bed, usually dreamless, but peaceful. He'd pull an extra pillow up next to him and curl into it, let the cold of night consume him, or the heat of the day if he had time off-which usually never happened, but a warlock can dream. This night something was off. He could feel it. His eyes didn't want to close but he wanted them to. He shoved his face into his pillow to keep them closed, but once they were, it felt like they weren't closed enough; like he needed them closed enough so he couldn't even see the darkness surrounding him. He body wouldn't rest, scratching, moving, twitching. After far too long he was about ready to do a handstand to see if he could fall asleep that way when he got conformation that his feeling was there for a reason. And just when he was hoping to have a peaceful night's sleep...

But this night he was screaming for Merlin, causing him to jump from his bed and rush in. The sight was awful. Arthur was curled into a petheticly-undefensive-ball-of-sorts position, hands clinging to his head like a lifeline as he screamed for Merlin. His screeches were boiled and blood-curdling, and Merlin had to cover his ears. Merlin kneeled down to him and held his arms, trying to pry them form his head. These walls, thought Merlin confused, they're paper thin, why is no one here? He whispered his name as he tried to calm him. He attempted to lift him from behind but fell down with a prince laying atop his lap whimpering his name in a desperate plea. He put his hand on his head, running his thin fingers through the soft, blond hair in a calming gesture that turned into something more that comforted even himself. He pushed himself so his back was against the bed, and he closed his eyes, letting his head rest as he continued to play with his hair. He wasn't sure what possessed him to do such a thing; what made him think he was allowed to do such a thing. His legs began to feel numb so he gently took them from underneath him and pulled Arthur up farther in his lap so that his head rest on the servants' chest. Before he could slide off of his slender body he hugged his stomach, breathing heavily as if he'd just ran around the courtyard. 

He needed to get Gaius, but he was so comfortable and surprisingly happy to stay where he was. To make sure he's alright, of course. He let his eyes drift closed once again and let the low hum of rough wind and thunder lull him to a sort-of-sleep.

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AN: Please feel free to tell me what you think in the comments below, or contribute to my happiness by pressing the vote button up there (somewhere) if you deem this story worthy. I'm going to love this and so are you. I see a great future and I hope you enjoy. Next chapter should be up within the week, my dears. But patience, of course. I love you guys, and I'm getting such wonderful reviews and such and I'm just a big ball of happiness! ^*^ 

Best wishes,

Marie