Everything was chaos. Intricately laced plates and embedded wine glasses crashed to the floor, screams erupting from the towns people who had joined the celebration beforehand. The royal guard rushed about, fighting off the evil sorcerer's ambitious attacks and wrestling about with the army of bandits the sorcerer had under mind control. The king, Arthur Pendragon, seized his sword from his belt, and with a cry, plunged face-first into the battle at hand.
Meanwhile, his manservant, Merlin, saved Arthur's incompetent arse once more. Muttering incantations under his breath whilst his eyes shimmered gold, Merlin forced one of the swords to fly up, inconspicuously, of course, and impale the seemingly powerful sorcerer everyone attempted to fight against. He dropped to his knees with a gasp, blood trickling at the corner of his mouth. Then he lifted his face to look at Arthur, twisting his bloodied and broken teeth into a sneer.
"I can't kill you, Pendragon, but let's see Emrys save you from this!" The sorcerer screamed out an incantation at an alarming volume, his raspy voice weakening with every breath. At the last second, Merlin jumped up and in front of Arthur, spreading his arms out wide as a bright light encased his being. He dropped, his body convulsing and his mouth foaming. Merlin's eyes rolled back into his head as his body shuddered, as his mind throttled and twisted, as his being shaped.
Arthur snapped out of his trance, and though the battle between bandits and his knights still went on, he dropped his sword to his side and kneeled beside Merlin. Picking the light-weighted man into his arms, he dashed to Guise, throwing Merlin onto his bed in his room and watching with horror as the convulsions continued more drastically. Merlin had saved him again, and could possibly die because of it.
"Guise, what's happening!" Arthur yelled out, tears forming in his eyes as he watched Merlin being throttled around.
"It's a transformation spell, sire. It's altering his body, and possibly his mind, which is extremely difficult and painful. He might not make it, but there is nothing I can do." Guise responded gravely.
"Why would they do that? What is he turning into?" Arthur questioned with a quivering voice.
"I don't know sire, but it sure must be an awful way to die, if that's what he is doing." Guise retorted.
Arthur sank into an old, wooden chair beside the bed, grasping onto it for dear life. Guise left the room to find possible antidotes, though he knew not of what he could possibly be treating. But suddenly he heard a scream. It was loud, a terrible screech that pierced the very heart with agony, and though he knew it was Merlin, he thought he could hear Arthur beside him.
Arthur covered his ears, weeping quietly, his whole body trembling. Usually, he would never be permitted to show such weakness, but, seeing that a dying man was the only person accompanying him, it hardly mattered. When the scream stopped, and everything fell into a eerie silence, Arthur opened one eye, and gasped at what he saw.
A boy lay on the bed, looking no older than four. He had the same black, ruffled, curly hair as Merlin, and showed obvious signs of relation. Arthur knew that Merlin had survived the transformation; that he was now a boy. Merlin's small frame shuddered and his clothes pooled around him. If he had been standing, his trousers would have fallen off. But he looked so peaceful, his young face smiling slightly with a boyish imp.