A/N : I wasn't planning on uploading this until I came back from my trip (from the 30th July to the 7th August - I'll be gone throughout then), but seeing as my muse for Without Arms and Armour has flown out of the window, I'm uploading this now to try and tide you all over :)

This was meant to be a oneshot, but when I got to the end of it, I just kept on writing and writing. Now I have almost four chapters worth of the story. I'm labelling it as complete because I'm happy to leave it as is and just write the rest for myself (and my beta, who seems to enjoy reading it as much as I love writing writing it)

If I get fifteen reviews in favour of me continuing this, by the time I've finished writing Without Arms, I'll carry on. Fifteen reviews is a reasonable number, isn't it ?

Beta'd by BeyondTheStorm.

Hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 1

The druid knelt on the floor of the throne room before the King, Uther Pendragon, shaking with fear as the guards held him tightly by the arms so he could not escape.

"This prophesy... Tell me what you know of it," Uther commanded, his voice stern and deep with restrained emotion. His eyes were harsh as they took in the sight of the man sat quivering before him - he hated to be in need of the sorcerer. The magic-user should be chained up in the dungeon awaiting the pyre, not dirtying the floor of Uther's castle.

The druid glanced up and around at those that had gathered, swallowing nervously as he examined the faces of everyone around him. Most looked upon him in fear and anger of what he could do, what they thought he might do, and what they thought he has done to them and others like them. Some were curious as to what he had to say, and one...one boy, barely a man yet, stood shaking just as the druid was, watching from the back in terror of what might happen when Uther heard of the prophecy from the mouth of one that had created it.

News of the prophecy had spread like wild fire through the kingdom. None knew who had started the rumours, as many and varied as they were, but every version held the same grains of truth – the druids knew the whole story, the druids were searching for those that would carry out destiny. The druids were looking for The Once and Future King and the warlock named Emrys.

The druid tore his gaze from the boy and stared down at where his hands were fisted into the teal cloak still fastened at his throat, saddened by what he was about to do because he knew exactly who that boy was. He simply prayed that Uther did not lash out as they all feared he would.

"For centuries, Sire, our prophets and seers have spoken of a time when peace would prevail over all of Albion, a single land united under one ruler." The druid spoke slowly and deliberately, but his voice shook as he looked back up, never letting his eyes fall on Uther. "One King will ally all the realms of Albion and then rule over them in a time of peace and prosperity for all peoples."

"And this is your...Once and Future King, is it?" Uther sneered. Even he could not mask his curiosity, however. One King for all the land of Albion... "What of this Emrys figure, then? Why is he so important so be specifically named?"

"Yes, Sire, it is. But Emrys..." The druid purposely stared at the floor again. "Emrys is vital to the King's survival. It is said that the two sides of the same coin are drawn to each other, drawn to protect and serve each other. One half cannot survive without the other-"

"Stop talking in riddles and explain yourself," the Prince snapped from where he stood at his father's right hand.

The druid bowed his head, understanding that it might be difficult for the Pendragons to understand what he meant. It went unnoticed to all but a few that the druid had not bowed even slightly to Uther. "Sires, you see, the King and Emrys...they are described often as a coin. A coin has two sides, two halves. Their misgivings are the other's strengths, and when they are together, they are truly a sight to behold. It is believed that one side is power, while the other, wisdom. Emrys, even now, protects the King from any and all who oppose him, whether that threat is known to the King or not. And without Emrys, the King would surely fall, failing to claim that which is rightfully his. What is rightfully theirs."

"So this King," Uther leaned forwards on his throne, elbows braced on his knees and his hands clasped beneath his chin, "needs Emrys - a warlock, you say – to be able to claim his seat as the ruler of Albion? And yet if Emrys is so powerful, why does he not simply take the throne for himself?"

Many appeared to agree with Uther's thinking, but the druid smiled and shook his head.

"Emrys is a peaceful man. He serves and loves his King, and although he is the most powerful warlock to have yet existed and the most powerful being that will ever exist, he needs the King as much as the King needs Emrys. Emrys, because of your laws, has been forced to hide himself, and if he is revealed before the King is ready to accept him, then he would not fight against any decision His King makes, even if it was to have him executed. But also, if the King by chance died, then without someone to anchor him, to give his love and loyalty to, Emrys' power would either fade and his enemies would seek to destroy him while he is weak, or the sheer amount of raw power that he holds within himself would drive him insane until It destroyed him."

A sudden choked gasp from somewhere at the side drew some of the attention away from the druid, but the servant started to cough, masking the way he had gasped in fear of the words being spoken. It seemed that fear was all that could be felt, and slowly, as the servant calmed a little, all eyes returned to the druid and Uther Pendragon.

Uther stared down at the man for several long minutes. It was Arthur who finally broke the silence, stepping forwards slightly and feeling the gaze of the prisoner even before he locked eyes with him.

"You said Emrys is protecting the King right now. Do you know who they are?" Arthur asked carefully. He wasn't afraid of the druid – druids were peaceful and the man hadn't used the slightest amount of magic or even attempted to get away. No, he was afraid of whether or not his father would react badly to him suggesting that He, Uther Pendragon, was unworthy of the throne of the Once and Future King.

The druid smiled softly again, nodding gracefully. "We do. We all do."

"Will you tell us?" Arthur asked, before his father had a chance to open his mouth.

As it was, Uther appeared to want to protest, but instead his mouth was set in a grim line and he nodded for the druid to answer, perturbed by the way the sorcerer would not take his eyes from Arthur.

"I will not give you their names. None of us would betray them like that, even to the common people." He carried on again quickly here, seeing the objection growing on the faces of the two men before him. "But I can tell you that the King is not yet a King and Emrys is his loyal protector and advisor, and has been since the moment they met each other."

"So the King is actually a commoner?" Uther scowled, sitting upright in offence.

"No, Sire. He has royal blood. The people would not accept him if he did not have a suitable blood line, despite the fact that even without it, he would be worth the throne a thousand times over. But Sire..." the druid paused, once more nervous and unsure of his words. The court was silent around him and he struggled to find the courage to say what he needed to. "Sire, I can also tell you that the King...he is...not you, Sire."

Uther's eyes widened with shock and anger, for though his words were nervous, the druid had still sounded sure of himself, as if Uther not being the King of prophecy was common knowledge and a proven fact.

"What?" Uther demanded, voice cold and quite with barely withheld malice. Arthur winced ever so slightly, and the servant that the druid had been avoiding looking at slipped over to the nearest side door, ready to leave the room at a moment's notice. "How can you be so sure that I am not He? How can you claim that I am unworthy?"

The druid found himself back in the exact same position as when he had been roughly forced to his knees earlier: being stared down at by an angry king that wanted to do nothing but execute him while he sat shaking and fearing for Emrys and the true King of Albion.

"Sire, we know because Emrys does not love you. Emrys has shown that although he will not rid you of the throne upon which you are sat, he will never love you as he loves His King. You have condemned him, turned His King against his kind and slaughtered his kin, while he must stand aside and do nothing for fear of being found and killed, himself.

"Sire, the only one that shall be known as The Once and Future King of all Albion is the one that holds the warlock's heart."

Word count: 1,521