AN: This is a quick ficlet, probably will end up being four or five chapters long. I had this idea this morning after returning from the midnight showing of Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Hope you enjoy!
Timelines: Narnia: a few months after the Dawn Treader returns to Narnia(about half movie-verse/half book-verse) Merlin: A few weeks after The Coming of Arthur part 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, that's the BBC's. And I don't own Chronicles of Narnia either, that belongs to C.S. Lewis and Walden Media and Fox and Disney, and whoever else want's to put their name on the franchise...
It was quite an unremarkable night in Camelot. The summer stars shone brightly overhead, bathing the castle in silver light. No one noticed anything out of the ordinary, not even the young warlock, Merlin.
"Rise and shine!" Merlin said, tossing the curtains wide and allowing golden sunlight to come streaming in. The form on the grand bed groaned and rolled over, turning away from the light.
"Five more minutes," he muttered darkly.
"Oh, c'mon," Merlin said, stalking over to the bed. Arthur really could be a lazy bum sometimes. "Your father wishes to see you in council in an hour."
That seemed to get the prince's attention, he sat straight up, bedsheets sliding off his bare chest. Even this early in the morning, he look rather dashing, even with his golden hair a halo of craziness.
"My father?" he said. Something in Merlin immediately knew something was wrong. Arthur's voice sound a bit weird. The Prince's gaze met the sorcerer's just then, the wild look only increasing Merlin's misgivings. "Who are you?"
That settled it. Something was definitely wrong here.
"Merlin," the warlock said, hoping a quick memory jog would make whatever was happening go away. "You know, the idiot servant."
Arthur looked very confused. "I have no idiot servants," he said.
"Well, that's a change of tune," Merlin smirked. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I feel fine," Arthur snapped, hoping out of bed. "What is this place?"
"Uh…. Your bedchambers." Whatever was going on was certainly starting to get on Merlin's nerves.
Arthur wandered the room aimlessly, gazing at everything as if none of it was his.
"Know what?" Merlin said, taking the prince by the shoulder. "I think I'm going to take you to see Giaus. Just to make sure there's nothing wrong." Merlin was pretty sure something was very wrong; after all, Arthur didn't seem to remember anything.
Merlin lead Arthur towards the door. Looking back, he kinda wished he hadn't, cuz that's when things started to get really weird. As they passed by the mirror, Arthur pulled up short, staring at his reflection.
"Who… is… that?" he said, his mouth agape.
"Er… you," answered Merlin.
"That is not my face," Arthur said. Slowly, he took a step towards the mirror as if entranced.
Suddenly, he whirled to face Merlin, an almost crazed look in his eye. "What do you say my name is?" He demanded. "Who am I?"
"Prince Arthur of Camelot," Merlin answered. "What's going on?"
Arthur reached out and stroked the mirror. "Magic," he said slowly. "It must be magic." Merlin paled considerably. Arthur turned and gazed t the warlock. "I am not this Prince Arthur," he said. "Though, for some reason, I look like him."
"Who are you, then?" Merlin said, his voice a bit shaky.
"Caspian the Tenth," responded the blonde man. "King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands."
"Good morning, your Majesty," Romney the faun said, setting down the breakfast tray down on the desk. "Did you sleep well?"
"Ugh…" said a voice from under the bedcovers, eliciting a smirk from Romney. "Go away, Merlin."
"My lord, I am not Merlin," said the faun. "I don't even know anyone by that name."
The covers were pushed aside quickly, revealing a handsome young man with black hair and sparking brown eyes. Those eyes examined Romney, quickly taking in the bare chest and ruddy cheeks. They widened greatly as they saw the goat's feet and the horns poking out of the curly blonde hair. Moving with the quickness of a well-practiced warrior, the man darted out of bed, facing Romney in a coiled fighting stance.
"What the hell are you?" the King demanded.
"Your Majesty?" Romney said, taking a tentative step forward. Caspian shuffled back a meter or so.
"What is this place?"
"Perhaps you should lie down, Sire," said the faun.
"I'll do no such thing," Caspian growled. It was such an uncharacteristic manner from the young king; it raised Romney from "wary" to "worried." Silently, he hurried over to the door and poked his head out into the corridor.
"Fellclaw," he whispered to the leopard bodyguard. "Please go and summon Dr. Cornelius. Something seems to be wrong with the king."
"Is he well?" Fellclaw asked, gazing up with unblinking eyes.
"In body, but his mind appears to be enchanted."
With that, the great cat took off down the corridor, sprinting away with long, feline strides.
"My… God…" Romney heard Caspian say behind him. The faun turned quickly. Caspian was staring at himself in the mirror, an expression on his face of complete and utter shock. He turned and faced the faun. "What have you done to me?" The king sounded horrified.
"Majesty, you must lie down," Romney said as Caspian's eyes darted wildly around the room. Suddenly, he dashed forward and seized Rhindon from its place above the mantle. Turning on Romney, Caspian brought the great sword to bear. "What witchcraft is this?" he demanded.
"My lord," Romney said, holding his arms out soothingly. "There is nothing to fear from me or anyone else in this castle."
"How do I know that?" Caspian growled.
"Because, sire, you are my King," Romney answered, drawing himself to his full height. "We fought alongside each other in the Battle of Beruna, and I am the most loyal faun you will ever meet. And every other creature in Cair Paravel will say the same."
"King?" Caspian said, raising his eyebrows. "What is my name."
"Lion's Mane," Romney breathed, shocked. Caspian had forgotten his name?
"My name is Lion's Mane?" Caspian said, confused.
"Certainly not, my boy," said a voice behind Romney, which he recognized as Dr. Cornelius. "You are King Caspian of Narnia."
"That is not what my memory tells me," Caspian said, straightening a bit. The appearance of a familiar, human, form seemed to reassure him a bit.
"Who do you think you are, sire?" Cornelius said, taking Caspian's claim in stride.
"Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot."
Please Review!