Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters though I'd willingly bid for them if they were to come on sale. :D

Okay, this idea sprouted from a thing I really wanted to do with Merlin for ages but, me being me, made what could've been a one-shot into a multi-chap fic. I really shouldnt be starting any new fics what with all the work I have but....I couldnt help it! Anyway, you will read the bit that is the stem of all this in one of the future chapters. Not this one.

I hope you enjoy.

It is often believed that Merlin created the circle of stones that stands tall and proud in the south of this great country. The legend has it that Aurelius Ambrosius, brother of Uther Pendragon, ordered Merlin, the wizard, to erect a magnificent burial place for him to lie at his death. It would be in the heart of England; a grave for all the Kings to be put to rest. But what if that wasn't why the impossible ring of stones was created…

Underwater there was no sound, just silence and tranquillity. It was a bubble of peace in which to rest and relax. Nothing could penetrate the quiet of the dark, gloomy abyss. As he hung there, not moving, deeply submerged by the heavy water, he had time to think, to observe. His eyes picked out tendrils of plants waving like hundreds of arms and huge jagged crops of rocks teeming with all sorts of life. These creatures were so strangely exotic, alien almost, in an alien world. Entranced by their movement and understated elegance, he ignored the need for air that was slowly creeping through his lungs. There was no time for breath when he could watch this mysterious and enrapturing place. He didn't want to leave.

Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, cold and unwelcome, it yanked at him roughly. He shrugged it off. Still, the hand persisted, scrabbling desperately at the slippery skin. When it found no grip, the hand was joined by another and they snaked further down his body and wrapped themselves firmly round his back, joining on his chest. Then, with some shock, he found himself being hauled painfully upwards towards the light.


They burst through the surface. Arthur kept his arms circled strongly around his manservant's skinny body. He had to fight hard to stop Merlin slipping through his grasp entirely. Panting heavily, he was worried by the fact he could feel little movement from the cool, wet boy clutched to his chest. Was he even breathing? There was no time to think about that now; he needed to get both of them to the shore. With immense effort, Arthur kicked himself and Merlin onto the bank of the lake.

Once up on dry land, the prince felt he had time to check his manservant properly. Arthur laid the unmoving form of his friend out on the pebbly ground - in hindsight, it would probably have been more comfortable for Merlin to be lain on a softer surface - there was no time though. The boy looked completely pale, like an even snowier version of his previous self. His lips looked horribly blue and his raven hair was slicked back from his forehead onto the crown of his skull making him look gaunt and skeletal.

"Merlin! Wake up!" Arthur knelt beside his manservant and shook him vigorously. There seemed to be no response. What did he do now?

It was ridiculous, Arthur thought as he stared at his unconscious friend with distress. Only a few moments ago the two of them had been splashing around in the lake like two young boys – flicking water and dunking each other. They had come down through the woods to have a refreshing bathe considering the weather was so hot and unrelenting. Arthur had dived in first – with all his clothes on because he couldn't be bothered to unchange - and then Merlin had followed a little more cautiously. However, he'd soon been having fun. Arthur had looked away for a second and when he turned back his friend was no where to be seen.

An icy fist had gripped the prince's heart at that moment and twisted painfully. Looking out at the empty lake, he had felt the fear building inside him. To start with he'd told himself it was fine and that Merlin would pop up in a moment. When he hadn't, Arthur had plunged beneath the surface in search of his manservant. After much frantic hunting he'd found Merlin sort of suspended in the middle of the lake, not moving, just staring blank eyed at the ground. It had been a terrifying sight and the young man had struggled to grab his friend and pull him to safety.

"Merlin! Please, just wake up! Look at me Merlin!" Arthur leant over the dark-haired boy, his eyes creased with worry.

"And why would I want to look at you?" came the croaky reply. The prince's head snapped up and he stared in relief at Merlin who had the cheek to raise an eyebrow at him. He looked at little worse for wear but at least he was alive – he had his sense of humour after all.

"Merlin, you idiot, you scared me half to death."

"I scared you? Aw, Arthur, were you really worried about me?" Merlin looked questioningly at him. There was an amused tinge to his voice.

"No! Yes – no…why should I be worried about you? I was worried about having to get a new manservant because my old one was stupid enough not to realise he needed to breathe. No matter how much you act like one, Merlin, you are not a fish." Arthur felt his answer had sufficed and that Merlin wouldn't read too much into it. Maybe if he kept the attention on his friend then the boy wouldn't realise how much he had meant by that statement. "Why the hell did you stay under for so long anyway? I thought you could swim?"

"I can," the warlock replied, indignantly. Despite his reaction to Arthur's words he wasn't really sure why he had stayed underwater for so long that he'd almost drowned. As he tried to think back he didn't seem to be able to recall anything. He felt as if that part of his memory was shrouded in some kind of obscuring mist. "I don't really know," Merlin admitted, looking his master in the eye.

"You are an odd one, Merlin, you know that?"

"I think you've told me before."

"Well, let's get back to the castle and get dry."

As the two young men gathered their things and made their way through the forest and back up to the Castle of Camelot they were not aware that they were being watched. Thirty pairs of eyes of eyes stared after them – glinting red in the darkness of the undergrowth. Their game had been ruined but no matter, they had plenty of other people with which to play The Game with…


King Uther sat stiffly in his hard backed wooden chair surveying the crowd of people filling his hall, all clamouring to him for attention. There were varying looks of desperation and pleading on their faces but the essential emotion was still the same - fear. Some were old, some young and they all wanted his attention. As the sound was reaching its climax and an elderly woman began screeching like a banshee, Uther decided that it was time for him to address his people. He levered himself slowly to his feet.

"My people," he began and silence fell over the rabble, he nodded his approval, "I may be your King but even I cannot answer all your questions and help you all if you behave like rowdy animals. Order must be maintained in the Court of Camelot even in such uncertain times. Now, will someone – a spokesman for you all – tell me what exactly is going on?"

For a few seconds there was no movement, just a lot of murmuring between people as they debated who would speak, until they finally decided on an old man with silvery grey hair and a whiskery chin. He pushed himself through the mob and right in front of the King's line of vision. Uther encouraged him to speak.

"My lord, it is rumoured some dark force has come to Camelot," he said in a delicate, ethereal voice. Uther raised an eyebrow. He couldn't believe they had yet another monster plaguing the townspeople. Did they just attract trouble?

"What is it this time? A flying horse that breathes fire?" Uther asked sarcastically. His patience wore thin when it came to magic. If this was what had riled the villagers then he was sorely disappointed.

"No, your majesty," the man shook his head empathetically; "This is something much worse. They are beings of unearthly nature - they do not take physical forms - they are Shadows."

"If they are shadows, then what harm can they cause?" Uther frowned.

"Not shadows but Shadows, sire, mythical beings. They terrorise us!" What was the difference, the King thought.

"How?!"

"They control our minds; manipulate our thoughts and feelings. They are murderers, my lord, it is their game to kill as many living creatures as possible – animals and humans alike. They play their mind games and lead unsuspecting townsfolk to their death. Twenty people have died already at their hand!"

"Can you see them?"

"Not often."

"Then how can you be sure they have caused these deaths?" Uther was eternally sceptical.

"We just are, sire," the old man was so certain of his word that the King of Camelot found he had to believe him.

"All right, I will order my son and his knights to rid the kingdom of these demons. Then maybe we will have some peace."

"Thank you, my lord," the man smiled toothily and bowed his head in respect. The rest of the room did the same and then left quietly.


Arthur had just changed out of his sopping wet clothes, his teeth chattering with the cold, and into a thick warm tunic and trousers when a messenger rapped on the door. He permitted the man to enter and he delivered the order from the King that Arthur must attend his chambers immediately. With a sigh of annoyance, the young blond man followed the servant from the room.

On his way to the Great Hall he bumped into Merlin who was still drenched from head to foot with lake water and stank to high heaven. He frowned in surprise and asked his friend why had was not changed yet. Sheepishly, the young man informed him that Gaius had left for the day to visit a sick relative in one of the outer villages and had locked his chambers. Merlin had forgotten to take his key.

"You really are a prune, Merlin," Arthur shook his head as he watched his servant shivering uncontrollably in the corridor. "Go back to my chambers and grab something from my wardrobe. Don't take anything too fancy, mind, or my father may notice. Then come to the Great Hall, I have to have a meeting with the King so you can come too."

"T-thanks, s-sire," the warlock stuttered his gratitude and then fled down the passage in the direction Arthur had just come from. The prince himself continued on his way.


"…and these Shadows, Arthur, they seem to be lethal so you must be extra vigilant. I don't want a repeat of that Questing Beast incident again." King Uther finished his speech and then stared at his son expectantly; waiting for him to pass comment or make a judgement on anything that had been said. Unfortunately, he was not going to receive one because Arthur had hardly been listening.

Ever since the doors to the hall had creaked open ever so quietly and a tall, slim figure had slipped through, Arthur had neglected to hear his father's words. His attention was too focussed on what Merlin was wearing. The manservant must have delved deep into the recesses of Arthur's wardrobe because what he had found was nothing that the prince recognised. If he hadn't known he'd told Merlin to get clothes from his own quarters then he wouldn't have registered they were his.

The usually uniformly scruffy servant was wearing a pair of black trousers that were obviously too big for him width-wise. They were common enough, Arthur supposed, but it was the shirt that had caught his attention. As it was one of his it was very revealing in the chest area. Whereas Merlin usually covered his neck with his scarf or when he forgot his scarf his shirts were pretty high collared anyway, Arthur liked to reveal as much of his chest that was possible. Now he could see the creamy skin of his manservant's breast bone. The colour of the shirt itself complimented Merlin's colouring too – it was pastel and understated so it didn't make him look too washed out and dull. It was a very pale green – celadon in fact – and was slightly bluish too so it brought out the blue of the servant's vibrant eyes.

The boy's hair was all mussed up too, adding to the effect. Raven-black tufts were sticking up all over the crown of his head, no-doubt having dried like that after being soaking wet. He looked very endearing.

Arthur wasn't really sure why he was viewing his servant in such a light. In all honesty he sounded like he was attracted to the clumsy boy but he really wasn't. He could never see Merlin as anything more than a friend but he was still allowed to observe a friend's looks wasn't he? Women often said how handsome he, Arthur, was – heroic and muscular – but Merlin, in his own way, had a sort of masculine beauty about him. That was what he was realising now, no wonder Gwen seemed smitten with him. Somewhere, deep in some corner of his heart, he felt a twinge of envy but passed over it swiftly. He couldn't think about her like that.

"Arthur? Have you been listening?"

"Hmm…..yes, Father!" Arthur managed to snap to attention and draw his eyes from his manservant. "You want me to find these Shadows and kill them, got it."

"Good, you may leave now."


Merlin had been dismissed from his duties that day because Arthur had headed off into the town in search of these Shadows. The warlock had wanted to go with them, to protect them, but the prince had forbid him, telling him it was too dangerous for a servant – especially one with such poor fighting skills – to pursue mythical beasts. Hopefully, one day, Arthur would realise just what fighting skills he had but until that time Merlin had to remain at the castle.

Therefore, the raven haired boy was wandering aimlessly round the castle corridors, contemplating on whether he should go and find Gwen and bother her for a few hours until Gaius came back and opened their chambers. Just as he made the decision that that would pass the time and make him much less bored, he heard it.

Merlin…Merlin? I know you can hear me. You need to listen to me; I have something very important to tell you. Merlin! The kingdom and the young Pendragon's life depend on it.

It was the Dragon. The realisation hit Merlin hard and he growled inwardly. He had promised himself that he would never set foot in that cavern again. That Dragon had almost caused the death of his mother and Gaius, why should he listen to anything he said?

If you do not come, Merlin, the young Pendragon will die. I can promise you that.

However, he reminded himself, that the Dragon had helped him numerous times; it may be because he wanted to escape but he did know a lot of things. His knowledge had proved invaluable to Merlin.

Merlin! It is about the Shadow creatures! I must warn you! Come now!

Despite his earlier resolve and the personal promise he'd made to himself, Merlin couldn't help feel drawn to the Dragon's lair. If he knew something that Merlin and Arthur didn't about these Shadows then they could all be in mortal peril. Taking a deep breath, the young warlock made his way down the stone steps into the cold belly of the Castle.


"Ah, young warlock, you came." For the first time ever the Dragon was actually already sitting on his rocky perch when the boy arrived. He offered Merlin a smile; it was not returned.

"Tell me about the Shadow creatures and this time no riddles. Got that?" The boy was surprised by the authority in his voice.

"Hostility will not help matters, warlock. However, I will, as you asked so nicely, riddle my words less."

"Go on then," Merlin persisted, impatiently. Why was the Dragon taking so long if it really was so important surely he would have spat it out already? Arthur was already in pursuit of the Shadows and if he could not defeat them time was running out – fast.

"The Shadows were forged from Dark Magic. This was not the work of Nimueh before you ask. You did kill her – she cannot return. I cannot tell you who cast the Dark Magic – your destiny will provide you with an answer to that. They have been released to cause havoc in your kingdom; in fact, the entirety of Britain is under threat. That is why it is so important you destroy them."

"Uther has sent Arthur out to destroy them," Merlin interjected.

"I know, that is where the danger lies, without you he is helpless."

"What?! Then I must go!" The warlock turned towards the exit, ready to sprint up the flight of stairs and head straight into town in search of Arthur.

"Not so hasty, young warlock," the Dragon had the cheek to laugh heartily. Merlin glowered at him, "The Shadows will not strike him yet. They tend to go for weaker targets first. I am sure he will have a stronger mind than most. Having said that…they went for you didn't they?"

"Huh?"

"You almost drowned."

"Yes?"

"That was the Shadows, they tricked your mind. If Arthur hadn't come into save you…well…" the Dragon didn't finish his sentence.

"Well, they wouldn't have known I was anything other than a servant, would they? I would appear to be just as weak as the rest of them," Merlin suggested.

"Ah, correct."

"So what do I need to do to defeat them?"

"Your magic can't defeat them."

"What? But you just said..."

"Not on its own. It will have a part to play in the fight but it cannot do it single handed. To defeat such Dark Magic you need to use very strong old magic. This magic will be found in Ireland at the Giant's Ring."

"The Giant's Ring? What? What do you mean?" Merlin asked, confusedly.

"That's all I can tell you."

"You said you would tell me no riddles."

"And I have not! Young warlock, I have even given you the destination of your quest, what more can you want?" As the Dragon boomed this, he bunched up the huge muscles in his legs and launched into the air before vanishing into the great chasm above.

Merlin was left feeling severely perplexed and more than a little annoyed. It was then he remembered what the Dragon had said about Arthur being completely helpless and he set off – at a run…

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