Within Dreams

Okay, so I know many people will be mad... Why am I not posting for my Criminal Minds/ FMA fic? WHY DAMMIT? To these people I say sorry... I don't really know why... writers block mostly. Annoyance with FMA: Brotherhood. I love everything... except for Al's voice and Ed's hair. Such shallow reasons to be annoyed, but blah! I get to be shallow about some things! Anyway, sorry! I will do my best to work past this block... I know it's been months though, so you've probably all given up hope.

Aside from that dreadful note, which I am sure does not make you want to read this fanfiction at all... I don't blame you. I love Merlin deeply and when this plot got stuck in my head I had to try. There is a lot written, but not all edited... goodness, I need a BETA. Anyway, ENJOY!

Arthur knew he was sleeping. He even knew he was dreaming, but he somehow knew this wasn't quite a normal dream.

A thick black smoke curled up from the ground, as if it was being secreted from the soil itself. The black smoke coiled around Arthur, at first only swirling harmlessly around his ankles, but then, without any warning, or seemingly without passage of time, the smoke had taken hold of his throat. It appeared the smoke had developed fingers, which now dug mercilessly into the soft pale flesh of Arthur's neck. He tried desperately to struggle free, his fingernails clawing at the smoke, but to no avail. All Arthur's prying fingernails succeeded in doing was drawing blood from his own skin while effortlessly slipping through the black smoke. The action was pointless, but he persisted. How could something without substance be having such an effect on him? How was it so strong? How could he fight it?

It was when Arthur was sure he was on the verge of insanity that the voice spoke. The earthy roar resonated all around him, drawing a wince from the young man's body, "Hello, Arthur."

"Who are you? What do you want?" Arthur's words were smothered without air to fuel his voice, barely audible in the blackness. Even in his own ears he sounded, tiny, ridiculously frightened of an enemy too cowardly to show its face.

The smoke tightened its grip substantially, pressing in on his entire body, while still clinging to his neck, "That is not for you to know, young Pendragon. I am only a messenger of the despair which is to fall upon you and your precious kingdom."

"Despair? What are you talking about? Let me GO!" Arthur bellowed in a strangled voice, his eyes darting around the blackness. It was useless; all he could see was his own skin, illuminated by an unseen light, and the black smoke. He wondered vaguely if the smoke was everything around him. Even if he could escape and run, would he simply run into a wall of black smoke? Like a mouse escaping the claws of the cat, only to scurry into the jaws of a harsh metal trap?

The smoke flowed upward, brushing through his hair with its vaporous, frigid fingers, "Hush, little warrior. You're so very noisy."

Arthur glared at the black around him. How dare it speak to the crown prince like that? Did it realise... He paused. Did it realise what? It knew exactly who he was... and it didn't care. The thought chilled Arthur to the very centre of his being.

The voice cooed at him in an irritatingly patronizing tone, "The despair will come as a result of a single person. Someone who lies very, very close to you, in wait."

"Who?" Arthur demanded his voice regal now even through his fear and lack of oxygen. His anger was undoubtedly fuelled by the very idea of someone close to him betraying everything he stood for, betraying Camelot.

"Emrys," the name was but a hiss as the smoke began to dissipate, but it still sent shivers down Arthur's spine. Emrys.

"Wait!" Arthur grasped at the smoke as it fell away from his neck in wisps, his rough fingers connecting with nothing but a feeling of cold emptiness.

"What can I do to stop this... Emrys?" he shouted, lungs now burning with sweet oxygen.

The voice laughed, a low, dark chuckle; existing only to aggravate the young prince, "You think you can defeat Emrys? He is only the most powerful sorcerer the world has ever seen. Your foolishness is amusing."

"A sorcerer? Then tell me! How can I defeat this sorcerer?" Arthur shouted with all his might. There was a sorcerer close to him?

"You must first find him, little prince," The voice taunted. "Then you must run him through. Do not hesitate, or you will die and Camelot will be lost."

With those words the voice dissipated completely and Arthur shot awake, panting, his body drenched in sweat. First he let his fingers drift to his neck, leaving them stained in blood. That was no dream. He then jumped from his bed, disentangling himself from the sheets that had somehow wrapped around his legs as he dreamed. From the wall he wrenched a magnificent sword. It was one of the best ever made, specifically for him, balanced to perfection. The handle was a mass of jewels and curving, twisted gold. The blade had been folded time after time to strength the steel and produce a weapon so formidable that others looked like mere foils in comparison.

Arthur then pulled a dagger from beneath his pillow taking the point of the dagger to the flat of the blade with slow precision. The bare skin of his back prickled with gooseflesh as he produced the name which had so vividly haunted his dreams. The word came out in a jagged and scratched script, glistening oddly in the metal of his sword. Emrys.

Merlin's sleep was far from restful. In his dreams a sickly black smoke flowed freely, seemingly from the air around him. The smoke drifted closer, surrounding him, striking fear into his heart. All around him he heard the whispered words of the old religion, they were not words he could comprehend, nor were they words he could remember when he woke. They were simply there, and then they were gone, leaving unease in their wake.

When Merlin woke he found it was too early to go to work but too late to go back to sleep. This was a phenomenon he experienced very seldom. Once he was prepared for the day, he took the time to make a meal for Gaius and himself, before scurrying off to "be of service to Arthur". He first visited the wells to fetch water for the kitchens before snagging some of Arthur's favourite breakfast foods and ambling up to the royal bedchambers of the kingdoms one and only royal prat.

He pushed the door open with his hip, and set the tray down on the grand oak table in the main section of Arthur's chambers before preparing everything else for the prat's day. Arthur stirred with a groan upon hearing Merlin drop a large hunk of firewood on the cobblestone floor. Merlin ducked, narrowly avoiding the pillow chucked at his head from under the royal bed sheets. Merlin wondered how Arthur had managed to aim so well without cracking a lid.

"Up a little early, are we Merlin? I don't think you've ever been here on time before." Arthur sneered, ambling out of bed and over to his changing screen.

Merlin knew this was true, but that didn't mean he had to admit it to Arthur. The young warlock glared pointlessly at the screen which hid Arthur from his view.

It was while Arthur changed that Merlin first saw it. It was sitting, oh so harmlessly on Arthur's rumpled, satin bed sheets. He didn't touch it. No. He was convinced it might have burned him if he dared. However, his hand still hovered, shaking over the word engraved in the glinting, dangerous metal blade, Emrys.

That was him. Merlin swallowed hard, his entire body vibrating with disbelief and complete horror.

"A-Arthur." the word came out choked, strangled and inaudible. Merlin's voice lost the strength to go on halfway through the word. He was sure he the black smoke from his dreams was filling his throat, stealing his breath and his voice.

"Like it?" Arthur's voice purred from behind Merlin. There was a certain maliciousness to Arthur's beautifully rugged features, but it wasn't directed at Merlin. There was something threatening about standing before Arthur when he was full of so much determination, and fuelled by so much hate.

"N-nice p-p-penmanship." Merlin sputtered, haphazardly, retreating to the table to set out Arthur's breakfast.

Arthur smirked, "The only person this sword is meant for is Emrys, and anyone else who stands between his heart and my blade."

Merlin swallowed.

"Oh, what is it, Merlin?" Arthur said in that princely condescending voice of his, it so easily communicated his annoyance with his manservant. "You look positively ill!"

TBC...

Well, that's all I'm giving you for now. Please, please, please, review if you'd like this to continue. Thanks for being awesome.