Hello, you're still here then. That's good :)

I meant to say before that the spells used in this story are Old English words, from an online translator, that seemed to be slightly appropriate. I have made little or no attempt to get structure and grammar correct and it almost certainly isn't, some of my meanings may also be inaccurate - (Modern English is my first language and I can barely use that :D ) - probably best if you don't look into it too much.

Chapter 2

"Arthur, surely even you can't be this big a prat," Merlin protested, not looking where he was going and tripping on a step as he was escorted through the castle. "Just listen to me, I can explain."

Arthur stayed silent and pushed his servant into a room. Merlin couldn't see him roll his eyes as he closed the door behind them.

"Actually, do you know, what I can't explain," Merlin continued. "This is just ridiculous…"

"Merlin," Arthur interrupted.

"...And I know you're a prince and I'm only a servant, but I can't believe you didn't say anything. Just in case you'd forgotten, I spent yesterday morning 'sulking like a girl' – as you so humorously phrased it – whilst you had a rather unsettling amount of fun killing things…"

"Merlin!"

"...And now the king is probably going to have me beheaded or burned, but so long as you're fine with all that."

"Mer-lin!" Arthur said. "Admittedly, I am finding it mildly amusing to see how far you can go with this tirade. Even so, I feel obliged to point out the one minor detail your sharp eyes may have failed to notice: these are not the cells." He watched the agitated young man pause to consider his surroundings. "Though I appreciate with your talent for cleaning, it can sometimes be difficult to tell the difference," he added with a smirk.

Merlin took his all too familiar surroundings: the table and chairs, the cupboard, the four-poster-bed against the wall. Everything was fit for a prince – of course it was, these were Arthur's chambers. In his nerve-wracked state Merlin had been totally oblivious to the fact that he'd been dragged upstairs, to the very room that he spent so much of his time tidying.

"Oh," was all he could muster, slightly embarrassed and thoroughly bewildered. When he got nervous or scared he had a tendency to ramble on – as he'd just demonstrated, with all due ineloquence – but confusion had left him speechless. It began to sink in that he might be about to get a reprieve after all; this had to be good, didn't it? If there was any reasoning behind anything that was happening here, it was totally beyond him.

"You can be such an idiot sometimes, Merlin."

"Well you can be a royal prat sometimes. Would it be too much for you to tell me what's going on?"

Arthur could see his friend was distressed. Obviously he would be. It had been rather cruel to keep up the pretence all the way to his chambers, but an anxious Merlin was fun to watch. He would certainly, had he been given the opportunity, have put his servant clearly in the picture beforehand; but Eadric had turned up unexpectedly. It had been 3 years since he'd last appeared before the king and there was no way Arthur could have known that he would be condemning Merlin of all people. The boy certainly had a uncanny way of getting into this kind of trouble. Still, an explaination was most definitely called for.

"Eadric is notorious," Arthur explained. "He worked for my father many years ago, identifying sorcerers, and was afforded a great deal of respect. Tragically, he returned home one day to find his 8-year old daughter missing and the bloodied body of his wife by the door."

It sounded terrible indeed, yet Merlin had difficulty feeling sympathy for the man, especially given the number of families he must have torn apart as part of his work. Merlin frowned, not sure where this was leading. Arthur went on.

"Somewhat understandably, this broke his mind. His claims became far-fetched and blatantly false, such that they no longer carry any weight in court. Nonetheless, my father is still grateful for the service provided to him in the past and does not wish Eadric any ill-will. Also, as king, my father must appear to take all allegations seriously so as not to give the impression of weakness with regards to magic."

"So this was just an act?"

"Yes."

"I'm not in any trouble?"

"Noo."

"And, you don't think I'm a sorcerer?" Merlin asked.

"You? A sorcerer?" Arthur laughed. He had obviously being too soft on his servant lately, if he'd come to think of him as this big a fool. Two years now, they'd known each other: as master and servant, then – Arthur admitted to himself – as friends. Add to this the fact that Merlin was such an atrocious liar and the suggestion was too absurd for words. Obviously he would have noticed if the boy had been practicing magic. "Despite your highly suspicious appearance, there are certain aspects of your character which tend to preclude that possibility."

"Really? Like – Ow! – what?"

"Well, for instance, I highly doubt a sorcerer would have just walked into the corner of a table."

Honestly, thought Merlin, did Arthur have to make him feel like a complete idiot? Was it really so implausible given how many times he'd almost been found out? He considered how he must appear rubbing his bruised leg – fair enough. At least he was off the hook and that was a huge relief.

"If you were a sorcerer of course, I'd have you taken to the dungeons immediately," Arthur continued to joke, "that is if I didn't need my armour polishing, my dogs exercising, my clothes washing and a hole in the sleeve of my tunic mending."

"Nothing else then?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. When you've finished all that, you can clean out the stables."

Merlin mentally kicked himself.

"But, Gaius has already asked me to collect some herbs, clean the leech tank, plus he says that if I don't clear the filth from under my own bed for a change, it's in danger of producing a new form of life." He complained. He really wished kept his mouth shut now.

"Then for the safety of Camelot it's probably best that you get started as soon as possible, isn't it." replied the prince with forced seriousness.

Resigned to the fact that he would now be occupied well into the night with this ridiculous workload he'd had thrust upon him, Merlin made to leave. Somehow, against all laws of probability, managing to hit his other knee on the same corner of the same table on the way to the door.

Arthur sighed.

"Frankly Merlin, I'd stick to being a servant. Evil doesn't suit you."

Arthur had expected a witty retort. He received nothing as Merlin half walked, half hopped out of the room. He hoped Merlin hadn't taken any offence. He dismissed this concern almost immediately; Merlin would just have to pull himself together and stop acting like a girl. He chuckled to the empty room, thinking of the spectacular display of clumsiness he had just witnessed. He made a mental note that when he was king he would need to introduce corner-less tables. It simply wouldn't do if his manservant was a cripple.

It had taken what seemed like forever to complete his chores. Earlier, Gaius had caught him using magic to clean Arthur's armour and as a result he had been subjected to regular inspections to ensure that he completed his remaining tasks in the conventional manner.

"You never cease to amaze me with your recklessness," he had reprimanded him. "Eadric may be delusional but there are plenty who aren't. Certainly, there is a time and place where magic is an acceptable form of action, but that does not extend to cover menial chores."

That hadn't stopped Merlin from enchanting the dust on top of his cupboard into the shape of a small rabbit, whilst Gaius was checking on a patient. It had proceeded to hop several times around the room before finally leaping up onto his window ledge where wafted away, dissipated by the gentle breeze.

Some time, much toiling later, Merlin was in the stables filling his fourth barrow and yet he'd hardly seemed to have made an impression. The floor was still covered in filth and the light outside was beginning to fade. Merlin wiped his brow then wished he hadn't. Cautiously and fearing the worst he sniffed his fingertips, then grimaced. What were these horses being fed? A dark bay palfrey whinnied as Merlin futilely tried to clean his face.

"It's not funny," Merlin pouted. It really wasn't his day. He groaned and scooped up another forkful of manure... and another... and another. He would be here a while.

Little did Merlin know that a short distance away, someone was watching his progress with keen interest. She was half concealed by the stone wall at the corner of a small storehouse, where she had a clear view of the stables. Brushing a strand of blonde hair from her eyes, she pondered. This was the great and powerful warlock she had 'seen', he was a mere boy, a servant and an awkward one at that. She regarded him again through the twilight haze. True, he was younger, but it was definitely the same man from her visions. The only problem now, was what to do next.

Night had fallen on Camelot and the hustle and bustle of city-life had been replaced by an eerie calmness. A tall, thin man was walking back to the castle muttering to himself. He stopped abruptly. Footsteps? Was he being followed? Quickly, he whipped his head round quickly and thought he glimpsed a figure melt into the shadow behind him. Turning back cautiously, he jumped when he found himself confronted by a pair of cold, hard, staring eyes and a face that oozed malevolence. The way this hefty man leered at him was sufficient to tell that he meant to cause him harm; of course the gleaming dagger directed at his throat also emphasised matters.

"Empty your pockets," the man commanded.

"Ah, I see there's been a misunderstanding. I'm honestly not carrying anything of value, and what's more, I know people at the castle."

"Do as I say."

The thin man suddenly heard a noise. Voices. Voices. Whispers. They were all around him. No, they were inside his head, calling to him, taunting him. Why? And then, he was surrounded. Hooded men – that weren't men, but ghastly, demonic beings with crimson skin and golden eyes.

"Do as I say, now!"

He was deaf to everything but the voices. Louder and louder they became, throbbing inside his skull. He could no longer see his attacker; all he saw were the faces, monstrous faces, swimming in a sea of green flames before his eyes. He fought to rid himself of this apparition. He could hear nothing else. He could see nothing else. It ended when he felt the knife.

From out of the shadows a lone figure emerged: a woman, hooded and cloaked. Now was her chance. As she hurried over to the abandoned man lying bleeding in the dirt, she produced a small leather pouch, which she opened. She knew what had to be done. Kneeling over the body, she tipped the contents of the pouch into her other cupped hand; then she carefully applied the grey powder to victims body.

"Stánes scinnlác, ic i gebene," she chanted. "Bedígle þæt ansíen. Bemúte …

…Merlin."

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