A/N: Thank you to all those who reviewed/followed/favourited the first chapter!

Arthur's breaths were short and fast as his feet pounded against the stone floor. The castle halls were dark, pitch black almost as he blindly stumbled around a corner at the end of a long hallway. Behind him, a strange light almost ghostly in appearance rounded the same corner and made a beeline for the prince. Wide eyes glanced back momentarily before focusing on the path ahead of him once more. He didn't know where he was running, only that he needed to get away from that thing.

The light continued to hunt him down, mocking him, taunting him. 'There is no escape' it seemed to chant manically as he suddenly found himself in front of the armoury. He wasn't sure how he got there, nor did he care. He yanked one of the large doors open, pulling it shut behind him and slamming the lock into place. Arthur slumped down against the door, breathing heavily. He was safe here, he had to be.

Arthur…

No. It wasn't possible. He was across the other side of the castle! Light began to filter through the crack between the bottom of the door and the ground and he fumbled his way across to the other side of the room.

There is no escaping this Arthur, no matter how much you wish otherwise.

"No!" Arthur shouted at the door, his voice wavering. "Leave me alone!"

All at once, the light appeared before him. Arthur backed up against the wall as it hovered dangerously close to his face.

Hello, Arthur Pendragon.

The light began to expand, inching closer and closer—

"What happened?!"

Arthur gasped at the sound of a third voice, opening bleary eyes to find Merlin gawping at the state of his chambers. The manservant's exclamation was met with a blank face from the prince, who quite frankly couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so horribly. For once he was more than willing to be roused, even if it was done by the same idiot who'd skipped his duties the previous day.

"What happened?" Arthur scoffed. "I've had to make do without a servant, that's what's happened."

The warlock busied himself with clearing the mess. "I wasn't gone for that long."

"Without my permission," the blond retorted.

Merlin finally looked up at his prince instead of the floor. "What if I was dying?"

"I wouldn't be complaining!" Arthur exclaimed. "But you're not, so where've you been?"

"I was dying."

"I don't have time for this," the prince deadpanned. He pulled away the covers, throwing his legs over the side of his bed. "The future of the kingdom rests upon my shoulders. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"

"Well…"

"Merlin, I should have you thrown in the dungeons," Arthur warned. "So what have you got to say for yourself?"

The warlock gave him a sheepish grin. "…you've not have your breakfast this morning, have you?"

That did it. Arthur jumped out of bed, looking around wildly for something to throw. "I'll have you for breakfast!" he declared, setting his sights on a small goblet.

"Oh, no wonder this place is such a mess!" Merlin goaded, effortlessly dodging the flying object. In response, a ceramic jug came hurtling his way which he avoided just as easily. "Ah yes, I can see you've got all the makings of a great king!"

A large book in reply to the manservant's mock bow was what finally sent him scurrying out of the room, and Arthur huffed in satisfaction. That is, until he remembered what had him so riled up in the first place. All through the night he'd had the same recurring nightmare. No matter how many times he woke, not even to that piercing scream, the same images returned to haunt him.

And the scream, that certainly hadn't been a part of any nightmare. It was like nothing he'd ever heard before. It wasn't a disturbance in the citadel, and though the thought amused him, it wasn't Merlin being a girl like usual, so what was it? Enquiring with the guards outside his door had proven to be about as useless as always, with both claiming they hadn't heard a thing all night.

Arthur wondered why the events of that night were bothering him so much. It was just a nightmare, after all. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd had one and it likely wouldn't be the last. As for the scream, he was sure there was a logical explanation. There had to be. Arthur collapsed back onto his bed and let a large sigh escape his lips.

It wasn't easy being prince.

Any thoughts about his strange night were immediately forgotten the moment he was summoned to the council chamber. A patrol headed by Sir Leon had spotted a mass army marching under Cenred's banner, and judging by the path they were taking, were bound straight for Camelot.

As Leon continued to rattle off statistics – all of which seemed to spell their doom – Arthur's mind was reeling. It was hardly a coincidence that Cenred had chosen to strike the kingdom now given the weak state it was in, but how he'd known in the first place was what concerned the prince. While his father's dwindling health wasn't exactly a secret amongst those within the court, it was hardly public knowledge, and certainly not something Cenred would know. At least, not without inside help.

As though reading the prince's thoughts, Gaius spoke up. "I fear that news of the king's illness has spread beyond our borders. Cenred sees an opportunity."

"Then we must find a way to appease him," Leon pitched in.

Arthur shook his head, finally turning to face the two men. "What would my father do? He wouldn't bow to our enemies."

"Forgive me, sire. We are outnumbered two to one," the physician reasoned.

"What concessions will he insist on?" Arthur asked. "What territories will he demand?"

Now it was Gaius' turn to shake his head. "We do not have to give him anything, but it could buy us valuable time."

"It shows weakness, Gaius." Arthur pushed himself off the column he was leaning on, slowly walking towards his father's seat at the head of the table. Without a word, he sat down and mustered the most commanding facial expression he could. "There is only one course of action open to us; we must prepare the city for siege."

For the next day and a half, the kingdom was buzzing with action. Guards and knights alike joined forces in order to prepare the castle's defenses, with hundreds of men creating a human chain which snaked from the armoury up to the corridor overlooking the citadel. Sandbags, shields, weapons and anything else deemed suitable were passed up and distributed with the help of passing servants.

By this point his nightmare was long forgotten, and as Arthur wondered through the castle halls, he couldn't help but look on proudly at all the activity despite the circumstances. It seemed almost everyone had stopped their usual daily tasks to lend a helping hand – well, everyone save Merlin. After searching for hours, he'd finally found the idiot gathering enough food for a banquet rather than the impending siege. He'd ended up grabbing his manservant by the collar and dragging him all the way over to Gaius, who assured Arthur he had plenty of work for his ward much to Merlin's dismay.

Before long, the sun had begun to set on Camelot. Word from Leon confirmed Cenred's forces would arrive within the hour, and Arthur soon found himself sitting by his father's bedside. Although Gaius had assured the prince that Uther was no longer enchanted, the king continued to remain in an unconscious-like state which did nothing to lift his spirits.

However long he had been sitting there, it didn't feel long enough as a voice pierced the silence.

"Sire?" Merlin whispered. "It's time."

With one last promise to his father to defend the kingdom with his life, the prince left to join the rest of his men.

Arthur entered the armoury slowly, the chatter amongst his knights dying down as soon as they noticed his presence. As he made his way through the sea of red and grey, he stopped to clasp Leon's arm firmly. His second in command returned the gesture and gave him a confident nod in return. With that, the prince made his way to the other end of the room and turned to face his knights.

He raised his sword high into the air. "For the love of Camelot!"

"For the love of Camelot!" the knights returned with equal vigour.

On Arthur's queue, they filed out into the citadel and began their march towards the edge of the lower town. It wasn't long before they reached the wooden barricades which separated them from the gates to the outlying villages, and the knights took their positions along the cobblestone footpath.

It seemed to happen all at once; a sudden cry from the enemy, a stampede of footsteps and the opening of the gates. Hordes of men clad in black rushed forward and Arthur held his sword high in the air.

"On me!" he shouted.

Time seemed to stand still the moment before the two armies made contact – then all hell broke loose. Sword clashed against sword, armour against armour. The sound of pained cries filled the air as the first men began to fall.

The battle of Camelot had begun.

Morgana slipped out of her chambers and into the hallway, having managed to avert Gaius just a few moments prior. She inwardly cursed the old man for the delay, but had to admit it hadn't been an entire loss. In following her he'd all but admitted he was aware of her treachery, though now wasn't the time to worry about it. She'd have to deal with him later.

As she began to descend a flight of stairs, half a dozen knights passed her by. She turned away from them slightly, keeping the Rowan Staff firmly pressed against her side until she was sure they were out of sight.

Although the crypt was buried deep beneath the castle, she knew the lower chambers well, and it wasn't long before she'd reached the large stone archway which separated the resting place of the dead from the rest of the hallway.

The room was dark and dank, Morgana seemingly not fazed by the tattered curtains and large cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. Disposing of her cloak by the entranceway, she moved slowly towards the center of the room. A malicious grin spread across her face as she glanced around at the various tombs – the time to turn the battle against the Knights of Camelot had come.

Up on the battlements, Arthur fought with relative ease. A combination of superior defenses and enemy stupidity saw thousands of Cenred's soldiers storming up ladders and hurtling themselves at the knights. Each duel hardly lasted longer than a few seconds before the enemy went tumbling to the ground, only for each man to be replaced by another. As his next opponent reached the top of the ladder, Arthur raised his sword in readiness to strike.

He wasn't prepared for the invisible force that sent him hurtling backwards into a wall.

Apologies for the lack of magic-related stuff in this chapter, I promise things will begin to build up from here! As always, reviews are life. :-)