N/A: Hi guys! Thank you so much for the feedback and favs I have recieved from the first chapter, it makes me so glad to see you liked it! Thanks to fire.ash.rebirth and kittysintheslamer for their reviews, no matter how small they make me really happy! I hope you all enjoy this small chapter as much as I did and remember to let me know anything you think I can improve! 'Till next time, enjoy!
-BKS.

Merlin could hear only screams around him in the grand castle of Camelot.

Deafening, terrifying screams that made his body shake from pressure and fear.

"Father!" yelled Arthur, who grit his teeth to keep himself from exploding at the white-haired man before him, who held absolute power over the castle and the kingdom. "He is but a child. Ealdor is not far away. One out of your many men will not be missed for a one day trip!"

The Ealdor boy felt his body shaking, his knees about to give up and land him on the bitterly cold floor. He began to fidget, his eyes growing unfocused as his mind began to travel through memories of happier, calmer moments.

"Arthur! Do you fail to understand? I will not risk my men's lives for a boy."

The last word was pronounced with more hatred than necessary.

"If his mother is so concerned, she will fetch him tomorrow morning. Moreover, the sky is already black. Do you believe that I would send this boy and a knight off to Ealdor this late? Ridiculous!"

With that, the king opened his arms as if questioning the room.

Arthur's fists tightened and his jaw clenched harder as he fought back angry tears.

"I am begging you, Father-"

Young Arthur was suddenly interrupted by the voice of an old man who appeared out of the darkness which Merlin's gaze had been set on, bringing him back to reality.

"He must think I was staring at him… how embarrassing," he thought.

The raggedy, old man neared himself to the king and grabbed his shoulder as if he was any other human being; as if they were lifelong friends. His long, white hair gleamed in the moonlight as it came through the picture window, and his flowing clothing with its dashes of color resembled elegant pajamas.

"Sire," voiced the man, "The young prince is right. One of your men escorting this child back home will not be needed for a day. If he goes at dawn, he will return by nightfall-"

The old man was interrupted by the king pinching his own nose with his gloved hand.

"My decision is not to be questioned, Gaius. Leon."

One of the knights, a redhead, took a step forward.

"Take this boy outside the castle. I do not want him anywhere near here."

Arthur clenched his fists so hard that Merlin thought that he would rip his leather gloves.

The prince mumbled something under his breath so fast that Merlin couldn't understand it at all, especially not after his frantic brain had finally processed what had just occurred.

'The king did not understand."

Merlin's tears started to run down his face, tracing thin lines in the dirt on his cheeks.

"I will not return home, Mother… Mother, please forgive me… Don't leave me!"

While a couple of guards took the young, lost boy by the arms and dragged him outside the castle, Merlin could hear the young prince yelling back at his father, the king's voice overpowering his with his own shouts.

Everything had become very confusing.

How was it that he had lost sight of his mother? Merlin was trying to remember how he had gotten distracted on the day in which his fate had taken such an unexpected twist.

"His eyes," he mumbled as he followed the guards that were to take him outside. The image of Arthur's eyes was such a clear and neat one that it looked like the work of a famous italian painter.

The market was crowded with people going from one place to another. Two guards with identical uniforms stood beside a young prince, whose eyes glimmered blue as sapphires, and whose blonde, messy hair, sweeping side to side with the wind, shined like the sun itself.

Merlin then understood the possible desperation of the prince to take him safely back home; a feeling that perhaps came about from trying to amend what he thought had been his mistake.

But what mistake other than for Arthur to have the most wonderfully blue eyes that Merlin had ever seen?

It was Merlin's fault to lose himself in those eyes, his and no one else's to bear.

The guards took him all the way to the gigantic iron doors outside the citadel.

Merlin looked back as the doors rumbled and screeched closed.

He stood there, alone, with tears in his eyes.

The cold wind brushed against the nape of his neck, and it stirred through the leaves to softly sing him a lullaby. He huddled into his brown leather jacket, staring off into the dark night.

The moon illuminated a path he couldn't see the end of.

As preposterous as it may have sounded, Merlin couldn't help but mentally cry out for the Prince of Camelot to rescue him from the threatening night.

Him, the poor peasant of Ealdor that got lost in his blue eyes and golden hair.