A/N: I'm trying my best here, so bear with me. Just so you know, I welcome all conspiracy theories. Try and guess how this will end. The plot bunnies are worming. And plotting. And angsting.

A/D: The usual disclaimers apply.

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The question that was resonating through the stone hallways was one that remained unspoken but thought of. Everywhere, in every nook and cranny, Camelot's children were whispering, 'Where is Arthur?'

"I WANT him found!!" Uther slammed his fist on the wooden table. "I want every single soldier and manservant and stable hand to scour the kingdom for him. And don't you dare come back until you do." He paced to his throne and sat down huffing. "Well??? What are you all standing there for?? GO!!" His knights placed their fists over their hearts in a salute and left the room in a hurry, leaving their king in peace.

In truth, Uther was more worried than he was angry with his son. Harold, Arthur's manservant had been found in a brook. Drowned. The water was as high as a babe's ankle. His face was bruised and cut and it had been a small miracle that they'd managed to identify him and send his body to his family in the country. There'd been no evidence of foul play, so all the king had had to assume was that this was the work of magic. The word itself gripped him with both anger and fear. Something was happening and stirring at the air and it was something he did not like.

Arthur had gone on 'another hunting trip'. If killing was the thing that kept the Pendragon heir in check, then so be it. Who was he to comment on how his offspring spent his leisure time. But when he'd failed to report to the guards after the third day, and when news of the dead manservant had reached his ears, he began to plan for the worse.

Looking out the window, he saw Morgana embrace her maidservant. He was honestly glad that the girl had found a friend in the servant girl. It had done the troubled daughter of his friend a world of good. Looking up at bright azure sky, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. Uther hoped that Igraine wouldn't blame him too much if anything were to happen.

So, apparently Arthur's gone M.I.A. Want to know what actually transpired?

–Insert evil snicker-

Three Days Ago

"C'mon Harold…" He stopped short of his drawl. It was that feeling of familiarity again. But it vanished as soon as he begun to dwell on it.

The scrawny gangly fellow jogged to keep up with his master. "Coming Sire!" Bags and dead animal carcasses banged around at his side. Arthur rolled his eyes and returned to the track. If he had had it his way, the bumbling excuse of a fool wouldn't even be here. But someone had to carry the booty and the bags. Clenching his jaw when his manservant broke a branch, he looked around for signs of the fleeing deer.

Ever since the discovery of the parchments, he couldn't help but to feel a small tiny part of him come back together. It was as if those things under the floorboard had somehow lightened him in some small way that was still beyond his comprehension. There were still times where he's find himself hugging himself and had to pass it off as if he were just crossing his arms. And failed miserably at doing so.

"Try to be a little discreet Harold." He drawled impatiently.

Panting and exclaiming from the effort of catching up, the poor sod said, "I'm trying sire!" He moaned. "But it feels like something was at me feet, Sire."

Brushing it aside as excuses, Arthur entertained the thought of putting the other man at the stocks when the hunt was over. It was then when he noticed the lack of lighting where they were. A tiny bit of shiver crept up his spine. They were a little too deep for his liking. After a fruitless hour of stalking, the Pendragon heir decided to throw the towel in and head back for his horse.

"SIRE!!!"

Harold's cry made him unsheathe his sword automatically and turned around. The gangly limbed man was sprawled on the forest floor, obviously terrified of….

A woman?

He lowered his sword. Just a little. The lady smirked and remarked, "Now I wouldn't do that if I were you. Appearances can be deceiving. Especially," She gestured. "With a lady like me."

At first Arthur thought that she might be one of those guardians of the forest he'd been warned about as a child when his nannies had came and went with a myriad length of succession. Once, when he was nothing but just a boy, one of the ladies had warned him about venturing in too far into the woods that surrounded Camelot. There were guardians, she'd said, that guarded those forests and kept its inhabitants from harm. Never ever venture into those parts, she'd added as she kissed his tiny golden head. It was strange why this tale would come up at a time like this.

If anything was to go by, the lady certainly didn't look the part of a forest guardian that he'd conjured up in his mind. In fact she looked practically exotic. Her long jet black hair cascaded to her full waist, while her attire left naught for the imagination. Iridescent orbs shown bright through the darkness of the trees and from where he was standing, he could see that her lips were cherry red and smiling at him. She'd been so pale, she looked like she was glowing. Arthur thought that she couldn't have been real. Who is this woman?

She answered the question the minute he finished it in his head. "What does your heart tell you Arthur Pendragon?" This made him blink. "It's an irony don't you think?"

Swishing her long golden embroidered red cloak aside, she walked past Harold and towards Arthur. To an observer, she seemed to be gliding on the grass. "How do you know my name?" He asked still not wavering with his sword. She eyed the blade and back at him.

"Put that down before you hurt someone." She said it so nonchalantly that it was almost as if she was asking about the weather. "Who doesn't know your name? You're practically superstars."

"Who is he? I'm sorry if I'm impetuous, but you aren't exactly an open book."

With a raised eyebrow, she smiled. "He. Why of course, I meant your one true love. The other side of the coin?" When there was no reaction, her smile turned into a line. "Merlin."

And something in him stirred.

Endless stretches on milken white skin sprawled out in front of him. Face flushed and panting, the person underneath him was moaning and yet crying at the same time. It wasn't because of pain, if it were, he'd never forgive himself. Arthur never thought that a person could feel so many varying emotions at the same time. Softly, he trailed butterfly kiss all along the length from the navel to his full lusciously red lips. He was beautiful. He always was. And to top it all off, he was his. The thought made his heart beat even more frantically. Arthur knew he could never contain how he feels about him.

"Merlin." The name rolled off his tongue and it felt right.

The woman raised an eyebrow. "My, this is more worrisome than a cat finding itself in the dog house." She pushed down his lax sword arm. "Tell me. Do you remember him? DO you remember Merlin?"

A/N: Bear with me. The tragedy is on its way.