*gasp* Guess what? This story might be delivered in two-shots instead of four! *gasp again*
Why? There's a lot of material to cover with Little Miss Dead. These chapters may be longer than what you're used to in this story, which could be good or bad. Don't get used to it, because next comes Gwen and I'm having to bend over backwards to fit her in. Freya's coming along easily, but Gwen's like pulling fingernails. Freya's might be a chapter or two long, and Gwen might be three or four short. GIRLS! COOPERATE!
And so, time went on. Although for a while, time in Camelot could be measured in tragedies rather than days.
Morgana reappeared, briefly, and the Dorocha were unleashed upon the world. The young Round Table had a close call with Merlin and suffered its first loss when brave Lancelot died to banish the spirits and close the door between the worlds. There was an intense period of mourning, cut short by a combined heartache and triumph for all involved.
Uther was killed on his son's birthday, in a successful effort to save his son's life. The people were saddened by the passing of their king, but had been mourning him for the last year. His death was a formality in the eyes of most of Camelot, who had already been thinking of young Arthur as their king. Among the Round Table, the loss was felt deeply, as all members shared in Arthur's grief.
Most of them would be willing to admit, however, that Uther's death and Arthur's consequent ascension also gave them a bit of relief. Percival no longer had to hold his breath when passing Uther's door, for instance, for fear the magic-hating king could somehow smell the sorcery on him.
Then came the stories of dragon's eggs and sneaky thieves and other such wondrous happenings. As far as the non-warlock members of the Round Table knew, the egg had been destroyed when the castle collapsed. Merlin knew better of course, and felt better, too. Somehow hatching the little dragon made him feel better about the whole Uther dying…fiasco.
But several weeks after the hatching of the egg, and a couple of weeks before Arthur's first great test as king, something happened that would rock Merlin's feelings of contentment and promise.
It was a very small something, something that he almost ignored.
He heard a voice. In his head. In his sleep.
"Merlin…oh Merlin…I'm waiting, Merlin…We may have a problem here…"
Merlin snorted in his half-sleep. "Kilgarrah, go away," he moaned, rolling over. "I don't want to talk right now."
Merlin, if you don't get your behind out of bed and down to this lake in the next hour I'm going to…lock you in a tree!
The warlock snorted again. "That doesn't even make sense."
Oh, yes, and I can already picture you answering me, too, never mind that I can't hear you from way over here. Sometimes I think Arthur's right when he calls you an idiot. MERLIN!
And it was only then Merlin realized it was a girl's voice in his head. He jerked awake, sitting up and rubbing his temples. "Grand," he muttered, climbing out of bed and fumbling for his clothes. "Some druid girl in bind, probably."
No, he thought, after a moment. A druid girl would be calling him Emrys. So who on earth was this?
The voice sighed. Merlin. Lake of Avalon. Now, if you don't mind. We have a problem, and I need your help. Come. Hurry.
And this time, it sounded familiar.
Also, anyone have any ideas for an image for this puppy? It's getting hard to sort through fools when I update.