Heya! How are you doing? Got this plot bunny since… I don't know… forever and I was feeling unproductive and kind of down, so I decided to post this. New story idea! Yay! Any grammatical errors and random plotlines are mine. Oh, and thank you for clicking on this story. Rated T because of paranoia. This is like the shortest chapter in history because it keeps my motivation strong... and because I haven't really thought of a full storyline.

Disclaimer: I don't have a good memory, but I am pretty sure I am not affiliated with BBC Merlin in any way. If I do, I would have remembered that.

Arthur Pendragon knows that he has been hit in the head too many times to count as healthy. The fact that he has not gone insane is a miracle itself. So, it isn't such a surprise when sometimes, just occasionally, he hears a distant whining ringing in one or both of his ears. He hates the whine; however, it is a small price to pay for his life. Gaius says it's normal to hear it. Head injuries are tricky to heal. But when the ringing sound turns into a woman's whisper in the middle of his slumber, well, either magic decides to mess with his head or the stress of being Camelot's temporary king is driving him to insanity.

"Arthur."

He immediately springs up. Full alert. He grabs the nearest sword, aiming it at nowhere in particular. Who said that?

"Arthur."

"Who's there?" His voice scratches from drowsiness.

"Come out. I want to meet you."

Arthur bites down his lip. No, he'd rather not, thank you very much. A rendezvous with a sorceress should prove to be deadly.

"Please? I really want to see you."

Her voice starts to leave echoes. She resorts to pleading, but Arthur does not flinch. "Who are you? Show yourself, you coward!"

"Arthur, come out. NOW!"

Suddenly a sharp intense pain shoots into his head and ricochets down his body. Like lightning. Like fire. It spreads outwards. Hollow and drilling. Arthur clutches his head with both hands, groaning, as the pain drives him on to his knees. His sword drops to the floor with a clang.

"Oh Arthur, I'm sorry. Does it hurt? I'm sorry. My temper hasn't always been the best."

Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP! The pain burns, but it resides a little. Who is this sorceress? Her voice is unfamiliar.

"Don't worry. I'm here. I am not going to leave you."

No, please do. Please leave me. Never set foot in Camelot ever again. Before Arthur can voice out his objections, his bedroom door slams open and a dozen knights and guards barge in. They aim their weapons at him. His father, alive and apparently sane enough to be out of bed, pushes his way through to the front. Uther is wearing his usual clothes, unlike the ones he frequently dressed while living as a broken-hearted father. The pain stops Arthur's attempts of calling out to his father. Lower your weapons, Arthur orders silently. No one does.

Uther seethes through his teeth, his glaring gaze hardening like stone. No mercy. "Seize him!" Three guards rush forward, and they grab him by the forearms.

"We must support each other. We are the same."

Arthur manages to mutter a "What?" loud enough for Uther to hear because the next thing Uther says confuses and terrifies him to no end. "You are under arrest for attempted assassination of the king, the highest order of treason. And for impersonating the late Arthur Pendragon, my supposedly long-lost son."

Then Arthur hears the woman's whisper, sending a chill that slices the white-hot pain. He'll take the whining ringing any day after this.

"You and I," she says, "We are the Forgotten."

Huh, I wonder if I should continue this. Thoughts? Feedback, please?