"Are you looking for me, Arthur Pendragon? It is I, Anhora, keeper of the unicorns."

Arthur swallowed and adjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword. "What do you want?" He gestured to the nearest window with his other hand. "Did you do this?"

Anhora stepped out of the shadows, revealing little but a dirty white cloak and a branched staff, which he kept clenched in one fist. He slowly continued speaking as if Arthur's questions had never been asked. "I am here to deliver a message."

"For who?!" Arthur demanded angrily.

Anhora turned his implacable grey stare on him. "For you, Arthur Pendragon. After all, you killed the unicorn, and you alone are responsible for this curse that has fallen over Camelot."

"Camelot?" Arthur's brow furrowed, a strange expression flickering across his features. "Camelot fell, old man. Nearly seventy years ago. And I didn't want this to happen!"

"Camelot rises again, Arthur Pendragon. But there are many with the power to stop it. I have no desire to do such a thing, but it seems that I have little choice in the manner."

"Then lift the curse!" Arthur growled in frustration.

"I cannot. Only you can end the blight that has been placed on this kingdom. You will be tested. If you fail any of these tests, Camelot will be damned for all eternity."

He raised his staff in farewell, and Leon grabbed Arthur's arm to stop him from rushing Anhora as his form began to disintegrate into thin air. Then he was gone without a trace. The Arthur's face was pale with fury as he sheathed his sword, shaking off Leon's grip in silence.

Gwaine was the first to speak. "What was all that rubbish about a kingdom? I mean seriously, where does the Capitol find these people, a loonybin?"

Elyan shook his head in agreement. "You'd have to pay me a lot of money to go traipsing through an arena during the Hunger Games to taunt some annoyed, very hungry, armed-to-the-teeth tributes while wrapped in a saddle blanket."

"That was no Capitol actor." Arthur raised his head, the same strange light that had been briefly present when Anhora had mentioned Camelot back in his eyes. "The Capitol would never tolerate sorcery in their Games. That disappearance act we just saw? Magic. There's no other explanation. My father told me about people like him. I would bet any amount of money that 'Anhora,' or whatever he called himself, was a druid."

Merlin pulled his sleeve lower on his right arm. "So what are we going to do?"

Arthur smirked. "You can go finish dinner. Lancelot, can you and Elyan go check all the other water spigots in the castle? I'll go with Gwen to see if the lakes are dried up as well if Percival, Gwaine, Morgana, and Leon can each choose a different direction to see just how far this curse-thing has traveled."

Merlin pulled a face and was about to open his mouth to protest when an idea struck him. Wordlessly, he returned to the kitchen as the others departed and made a beeline for the pantry. Catching a rat couldn't be too difficult, could it? After all, he only really needed one.

Arthur and Gwen were the first two back, and Merlin smirked in satisfaction as his soup came to a boil. He carefully spooned out two portions, making sure Gwen's bowl had no meat in it, and painstakingly carried both bowls and the pot up the stairs to the main hall.

Gwen had gone to change clothes, but Arthur hadn't bothered. He slumped wearily in the largest of the chairs at the head of the long table, leaning heavily on one elbow so that one hand covered his eyes.

"Arthur," Merlin prompted gently. "Soup's up."

"I'm not hungry," Arthur lied, waving his free hand lazily in Merlin's general direction. "Someone else can eat it. Tomorrow we need to search the forest for Anhora. Even if he's a sorcerer, there's no way he could escape the arena itself without the Capitol's help… which is impossible becau-"

"Because everyone hates magic," Merlin cut in. "Yes, Arthur, I know. But if you think you're going to go traipsing to heck and gone tomorrow you need to eat something."

Arthur rolled his eyes halfheartedly and sat up in his chair. "Yes, mother," he drawled, lifting up a spoonful of broth from the bowl Merlin had slid in front of him. He frowned as the brown-grey liquid sloshed off the edge of the utensil with a syrupy splash. "This looks like bilge water."

Merlin shrugged, turning away to hide a smile. "My choices were limited."

"I'm really not hungry." The blonde made to push the bowl away, but Merlin held it in place, biting his lip.

"You will be," he reminded him, and Arthur acquiesced with a grudging sigh. If he noticed the goofy grin that broke across Merlin's face as he winced and took a small bite, he didn't acknowledge it, chewing deliberately in the manner of someone trying their hardest not to let the food in their mouth touch their tongue.

He swallowed roughly behind a closed fist. "What kind of meat is this?"

"Pork," Merlin replied promptly, but the other boy shook his head.

"This is not pork. It's much too stringy…" Merlin watched in mounting glee as confusion morphed into realization, then thinly-disguised horror. "This… it's rat, isn't it?"

Merlin nodded, struggling to again muffle his obvious merriment at the dangerous light in Arthur's eyes, but it was too late. The blonde leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. "How could I be so rude? I'm sitting here stuffing my face with this… delicious stew while you've worked so hard to make it and haven't had the chance to eat. You must be starving."

Merlin hastily tried to backpedal his way out of the hall, but Arthur grabbed his arm, forcefully guiding him to the seat he had just vacated and thrusting his spoon into Merlin's limp hand. "Eat."

It was no use protesting. Merlin screwed his eyes shut and opened his mouth reluctantly, grimacing as the thin, slimy soup hit his tongue. The chunk of rat meat that Arthur had been sure to load onto the spoon seemed to stick at the back of his throat as he forced it down along with the bile that had crept up to meet it.

"It's actually not that bad," he managed in a strangled voice, and it was Arthur's turn to grin.

"Good. Because it's all yours." He lifted the pot lid. "Especially since the rest of the soup appears to be vegetarian."

The door to the hall creaked open and Gwen, Elyan, Lancelot, Leon, and Percival trudged in one by one. Merlin leapt up eagerly from the table and began serving the others as Arthur's expression grew darker and darker with the bad news each brought, vengeful smile long gone. He paced restlessly from one end of the hall to the other as everyone but Merlin ate in silence. Soon the clattering of silverware against ceramic bowls ceased, and Arthur's echoing footsteps were all that was left, the lone sound hanging heavily over all of them.

Morgana swept into the room several minutes later, confirming that the blight had spread farther than she could travel within a reasonable span of time. Merlin lifted the pot to serve a final bowl, only to find to his dismay that it was empty save for the dregs.

Morgana sank down into an empty chair. "I hate to ask, but is there anything left to eat?"

Arthur's footsteps faltered as he took in the empty pot and his own dinner, abandoned on the table. His eyes widened in consternation as Merlin offered her a weak smile. "Of course," he murmured. "The last bowl's for you."