Wow. Only a day (and less than 400 words), and I've already got nine reviews, seven favourites, and eight alerts. Seriously guys- you people are amazing!

Alright, just to clear up any confusion people may be feeling on the whole Merlin issue, all information can be found in 'Nightmares' and 'Reality.' The highly undramatic version is that, just two weeks after Arthur found out about Merlin's magic, our favourite young Warlock had to reveal it to pretty much the entire city of Camelot. Uther tried to execute him, but good ol' Merly's magic leaped to his defense. Unable to even harm him any more, Uther instead decided to lock Merlin up in the deepest, darkest dungeon in the castle. Morgana doesn't know this, and most people who weren't present that day think that he's dead. The end. Oh, and the magic also gave Arthur an incredibly cool tattoo on his left arm. The end for real this time.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin

Chapter 2

The sound of clanging swords echoed noisily throughout the forest, mingling with various deep-throated war cries as the two sides danced their deadly dance around the clearing. Arthur let out a roar of his own, anger overwhelming him as yet another of his men fell mere metres to his left. He immediately charged over in an attempt to take down the guilty party. But he was barely even half-way there when another of the opposing soldiers leaped into his path, swinging a sword directly towards the Prince's chest. Sword met sword, and the two sprang apart in a flurry of motion, barely even pausing to catch their breaths before they dove forwards once again. It was over before he could register how, instinct then forcing him to spin, sword swinging up to crash into that of yet another opponent.

He dispatched this one almost as fast as the previous, and two more fell swiftly after. Because no-one could match him on the battlefield. He knew this with his body, even if right now his brain couldn't resister the fact.

Another opponent. Stronger. A Knight this time, not a soldier. His mind went blank, fitting back into the pace he had trained himself so hard to achieve. But the enemy was good. And he was struggling, weary from the seemingly never-ending battle.

But then, finally, the man fell.

And Arthur took that moment to breath deeply, readying himself to dive back into the fray. Because by this point there weren't many of the enemy left. Only a little longer. His men needed him.

But that was when he saw it, in the corner of his eye. A broadsword, slicing through the air towards his head. His brain screamed at him- told him that he would never get there in time. That his body couldn't move fast enough. But that didn't stop him from trying.

He almost made it. Almost.

But then the sword was past his guard, and in that single second his mind lost all sense of reason, and all he could think was 'I'm going to die!'

A sharp tingle in his left arm brought him back to reality, and the next thing he knew his attacker was flying through the air, repelled by a shimmering golden shield. It wasn't until the burst of fearful adrenaline dimmed slightly that Arthur remembered. And he could have cursed himself for forgetting- for doubting for even a moment. For giving in to his fear.

Because the Prince didn't only need to depend on his own strength any more. He wouldn't die. Couldn't die. He was protected.

And that thought was all he needed to kick himself back into action. Moments later, he was charging with renewed vigour back in to the battle. 'Only a few more left.'

Later that evening, when the moon sat high in the sky, Arthur offered to take first watch, sitting himself down by the fire. It was often his choice to stand guard first, as not only did it allow the Prince a good opportunity to straighten out his thoughts from the day, but it largely guaranteed him an unbroken sleep for the rest of the night. Arthur was not the most friendly of people when he first woke up. And he knew it.

He stayed almost perfectly still for a while, watching the moon's gradual ascent and listening intently to the various sounds the forest made, letting them wash over him, calming him. Once the other surviving members of the patrol were asleep, Arthur pulled up his left sleeve, his fingers gently tracing along the pattern of the tattoo which could be found underneath. As his touch drifted up to the dragon's head, he found himself (not for the first time) having a one-sided conversation in his head.

'Again, Merlin. You've saved me again.'

It was a bittersweet feeling. Part of Arthur longed for the moments when the tattoo's protective properties would come leaping to his defence. Because every time was a clear reminder of Merlin- a link between the Prince and his best friend. Proof that, no matter what had happened, no matter how far apart they were, the two would always support and protect each other as best they could. But another part of him grew frustrated when he felt that tingle in his arm. Because it had been happening more often lately. It served to show Arthur just how often it was that Merlin had protected him when the two were still together. But it had also made Arthur realize just how many openings he left while on the battlefield- openings his enemy would have no qualms with taking advantage of. It made him feel weak. Unpolished. But, on the bright side, he reasoned (although Merlin would probably disagree), it meant that the Prince had an excuse to spend more time on the training fields. Albeit one which his father would be furious with him for mentioning.

A sigh escaped the young Prince's lips, his thoughts turning to those who had died that day. Sirs Royston and Lucius had both passed, together with nine of the regular soldiers. A cart would have to be sent to collect the bodies once the patrol returned to Camelot. If possible, he would have liked to have made it back by now, but they had been too far away, and the sun too low in the sky, by the time the battle was over.

'It's getting harder Merlin. More dangerous.'

The skirmishes along the borders had been happening for the past couple of months, growing more severe as time passed. It seemed like every time the King sent out yet another patrol to search for the missing Lady Morgana more men died. And it was made all the worse for Arthur because he couldn't even be certain that they were searching for someone who was still an ally of Camelot. The situation meant that the people were growing tense, as though no-one could ever quite shake the unusual feeling that something was wrong- that something was changing, and they couldn't be sure if it was for better or for worse. Tempers had been fraying amongst nobles and commoners alike- the council had been making what Arthur deemed to be irrational decisions, and even the Knights, as unified as they usually were, had been growing increasingly short with each other of late.

'Sometimes it seems like I'm the only sane one any more.'

Other people may beg to differ, but Arthur knew it to be so. While he behaved in roughly the same manner he always had- aside from becoming, he admitted, somewhat more withdrawn since Merlin's imprisonment- most others were becoming more and more unreasonable and irritated as time passed. Even Leon and Mordon- two of his most calm and collected Knights- had been seen in more than one public brawl in the inns. There were fights in the streets every day- often more than one. Arthur had never known Gaius to have to make so many salves for cuts and bruises, and even remedies for some more serious injuries. And this while the old man himself was somewhat tetchy. It was getting downright ridiculous. And the King just didn't seem to care as much as he should. Arthur had never found it easier to spot his father's flaws.

The next couple of hours were filled with morose thoughts, the only bright parts lying in imagining how Merlin would have reacted had he heard what the Prince was thinking. Finally, the moon had moved far enough across the sky for Arthur to wake the next watchman- Sir Kennard- and settle down to sleep himself.

That night, Arthur had a dream.

He was standing on the castle battlements at Camelot, looking down on a silent city. The air felt twisted somehow, as though even nature itself had been forced in to some unspeakably dark purpose. He couldn't help but shiver in nervous anticipation. Down below, the people walked as though in a trance- their faces blank, no sound coming from the mouths of even the smallest infants. He couldn't even hear the expected drumming of footsteps on the cobblestones. They marched in to the square, swarms of people packed in to neat rows, all focusing on a single point. The castle's main balcony.

And then a figure emerged, dressed in royal purple silk, her dress trailing behind her, dark hair styled in to a beautifully elegant design. And a crown on her head.

Morgana.

And behind Morgana stood another woman- one whom even in a dream Arthur was somehow afraid of. Afraid and angry, in equal measure.

The two women walked to the front of the balcony, and as soon as they stopped walking the crowd, as though having received some sort of invisible signal, yelled as one.

"All hail Queen Morgana!"

Dream Arthur froze in shock. Queen Morgana? What was going on? And why were the people- even the Knights- acting as though they were under some sort of enchantment? And where was his father?

His thoughts were interrupted as the scene below froze, silence returning once more. Silence. Until the unmistakable sound of powerful wing beats came from out of nowhere, gradually building up until Arthur could stand it no more. The beats were followed by the appearance of a glittering gold and blue Dragon, words of power swirling and dancing across it's shimmering scales.

The Dragon spoke. And it was Merlin's voice. Merlin's voice, and yet not his. Because this voice sounded ancient- like a power born at the beginning of time, there before the start of all.

"It is coming, Arthur Pendragon. The time is near." Blazing gold eyes fixed on the Prince, filling him with insurmountable awe. "You must prepare. A crucial turning point is coming your way. You must find it in you to spot the true danger and find a solution, or all is lost. Your destiny will crumble."

Arthur gulped, afraid to speak but knowing that he had to nonetheless. "How will I know?"

"You have already begun to know, Arthur Pendragon. Now, you must wait for the right moment. And remember, you alone can do nothing. You are but one side of the coin."

And with that, the dragon was gone.

Blue eyes flew open, the Prince's breath heaving. It was several moments before he realized that the other patrol members were stirring around him, woken by the sunlight streaming in to the small clearing. He ignored the vaguely questioning look in Kennard's silver eyes as the Knight glanced his way, instead packing up his bedroll as a way to mask the single question filling his mind.

What was that?

Phew. A lot of back story going on there. There's still a bit of catching up to do, but the juicy stuff should start in a few chapters time.

Anyway, what did you think? How was the fight scene? I was kind of worried about it, especially as I've never even been in a fist fight before, let alone a full-on battle. Did I do the general atmosphere justice? Please let me know (and not just about the fight- feedback on the rest of the chapter would be greatly appreciated).