Well, first off, I reckon I should probably say thanks to you guys for the amazing response to the last chapter. I'm glad no-one pointed out the notorious lack of dialogue. He he. And you have no idea just how relieved I was that everyone seemed to like the fight scene, so here goes: ARIGATOU! (See, I'm so excited you've got me going Japanese)

And here's for the next chapter XD

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin

Chapter 3

It was midday by the time the party arrived back at Camelot. They rode quietly through the streets, each trying to ignore the unsettling stares the people sent their way. To Arthur the looks felt almost accusing- as though the people were blaming the entirety of their unrest on him because no-one had managed to find Morgana yet. Even Amyas- who had taken up work at the Rising Sun after four long months of rehabilitation, and was usually fairly good natured (if, understandably, quiet)- was practically glaring at the Prince. Another pang of emotion sprung up in Arthur's heart- the mere sight of the older man bringing back everything that had happened six months ago. It was through the information which this man had provided Merlin with, after Amyas' village had been destroyed, that the young Warlock had been able to alert the city to the entirety of the threat the army of sorcerers had posed. It was this man's description of those talismans which had given Merlin and Gaius the means to discover the only way to defeat the enemy. The things this man had told them were what had led to Merlin unveiling himself on the battlefield. To the attempted execution. To Merlin's imprisonment. It was, at times, almost enough for Arthur to start wishing that Amyas had died back then. Or that he had never remembered anything of the attack. But no. If that information hadn't been given- if Merlin had never sacrificed himself- then half the city would have been dead by now. Merlin wouldn't have done it any differently, so who was Arthur to complain?

They entered the castle courtyard, where everyone automatically handed over the horses to the various stablehands who came running up to greet them.

Arthur turned to face his men, taking in their tired, haunted expressions and the slouch of most of the men's shoulders. Not one of them looked like they could handle standing in front of a temperamental King right now.

"Alright everyone, you can go home. You deserve a break. Just make sure to return to your usual duties tomorrow. That is all."

The men gave a badly hidden collective sigh of relief and walked off, leaving Arthur to go and face his father alone. He strode purposefully up the steps, secretly inspecting every person he passed in the corridors. For some reason he just couldn't seem to shake off the dream from the previous night. The Dragon had said that there was danger coming to Camelot. Coupled with the feeling Arthur had had each time he walked through the city recently- that he was being watched (and not just in an 'oh look, it's the Crown Prince' sort of way)- he couldn't help but wonder if this meant that there was an enemy already inside the city. It wasn't impossible to imagine. After all, Merlin had hidden his magic for over two years, and he was quite possibly the worst liar in the country. All it took to deceive people, Arthur had found, was simply a knack for avoiding the right questions.

But if the enemy was in Camelot, then who was it? And how could he find them? Would he able to, and before it was too late?

He squared his shoulders as he neared the council chambers, quickly forcing back the small stab of anger he felt when he first saw his father. Needless to say, the two of them had not exactly seen eye-to-eye over the course of the past few months. There were no others in the room- Uther didn't seem to trust anybody these days. Not even his son.

"Father."

Uther looked up, a small frown forming on his face.

"Arthur. Unsuccessful again I see."

Arthur swallowed the retort which had tried to force itself from his mouth, instead bowing his head slightly. "Regretfully, yes. And that is not all- we had some trouble near the border of Alined's kingdom."

"Another skirmish?"

He nodded. "Eleven dead- two of them Knights. We'll need to arrange for the bodies to be brought back immediately."

Uther called to one of the men standing guard outside the room, giving him instructions to see to the necessary preparations. After the man had scurried from the room, the King turned back to face his son. "Well, we should just be glad that you survived."

Arthur stood a little taller, knowing what his father's reaction would be to his next words, but still not in the least bit inclined to hold back. "I wouldn't have... if it weren't for Merlin."

"Arthur." The King's tone was deathly calm, taking on that dangerous edge it achieved whenever this particular subject was breached in his presence- something only Arthur still dared to do.

"I mean it father- the sword was inches from me. If it wasn't for Merlin's protection, I would have died."

Uther's gaze flickered momentarily to his son's left arm, his lip curling with distaste. The look was barely noticeable- Arthur only saw it because he was searching for that self-same reaction- but it happened. But then Uther just turned back to the papers sprawled across the table. "Go to your chambers."

"Father-"

"I said go to your chambers!"

There were a few moments of silence. Both men simply stood where they were, glaring at each other. Finally, Arthur relented, bowing his head almost mockingly. "As you wish, sire." He practically spat the last word, then walked swiftly from the room before his father had time to reprimand him for it.

The doors to Arthur's chambers slammed shut behind him.

No-one had dared to address the Prince as he strode angrily through the corridors. The cowards. All it had taken was for a few men to be threatened with execution, and the entire city had completely stopped talking about Merlin! He would have been able to understand, even to sympathize, with their fear had there still been whisperings, but with the various spies the people knew that Uther had sent out among them, not one person would ever even mention the young Warlock any more but Gwen and Gaius- and even they only did so in Arthur's presence, and after checking numerous times that nobody would overhear. It was almost as though Merlin had been completely forgotten! He had willingly risked his life to save every one of them, and none of them would even stand up and mention his name! Most of them didn't even know that he was still alive!

He couldn't help but wonder- did any of them even care?

Unable to control his anger, Arthur lashed out, kicking the closest bedpost as hard as he could. He stared round at his chambers- his prison. This was where he spent most of his time now. It was where Uther sent him almost every time they spoke. After all, it would look bad if the Prince were to continue spending as much time in the dungeons as he had those first few weeks. Because of course this way was so much better. Never mind that there were guards constantly posted outside. Never mind that he wasn't even allowed to exit the room most of the time unless it was for either training or patrol. Never mind-

He stopped there. This, he reminded himself, was nothing. Merlin had been down there, locked up in a tiny little cell, unable to speak to anyone for the past six months now. At least Arthur got to move around. To go outside sometimes. He should be more than capable of putting up with simply having to stay locked up in his chambers.

But Arthur had never been one to stay still, and barely a few moments after thinking these thoughts, he started pacing the rooms furiously, glaring at everything in sight as though daring the objects to start a fight with him.

He still hadn't calmed down when there came a knock on the door half an hour later.

"Enter!" He growled out.

An unruly mop of brown hair poked timidly around the side out the door, followed by the rest of Bennett, his latest manservant. The twelfth since Merlin. Uther had told him that if he fired another one, he'd end up confined to his quarters non-stop for a month, eating nothing but bread.

"I... I brought y- your l- lunch, sire." Stammered Bennett, obviously terrified by the Prince's expression. But Arthur found he couldn't help it- all of these men his father hired were just so timid, so nervous, so... so not Merlin. He sighed, forcing his features into something even slightly more polite.

"Thank you Bennett. You can set it down on the table."

The young man did as asked, and Arthur took a seat, picking absentmindedly at the chicken. Bennett stood two steps behind, ever so slightly to the left, completely unmoving. The perfect servant. And Arthur hated it.

Determined to get the man to at least behave like a human being in his presence, and not like a well-trained dog, Arthur decided to try actually talking to the man- maybe get him to loosen up slightly.

"You don't have to be so stiff you know. You can relax. I'm not about to rip your head off." Alright- so maybe that tone sounded slightly more rude than he had intended.

The man flinched, giggling nervously. "No, no. Of course not sire." But still he didn't move.

Arthur sighed. Obviously behaving like the Prince was just another person was too much for the guy. But that was only to be expected. He wasn't Merlin. Bennett actually cared about status.

The rest of the meal passed in silence, Bennett swooping forward as soon as Arthur had finished to collect the empty plate. "W- will that be all, sire?"

"Yes, until supper at least. You may leave."

Bennett was out of the room within seconds, leaving the Prince alone with his thoughts once more. Calmer now than he had been before, Arthur made his way over the the desk at the other side of the room. He tugged open one of the drawers, revealing a small wooden figurine of a Dragon. It was practically the only thing he had managed to salvage from Merlin's room before Uther had ordered the place ransacked. That, and the spell book he had hidden away in the dustiest section of the Library he had been able to find.

Sitting down, he placed the Dragon in front of him on the desk, leaning forward so that it was mere inches from his nose. Merlin had told him that Balinor had made the figurine before he died. A gift for the son he never knew he had. There was no way Arthur would have let it be destroyed.

"If you could talk," he started, "would you be as cryptic as the Dragon in my dream? I mean, what was the point of telling me that there's going to be danger, and then not saying what it is?" He paused for a moment, before he realized that he was (rather stupidly) half expecting a reply. For the first time that day, he felt a small smile begin to form. A snort of laughter escaped his nose.

"How ridiculous must I look? A grown man- a Prince- sitting here, trying to ask for advice from a wooden Dragon!"

Then he paused thoughtfully. The strange thing was, the idea that the tiny figurine would suddenly start moving around, and even talking, actually could be deemed as somewhat plausible. Stranger things had happened in the young Prince's life. It was a rather unsettling epiphany.

He was just about to launch into what would probably turn out to be a rather lengthy internal monologue debating whether or not he was actually mad, and this whole thing actually a dream, when there came a knock on the door.

The Dragon was back in the drawer, and Arthur half-way across the room, in seconds.

"Enter."

It was a more familiar head which poked it's way around the door this time, under the ploy of returning the Prince's laundry. He felt a portion of his now almost permanent frustration melt away at the sight, a genuine smile forming on his lips.

"Guinevere."

Sooo... What did you think?...