Uther was reviewing the knights in the courtyard when Arthur and Merlin came trotting up. From the shadows, Gedren watched the tense exchange between Arthur and the king.
He shouldn't have left Merlin alone. The brat was more powerful than he looked. Next time, he wouldn't get away so easily.
Finally, Arthur and Merlin climbed the stairs to the castle doors. Without being noticed by Uther, Gedren followed them at a distance.
By the time the two young men reached the prince's chambers, Gedren had decided to bide his time. Now that he knew Merlin was the wolf, he would wait, and catch him next time.
In the days that followed Merlin's return, the approaching Christmas holidays seemed to make everyone happy. Everyone but Merlin.
"What is wrong with you?" Arthur asked one afternoon, four days before Christmas. Merlin had been doing his usual chores, but had a very sad aura around him, something the prince didn't associate with his friend. It just wasn't in him to be sad. He was always the one cheering others up.
Merlin sighed and looked up from where he sat cleaning Arthur's boots. "Ever since I escaped from Gedren, I've felt like something's not right."
Arthur snorted. "Rich words coming from you. Of course something's not right! You're a bloody warlock!"
"No, no, not me. He's going to do something. I don't know when or where, but he is."
Arthur rolled his eyes but for the sake of argument asked, "Any ideas?"
Merlin shrugged.
With a sigh of frustration, Arthur left the room.
Merlin returned to his cleaning, and was so engrossed, he didn't notice the door creaking open until it was too late.
"You weren't gone long, Art –" He looked up to Gedren's ugly visage looming above him.
"You've escaped for the last time, stable brat."
And before Merlin could get away, Gedren threw him against the wall.
His head hit hard. There was a dull thud and then, blackness . . .