A/N – please excuse the general poor quality of writing in this chapter... I don't know what happened. Apparently I'm only good at writing beginnings... still, the story continues. I hope you like it :)

Any and all feedback is appreciated.

WORDS: 2000

WARNINGS: None.

CHAPTER 2

Arthur felt a dark chill pass through him and a heavy weight hit the bottom of his stomach. Gwen was still looking up at him with a confused and somewhat concerned expression from where she sat the dressing table.

Unable to really do anything, Arthur scoffed nervously. "Merlin." He repeated. "Where's Merlin?"

"Arthur… who's Merlin?" His wife was now looking at him with an expression of bewilderment painted on her face. She stood and moved towards Arthur. Reaching out, she touched her palm to his cheek and held his face in her hand. "Are you alright? Arthur? What's the matter? You look like you're going to be sick!"

Arthur simply stood there, shaking his head in disbelief. "Where is he? He should be here! Where's Merlin?" but when she continued to look at him with unknowing eyes, he started to get frantic, "Merlin!" he exclaimed, "My servant, the stupid idiot. Tall; dark hair, handsome features, really clumsy… you know! Gaius' boy!"

Suddenly, as though a light had come on in her mind, Gwen looked up into his eyes and enquired, "You mean Emrys?"

"Emrys?" Arthur echoed, rolling the unfamiliar word off his tongue. Shaking his head, now feeling sick to his stomach, he turned. Picking up his jacket on the way out he charged out of the door, muttering frantically, "I need to find him!"

"Arthur?" Gwen called after him, worriedly. "Arthur!"

She reached the door just as he disappeared from sight around the corner at the end of the corridor. Turning to the soldier standing guard at the entrance to their chambers, she exchanged a short, bewildered look with him.

"Go and send for Emrys. Tell him the King is looking for him." She instructed.

The guard nodded and left, leaving Gwen standing there, looking perplexed and troubled. Still a little uneasy, but pushing her feelings aside, she returned to the room to finish getting ready.

Meanwhile, Arthur was frantically running from one corridor to another, occasionally stopping to ask guards and passersby whether they had seen Merlin. With each perplexed expression that me his inquiries, he got evermore anxious, and when he eventually reached Gaius' chambers, he found them completely empty, with no trace that Merlin had ever even been there - even Gaius was nowhere to be found!

Practically hysterical, but with no idea what was going on, Arthur began to pace back and forth just inside the doorway of Gaius' house. This was the Djinn's doing! It had to be. He was attacked, and the next thing he knew he was in Camelot again, but somehow things were different, and Merlin was nowhere to be found! Worse still, no one seemed to know whom he was talking about! It couldn't have been a dream! It was too real, it felt too… terrifying, to have been just a dream.

Still deeply unsettled, but unable to think of anything to just yet, the King began to meander around the castle grounds. Eventually, after pacing to and fro in many different corridors, he found himself face to face with an old door he hadn't opened in some time; the door to his father's chambers…

Sometimes he'd come here for some familiarity or comfort, but he rarely ventured inside. Even though it had been some years since his father's passing, opening an old wound was always painful, and he'd rarely been able to bring himself to go inside.

He reached out and let his fingertips touch the edge of the door handle. The brass felt cold to the touch as Arthur reached a little further, tracing the patterns etched into it with his fingertips. Then, before he really knew what he was doing, he found himself gripping it tight and turning.

The door creaked some when it opened, and Arthur waited for a short moment before venturing inside. But to his astonishment, it wasn't empty! The bed had clearly been slept in, and there were several personal items lying around the room. Perplexed, he continued inside, letting the door close loudly behind him. But as he looked up and saw who it was standing at the other side of the room, Arthur's jaw hit the ground.

She was standing there, draped in a long brown dress; more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. More stunning to him was the fact that she was actually there; physically standing less than 10 feet away from him! Overcome with emotion and shock, and completely unable to even question it, he breathed, "Mother..."

Igraine looked at him, puzzled. But Arthur strode forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a very tight and intense embrace. Barely able to contain his tears, e gripped her tighter for a second, before finally letting her go. Taking a step back, he tried to compose himself and look at her; really look at her.

She was far more beautiful than any of the paintings he'd seen. He had no memory of her, but it was no secret how much his father had loved her, and there were paintings and portraits galore; all taken into storage upon her death when Uther could no longer bare to look at them; painful reminders of her death. But now she wore a different expression to the placid and gentle look of the canvases. She looked up at her son with a furrowed brow; concern and some surprise in her eyes.

"Arthur… are you alright?" she asked, alarmed at his sudden, unwarranted display of emotion.

"Mother you're… here! You're… how?" he exclaimed.

Pausing for a moment, Igraine's words left her lips slowly and uncertainly. "These are my chambers Arthur; I'm always here in the morning. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes. Yes I'm fine, I just… wonderful." He breathed as he fought back tears and embraced her again. When he let go, he smiled. "You're here!" he said again. Then he breathed out slowly, as though letting go of a lifetime of pain he'd held in and bottled up. "The Djinn... well I'll be damned."

"The gin?" she raised her eyebrows, "Arthur what's going on?"

"I mean you're… well… alive." He blurted.

Igraine took a small step back and looked up at her son, then replied, "Last time I checked, yes." Then, "Arthur, what's going on?"

"Nothing!" he replied quickly. "Everything is… everything is just perfect. I erm… I had a dream last night, that's all."

She scowled, "A dream?" then raised an eyebrow. He was a grown man now; married no less, and King of Camelot. It had been a long time since he'd grown out of coming to see her when he had distressing dreams!

"Yes… it seemed so real. I dreamed that you died." He mumbled, "When I woke up I was confused and not sure if it was real or not. But… here you are."

Sighing slowly, her heart filled with compassion for her son; the sole living being she loved more than anything else on this earth. "No, I'm here. I'm safe and alive and well. You've nothing to fear, my son. I'm not going away anytime soon!" she smiled, holding his face in her hands, before leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

After a moment of silence between them, Igraine turned to leave, but Arthur held onto her hand. "Mother…" he paused, swallowing the painful lump in his throat, "Would you… stay? Just… just sit and talk with me for a while."

She sighed, but eventually agreed. Somewhat unsure of why he was so insistent on her company, she stayed nonetheless, and they talked – about everything. Utterly baffling his mother with questions that he should have known the answers to, Arthur discovered his father had passed away in his sleep two years ago; a peaceful and painless death he was assured. But Camelot had endured the past 20 years in peace and total content – no wars, no famines, no diseases, and no attacks. Most shocking of all to Arthur was the revelation that magic had never been banned. His immediate reaction was confusion. He sat for some time, her words washing over him like water on rock, as he tried to figure out why the father she was describing seemed so different to the man he'd known. It then began to dawn on him – perhaps his father's opinions on sorcery hadn't sprung from thin air, but perhaps the deep-seeded hatred he'd harboured for all those years had always been about Igraine's death…

"He was a kind man." She mused.

"What?" Arthur turned, sitting up a little straighter as he looked at his mother.

"Well… he wasn't always an easy man. He could be harsh, I know. But he loved us both, very dearly. And he was kind – always trying to do what was best, for us and for Camelot."

His father was many things; Perhaps fair and loyal. But Arthur would never have described his father as 'kind'. As he sat there, still marvelling at the fact he could look at his mother's face, sitting right in front of him, he began to think of Uther. Could it really be that his mother's death caused so much to change? If she never died, his father would not have been so broken; so harsh and hateful. He wouldn't have done his best to wipe out magical kind. But what did such freedom, for so many people cost? Were there hundreds of dangerous and powerful, corrupt killers roaming the streets of his beloved Kingdom as freely as they pleased? Or was this revelation perhaps something different to how he thought of the world…

As the conversation eventually drew to a close, Arthur looked deep into Igraine's eyes, marvelling at the love he saw in them; the compassion and beauty. "You're so beautiful..." he breathed. "I'm so lucky to have you!"

Chuckling, Igraine smiled. "Thank you, Arthur. You know I couldn't have wished for a better son."

As Arthur felt tears welling up behind those blue eyes, he cleared his throat and sat up, distancing himself somewhat from his mother. This wasn't possible...

She was Arthur's unspoken wish – the desire buried deep beneath all the pain of the last few years, which he never dared to say aloud. But what son does not crave his mother's love? What man would be content to grow up with only an old soldier for a father? No, he wanted his mother; he'd always wanted her. He wished he'd had two parents to grow up with. He wished she'd never died, and he never had to feel that pain. She was the unspoken wish, which the Djinn had granted in that dark cave in the forest. But Merlin had warned of the price of such things…

As though reading his very thoughts, there was a knock on the door, and Merlin entered the room.

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed, standing up, grinning like a fool. In all the shock of finding his mother, he'd almost forgotten about Merlin's disappearance. But seeing him alive and well filled him with such a relief and joy he couldn't contain his smile.

Then the moment passed, and as he looked at Merlin he became puzzled. He was standing there, looking at Arthur with an extremely bewildered look on his face, and something else too… something… darker. Something was wrong. Everything about him was so un-Merlin like! For starters, he was wearing large and decorative noble attire. Even the way he held himself; feet apart, hands clasped behind his straight back, projected an image of everything Merlin was not – noble, rich, respected.

Without thinking for a moment, Arthur scoffed, "What on earth are you wearing?!"

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Clothes, your majesty." He replied curtly. When Arthur continued to stand there, gawping at him, trying to figure this out, he continued; a heavy tone of sarcasm and contempt in his voice, "They are my ceremonial robes, sire. I always wear them when performing my duties as Court Sorcerer."

Arthur could have choked on the air.

"The court what?!"