Prince Arthur Pendragon strode into his quarters, drunk on a combination of red wine and euphoria. Or maybe it was the wine that instigated the euphoria. Arthur wasn't sure.

His proud procession through the doorway was accompanied by the seemingly ever-present prattle of his manservant, Merlin, behind him. "Sire, be careful. Remember last time when you walked right into the wall? I never heard the end of it when you woke up the next day with a big bruise even though it wasn't my fault-"

"Merlin," Arthur drawled, clasping a hand on Merlin's bony shoulder, "It's my birthday. I can walk into a wall if I want to."

Merlin chuckled a bit before his eyebrows furrowed in concentration once again as he shuffled round to prepare Arthur's bed for sleeping, fluffing up the pillows and doing whatever else it was manservants did and oh, hell, Arthur thought, when did the room start spinning?

Arthur stumbled forward, hiccuping, and Merlin looked up from his fumbling with the bed sheets. "Sire, come on." He walked back over to Arthur and wrapped an arm around his torso, bringing him to sit on the bed. "I don't think I've ever seen you this tipsy. But it's your birthday celebration, so I suppose I would've done the same if I were you."

"You-" Hiccup. "-Drunk, Merlin? That would be a sight," Arthur replied with a bemused grin.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "According to Gaius, who's seen me after a good night at the tavern, it is."

Arthur laughed loudly and Merlin laughed with him. Merlin was nice when he wanted to be, Arthur absently mused as Merlin helped him remove his layer upon layer of clothing. Occasionally, he wasn't that much of an imbecile.

He felt suddenly that it was vital for Merlin to know this, so he opened his mouth to say it. But then he saw something odd behind Merlin that he'd never noticed before.

Arthur was no girl, and he certainly didn't need a large mirror decorating his room so he could admire his pretty clothing. No, sir. He was no Morgana Le Fay.

But there was a small one, silver, square-shaped and simple, that sat atop his dresser, just for, you know, manly clothing issues. Nothing more.

And that mirror was sparkling.

Arthur stared and stared, entranced.

"Arthur?" was Merlin's voice, although sounded as if it came from far away, "Are you all right?"

Then curiosity got the best of him, as it always did. Despite Merlin's protests of "Arthur, don't," and "Well, don't yell at me when you fall flat on your face", he got up and wandered over to the mirror, examining it with wary eyes. What was it doing? He could hear a whispering, a chattering around him that made his insides do backflips.

-

"Arthur!"

The Prince jumped a bit at Merlin's voice as it finally managed to drown out the others, wide-eyed. The glowing and glistening abruptly stopped. Merlin followed his gaze to the mirror, then looked back at him again. "Arthur, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"Didn't you see . . . " Arthur started, but Merlin's especially confused expression (which said a lot, considering Merlin seemed to be perpetually perplexed) told him no, Merlin hadn't seen a damn thing. So he shook his head. "I . . . I'm fine," he finished, not wanting to even remotely hint to his growing apprehension toward the small shiny square before him.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost,"Merlin went on carefully.

Arthur attempted to roll his eyes but he was a bit too dizzy to make it come off as casual, so he sauntered to his bed and flopped down onto the pillows again instead. "It's nothing, Merlin," was his reply; at least, that's what he intended for his reply to be, but he wasn't sure if the slur of his words had butchered that just a bit. He'd clearly had way too much to drink tonight.

This all must be part of his wild, alcohol-induced imaginings, he concluded, and nothing more.

Merlin seemed to understand his words, because he got up from his seat on the edge of Arthur's bed and wandered to the flickering candle at Arthur's bedside. "Will you be all right?" he asked.

Arthur waved an absent hand. "Of course. Quit your worrying, will you? You're jumping around like a frightened rabbit."

Merlin smiled down at him, and Arthur saw all the sincerity in the world in his eyes as he dead-panned: "Your insults aren't up to par tonight, my lord. It's definitely time for you to rest."

"Oh, shut up, you." Arthur made the motion to throw a pillow at Merlin, but his drunken limbs failed him and he settled down into the covers once more. He closed his eyes, a part of him listening for those terrible words again, loud and fast and strong.

"If you need anything, let me know," was Merlin's voice nearby, and Arthur very much liked the sound of hearing only one voice besides his own in his chambers. It was only him and Merlin and Arthur felt safe. Then again, he always did, with Merlin. For some reason, the idiot tended to invoke those feelings in Arthur. Strange . . .

Oh, hell, was he drunk.

He heard Merlin blow out the candle and say, "Goodnight, sire," before heading out of the room.

There was a peaceful silence that began to lull the Prince to sleep, until suddenly, sharp in the darkness, were the words again.

Come to us. Come to us.

Arthur sat upright, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head of the beginnings of a hangover, and immediately drew his sword from its spot on a nearby table.

He gingerly stood up, making his way over to the mirror, which was glowing silvers and yellows in the blackened room.

"Show yourself," Arthur spat, "Tell me what you want from me."

Suddenly, in the mirror was a face, one of the most terrifying Arthur had ever seen; twisted and snarling, its eyes seeming to reach right through the silver to Arthur himself-

And then everything went black.

"Rise and shine, sire!" came a voice out of the darkness.

The blonde man slowly opened his eyes, his vision caked with sleep and the light in the room seeming far, far too bright. And the chipper voice moving around him simply would not stop, and he didn't like it one bit. He matched the voice to a skinny, dark-haired boy who was darting around the room, picking up this trinket and that, whistling a bit.

"It's almost eleven, you know," the boy went on, "But everyone's having a late start this morning, I think. With the feast yesterday and all."

The blonde sat up, his gaze following the other man as he moved about. The dark-haired one paused in mid-step as he noticed the staring.

"Erm . . . Arthur, are you okay?"

Arthur. Is that my name? He paused, getting used to the idea. Arthur. I'm Arthur. Arthur who? Why don't I . . .

"Arthur?"

Why don't I remember anything?

"Sire-"

What if this is some sort of elaborate plan to kill me? Diving into panic-mode, Arthur thought of all of the possibilities. Had he been drugged? Knocked upside the head?

But for what reason? Arthur couldn't think of any.

But that may have been because in order to think of a reason why one might want to kill him, he would have to know just exactly who he was first.

So he finally mucked up the courage to ask the pressing question, carrying in his voice as much confidence as possible: "Who are you? I demand to know."

He watched the boy's expression switch from mild confusion to amusement. "I really underestimated how much you had to drink last night, my lord. I should've cut you off sooner," he chuckled.

When Arthur provided no reply but a stony-faced stare, Merlin's face once again changed, this time to an expression of unadulterated panic. "Arthur . . . you really don't know?"

Silence. Then:

"I'm . . . I'm Merlin. Your servant. Remember?" I have servants?

Well, this was good, then. He couldn't imagine why someone who was supposed to serve him would want to kill him. Of course, it was a possibility (anything was at this point), but Arthur somehow felt that this Merlin, whoever he was, didn't have any bad intentions behind his worried gaze.

The name, too, rang something oddly familiar in Arthur's mind, but he couldn't quite place what it was. "Merlin," he echoed, his tension easing just a bit, "Right. Merlin. That's good. More importantly, though . . . "

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, staring out into the bright light of the morning. "Who exactly am I?"