The boy, with raven hair, continued to run away from the two knights with a crest of a gold dragon on a red background. In other words, knights from Camelot.

He hadn't woken up this morning thinking that in a few hours' time, knights from Camelot would turn up in the small village he lived in for a number of reasons. One being that he didn't live in Uther Pendragon's kingdom (he lived in an outlaying village in Cenreds' kingdom.) A Camelot knight seen in this kingdom was seen as an act of war after all.

Yet, here he was, running through the forest that surrounded his village away from two Camelot knights. Definitely not how he thought his day would go when he woke up this morning.

His skinny legs were screaming with the pain of running for so long so fast; his heart was beating wildly in his chest, beating a fast rhythm that should only be accomplishable on a drum; his mind was clouded with fear of being caught and taken to the one kingdom he knew for certain that magic was punishable with death.

He couldn't help that he was born, surely living wasn't a crime, and couldn't control his magic. Magic chose him, not the other way around.

The raven was downright clumsy at his best and tripped over flat surfaces with ease. He was running through a forest. His bout of luck was going to have to end at some point.

He tripped over a root that his, traitorous, right foot had managed to find. He landed on his front, a position in life that he was all too familiar with. He pushed himself up to his feet but cried out in agony when he put weight on his right leg. He looked for support in the form of the nearest tree (the tree that the root, that had sentenced his death, had most likely belonged to). Using it support the little weight he carried.

He wasn't going anywhere. Not willingly but he couldn't fight back against two highly trained, highly skilled knights that were, at the least, five times his weight with their armour on. He wouldn't stand a chance of fighting them without using his magic and even that was temperamental. He really didn't to use it and give them a real reason for capturing him. No, he wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.

He was so caught up in his internal debate (magic or no magic), he didn't even see the two knights as they came into his line of sight nor did he hear the clinking of their armour and their hushed whispers of how they were going to 'take him in'. The moment he realised that they were there was when he felt a shearing pain to the back of his head and he slipped into the depths of unconsciousness just a few moments later.

Meanwhile in Camelot...

"Arthur... Arthurrrr..." A voice spoke in the young princes head. Arthur had been hoping for just one night, surely that wasn't such a thing thing to ask for. "ARTHUR..."

"I'm coming, you over sized lizard," Arthur muttered as he got out of his comfy, large bed. He put on a pair of boots and a jacket. He wondered over to the door and pressed an ear against the door, listening to see if there was anyone moving about on the other side. There wasn't so he slipped himself quietly out of his room and headed in the direction of the lower levels of the castle, not making a noise the whole time.

When he arrived at the dungeons, he was not surprised to see the guards on duty were not doing their jobs. He was used to this sight after the last few months of sneaking down to the caves to see that overgrown, riddle speaking lizard and, as such, had found easy ways to distract them. Mainly throwing stones at walls worked effectively. A few seconds later and they were both looking for the sources of the noises made by the small stones he had found.

Were all the guards really that stupid?

He grabbed a torch, lit it then quickly descended the stairs leading caves beneath Camelot, hoping that whatever The Great Dragon had to say would not take a long time and he could go back to his bed. He had training tomorrow and council meeting his father wanted him to attend. He needed all the sleep he could get for tomorrow and at this rate, he wouldn't be getting it.

"Hello, young princling. It's good to see that you would wish to see an overgrown lizard like me during the night," the dragon said as he entered the caves. Arthur was sure that if dragons could smile, that was what the one in front of him was doing.

"Yes, you were rather insistent. What is it you wish to speak to me about?" the blonde prince replied.

The dragon smirked, or seemed to anyway. "The other half of your whole is drawing closer to Camelot with in the hour. When he arrives, you must make sure that Uther does not execute him. Without your whole, the Golden age of Camelot will never start and Albion never created."

Arthur blinked, once, twice, three times. "Sorry, I could have sworn that you said that (what do you call him?) 'Emrys' is coming to Camelot and I'm to persuade my father that he shouldn't be killed."

Once again, the dragon smirked. "You heard me correctly, young Pendragon. You will know who Emrys is when you see him. Maybe the young witch, Morgana, can help you." And he flew off without saying another word.

AN: This is my first Merlin fanfiction so dont try and kill me. Do you think I should continue or scrap it before I make an embarrassment of myself?

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