1

Hello!

A few weeks ago, I took over this story from the author The World Out There. The first seven chapters are pretty much hers; if you've read this story before and you don't want a refresher, you can skip straight to chapter eight, which is the continuation.

All eight chapters are posted now! But there will be more!

I hope I do this story justice by continuing it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.

Enjoy!

The woman peered into the water, the sleeping figure of the King reflecting in her emerald eyes. Murmuring something incomprehensible, her eyes turned a blazing gold, and the image in the scrying bowl turned silver. The woman smirked triumphantly. "Soon, Emrys." she whispered, her silky voice echoing through time and space.

"Is it bad?" Arthur asked, trying to peer over his shoulder at the physician.

"I expect it to be gone in a few hours. It is, after all, only a rash, sire."

"It sure seemed to be more irritating than one."

Gaius finished rubbing the lotion onto Arthur's back, watching as it disappeared into the King's skin. He glanced at Merlin. The lanky young man seemed to be quite amused, leaning against the table and smiling goofily at Arthur, who was laying on his stomach.

The King was glaring back, Gaius noticed, as the old man turned to put the bottle on a shelf.

"What's the matter, Merlin?" Arthur suddenly exclaimed, losing the staring contest between the two. "Why are you smiling at me like that?"

Merlin grinned even wider. "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking that the mighty King of Camelot has fought dragons, sorcerers, evil. After all that, with all your injuries, you didn't make a peep. But now, a rash, and you squeal and go straight to Gaius. Very heroic, milord."

The physician suppressed a smile. He had grown quite fond of their banter, and it was always worth his time to see what the next insult was. He looked expectantly to Arthur.

The King was most definitely not amused.

The servant ducked and dodged the household items that had suddenly become projectiles. Somewhat more skillfully and gracefully than he had before, Gaius noted proudly.

Arthur rolled out of his laying position, grabbing his shirt. Merlin gave the old man a look that said: See? What did I tell you? and scrambled back into the hall, Arthur hot on his heels.

Gaius laughed quietly to himself when he heard the startled yelps of the maids and the sound of platters falling. He shook his head. Young people were so hotheaded.

The smile quickly turned into a frown as he realized he would be the one cleaning up.

Arthur struck the dummy with his sword, faintly aware that Merlin was watching from the side. The rash was infuriating. It itched so badly, but rubbing at it through his chain mail only made it worse. The blade impaled the dummy, cutting through the straw effortlessly. He did it over and over again, until he felt a figure approach. He looked up. "Gwaine? What do you want, mate?"

Gwaine held up his sword. "Come on. Let's spar." He said, turning around and exiting the dummy area. Arthur grinned and followed without question.

"You sure you want to speed your way to certain death, Gwaine?"

"Isn't that what I'm supposed to ask you?"

"Very funny."

The moment they entered the clearing where the other knights were, Gwaine spun around and attacked. The sound of metal clashing and scraping rang through the clearing as the King blocked the blow and swung his own.

Slowly, the knights gathered to see the fight, laughing and cheering as the two men rolled, stabbed, swung and blocked. After a good ten minutes, no one seemed to have advantage of the situation yet, but the crowds hadn't subsided.

Merlin watched, intrigued. A lot of the people in the crowd were whispering. Knowing that they were setting up bets, he smiled. I wonder how much they're willing to lose, he wondered. Suddenly, the crowd burst into cheers, and the warlock redirected his gaze back to the two men. They both stood, panting, with their swords at each other's throats.

"That rash is infuriating. You know how many times it distracted me? In a real fight, I'd be dead because of it." Arthur complained, walking to Merlin. "I'm pretty sure the knights were betting again too. They seemed to find it funny that we tied."

The servant rolled his eyes and took the King's sword. "Well, I'm not surprised. You know, the outcome is pretty predictable."

"What, me winning?"

"I guess you really are as dense as you look." Merlin dodged a slap. "You and Gwaine tie every time."

"As if it happens that often."

"It does. This is your eleventh sparring this month."

Arthur frowned, obviously not wanting to continue the conversation. "Well, get to your chores. I'm going to see if Gaius can do anything with that rash."

"Yes, sire." The raven-haired young man said, turning and started walking back to the armory.

Suddenly, a piercing wail cut through the air, sending shivers up Merlin's spine. He dropped the sword and spun around, searching for the origin. What on earth could have made that noise? Was it even human?

Faces peeked out of doorways, terrified expressions visible as they desperately tried to pinpoint where it had come from. People in the hallways stopped to see what was going on. All of the sudden, a maid carrying a bundle of sheets dropped her load and pointed.

Arthur was on hands and knees, heaving. He seemed to be in excruciating pain, but did not make another sound as he stared at the floor, panting. Merlin sprinted toward him, but skidded to a halt when the man collapsed. Writhing across the floor, Arthur groaned and screamed in anguish as he clutched his body. "Arthur!" Gwaine shoved a path through the crowd, but was stopped by Percival, who shook his head. Gwaine shoved past him too, not stopping until he reached Arthur. The noble commoner pinned the blonde's arms to his sides and trapped his legs, stopping the writhing. Several knights joined the struggle of holding the King down as Gwaine got more resistance. The servant watched, horrified, as his king's breathing became sharp, ragged gaps and a thin sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. Then he became still, and his eyes fluttered shut.

Gaius leaned over the King for the second time that day, examining his lower back.

"Is he alright?" Merlin asked, leaning against the same table he had that morning.

"I'm not entirely sure." The physician said slowly, trying to assess the situation. "We'll use more than one herb this time. Get me some yarrow, angelica and rosemary."

"Ginger?"

"Good idea. We wouldn't want him to pass out again."

After Merlin left to get the requested herbs, Gaius kept trying to analyze the problem. The rash had disappeared and there didn't seem to be anything that could have really hurt the King. According to Merlin's description, not even a severely broken limb could have caused that much pain.

So what could it be?

He had ruled out a headache. That would simply not be possible. Neither was the scar on his arm, nor the cut on his heel and those were all the injuries he had at the moment. "Merlin!" he called, as the servant entered the room. "I don't know what it could be. I've checked his whole body, and it couldn't be internal bleeding, he'd be dead by now."

"Let me see."

Merlin leaned over the King and pointed at the man's lower back. "Where is the rash?"

"Gone."

"How did it disappear without a trace? He was complaining about it right before it happened. He said it was itching right here."

The moment Merlin's finger connected with the King's skin, a wave of silver light flooded the room, blinding the two men. A rush of sounds met their ears. Screaming and whispering voices seemed to circle their heads, beasts roared in the distance, children cried. Everything was silver -there were no objects- although their surroundings seemed to change with the sounds. A mysterious forest, a burning village. Then as soon as it had come, the silver dimension disappeared and they were standing next to Arthur again.

One thing had changed. Merlin could sense it. He looked at Arthur.

Right there, in shimmering, silver letters, on his lower back stood one word; one name:

Emrys