Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or the characters therein, much less make any money from them. I do, however, feel I can claim my original characters and am free to use whatever elements I may have taken from traditional Arthurian legends (crystal caves, etc.).

Note: This short one-chapter story is set some three years after Merlin loses his father, Balinor, and banishes the great dragon, Kilgharrah. There are a few spoilers, therefore, but nothing too excessive. The story is set in a slightly alternative universe in which Gaius is unaware of Merlin's druid name, Emrys.

Warnings: mild slash of the Arthur/Merlin variety, a few spoilers, and possibly awful writing. Rated T.

"Emrys," breathed the physician.

"What's Emrys?" asked Arthur, nonplussed. He had never heard the term before.

"Not what's Emrys," replied Gaius. "Who's Emrys. Emrys is a very powerful warlock. He lives not far from the castle, hidden from your father. He is something of a recluse...and our only hope."

***Two days before***

Gaius burst into the council chamber. "Sire!" he exclaimed. "I must speak with you concerning a matter of immense importance."

With a gesture, Uther dismissed his council. Arthur remained behind with an allowing nod from the court physician. "What is the matter, Gaius?" asked the king.

"Sire," began Gaius. "I was preparing a tincture for Ray, one of the blacksmiths who injured his arm last week when Sir Bedevere entered my rooms, carrying his squire. The boy was pale and cold. Immediately, I examined the boy, but I have not yet found a cause for his condition. He seems to be sickening further, despite my best attempts to heal him. Two more young men have been stricken with the same malady in the past few hours. I have exhausted every book in my medical library and still have found neither a cause nor a cure. I fear the worst, sire. I fear a magical plague has been sent to attack our home, targeting our young men. We must find a way to stop this sickness, or Camelot will soon have no army or future. In ten years, we will be defenseless without fighting men."

Uther's fists clenched. "Another sorcery? When will it end? When will our kingdom be free of the plague of magic? Arthur, I want all efforts put to finding a cure for this sickness. Do anything you have to. Send scribes to scour the royal library for references of this disease, anything! A cure must be found!"

Arthur nodded his obedience to his father, then exited the council room. A feeling of déjà vu crept up his back as he remembered a similar plague that was send by Nimueh five years ago. That disease was less-discriminatory, but just as dangerous. Luckily, they discovered the Afanc in the water supply in time to save most of the castle. However, this time, it seemed Gaius had no such remedy in his vast library. This time, he could not rely on Morgana and Merlin to help him defeat the source of the trouble. Morgana was gone and Merlin was dead.

Merlin had died three years ago, shortly after Arthur had defeated the Great Dragon, Kilgharrah. Merlin and Arthur had fallen into a raging river during a thunderstorm when the riverbank had collapsed. Unable to move due to the weight of his armor, Arthur could only watch, helplessly as Merlin dragged him to a well-anchored tree. Exhausted, Merlin had no strength to hold on. With a final, apologetic grin, he was swept away by the flood with Arthur watching in disbelief. After the rain had ceased and a pair of Uther's knights had rescued the prince from his arboreal perch, Arthur scoured the river to the sea for his faithful manservant. Three days later, he had to admit defeat as no trace of the bumbling, innocent young man had been found. Arthur returned to Camelot with a broken heart: his only true friend had died to save his life because his pride had overridden Merlin's advice to forego armor in the pouring rain. Merlin's death was his fault, and Arthur would never forget.

Arthur felt a pang of grief as he remembered that fateful day. Since then, his new manservant, Thomas, had served him in an exemplary way. Thomas was faultless concerning his duties, always obeyed Arthur's commands and addressed him as 'sire'. However, Arthur would trade all the courtesy, clean equipment, and hot baths in the world for the return of his large-eared friend. With a final reminder to himself that death was irreversible, the prince forcibly turned his thoughts to the current crisis.

After two days of frantic searching through the palace records, the castle staff had no success to present to Gaius. Sir Bedevere's squire had died, along with four other lads who were stricken by the sickness early. His face gaunt with worry and lack of sleep, Gaius asked Arthur to join him in his chambers. Retreating to the far corner of the room, away from the still bodies of the dead, he admitted that this sickness had completely defeated his wide range of experience and knowledge.

"I'm sorry, sire, but I have tried everything I know. This disease is beyond my skill. Science has failed me, and I have little skill in the arcane arts. I do not know what to do." Gaius looked so defeated that Arthur did not know what to say. Then he saw the physician's eyes light up as though he had suddenly remembered another option. A contemplating expression covered his face.

"Emrys," breathed the physician.

"What's Emrys?" asked Arthur, nonplussed. He had never heard the term before.

"Not what's Emrys," replied Gaius. "Who's Emrys. Emrys is a very powerful warlock. He lives not far from the castle, hidden from your father. He is something of a recluse...and our only hope."

Arthur stared at Gaius in shock. "You want to ask for help from a sorcerer? How do we know this Emrys is not the man behind the disease? And even if he weren't, why would a sorcerer help Camelot? How could we trust him?"

Gaius scrubbed at his bloodshot eyes before answering. "Arthur, I know your father has taught you that all magic is evil. However, can you truly tell me you agree? I know you have seen magic used in good ways, such as when you fetched the Morteus leaves for Merlin. Were you not saved by magic?"

With an angry rebuttal on the tip of his tongue, Arthur paused. It was true. Although his father had always told him that sorcery was evil and was never used to help anyone, he had been saved that time. Nimueh was undoubtedly evil and tried to kill him, but there must have been someone else who felt that the life of the prince of Camelot was worth saving, even by magic. In fact, now that he thought about it, there were other times that he had benefitted from magic. When Merlin's friend, Will had repulsed the bandits in Ealdor, it was only to save his hometown. By doing so, he had also saved Arthur's life. Arthur had realized at that moment that his father's war against magic was not as simple as he had once thought. According to the castle records, Uther had initiated the purge and had killed many practitioners of harmless magic. Magic that was used to heal, grow crops, and defend homes.

Arthur gulped. He was about to commit treason, but even the court physician had admitted there were no more options. "Ok, Gaius, how do we find this Emrys?"

"I have never met a man named Emrys," began Gaius. "However, he claims to have met me. Rumors have also been flying for several months of an immensely powerful, wise magic-user in Camelot. They say he has helped the common folk, but cannot be found unless he first gives permission. Here." He rummaged through a stack of parchment before freeing a letter. He handed it to Arthur who read the curious message:

Gaius,

My name is Emrys, warlock. You probably do not remember me, but you did me an immense favor several years back. A year ago, I finished my travels and decided to return to Camelot, despite the magic ban. Should you ever require my assistance, I can be found just north of the castle at the place where elm and oak meet at water's edge. I have enclosed a token in this letter. Burn it when approaching the meeting place and I will provide safe passage and sanctuary for the bearer. I ask that you reveal my presence to no one who does not trust in the inherent good potential of magic. I know that I can trust you to keep my existence secret.

Fondly,

Emrys

Arthur stared at the letter. Emrys trusted Gaius that much? Even more surprising was that Gaius trusted Arthur enough to keep Emrys' secrets. "What is this token that he enclosed in the letter?" he asked the physician.

Gaius handed the prince a small golden feather. "I have kept this hidden for several months now. I was planning on saving it for an emergency, but I think now is the time to burn it." The plume glittered in the sun as though already on fire.

"What is it?" asked Arthur.

"Phoenix feather, I believe," replied Gaius. "Although how Emrys managed to find one, I cannot imagine. They are more rare than dragon scales and priceless. I am astonished to find that he holds me in such high regard. It almost seems a shame to burn it, but it must be done."

"Alright," said Arthur. "Do we burn it today?"

"I think so." Gaius thought for a moment. "I think it is best if I come with you. He trusts me, for whatever reason."

Arthur shook his head. "No, Gaius, you are needed here. We must trust that he will listen to me. I will take the letter as proof that you sent me, but you must remain here and concentrate on finding a cure. If Emrys should refuse to help or cannot find a cure, you will be our only hope, how ever small."

Gaius conceded. He hoped that Emrys was open-minded enough not to dismiss Arthur out of hand. He had the strangest feeling that the warlock would not hurt the prince, but there was no guarantee that he would help, either.

Arthur left the castle, claiming to be searching for the sorcerer responsible for the illness. He knew exactly where he was headed. How many times had he as a child explored the woods surrounding the castle? The phrase 'where elm and oak meet at water's edge' could only mean the small spring with the twisted trees. For many years, the inhabitants of Camelot had wondered what had caused the elm and oak trees to grow so entwined: some trees were practically indistinguishable from the other kind of tree. Suspicious of the water, the spring had never been touched for fear of contamination. Ironically, Arthur was now headed there to try to save his people's sons from an illness.

Lighting the feather on fire with steel and flint, Arthur approached the water pool. Seeing no one about, he walked up to the water's edge. Still no one appeared. Disappointed, the prince turned to leave when a flash of silver light caught the corner of his eye. Whipping around, Arthur saw a ball of light just like the one that guided him in the caves of the Morteus flower. Without hesitation, he walked toward the light. It floated just out of reach, then headed out over the pool. Unwilling to lose the guiding light, Arthur stepped into the shallow water. As soon as the water lapped over the top of his boots and touched his skin through his clothes, the light winked out and he heard a rich tenor voice speak in his head.

Welcome, Prince Arthur. In honor of the phoenix token, I, Emrys, welcome you to my refuge. Enter the pool and do not be afraid. The only thing to fear here is what you bring with you.

Arthur almost turned back right then. Enter the pool? What kind of nonsense was that? No, he could not fail Gaius. If Gaius were unable to find a cure, Arthur didn't trust his father to not punish the physician. Steeling his nerves, the prince strode further into the pool. As the water covered his shoulders, he had to force himself further still by force of will. The water was cold and he did not understand why he was to enter the pool. Was this a trick? Would Emrys drown him? With a final reminder to himself of all the lives at stake, he ducked his head under the surface.

Vertigo overtook Arthur. His head spun and he lost all sense of direction. For a terrifying moment, he was sure Emrys had betrayed his promise of safety and had drowned his guest. Then, the world abruptly righted itself and the prince found himself in a crystal cave. Standing in his soaking clothes and armor, he took in his surroundings. Cerulean blue crystals encrusted the walls of the cave which was the size of a large room. A doorway in the gleaming wall led into what must have been Emrys' dwelling. Although there was no visible source of light, the crystals sparkled and glinted with reflected radiance.

Through the doorway in the opposite wall appeared a hooded figure. Emrys was fairly tall and slightly built. The skin of his hands was fair, possibly because he apparently lived underground. The long fingers were thin and white, the lack of calluses betraying the fact that their owner had no need for performing tasks by hand. Emrys beckoned Arthur through the doorway into a smaller crystal chamber. A bookcases lined an entire half the cave, and a long table held several books. Some were open to show writing in languages Arthur did not recognize. The largest book caught the prince's attention. Leatherbound with brass buckles, the tome was obviously a grimoire. The open pages showed an image of a unicorn and text in an unknown language. The table also held a few silver amulets, phoenix feathers, and dragon scales. There was no doubt that Emrys was a learned and powerful warlock.

The warlock turned from the prince and removed his hooded cloak, revealing glossy black curls and a strong back. Emrys placed the cloak on a protruding crystal, just as Arthur placed his on a peg in his wardrobe. Suddenly, Arthur's clothing and armor was warm and dry. The warlock must have cast a spell, but without incantation or gestures. Emrys then turned to face the crown prince. Arthur studied the face of this mysterious man closely: strong cheekbones, large elfin ears, thin black eyebrows, a full mouth, and dark blue eyes full of knowledge. Emrys looked to be about twenty years old and something about his delicate features was slightly familiar, as though Arthur had met a distant cousin. The warlock's clothing was of good quality, but plain. His lone concession to his arcane status was a heavy gold torque with a dragon design around his slender white neck. Arthur felt a twinge of sexual interest shoot through his body at the sight of this man, but dismissed it as quickly as it came. Now was not the time.

Emrys arched an eyebrow at Arthur. "Forgive my abruptness, my lord," he said. "But I was not aware that the royal throne of Camelot possessed one of my tokens. How did you come here?"

"Gaius sent me," replied Arthur. "He sent me to ask your help. He said you are a powerful, benign warlock who might be persuaded to assist him."

"Ah," said the warlock. "That explains much. I hope Gaius was not prevented from coming himself due to any injuries?"

Arthur shook his head, but then said, "Not to him personally, no, but he is being worn to the bone at this moment. A magical plague has been set on the people of Camelot and he seeks a cure. However, he has been unsuccessful and begs your assistance."

Emrys looked thoughtful. He turned around and stared at the crystal wall. With an absent gesture he beckoned the crystals. A few detached, flew to the center of the room, and grew. In a few seconds, two crystal chairs were formed. "Please, have a seat," the warlock offered, turning back to the prince.

With no small amount of trepidation after the casual display of magic, Arthur sat in the proffered chair. Gingerly, he sat back, then relaxed when the seat neither collapsed nor attempted to capture him. "Please, Emrys, my people need your help. I would not be asking a sorcerer if I didn't have to, but you are our last hope."

Emrys snorted from his seat. "Prince Arthur, there is something you must learn from the world around you."

"What's that?"

"Tact." The warlock smirked at the outraged look on the prince's face. "Do you honestly think that you are ingratiating yourself by admitting that you have exhausted all other options before seeking my help?" Arthur's mouth, which had been open to protest the mage's attitude snapped shut with a click. He hadn't realized how it would sound to the other party. He grimaced at his mistake. Emrys continued, "Now, I am willing to help Gaius with anything in my power. I owe him much, though I believe he does not remember me?" Arthur's nod confirmed this. "However, I am not convinced that it is my best interest to help the Pendragons. Tell me, Arthur, why should I help you, the son of the man who executes people like me with no remorse?"

Arthur thought for a moment. Although Emrys had been decidedly unthreatening during the encounter so far, he had not forgotten that he was at the sorcerer's power here. What response would not have a negative and possibly deadly effect on himself? Arthur looked Emrys square in the eye. "I am not proud of what my father has done. I have started to realize that his crusade has murdered innocents and destroyed the lives of many more. However, whatever my views on magic may be, my father is not the one ill, and my people should not suffer for the actions of their king. They had nothing to say about the matter, yet it is their sons who have begun to die. If a magic user wants revenge, he should attack my father or me, not the population."

Emrys gave Arthur a piercing look, as though he could gauge the prince's sincerity. Arthur gazed back with as much steadiness as he could, wondering what the warlock saw. Finally, Emrys nodded slowly. "Nevertheless, Arthur, you are the prince of Camelot. What would you give me for my services?"

Arthur took a deep breath and sat up rigidly in the chair. This was it. He was making a deal with the devil. "Anything. Anything you want, Emrys."

Emrys rose fluidly from his crystal chair and stalked over to Arthur. The prince stayed facing forward as the warlock walked directly behind him, resisting the urge to turn around. He shivered as Emrys leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Anything I ask? Are you truly willing to go that far, my lord?"

Arthur gulped, but nodded. "Anything."

A thin, soft hand found its way to his shoulder and started to creep under his collar and down his chest, the long white fingers contrasting against the prince's golden skin. "You would give me yourself if I asked? You would give me your body?"

Arthur's blood ran cold, yet part of him was aroused. He never thought Emrys would ask a question like that. So far, he had made no threatening moves and had implied no ulterior motives. Yet, here he was, asking for the prince of Camelot. "I-I don't know what you mean," he stuttered, hoping to avoid the question.

The warlock's smirk was audible in his voice. Emrys' hand inched further downward and his mouth crept so close that Arthur could feel his lips brush his earlobe as he whispered huskily, "No, I think you know exactly what I'm asking, Arthur. Would you give yourself to me to save your people?"

Arthur swallowed hard, but made his decision. "Yes," he whispered back. "I will surrender myself to you if you will save Camelot." He was shocked by the response he received.

The warlock withdrew his teasing hand, backed away from the prince, and laughed. It was not an evil or lecherous laugh, but a genuinely happy and pleased laugh. Emrys strode back to his chair and reclined once more, his lips curved upward in a smile. "Well said, my prince. I see you have learned much in the past few years. You have learned self-sacrifice and compassion for your people. You are beginning to rise to your potential, as I hoped you would. The prophecy will be fulfilled as foreseen."

Arthur was stunned and more than a little angry. He gaped for a moment, his mouth working but no sound escaping. Finally, he regained his voice. Furiously, he demanded, "What did you think you were doing?"

"Forgive me, my prince, but I needed to make sure you were serious," said the warlock, all traces of mirth draining from his face. "I would never force anyone to come to me unwillingly, least of all you, Albion's once and future king. Now, if you came to my of your own accord, that would be different." Emrys smiled sexily, causing Arthur's stomach to flop unexpectedly and his face to flush.

Arthur managed to rein in his anger. He was still irritated with the sorcerer, but no longer furious. He was more angry with himself for his response to the warlock's proposition. Then he realized exactly what Emrys had said and was completely bewildered. "The once and future king? What does that mean?"

Emrys continued to smile, but his expression turned more sad than sexy. "It is not surprising you have not heard your destiny. I had not heard mine until I met Kilgharrah, the last dragon. It was then that I first heard of the prophecies and began to see your potential. You can be a great man, Arthur, if you will only stop and listen." Emrys' words came uncomfortably close to what Merlin had said after Arthur had been bitten by the Questing Beast. The warlock sighed and leaned back in his crystal chair. "We are two sides of the same coin, my lord. Our destinies are entwined. You will become the greatest king Albion has ever seen and unite the countries under your rule. My destiny is to see that this comes to pass. You are the sword, the warrior, and I the shield, the protector. So it was foreseen many years ago."

Arthur was stunned. Emrys was destined to help him become the king of all Albion? Impossible. The kingdoms would never unite and Emrys had nothing to do with him. Cautiously, he asked the warlock what he meant by the sword and the shield. He didn't need a protector, damn it!

For the first time, Emrys truly grinned, causing the other man's stomach to quake again. "Arthur, sometimes I despair of you. Have you never noticed? I have been with you for years, protecting from the shadows. Is there nothing that you can remember? Did you not recognize my guiding light?"

His mouth gaped. Arthur certainly remembered the guiding light in the Morteus flower caves. Here was an obvious magic user who claimed to have sent it! Oddly enough, it made sense. The light over the water pool above had been identical to the one he had seen years ago. "You sent that light?" Emrys nodded, still grinning. "What else have you done?"

"Many things, Arthur. Do you remember the old woman who impersonated Lady Helen?"

"Of course, but it was Merlin who saved my life. The witch died when the chandelier...fell..." Arthur trailed off as Emrys' grin widened. "You dropped the chandelier?"

"Indeed," admitted the warlock. "It was also I who drove Kilgharrah away after you were knocked unconscious. I know that your manservant, Merlin told you that you defeated it, but he lied."

"Merlin lied to me?" Arthur was shocked. He did not think that Merlin was capable of lying to him directly.

Emrys sighed. "Merlin had more secrets that you can imagine, Arthur, but one thing I know for certain: he believed in you completely. He may not have trusted you with his secrets, but he truly believed that you would become a great king. Without regret, he repeatedly offered his life for yours." Here the warlock smirked mysteriously. "In fact, you could say that he traded his life for yours as often as I."

Arthur was perplexed. "What are you talking about? When did Merlin try to give his life for mine?"

Emrys planted his face in his palm. Arthur heard him say quite distinctly, "Unbelievable." Emrys looked back up at Arthur with a look of disbelief. "Um, Arthur, have you forgotten than he drank poison for you?" Arthur's face flooded bright red. Yes, he had indeed forgotten that little escapade. Emrys continued. "Also, when you were bitten by the Questing Beast, you fell under the laws of the Old Religion. At the core of the Old Religion is the principle of balance. To save a life, a life must be given. Merlin offered his own life to Nimueh to save yours." Arthur was stunned. That was where Merlin had gone? That brought a great deal more meaning to the curious conversation they had. It was humbling to think that Merlin had been that willing to give his life for his master. Then again, he had actually given his life to save Arthur later, so this should not have been so surprising.

A though struck the prince. "If Merlin gave his life to Nimueh to save mine, why did he not die then?"

"Ah," said Emrys, smiling once more. "That is because I interfered. The Old Religion is not particular about which life is lost." Here he grimaced as though recalling a painful memory. "Therefore, when I killed Nimueh, Merlin's life was spared."

"You killed Nimueh?" questioned Arthur in complete awe and disbelief. He received a nod from the dark-haired man. "How?" He watched, fascinated, as, for the first time in their conversation, Emrys looked distinctly uncomfortable. A light flush crept up the pale neck and the warlock broke eye contact with the prince.

"We had best concentrate on the present and look for a cure for your disease," said the warlock, obviously changing the subject. He refused to look at Arthur as he got up and walked to his work table. Unwillingly, Arthur let the topic rest and followed his host.

"What can I do?" asked the golden-haired prince.

Emrys snorted, still not looking at the other man. "Well, considering that your knowledge of magic is, shall we say, somewhat lacking, you can begin by looking through all my books written in English. I, on the other hand, will attempt to locate the source of the sickness."

"But we don't have the time to search your library, Emrys!" Arthur protested. Combing through all those books would take too much time. More people were dying every hour.

"Hmm, you are right," said Emrys, finally glancing up. Arthur felt a jolt of fear shoot through his body as Emrys' eyes suddenly flared gold. The crystals on the walls of the cavern glowed gold in response before dying back to their usual blue glow. Emrys' eyes returned to their clear deep blue color, but something in the air felt different. Arthur was stunned. Of all the sorcerers he had fought, none had performed spells without words and their eyes had never changed color.

"How did you do that?" asked Arthur with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity. "What did you do?"

Emrys returned to the tome he was studying and flipped a page. "That, my dear prince, is the difference between a sorcerer and a warlock," he said absently. "A sorcerer is a human who chooses to study the arcane arts. A warlock, on the other hand, is often given no choice. Most warlocks have an innate talent for magic that manifests itself during late childhood, enabling them to cast certain spells without incantations. Mordred, the druid boy who was captured in Camelot several years ago, was a warlock. However, I have never been normal in any sense of the word, even amongst magic users. Instead of being born with a talent for magic, I was born with magic. Just as you were born a prince, I was born a creature of the Old Religion. However, although you could refuse your princely position, I cannot refuse my magic. Like the unicorn, the griffin, the dragon, and many other magical creatures, magic is in my very blood. As to your second question, I slowed down time."

"Slowed down time?" gasped Arthur. Just how powerful was Emrys?

"Mm-hm. It's a talent I've had since birth. Originally, I could only slow time for a short while. Three years ago, though, when I finally lost my last fragments of humanity, my control skyrocketed. I can now slow time for a much longer period." Emrys could see that Arthur was thoroughly confused and shocked. With a deep sigh, he carried his magical text back to one of the crystal chairs and sat down to read. As his eyes scanned the pages, he explained. "I was born half-human, half-dragonlord. When my father died, I inherited his dragonlord powers. Normally, this would not be an issue, but my magic was much more powerful than the average half-dragonlord. Until my dragonlord heritage awoke, my human blood was strong enough to hold its own against my magic. When I became a dragonlord, however, the magic gained strength and began to overwhelm my humanity. Believe me when I say the process is painful. Eventually, there was nothing left to do but choose one side of my heritage over the other. So I died. By reaching the shores of Avalon, my human half was lost forever. Now, Kilgharrah and I are the last of the full-blooded dragonkin."

Emrys looked so lonesome as he touched his dragon-etched torque that Arthur was tempted to cross the room and kiss him. He quickly shook the urge away, puzzled. Never before had he been so attracted to a man so fast. And a sorcerer...no, a warlock, nonetheless. A thought struck him and he queried, "You mean you are the last dragonlord? I thought the lord Balinor was said to be the last dragonlord?"

"He was my father."

Arthur gaped yet again. This was certainly a day for revelations. He had met Balinor three years previously when the great dragon, Kilgharrah, had attacked Camelot. Balinor had finally agreed to help, even though he despised Uther, but he was killed before he could reach Camelot. It seemed that Emrys had inherited his dragonlord powers just in time to save Uther's kingdom from the dragon's fiery wrath. Arthur was becoming more and more convinced that Emrys was not a person he wanted to have as an enemy if he valued his life. Not only was the warlock absurdly strong with magic, he had also mastered his dragonlord powers quickly enough to prevent the destruction of Camelot. Arthur may have been exceptionally gifted with the instruments of war, but Emrys could defeat him by merely blinking. This all led to one question: "If you don't agree with Uther's magic ban, why don't you attack? Why do you sit out here in the middle of Camelot and do nothing? Many sorcerers have attacked, but it sounds like you have the power to win!"

Emrys closed his book with a snap and looked up at the prince. "That's a discussion for another time, Arthur. Now, I need to search out the origin of this disease. I would ask that you not interrupt, as any disruption of my concentration could cause my control to lapse." Without further words, Emrys lifted his feet and folded his legs in the chair. Placing the book on his lap, Emrys rested his hands on his knees and closed his eyes. After a few seconds, Arthur noticed a distinct humming feel radiating from the warlock. The inaudible hum rose in intensity and Emrys' eyes began to open. Arthur guessed that Emrys' irises would be gold, but he did not expect the faint golden glow that suffused the man's body. With a rush, the golden light detached from the warlock, collapsed into a golden net, and expanded from the seated dark-haired man. Arthur felt nothing more than a slight tingle as the golden web passed through him and continued into the crystal walls, disappearing from sight. Emrys' eyes remained open, golden, and unfocused as he concentrated on determining the source of the magical sickness.

Arthur spent the next several hours in the cavern, looking through various books. However, he made no progress with identifying the spell. Emrys remained motionless, his golden eyes staring blankly ahead. Eventually, Arthur dozed off in his magical crystal chair. When he woke up, Emrys had finished his magical search and was also sleeping. If the prince had not seen the warlock's magic with his own eyes, he would not have believed that such an innocent-looking man could be capable of such amazing feats. Camelot's fair-haired prince drifted back to sleep, dreaming of Emrys.

When Arthur woke again, Emrys was gone. Blinking, Arthur stood up and stretched. He was a little achy from sleeping in a hard chair, but he was used to sleeping on the ground during hunting excursions. Emrys appeared in a quick flash of golden light and sat in his chair. He looked troubled. "I have determined the source and nature of the spell, my lord. The spell originated from a small village about two hours north of the castle." Arthur snatched his sword and scabbard from when he had lain them before he fell asleep, ready to leave. Emrys shook his head and held up his hand. "Wait a moment, I was not finished." Arthur looked at his host and realized he could not leave without Emrys' assistance. He sank back into his chair impatiently, silently urging the warlock to continue. Emrys did so, sounding thoughtful. "The spell is more complex that I had anticipated.

"Most spells are tied to only one of the four main elements, yet this one has characteristics of two. Only powerful spells combine the elements, and very few spellweavers have the skill to do so. I believe you encountered this when you fought Nimueh's Afanc. Regardless of her personality, Nimueh was undoubtedly a powerful sorceress. An Afanc is comprised of water and earth, and thus must be combated with air and fire. This sickness, however, is formed by a merge of water and fire, a combination that is almost unheard-of."

"What do you mean?"

"Fire and water are fundamentally opposite, Arthur. They do not exist simultaneously in nature. Fire is destructive and water is restoring. I see two possibilities: either the source of this magic is a single, spectacularly powerful magic user, or two untrained warlocks. I suspect the latter. To my knowledge, no sorcerer with any training would ever consider trying to combine opposing elements: it is much too dangerous. Therefore, this points to two untrained warlocks who accidentally managed to merge their magics to form this deadly disease."

"We need to find them! They've killed so many people already, we can't let them continue!" stated Arthur. "They must be punished!"

Emrys stared at the prince. "You would punish children?" Arthur was taken aback. He hadn't realized Emrys meant children. The warlock continued, sadly, "There is even a chance that they have put themselves in as much danger as the young men of Camelot. Accidental magic rarely passes over the creator. Often, the warlock is the first to die. You would punish children for accidentally placing themselves and others in danger? That would be like punishing a child who accidentally dropped a candle in the house and burned himself and his family."

Emrys spun on his heel, snatched his cloak, and headed for the crystal doorway. Regaining his wits, Arthur quickly followed, not wanting to be left behind. He followed Emrys into the antechamber-like cave and the warlock transported them both to the surface of the world with a single word and a flash of gold.

After locating the village of interest, the cloaked warlock stopped in the middle of the road as though he heard something. Arthur paused as the warlock slowly turned his head from side to side, as though listening to something only he could hear. Abruptly, he headed in the direction of a small house near the outskirts of the village. Without hesitation, he knocked on the door and entered. Arthur followed curiously. Inside the cottage was a single room that held a mother and son. The pretty blonde woman looked up from her seat at her son's bedside, startled, at the intrusion and the fair-haired boy of about ten years looked up with dull eyes. Arthur recognized the sickness that had plagued Camelot.

Emrys stepped into the light of a window and removed the hood of his cloak and the mother gasped. She started to cry tears of relief and joy. "Lord Emrys! Thank heavens you've come! Lothar is dying!"

Emrys shook his head. "My lady," he said. "I'm afraid it is a little more complicated that you think. May I speak with your son?"

"Of course. I-I'll just go fetch him some water." She hurried out the door, not noticing Arthur who stood in a shadowy corner of the room.

Emrys sat in her vacated seat and looked at the boy, who returned his gaze with fear. "Do you know what happened, Lothar?" asked the warlock, sorrowfully. The boy nodded his head slightly, tears of guilt and shame in his eyes. "You attempted something you should not have. You lost control and the magic spun out of control. I can fix this, but it will not be easy. Something must change. You must either never use magic again, or you must learn how to control it. You are responsible for what occurs, whether you intended it or not. Just as I am responsible for the damage done by a dragon a few years ago, you must take responsibility for this disease." The boy cringed, but nodded. Arthur was curious why Emrys felt responsible for the damage done by Kilgharrah. He had stopped the dragon, right? Why would he feel guilty?

The mother re-entered the cottage with a bucket of water. Emrys got out of the chair, allowing the woman to offer her son a drink. She then looked at Emrys hopefully. "Can you heal him, Lord Emrys?"

Emrys nodded slowly. "Yes, but first you should know something. Were you aware that your son is a warlock?"

The pretty woman was visibly shocked. Her head spun to stare at her son. "Lothar, is it true?" she whispered. When the boy nodded, she smiled. "I had my suspicions, but Lord Emrys confirmed them." Arthur was surprised at how easily she accepted this revelation. She turned back to Emrys. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Emrys glanced at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry to tell you, but you have to know. Your son is one of the people responsible for the sickness." At her stricken face, he hurried to explain. "He and another young warlock were experimenting and lost control. I sense that the other warlock has already died, but I can save your son. May I help you?"

The poor woman could only nod as she digested this information. If Emrys said it was unintentional, it must have been an accident. However, it was hard to believe that her son was responsible for so many deaths.

Emrys ushered her out the door which he locked. He turned to Lothar who was sobbing silently into his cot. The warlock's face softened and he sat on the edge of the bed. The bent down to the boy's ear and started whispering to him. Eventually, Lothar settled down. The glanced up at the older warlock as though trying to gauge his honesty. Whatever he saw reassured him and he calmed down. Emrys patted him on the shoulder. Then he got down to business. "Arthur," he called. "Hold him. He is the catalyst."

Arthur stepped out of the shadows. Lothar jumped in shock as he recognized the Pendragon name and symbol. His face whitened and he just stared. Emrys tightened his grip on the boy's shoulder. "Trust me," he said. Lothar turned to the dragonlord and relaxed. Arthur felt a twinge as he recognized complete trust in the boy's expression. Such devotion was uncommon, and the last place he had seen it was in Merlin's face as he was swept away by a flood.

Emrys sat on the dirty floor, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes. Arthur recognized the pose and prepared himself. Sure enough, Emrys began to hum just as he did the day before when he searched for the cause of the disease. This time, though, he did not begin to glow. Instead, a breeze picked up in the closed building and an earthy scent filled the air. Emrys was calling on the elements of air and earth to disrupt the spell based on fire and water. Arthur was confused: didn't Emrys say that no self-respecting sorcerer would even contemplate using two opposing elements simultaneously? Was Emrys that confident in his fantastic skills that he would risk it? Apparently.

The wind in the room howled as it picked up speed and small particles of dust appeared in it. Arthur lifted his cloak to his mouth to prevent inhaling the dust. He crossed the room and did the same for the sick boy who glanced up at him warily, but made no move to stop him or jerk away. Truly his trust in Emrys was absolute. The older warlock of question finally opened his glowing golden eyes as Lothar watched with obvious awe and excitement. The dusty wind slowed and trickled over to the bed. Arthur held the boy down tightly as the wind buffeted Lothar, removing the sickness. The young warlock's eyes brightened and his face regained color. The wind then died completely, releasing a layer of dust on the boy's blankets. Emrys closed his eyes and slumped to the floor, unconscious, followed by Lothar.

Arthur hurried to his side and eased the black-haired warlock into a more comfortable position on the floor. Even for a warlock of his standing, Emrys was exhausted by the effort of purging a wild fire-water sickness from so many people. As he held the warlock, he felt a strong desire to ravish him. With a great effort, he forced himself to let the other man go. Tenderly, Arthur placed an old blanket over the slumbering dragonlord and sat in the chair to keep watch over the man who had saved his kingdom.

When Emrys awoke, he glanced around. After working such a major spell so soon after the golden web, he had pushed himself too far. He would require several more days to fully recover. In the meantime, it was imperative that he return to his crystal cave to avoid being hunted by Uther, who was sure to be searching for the sorcerer responsible for the magic that had certainly been felt in Camelot. A quick look at Arthur sleeping in the chair reassured him that the prince would do nothing to prevent his escape. If the crown prince were planning betrayal, he would not have stayed in a house with two warlocks. Emrys left the house, with important business to finish before he returned. Lothar eventually stirred and awoke. He tentatively left the bed and stood before Emrys returned. The boy quickly went and stood next to the older warlock. "I'm so sorry," he began, looking at the ground. "We didn't mean for anything to happen! Eric and I were just playing."

Arthur woke with a start and the first thing he saw was Emrys consoling a tearful Lothar. Rising from the chair, he caught the attention of both warlocks. Lothar was noticeably more at ease with the prince, realizing that he hadn't murdered the magic users in their sleep. Emrys watched the other two males carefully to ensure that no conflict arose, but both Arthur and Lothar were behaving themselves. He turned to Arthur. "My prince, it is time I returned to my sanctuary. Your father's knights will be combing the countryside for me and I would rather not be forced to defend myself. I will be taking Lothar with me as my apprentice." Lother's head jerked as he stared at the dark-haired man. Apparently he had not been told this yet. Emrys smiled down at his new apprentice. "You have a strong gift, Lothar, but you must learn to master it. Your mother has agreed to allow you to come with me. You will be able to visit her any time you like."

Actually, Arthur thought, Lothar looked more excited than scared to leave his home. The boy's anticipation only increased as they neared the pond of twisted trees. Lothar was practically bouncing up and down as he walked with them, impatient to learn the arts of sorcery. Emrys just ignored the boy's enthusiasm, certain that it would wane once the actual lessons began. At the water's edge, Emrys and Lothar turned to the prince.

"My lord," said the black-haired warlock. "I owe you my thanks. You have my gratitude for not attempting to kill Lothar. I will never forget. You will always be welcome in my home." He bowed to the prince.

Lothar also bowed and said, "Um, thanks, Prince Arthur. I'm really, really sorry! Thank you for not trying to kill me!"

Arthur nodded solemnly. "Don't worry, Lothar, I know you didn't mean to hurt anyone. Just remember that my father would not believe you. Be careful in the future and don't give him any reason to have you executed, alright?" The boy nodded vigorously. "Emrys," continued Arthur. "Thank you. I owe you a great deal. Although I know I cannot change my father's view of magic, I can promise you that I will do my best to change things when I take the throne."

"That is all I ask. Give my regards to Gaius. Come, Lothar, your first lesson will be on crystal manipulation. You will find it more difficult that you think, but you will not have a bed until you master it." With that, the warlock placed an arm around his apprentice, winked at Arthur flirtatiously, and disappeared with a flash of golden eyes.

Arthur flushed. He had restrained himself quite well during the last two days, but the urge to kiss Emrys senseless remained. Shaking his head, he turned back to Camelot. He had a feeling in his heart that this would not be the last time he saw the enigmatic warlock. Very well, let him come. Maybe someday Arthur would get all his questions answered. Maybe someday he would be able to explore these feelings he had every time Emrys smiled at him. Maybe someday he could welcome Emrys to his court as a king to a warlock, as a person to his friend, or even as a man to his lover. Maybe someday.

Note: Well there you are. This is a picture I just couldn't get out of my head, so here it is strung out on the internet. If you liked the story, please review. If you didn't like the story, let me know why. If you think I should possibly add another short story after this, please take the time to give feedback. If you thought my style of writing was awful, it's probably because I'm a scientist, not a writer. Hopefully there are some people out there whom this doesn't bother. I mostly just write these for my own enjoyment and post them so others might have another excuse not to do their work for however long they spend reading them.

Thanks for reading!