A/N: I'm finally getting around to posting something new! Are you excited?

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, but I do own the idea… unless the producers and I are on a very similar wave-length… which would be completely awesome. I'm just saying.

Chapter 1 – The Call

"Good Morning," Merlin called out as he threw open the curtains, just as he did every morning of every day. Without being told to, he went to pick out Arthur's outfit for the day and set it out over the back of the prince's chair.

"Every morning is good with you," Arthur grumbled as he pulled himself out of his pillows and sheets.

"Would you rather I wake you by saying the castle's on fire next time?" Merlin asked, pouring water into Arthur's breakfast goblet.

"I'd rather you not say anything for a day or so." The blonde royal lazily meandered behind his changing screen with the clothes Merlin had chosen and made himself semi-presentable before returning to view and heading for his breakfast.

"Right," Merlin begin, seeming to actually ponder the idea. "So what are the plans for the day?"

Arthur grumbled in a way that seemed to suggest Merlin was an idiot for even asking. "Father says I need to go on a vacation," he said in much the same upset tone. "He thinks I'm stressed. Do I look stressed to you?"

With his unbrushed hair, sad and tired eyes, deep frown, and clothes in need of some adjusting by Merlin… well, Merlin thought it best to hide his small smile and shake his head like a good servant would. As usual, Arthur wasn't as big a fool as he looked and saw right through the motions.

"You're lying to me!" he exclaimed. "I am NOT stressed. What reason do I have to be stressed?"

"You're hidden affections for a certain servant?" Merlin suggested instantly. Arthur dropped the bread from his breakfast back on his plate and frowned deeply. If Merlin didn't know better, he'd think Arthur was surprised that Merlin knew, but they'd been over Arthur's love for Gwen plenty of times, so none of this could possibly be a shock… except maybe that Merlin was mentioning it in the first place after Arthur had promised so many times to have him killed for ever speaking of it again.

"Fine," Arthur finally accepted, looking down at his breakfast. "If you think I'm so stressed, where should we go on vacation?"

"I'm sorry?" Merlin asked, pausing only two steps toward going to make Arthur's bed.

"What, you didn't think I'd be going off without someone to cook and clean and carry my stuff, did you?" Arthur asked. Merlin sighed and shook his head.

"Well then I'd say it's up to you. Where have you always wanted to go but couldn't?" Merlin said as he began to straighten the sheets.

"Nowhere," Arthur answered with a hint of awe. "Anywhere I wanted to go, Father always took me there. Well, except for one time I was accompanied by an old man instead." Here his voice trailed off in thought.

"An old man?" Merlin asked, skeptical.

"Oh! I have it!" Arthur suddenly exclaimed and turned in his chair to face the bed. "Where would you go? I'm sure there are plenty of places you've been dreaming of while I dragged you across the kingdom."

"True. There has been a lot of dragging through dangerous places lately," Merlin said, diverting the question while he thought. He tossed the pillows to the foot of the bed and straightened out the edge of the sheets where the pillows would lay. "How about the beach?"

"You've never been to the beach?" Arthur asked, disbelief evident in his tone.

Merlin threw an indignant look back at his lord. "I have, but only once and that was to save your sorry behind from a unicorn curse. It was hot, covered in rocks, and I ended up having to carry you halfway back to Camelot."

"So you're saying you didn't enjoy it, then."

Merlin tried to glare at Arthur again, but it lost its heat when he saw how Arthur was grinning like a loon at his pitiful attempt to tease. Instead of glaring, Merlin sighed and nodded his head.

"Yes. That's what I'm saying. I mean, for once, I'd like to sit with my toes in the sand and feel the waves instead of just hear them, you know? My mom says it's one of the best feelings in the world, standing at the wave line." Merlin set the pillows back in their spots, all fluffy and ready for Arthur's heavy head. Only when he was done did he realize Arthur hadn't made any snide comments… or any comments at all. He turned his head to find the prince watching him closely. "What?"

"I need potatoes," Arthur said as though it were the most natural response in the world. "And broccoli. And fresh bread. So I need you to go to the market. Also, I want to give Morgana some flowers, so can you pick some of those too? She likes white and purple best."

"What?" Merlin asked again, disbelieving. It was barely morning and Arthur was setting up a chore list? Arthur wasn't even fully awake yet. How did he have the brain function to make commands?

"You heard me. And buy some food for the dogs. We won't need them for hunting anytime soon, but they need to be fed too and the supply looked a bit low last I saw it," Arthur finished. He swiveled around to eat his breakfast again, turning his back on Merlin's stunned expression.

"They have plenty of food. More than me!" Merlin complained.

"You may want to get started," Arthur said, ignoring him. "I hear flower picking takes quite a bit of time." Merlin huffed and knocked a pillow on the floor for revenge… only to have to be the one who picked it back up to fix the mess.

"And then he said 'I hear flower picking takes quite a bit of time!' I mean, can you believe it?" Merlin complained as he walked through the produce in town.

"Oh no," Gwen agreed, but she was smiling. "How ever could I believe our gracious prince would deign to pick on you in such a way?"

"Pick on me?" Merlin asked. "This is going way beyond teasing, Gwen. I mean, the guy is an overgrown child. I bet he was even worse when he was a child."

"Oh you'd be surprised," Gwen said, stopping to pick out a head of lettuce. "He once ran away, you know."

"How does this surprise me?" Merlin asked, stopping whatever Gwen had meant to follow that up with. He turned his head to the side, looking out toward the main city gate, and narrowed his eyes. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Gwen asked, setting her lettuce in her basket and moving on to the potato stand. "You need some of these, right?"

"Right," Merlin said and put his hand down on some to check them for quality. He turned his head again and bit the inside of his cheek. "You sure you didn't hear someone call me just now?"

Gwen laughed. "I think you need a vacation more than Arthur," she said. "You're starting to hear orders where there are none."

"Maybe," Merlin said, but he didn't relax. He'd heard that voice before, calling him.

"If you hold any tighter to that potato, you'll have them being thrown at you in the stocks," she warned and brought Merlin's attention to the grip he had on a poor spud.

"Oops," he laughed and decided to take that potato just in case. "Maybe I do need to relax more."

"Maybe you can relax a bit during this vacation. I mean, Arthur's your friend, not just your master. Maybe he'll really take you to the beach," Gwen guessed. "But you best get Morgana's flowers before the bread or meat goes bad, or Arthur may decide not to take you at all."

"Thanks, Gwen," Merlin said, and he wasn't sure if he meant it or not. He picked a few more potatoes, paid the vendor, and walked on. "Speaking of, you should get back to her soon. I'll probably see you later when Arthur has me deliver the flowers."

"Then I await your delivery," Gwen said with a playful smile. "Be careful picking flowers."

"Oh I will. The flower monsters won't stand a chance." And with a few laughs they parted. Merlin had barely taken two steps when he stopped to stare out at the fields where he was about to go. Someone was definitely calling him, and if Gwen couldn't hear it, then it was a telepathic call. But it was no Mordred chant or druid plea. Merlin only knew one who spoke in this tongue.

Merlin shook his head roughly and walked on. He didn't care how much that great scaly beast called him. Merlin was busy. He wasn't going to run after him. The Great Dragon may think this call was important, but not listening to Arthur would be worse. Maybe after he delivered the flowers, but not now. He was the dragonlord, not the other way around.

Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, Merlin. The closer to finishing his flower picking he got, the more he heard it, the louder it got. The dragon couldn't even be here, so how was he voice so close? Kilgharrah couldn't return to Camelot without Merlin's permission.

"Shut up," Merlin murmured into the bushes as he clipped some beautiful irises.

But the call ignored him, almost as if he hadn't been heard. But that was impossible. Kilgharrah could always hear Merlin when they were within telepathic distance. It was ingrained in them through their magic. Which meant the dragon was ignoring him personally. Great.

"This better be worth it," Merlin groaned as he stood up straight and turned his back to Camelot. Leaves slipped under his feet as he moved further into the forest, and the trees grew slightly closer together. Still, no matter how far he walked, the dragon's call didn't seem to grow much louder at all.

"Where are you?" Merlin yelled into the branches, but got only a startled bird call in return. "Dragon!"

Merlin trudged up a hill and stopped as he neared the top. The voice of the dragon, he'd thought something was wrong with it before, but now he was sure. It had sounded familiar, too familiar. It was louder now that he was closer, but not by much. Still, the rise in volume did help. It was echoing. It was hollow. It was the same way the dragon's voice had sounded in Merlin's head for two years. It was as if it were coming from another cave.

"Kilgharrah?" Merlin asked curiously, stepping to the top of the hill beside a fallen log. He glanced down the other side, where a pocket was formed between the hill he was on and another small hill on the other side. He could hear the voice resonating from this spot. But there was no cave entrance and definitely no dragon. "Hello?" he tried again. Then he felt his foot slip on the leaves, the basket of produce and flowers go flying into the air, and his head thwacking the log which felt more like a rock. Then he felt nothing at all.

Merlin blinked the bleariness from his eyes and groaned. What horse had kicked him in the head? He sat up slowly and ran his hand back over his head until he hit a sore spot. With a wince, he ripped his hand from his head. He'd given himself a nice big bump on the side of his head, and he partially remembered there being a log involved. He would need to have Gaius check him out before he went back to see Arthur.

Stretching out his aching back and groaning, Merlin made to climb back up the hill. He'd dropped his basket before he fell, he remembered that, and he needed to collect what was salvageable before he returned to the city. It would be best if he didn't have to redo all the shopping. But when he reached the top again, he saw no basket. Merlin knit his brow together and spun in a slow circle, because his head wouldn't let him move any faster. There was no sign of his basket or any of the food or flowers. He could understand if the animals had eaten the food, but no animal ate entire baskets that fast, if there were any that ate baskets at all.

Merlin turned his gaze to the sky and squinted against the early morning rays. He felt his heart stop a moment and he gasped, spinning faster than he should have to face the city. Morning? How could it be morning? He'd headed into the woods just before lunch to pick the flowers. Was it even possible he'd been unconscious for almost an entire day? Arthur was going to flay him alive. Not only had Merlin stayed out all night, but he'd lost all the supplies.

But where was the basket? Merlin knelt down to get a different angle on his surroundings. As a last resort, he bent over and checked inside the log that was responsible for his head wound. The emptiness of it wasn't a surprise, but a young and haughty voice was.

"Idiot," it scolded. Merlin ripped back from the log and looked up at a young teen standing nearby. He was a peasant by his outfit, a farmer's boy no doubt. His hair was blonde with sun-induced highlights, and his eyes were like the sky. Over his shoulder, he carried a brown satchel.

"Excuse me?" Merlin asked, offended. His head gave a throb and he reached back to hold the spot that ached. He pulled his hand back quickly and looked down at it. His eyes widened as he saw the blood there.

"Only an idiot walks around with a head wound like that," the boy scolded, but he sounded sympathetic all the same. He walked closer to Merlin and didn't ask permission before grabbing hold of his arm. "Sit down," he ordered and half forced the motion before giving Merlin a chance to react. The position left Merlin at a severe height disadvantage.

"Hey," he tried to argued, but the farm boy interrupted him with a loud and impolite 'shush.' Merlin frowned in anger. For a farmer, this kid had a lot of nerve. Then, without warning, the young teen smashed his hand harshly against the bleeding spot on Merlin's head. "Hey!" Merlin hissed.

"I said don't talk," the kid huffed, and that was when Merlin noticed that it hadn't been a hand against his head but a wad of bandages.

Slowly and sloppily, a strip of cloth was pulled around Merlin's head, pulling tight against the wound. After it had made its turn a few times too many, the bandages wrapped themselves up and held firm against his head. Unfortunately, when the farm boy had decided his work was done Merlin could barely see out of his left eye because of it being half covered by the bandages. Merlin pushed the wrapping gently with his fingers until they were out of his view but still holding onto his wound. Then he gingerly touched the cut on his head with his fingers.

"Not bad," he complimented. "Who taught you to patch up a wound like that, kid?"

"I'm fourteen," the boy complained bitterly. "And I'll have you know that the court physician himself taught me how. That's how special I am. I'm not a kid." And he said the word with great disdain.

"Okay," Merlin agreed. "Not a kid. But why would Gaius teach someone as, er, young as you to patch wounds? Even if you are special." Gaius had never mentioned children learning from him before, and Merlin had never seen this teen, but he supposed it was always possible.

"Father says I need to know this stuff for when I become a great battle champion," the farm boy announced. "One day, I'll lead a band of knights into battle, and I'll need to know how to care for the wounded."

"Head knight, eh?" Merlin asked with a grin. Well, it was nice kids had dreams, even if Arthur would never revoke his title. "And who are you, so special and valiant? I wish to know the name of my future hero."

The blonde smiled broadly at Merlin's teasing and placed one foot on the log, taking a strong and gallant pose. "I am Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot!"

Merlin blanched. Arthur? Wow. The kid had nice dreams, but there was no way he'd ever be Arthur. Although this might explain how he thought he could ever become head knight. He was dreaming of becoming someone like Arthur. He should really get a new hero. Cute kid game, but it was impossible. No way.

"Oh!" the boy's eyes went wide and he covered his mouth. He gazed down at Merlin in shock, then he jumped down from the log and knelt by Merlin on the ground. "No, wait. Forget I said that. I'm nobody important, understand? And if anyone asks, you didn't meet me."

Before Merlin could agree or disagree, the blonde farm boy jumped up and ran off in the direction of the city. Merlin reached up and held his head. That was one odd youth. Had Merlin been that spastic as a teen? He didn't remember it, but maybe his head wound was more serious than he thought. He'd really have to get Gaius to check him out.

Clambering to his feet, Merlin began his walk back to the city. He would just have to tell Arthur he lost the supplies and endure the punishment and teasing. He could hear it now. Poor Merlin, had his basket stolen by a squirrel. He may never live it down this time.

But as he left the woods and came into view of Camelot, Merlin found something much worse waiting for him. This was not the city he'd left this morning. Its castle was missing a tower, the town was almost a whole district smaller, and the smoke of a big fire rose out of the castle courtyard like the kind that hung around after a burning. Merlin glanced back into the trees and then down toward the city where the blonde farm boy was trotting through the gates.

It wasn't. Was it?

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