|Two Worlds Apart|

Chapter One•

'Those who don't believe in magic
will never find it.'

-

The sky was thick with grey clouds, quiet thunder rumbled in the distance and tiny droplets of rain fell sadly to the floor. It was the late 5th century, and people were living in desperate times. The kingdom of Camelot currently ruled by their king, Uther Pendragon. A strong ruler, his laws upholding duty and tradition and defying the use of witchcraft or magic. His two children Arthur, and Morgana did not share the same views as their father but tried their best to maintain the family image and monarchy.

Prince Arthur of Camelot ran faster into the deep, murky forest as he heard Merlin's desperate cries for help. Merlin was Arthur's friend, and guide. They'd fallen asleep during one of their late evening hunts, and when Arthur awoke he found his guards and knights slaughtered and Merlin missing. What happened, and why was he left alive?

"Hey. Come on now, that's enough." A voice called from the far side of the village.
Arthur spun around to see who dare tell him what to do, him, the prince of Camelot.
"What?" He further chuckled at the man approaching. "You've had your fun, my friend." The man spoke with a smile on his face. Arthur was in the middle of picking fun at one of his servants along with his fellow guard friends. Arthur raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Do I know you?" He asked abruptly, looking around at his friends for confirmation.
"Um. Probably not. I'm Merlin." The man introduced himself and placed his hands in his pockets.
Arthur stood in surprise and folded his arms. "So I don't know you?" Merlin shook his head slightly.
"No, you don't know me." Arthur walked towards him as to be intimidating. "Yet you called me friend?" Both of them stood almost face to face now. "That was my mistake." Merlin replied. "Yes, I think so too."

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled, as he sprinted towards the struggling sound. At the scene, Merlin was tangled in tight, sturdy ropes and chains. Arthur stopped dead in his tracks, and cupped his face with his gloved hands. Merlins clothes had been shred from him. He was beaten, bruised and his eyes were so swollen, he could not open them. His hands were bound together so forcefully that Arthur could see the wounds forming underneath.

"Merlin," Arthur said softly, in almost a whisper.

"Merlin, can you hear me? It's me, Arthur." Arthur remained calm, as he managed to get the ropes and chains untangled and lifted him onto his back. Arthur removed his thick red Camelot Cloak and wrapped it around Merlin to keep him warm.

Merlin fell unconscious, his lack of answering struck fear into Arthur. In all the adventures they'd ever been on, Merlin had managed to come away from them all with nothing more than a scratch. Arthur was nervous, he had no guards to protect him. He was alone with his hurt friend, with no idea how to get them both back to the castle.

Arthur looked around for anything that might be able to help. He spotted Merlin's baggy brown trousers and ripped shirt and shoved them into his satchel.

Merlin was freezing, wet from the rain and looked an inch from death. Arthur tried to remember what happened the night previous, he didn't know what had happened. One minute everyone was chattering, laughing and enjoying pints; the next, he woke up to this.

It was clear Merlin had been beaten, and probably used for other disgusting, vile, inhuman uses. Arthur needed to get Merlin back to his home before anyone saw what had happened to him.

Judging by the amount of foot prints imprinted within the mud, it wasn't one man alone. Arthur guessed that by waking up and have not been killed, they wanted to send a message. They wanted to get to Arthur. One of his friends died in the guard, and then to attack Arthur's best friend. Arthur sighed and shook his head. He hoped no one knew of his true feelings towards Merlin. He made it abundantly clear almost everyday. Treating him like the servant he is. Constantly reminding him to clean his chambers, wash his clothes, repair his armor, clean his boots, exercise his dogs, air out his fireplace, change his bed, and muck out his stables. However, occasionally he'd accidentally let his soft side slip, and invite his feelings out to play. These were his favourite moments.