Upon his return to Camelot, Arthur had almost instantaneously been summoned to the store room by his father. He wasn't stupid enough to think that this was anything but a bad sign, however, some small part of him clung to the hope that, miraculously, all of the grains would have been restored. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

"What is it? What's happening?" he exclaimed loudly, rushing into the dim room, staring wide-eyed at the blackened grain. His father knelt down, taking a handful of the vile corn and letting it fall through his fingers, as if hoping, somehow, that the action would make it edible.

"All our remaining supplies have rotted. Every last grain." Uther stood, his face the very picture of despair. Even as he left, Arthur remained rooted to the spot, unable to look away from what marked the starvation of his kingdom.

∆

"I know Arthur's stubborn and pigheaded," Merlyn sat across from Gaius in their quarters, eying her breakfast in distaste. "And annoying, but he cares about his people more than he cares about himself. He will not forgive himself for making his people suffer."

Gaius sighed. "You must make sure that he doesn't do anything rash." he advised, picking up their breakfast beetle from his plate.

"The mood he's in, I'm not sure what he'll do." Merlyn followed suit, wishing that she'd kept some of the rat stew. Suddenly, it seemed far more appealing.

"Ready?" Gaius asked the worried servant.

"You're sure they're not poisonous?" the witch questioned, trying to be a little light-hearted, but failing miserably. She squinted at her bug, hoping it would suddenly turn into something delectable. An apple, perhaps. Even some dry bread.

"Quite certain. They say they taste like chicken." The physician went to take a bite of the creature's head, but stopped, evidently just as reluctant. "Unless we're to starve, we must hope that they're right."

Merlyn wanted to ask who they was, but refrained, choosing instead to bite off part of the beetle, wincing at the crunching sound it made as she bit through the shell. She chewed slowly.

"This tastes nothing like chicken." she glared at her mentor, but he said nothing, biting into his own bug, silently telling her to finish the creature, despite the foul taste.

∆

Arthur had been waiting for his father for a few minutes, his hand resting on the back of the throne. He listened to footsteps slap against the wooden floor down the corridor, recognising them as the king's. He turned to the door, watching his father march through it, aged by the occurrences of the past few days.

"There are some supplies left in the palace stores. We are distributing them to the people, but there isn't enough to live on. They will not survive for long."

Uther nodded his head solemnly, trying not to shift uneasily on his feet. Whatever he had to say, he knew that Arthur wouldn't approve.

"Then you must stop distributing food to the people." he finally spoke, his eyes resting on anything that wasn't the flabbergasted prince.

"They will starve." Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing. His father had no right to choose who deserved to survive the famine. He was playing God, not king.

"We must conserve the food we have for our army."

"We cannot let our people go without food." Arthur argued, more so than he had ever dared to in his life. He normally left this kind of verbal outburst to Morgana, but this was far more important that a druid boy or an execution, this was the deaths of thousands of innocent people, civilians who trusted their king to look after them, not abandon them in times of need. What was the point of rulers without people to rule?

"We must defend the kingdom at all costs." the king argued, as if he wasn't acting in only his own interests.

"What's the point in defending a kingdom-"

"What would you have me do?" Uther interrupted, sounding weaker as he shouted, his voice trembling horribly. He moved past Arthur, walking towards a window.

"- where the people have starved to death?" the prince finished, turning around to where his father had stormed off, his eyes blazing with angry light. He took a deep breath, putting his thoughts in order. He needed to think, to find a way to save his people.

"Ask the neighbouring kingdoms for help." he suggested, only for his father to laugh rather hysterically, as if his feasible suggestion had been little more than a joke. Arthur frowned uncertainly, unsure what the king was thinking. "They may be able to spare some food."

"Out of the question." Uther spun to face his son, all traces of humour gone, his face white with fear. "As soon as they realise how weak we are, our enemies will strike against us."

"You don't know that for certain." Arthur exclaimed, frustrated with his father's paranoia. They were talking about saving their people; there was no room for dignity.

"Besides, I would rather starve than beg my enemies for help." The king continued, sneering cruelly. "What of our kingdom's reputation? Have you no pride?"

Pride was what had doomed them all. "I cannot think of my pride when our people go hungry." The prince shook his head in disbelief. He'd always thought his father a wise king, a good ruler, a kind man. In the space of three minutes, he'd managed to prove Arthur wrong on all accounts.

"Give the order to stop distributing food to the people. Is that understood?" His father probably intended to sound threatening, but Arthur could only see him as weak, unable to do what's right.

There were a few moments of silence "You will have to give that order yourself." Arthur spoke clearly, walking away from Uther.

"Very well. But if you'd caught the sorcerer, I wouldn't have to. That's your responsibility." The king shouted at Arthur's receding figure.

The prince stopped, but didn't turn around, refusing to face the coward.

"Don't you dare." he glared at the ground, his voice cold. "Don't you dare blame me for this. This is your decision, and yours alone."

∆

"One day, you will understand what it takes to be king."

Uther's words followed Arthur as he finally fled the hall, stomping up to the battlements. Usually, the sight of the city calmed him, the ordinary people living their ordinary, boring lives, with no death threats, no constant pressure to succeed, no problems that could put the entire kingdom in danger. He'd often thought of running away to a simple life, perhaps taking Merlyn with him to do all the dirty work, with no one depending on his every action. But as he looked across the city, the spectical was marred by a line of villagers, each armed with their small pots, desperate for just a few grains to feed their starving families.

"They do not know that there is worse to come." Arthur muttered, listening to the sound of boots on stone as Merlyn came up behind him. She leant against the wall of the battlements, looking sorrowfully down at the townspeople, the wind pushing a few strands of her hair behind her ears.

"What do you mean?" she asked, risking a touch of his hand in an attempt to comfort him.

"My father is going to stop distributing food to the people. They are to be left to starve." Arthur had fallen into a depressed state, saddened by his coward of a father and his own stupidity; he wasn't sure if even Merlyn could haul him out of it.

"I had a chance to lift the curse and I failed them." he gestured to the people below. "I failed you." he whispered, realising that Merlyn, despite her skills, wouldn't be receiving any more food after his father announced the order. She was only a servant, after all. Only a servant.

"You weren't to know that you were being tested." Merlyn gave him a small smile, but it did little to reduce his inner turmoil.

"My people are starving, Camelot is on the verge of collapse and it's all my doing."

Arthur left the battlements, a troubled Merlyn staring after him as he disappeared into the castle. He needed some time alone.

∆

"Anhora!" Merlyn shouted, listening to her voice echo across the clearing, wincing at the eerie silence as she ventures deeper into the forest. She hadn't come across a single animal since she'd ventured into the woods; not even the birds twittered in the trees.

"Show yourself!" she tried again, praying that the sorcerer would listen.

"You wanted to talk to me." A voice came from her right. Out of instinct, she unsheathed her sword, pointing the end at the old man leaning heavily on a stick. Upon realising who it was, she tucked the blade back in her belt, muttering her apologies. It would do no good to threaten such a man with a blade; she doubted it would do much to him anyway.

"I have come to seek your help. People are starving; they will soon be dead." she studied Anhora, hoping that this wasn't what he wanted, that the death of thousands hadn't been his ultimate goal. If it was, she was a little fucked.

"You must believe me when I say that it brings me no pleasure to bring your people suffering." The cloaked man sighed, wandering forwards to stand closer to the witch.

"Then put an end to it." she pleaded, her eyes glistening with tears. She couldn't watch the people starve, to die from the same magic that ran through her veins.

"It is not in my power to lift the curse." Anhora said softly, clutching his cane rather tightly.

"Then give Arthur another chance. He has accepted his responsibility and will prove himself worthy of lifting the curse if you give him one more opportunity." Merlyn wiped away a tear, her emotions spilling out in her speech.

The sorcerer simply stared. "You believe in Arthur?" he asked, staring intently at the witch.

"I trust him with my life." Merlyn met his gaze unflinchingly. Anhora paused for a long moment, before looking away, nodding to himself.

"Arthur must go to the Labyrinth of Gedref. There he will face his final test."

As soon as the words were spoken, the sorcerer disappeared, teleporting to a space just behind Merlyn, forcing her to twist around.

"If he fails, there is no hope. The curse will destroy Camelot."

Anhora vanished for good, leaving Merlyn alone in the woods with a mountain of unanswered questions.

"What kind of test will he face?" she shouted into the gloom, spinning on the spot in a hope to catch a glimpse of a white cloak.

"That is for Arthur alone to discover."

A voice whispered through the glade, ominous as it weaved around the shadows. Merlyn kicked a tree, wishing for some sort of straightforward answer; she hopped back to Camelot, a little hope glimmering in her heart.

∆

It hadn't taken long to explain to Arthur that he had another chance, nor to help him into his chainmail and saddle his horse.

"Let me come with you. We don't know what form the test will take and I might be able to help."

"You're not coming." The prince picked up his helmet and strode towards the door. "I brought this curse upon Camelot and I'm going to lift it or die trying."

"How does you dying help anyone?" Merlyn asked, stopping Arthur in his tracks.

"I'll die knowing that I did everything I could."

Merlyn rolled her eyes. "I'm coming with you."

Arthur turned, grabbed her neckerchief and kissed her fiercely. "You're to stay here and help the people as best you can. Is that understood?"

She didn't reply, watching as Arthur walked out of the door. She gave him a couple of minutes headstart before leaving to find her own horse, which she had already saddled, determined to do something to help.

∆

Merlyn arrived at the maze just after Arthur, entering it with little idea of what was going to occur. She doubted the task was simply to find the centre of the labyrinth, so, as she walked aimlessly between the hedges, she kept her eyes peeled for any hint of danger. It didn't take long for her to become utterly lost, each hedge identical to the one before, disorientating her completely. Naturally, when she found Anhora on the path, his back to her, wielding a sword, she drew her own, wondering what on earth the sorcerer was planning.

"You said," she drawled, leaning on her blade, "That Arthur would face a test. And here you are, preparing a trap for him."

"The trap isn't for Arthur." Anhora, ever serious, looked almost comical with his sword pointed to the sky, shielding the centre of his face. "It is for you."

If Merlyn was honest, she hadn't been expecting that. She had a split second to decide what to do. She could kill Anhora, but then Camelot would face certain doom. She could run, but she surely wouldn't get very far, or, she could embrace this 'trap', and find a way out when she understood what it involved. He probably wouldn't kill her straight away. That would be rude.

"Gehæftan."

Vines restrained Merlyn, causing her sword to clatter to the floor. She could do nothing but sigh deeply as she was dragged back into the shrubbery; she might have followed the sorcerer if he'd asked.

∆

Arthur had been running through hedgerows for what felt like hours. He could swear that he was going in circles, but everything looked the same; he was ready to lie down and accept his fate. But his people were counting on him, Merlyn was counting on him, so he forced himself to keep going, even if the green was driving him mad. Eventually, after countless dead ends, he came across a path he had not yet taken, and followed it to an opening. To say that Arthur was surprised when he arrived at the beach, the calm waves breaking over the rocky shore line, would be an understatement, but he supposed that Anhora certainly wasn't against blatant acts of sorcery, so perhaps it was a good sign. He walked onto the sand, bathing in the sunlight for a moment before studying his surroundings. There, he saw his stupid servant sitting at a table where two goblets stood proudly in the centre. Anhora loitered just off from the scene, motioning for Arthur to take the seat on the opposing side of the table.

"Merlyn?"

"Sorry." she smiled sheepishly, running a hand through her hair.

"Let her go. I'll take your test, but not until she's released." Arthur spoke nobly, trying to save Merlyn from whatever test he'd be put through.

"That's not possible. Merlyn is part of the test. Please sit."

Arthur didn't, still eying his servant.

"If you refuse the test you will have failed, and Camelot will be destroyed."

Reluctantly, the prince sat down, setting his sword on the table. He glared at the disobedient Merlyn. "I thought I told you to stay at home."

"I know, I accidentally jumped on a horse and followed you here." she grinned, clearly not having lost her sense of humour despite the desperate situation.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, but didn't reply. "Let's get on with it." he muttered, looking up at Anhora.

"There are two goblets before you. One of the goblets contains a deadly poison, the other, a harmless liquid. All of the liquids from both goblets must be drunk, but each of you may only drink from one cup."

Arthur was stunned. "What kind of ridiculous test is that? What does that prove?"

"What it proved is for you to decide. If you pass the test, the curse will be lifted."

The prince exchanged a look with Merlyn, before staring at the two goblets, hoping that they would just disappear, wishing this was all just some strange dream. But it wasn't, he knew that. Only one of them would walk away from this table; he was determined that it wouldn't be him.

"Let's think about this. What if I drink from my goblet first?" Merlyn thought aloud, biting her lip worriedly.

"If it's poisoned, you'll die." Arthur stated, keeping his eyes fixed on the cups.

"And if it's not, you'll have to drink from yours and you'll die." she leant forwards, resting her head on her hands. "There must be a way around this." she muttered, glancing at Anhora.

"It's perfectly simple. One of us has to die." The prince drummed his fingers on the table, an annoying habit that he'd picked up from his servant. "We have to find a way to determine which goblet has the poison. Then I'll drink it."

Merlyn frowned. "I'll be the one to drink it."

"This is my doing. I'm drinking it."

"It's more important that you live, you're the future king. I'm just a servant." she looked towards the sea, watching the waves slowly climb to their highest peak, before crashing back down onto the beach. The tide was rising, conquering the dry sand with beautiful determination. Not a bad place to die.

"This is no time to be a hero, Merlyn. It really doesn't suit you."

She sighed. "The kingdom needs you more than me, Arthur. Heroism has nothing to do with it."

"I had no idea you were so keen to die for me." The prince almost laughed, genuinely shocked at Merlyn's dedication.

"Trust me, I can hardly believe it myself." she spoke monotonously, concentrating on something Arthur couldn't quite grasp.

He let out a breathy chuckle. "I'm glad you're here, Merlyn." he murmured, resting his hand on hers.

She gave him a shy smile, but it faltered as her eyes lit up in dread.

"I've got it." she whispered, talking quickly. "We pour all of the liquid into one cup, and then we can be sure that it's poisoned. Then all the liquid can be drunk, and it will be from a single goblet."

Arthur could've kissed her. "You never cease to surprise me, you're a lot smarter than you look." he smirked, knowing full well that his servant was far more than a pretty farmer.

"Is that actually a compliment?" Merlyn looked like she was about to faint from shock.

"Look out." Arthur pointed at something in the far distance, smiling as his servant didn't even flinch. Quickly, he grabbed the two goblets, his reflexes a beat faster than hers, and poured one into the other, taking it to his lips.

"No, you can't drink it!" she went to grab the cup, but he took it out of reach.

"As if I'd let you." he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"You can't die. This isn't your destiny."

"Seems like you're wrong, Merlyn."

"Listen to me." she pleaded, her eyes wide with fear.

Arthur's smile never wavered. "You know me Merlyn, I never listen to you." And with that, he gulped down the liquid, falling to the floor amongst Merlyn's screams.

∆

Merlyn walked calmly over to the prince's fallen body, leisurely taking his pulse. Satisfied that no harm will come to him, she spun to face Anhora, who, for the first time, looked genuinely astonished.

She smirked, perching on the table. "I'm a physicians apprentice, I know when someone been poisoned. What was in that cup was nothing more than a sleeping draught." She felt very clever, but still didn't quite understanding why Anhora had lied about the poison.

To answer her questioning gaze, the sorcerer regained his usual stony expression. "A unicorn is pure of heart. If you kill one, you must make amends by proving that you also are pure of heart. Arthur was willing to sacrifice his life to save yours. He has proven what is truly in his heart. The curse will be lifted."

∆

After the prince had awoken, he and Merlyn had returned to Camelot amongst the countless farmers bringing in the harvest.

"You did it." Merlyn grinned, stealing an apple from one of the crates piled high in the square. They were met by Uther, who decided to ignore the blatant theft, instead, focusing on his son.

"Is