Chapter Text
Arthur Pendragon goes to sleep one night in his own chambers, safe and comfortable and content in his four-poster bed with Pendragon red everything, thinking with every bit of confidence that tomorrow he'll be training his knights into the ground, only to wake up cold and alone in the snowy landscape of a mountain he isn't familiar with. In the distance he can make out the imposing stone walls of a castle, though it's obviously not any palace he's seen before, and begins to trudge his way through the almost knee-deep snow as quickly as he can with the hope that whoever lives there, if anyone does at all, they will be kind enough to let him in.
Coming up to a bridge that gaps a seemingly bottomless chasm between where he stands and the castle's gate, Arthur is stopped by a pair of guards. One shouts at him to halt and the other demands to know his name.
"Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot." He tells them through his chattering teeth.
"Never heard of you or this 'Cam-a-lot'."
They don't know who he is, have never heard of Camelot, and instantly distrust him. Wonderful. So, it looks like he's going to freeze to death in the snow now, having been magically whisked away from his bed, and nobody will know where to find his body-
"Oh, for the love of Andraste, let the poor man in!"
Arthur stares at the man jogging up behind the guards. His shoulders are covered in fur, his clothing a mix of pieces of armor and red cloth, his hair blonde. He's obviously a bit older than Arthur himself, and looking at the man who apparently holds rank over these guards and is showing a sort of gentleness in his reprimanding of the pair, Arthur can't help but hope he turns out even just a bit like this stranger in the years to come.
Tough when necessary, kind when it matters. Very unlike his father has been in recent years.
The portcullis rises as the guards step aside, looking for all the world like they would rather toss him right back out on his ass. But they let him in because that is what they're 'Inquisitor' would want them to do, according to their superior officer. One guard is sent to fetch this that same person and the other to find a warm blanket for Arthur.
"How you survived out there in so little astounds me." The man says with a lopsided smile, and then holds out his hand for Arthur to shake. "Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition."
Arthur reintroduces himself as he takes Cullen's hand, trying to keep himself from stuttering with the cold he can feel deep in his bones.
"I hope you won't take that whole mess to heart." Cullen says, glancing back at the gate. "We've been on edge lately, what with our last battle against Corypheus."
Arthur nods like he understands, though the information means nothing to him. He has no idea who this 'Corypheus' person is. "No harm done. I understand."
Arthur is handed a blanket by a curious and friendly looking woman, who smiles and curtsies kindly before scurrying off. He mourns the missed chance to thank her for only a moment before he happily wraps himself in the thick wool. Cullen's smile evens out and widens, and Arthur suddenly feels too young. Like a small child being looked down on fondly by a parent or cooing relatives. He blushes, raising his shoulders to his ears, and looks away.
Cullen makes a noise, almost like the beginning of a word, but is cut off by an urgent call of, "Commander!"
The guard Cullen sent to find the 'Inquisitor' comes running up to them, panting and wide-eyed. A look many of the Knights in Camelot get when they come to Arthur or his father with reports of a sorcerer in their city.
"What's wrong? Where is the Inquisitor? I sent you to-"
"She's gone, sir!" He cries. "She was nowhere to be seen! I sent more than two dozen people to look for her, but they can't seem to find her!"
Cullen scowls thoughtfully, a hand under his chin. Past all that, though, Arthur can see the worry in his features. It must not be like their leader to just up and vanish like this.
"Maybe she went out to look for herbs-"
"All her possessions are still in her chambers. And all the mounts, including her favored Dracolisk, are sitting in the stables."
"The library."
"Master Pavus said he hasn't seen her since they arrived back from the Plains!"
"The Tavern."
"The Iron Bull and company say she hasn't been to visit them, Sera, or 'the weird squirrely kid!"
"The Gardens, then!"
"Mother Giselle nor Lady Morrigan have seen her in days!"
There's a round of baffled silence, and then Cullen grinds out a low, gravely string of curses as he stomps off, taking a set of stairs two at time and disappearing through the large doorway of the castle in the upper courtyard.
After three weeks of running around the Exalted Plains, solving seemingly all of Thedas' problems for them with the help of Dorian, Varric, and Cassandra, Senua Trevelyan conks out atop her bed of furs back in her chambers back at Skyhold without even lifting the covers.
Hours later she wakes up in the middle of a forest she definitely does not recognize, alone.
The last few months of her life, all riddled with life threatening situations, have her less afraid than confused and determined to get home. She sets out to find the closest village and find out where she's been dropped with not a thing on her but the clothes she never managed to slip out of before sleep claimed her.
Almost a full day of walking barefoot through the woods is nothing new to her what with her life lately, but it's tiring when you're already exhausted as well as unfamiliar with where you might be. Though eventually she does find a tavern with a very small surrounding of huts and stalls, and it's here that she meets a pair of sell swords having an evening meal and drink.
She doesn't just walk up to them, mind you. No, she enters the tavern just as a brawl breaks out between a group of men playing dice, and doesn't notice that it's happening until she's being lifted off her feet by a pair of Iron Bull-sized arms wrapped securely around her waist. They move her out of the way just in time for pair of men to fall hard onto the spot where she had been standing just a second ago.
She's spun away from the chaos and brought to a safe corner, the place the two men had been dining, and is given a seat close to the wall. The pair block her in like some sort of protective meat barrier, one of them much more than the other.
The bigger of the pair, the more effective human wall who she learns is named Percival, apologizes for touching her without permission when she's finally paying attention to them instead of the fight going on across the room. She snorts out a laugh at that and offers him a genuine smile along with a 'thank you' because, really, the Qunari-sized human man saved her ass from being caught unaware in a random bar brawl. The smaller of them turns to her with a smile and gives his own name, Lancelot.
"Senua." She offers in return, along with a hand for each of them to shake.
They both happily take the offered limb, but only Percival shakes it properly. Lancelot instead lift it to his lips and places a gentle kiss against her knuckles. If she wasn't already so used to this from brown-nosing nobles and the like, she might have actually swooned a bit. But she's become greatly desensitized to the wooing methods of handsome chivalrous men as of late.
These may be the kindest strangers she's ever met. Aside from the Inquisition's main cast after they finally let go of their lingering suspicions.
"I'm... not from around these parts. Sort of lost, actually. Don't even remember getting here. Do you know if there's someone I could go to for help in returning home."
"Best place would be Camelot." Lancelot replies immediately. "Don't ask for the King, though. Go to the Physician's office and ask to see a man called Merlin. He'll do his best to get the Prince to help you. Tell the lad I sent you and he'll be even more inclined to do so."
"Could you draw me a map? I'd much rather get there without wandering for days on end."
"Better yet, why don't we take you there? I can't enter the city myself, but we can escort you close enough."
"That would be much appreciated. Thank you."
Gaius lifts an eyebrow questioningly at his ward, who's been moping over his breakfast since he sat down only minutes ago. The boy looks lost in thought but also sad, and for the life of him Gaius cannot guess what has him in such a mood.
When his raised eyebrow goes unnoticed, Gaius clears his throat. Thankfully this get's Merlin's attention. The boy raises his head to stare listlessly at the old man in front of him.
"What has you so down this morning, my boy?"
Merlin's mouth twists up into a thoughtful frown before he mutters, "Something feels... off."
"What do you mean?"
He shrugs. "I don't really know how to describe it. It's just wrong. Like something important is missing from here." He pats his own chest with his fist.
The physician is about to ask him what he means once again, maybe inquire as to how the emptiness feels, when the bells start to ring. The bells that mean trouble. That signal an attack or a criminal loose in the city.
Merlin is up and on his feet in seconds, rushing out the door to go check on Arthur no doubt. Gaius makes his way out only a minute later, hobbling as fast as his old legs will allow. He makes it to the throne room just in time to hear Uther angrily demand for the knight in front of him to repeat what they just told him.
"The Stable Master says none of the horse have been taken out in days, other than for patrol."
"And what of your searches around the citadel?"
"They have all come up with nothing, My Lord."
"Then send a search party outside the city! I want him found now!"
Morgana steps forward, then. "Perhaps he left on foot for a hunt."
"He would not do so without taking Merlin along." Gaius replies gravely.
So, Prince Arthur has disappeared from his bedchambers, and nobody in the kingdom seems to know of how or why.
Gaius now has a good idea as to what Merlin feels is 'missing'.