𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ─ the castle,

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❝ no young woman, no matter how great can know her destiny. she can not glimpse her part in the great story that is about to unfold. like everyone, she must live and learn, and so it must be for the young warlock arriving at the gates of camelot. a girl that will, in time, mother the legend. her name, merlyn ❞

Merlyn couldn't quite believe what she was seeing, her mouth agape and her eyes alight with childish wonder as she explored the citadel. Her burnt umber hair was intricately braided and fell low to her waist, the tacky dress she wore fluttered in the cool breeze that hung around the villages. Keeping a tight hold on the bag that contained all of her belongings on her back, Merlyn wouldn't allow herself to blink, in fear that she'd miss something wonderful.

The citadel was bustling with activity, the ground was covered with a generous layer of dull, golden hay and hundreds of wooden houses and creations lay atop of it. It wasn't only the commoners who thrived in the lower towns like Merlyn had expected, the knights of Camelot weaved in and out of the citizens with their Pendragon red cloaks flowing behind them and leaving a spark of joy and pride wherever they passed.

The girl abruptly came to a stop and just turned slowly on the spot, taking in the beautiful architecture that was the castle of Camelot. The stone-work was stunningly created, completely symmetrical and utterly breathtaking to each and every person who'd laid eyes on it, Merlyn was completely awestruck.

A pair of guards on a balcony began to play the ceremonial trumpets, it was enough to shock the commoners, and they all scurried as one large crowd to the centre of the city. Merlyn rushed to follow the murmuring and the sound of beating drums, she moved with cat-like agility, maneuvering around work spaces and squeezing past the commoners in order for a better view of the commotion.

"Let this serve as a lesson to all," the King, an older man with expensive clothing, a golden crown and a cloak stood high above the villagers, flanked by two unruly looking knights. He wore chainmail underneath his garb and permanent frown lines seemed etched into his ageing face. "This man, Thomas James Collins, is adjudged guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic," another pair of guards entered the square, dragging a young boy with them who refused to meet the King's eyes. He was thrown down at the chopping block with the executioner and Merlyn could've sworn she heard his heart beating rapidly in response. "And, pursuant to the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed that such practices are banned on penalty of death. I pride myself as a fair and just king, but for the crime of sorcery, there is but one sentence I can pass."

The crowd held a collective gasp and edged in closer whilst Merlyn stepped back, disgusted at how her kind was treated and at how those around her seemed to vibrate with excitement. The guards rested Thomas' neck on the stained chunk of wood and the executioner awaited Uther's signal. Uther raised his arm, bent, above his head, the executioners axe mimicking his movements. The King threw his arm back down and again the axe followed, bringing it down onto the poor boy's neck.

Like many others before him and many after would, Thomas' blood decorated the chopping block and Merlyn felt bile rise up in the back of her throat.

"When I came to this land, this kingdom was mired in chaos, but with the people's help magic was driven from the realm. So I declare a festival to celebrate twenty years since the great dragon was captured and Camelot freed from the evil of sorcery. Let the celebrations begin," the crowd cheered but Merlyn was too terrified to even react to what the King was saying. The crowd and the King prepared to disperse and continue on with their day when a piercing cry came from the square, not unlike a wounded animal.

The commoners rushed away, though still near enough they could witness the strange woman who gripped the cloth of her gown tightly. "There is only one evil in this land, and it is not magic! It is you! With your hatred and your ignorance! You took my son!" She choked on a sob, "and I promise you, before these celebrations are over, you will share my tears." The woman's voice shook with emotion and her eyes glistened with the loss of her son, "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a son for a son."

Uther grew tired of her ramblings and ordered the guards to put her in shackles but before any guard could reach her, she threw her arms out and snarled an unintelligible spell. A tornado like wind whipped around her, starting at her legs and rising up around her torso ─ stray leaves and twins were sucked into the whirlwind, twirling around her haggard body before she disappeared altogether. The wind died down, leaving not even a trace of the sobbing woman.

The commoners did finally disperse and Merlyn found that she could move again, no longer paralyzed from disgust and fear, Camelot seemed to be quite the interesting kingdom. She hurried across the courtyard, earning herself questioning glances and not so quiet whispers from the people of the lower town who apparently weren't used to new people unless they were of royal descent. Lost and frustrated at the lack of kind faces for help, she found some guards posted at a marble staircase and approached them hesitantly.

"Excuse me, where could I find Gaius, the court physician?" Merlyn asked politely as to not draw any more attention to herself but still, the guard looked her up and down before thrusting his pointer finger up the stairs without so much as a word.

Merlyn thanked the guard and followed the corridor until she found the wooden door of the physicians chambers that clearly stated his name and his position in the royal household. The door was slightly ajar, allowing Merlyn to see into the homely, circular room. She could see the walls were lined with bookcases, each one bursting with tomes, ancient mythology and the old religion. The chambers were large and housed three tables, two were home to different bubbling potions or antidotes and the other was clear, Merlyn assumed the physician ate there and preferred to keep it tidy. Potions bubbled and gurgled, letting off copious amounts of steam and smoke, the girl didn't mind because it already felt like home here. On the walls ( in the small gaps with no tomes ) sat unlit candles in dusty brackets and the planking on the ground was littered with tiny scratches.

Merlyn brushed some loose strands of her brunette locks behind her ear and tossed her braid from over her shoulder, "Gaius?" She called and her voice echoed across the room, she felt a grin break across her face but there was no answer. She yelled for him again but the same results were offered. Her eyes darted around the room in a final sweep before she found the older, slightly rounded man on a balcony searching for books. Knowing that shouting his name wouldn't get her very far Merlyn obnoxiously cleared her throat. It startled Gaius, and he turned to find the source of the noise, he leant backwards on the balcony and it gave way, snapping into hundreds of little splinters.

Merlyn's heart dropped to her gut that was filled with butterflies, and she panicked. In a fit of fear, Merlyn felt her eyes burn golden and time slowed in front of her very eyes, Gaius while still falling, slowed considerably as well as the wooden fragments of the ruined balcony. The girl scanned the room quickly, noticing a single, unmade bed near a bolted door, with another burning sensation in her eyes the bed darted underneath Gaius and time regulated itself.

With all the agility that a somewhat elderly man could muster, he pulled himself up from bed and stood, aghast in front of Merlyn.

"What did you just do?" Asked Gaius, his eyes were wide with curiosity but his voice conveyed great annoyance. Merlyn didn't answer but rather stumbled over her words, unable to form any coherent sentence. "Tell me!" He yelled, impatiently.

"I-I have no idea what happened!" Merlyn blurted, her doe eyes wide in terror.

"If anybody had seen that," the physician left his statement open, allowing Merlyn to conjure up the endless possibilities and consequences.

"Er no! That wasn't me, that was nothing to do with me," it was like a tennis match, Merlyn finding an excuse and Gaius throwing back another question.

"I know what it was, I just want to know where you learned how to do it," The frustration had disappeared from his voice and awe replaced it.

"Nowhere."

"Then how is it that you know magic? Where did you study?" At her silence Gaius asked again. "Answer me!"

"I've never studied magic or been taught," Merlyn managed to stutter out a reply, "I was born like this."

"Impossible," the elder man deadpanned, "who are you?" He asked.

Thankful to have the subject changed, Merlyn threw off her bag, unzipped the front and fished out a neat, handwritten letter with a crimson wax seal on the back.

He looked at the parchment questioningly before answering. "I don't have my glasses."

"I'm Merlyn."

"Hunith's daughter." It wasn't a question, just an acknowledgment of the fact before his face grew worrisome, "but you're not supposed to be here until Wednesday!"

Merlyn disguised a chuckle as a cough, "it is Wednesday."

"Ahh," responded Gaius, with a shake of his head, "you should put your bag in there." He gestured towards the bolted door, opening it and allowing her to enter.

Merlyn gave an appreciative smile towards Gaius, stepping over the threshold into her new bedroom. She turned back at the last second. "You won't say anything about, erm," she made a fleeting gesture.

"No, although Merlyn, I should thank you."

The two shared a grin and a goodnight, allowing Merlyn to settle in her new accommodation in her new city.

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The morning after Merlyn's arrival had been eventful, she'd sat down for her morning meal when Gaius intentionally spilled over a bucket of water. She'd stopped the spillage but under her mentor's scrutinizing gaze her concentration was lost, and the bucket crashed to the ground, creating a large pool she'd have to clean. The girl had chosen not to worry Gaius with the ominous whispers of her name she'd heard at night, but rather kept it to herself.

Gaius had given her a sandwich to eat on her travels, he'd made her deliver something for Sir Olwin's blindness and Hollyhock and Feverfew to the Lady Percival. Merlyn felt like her day couldn't get any worse after Olwin had nearly hit her multiple times whilst trying to retrieve the bottle from her held out palm.

Merlyn had completed the tasks Gaius had asked of her and instead decided she would take the time to explore the citadel some more ─ if she was to be living there, she thought she should know where she was going. With a skip in her step and feeling rejuvenated from her comfortable sleep, Merlyn walked over the drawbridge with her dress skimming the clean cobblestone. Her hair was contained in a low ponytail, many loose hairs framing her soft featured face, the natural curls of her hair hung just above her waist that her dress slightly emphasized. The dress had tight sleeves that stopped at her elbows, a corset that laced at the back and a curved neckline that stopped an inch above her breasts, the skirt was the same loose, cheap fabric as the sleeves though it flowed naturally.

As she finished crossing the drawbridge she heard joyful yells and instinctively turned to find the source of the noise, the breath was taken out of her as she saw a handsome young man dressed in a red shirt and minimal armour, flanked by the same guards that had been by Uther the day before. He had blonde hair that fell over his forehead and missed his eyes by less than an inch, a muscular frame was revealed by the thin shirt he wore and he let out a booming laugh as a knife struck his moving target. Despite Merlyn being distracted by the attractiveness of the stranger she felt a protective urge in her stomach to stand up to the man, who's moving target was his petrified servant.

The pathetic knights on either side of the blonde did nothing but laugh at the poor serving boy while the attractive man continued to throw knife after knife at him. After a few near misses to the servants head, the target slipped from his grip and came tumbling to a stop at Merlyn's feet who was furious at the treatment of him.

"Hey. Come on, that's enough," her voice carried melodically to the star-struck knights.

The blonde couldn't believe the girl in front of him, her hair was a dark brunette but it seemed to shine several shades lighter when the sun hit it and it created an ethereal glow behind her head, her eyes shined the brightest green and fire burned deep within them. Her clothing was ripped and tacky, so he knew immediately she was from the lower towns, but if she'd presented herself to him in a royal gown he'd have believed her to be of noble descent. She was rather beautiful.

"What?" Asked Arthur, ( Merlyn having heard his name being spat out by one of his knights ) throwing a laugh after to convince the crowd that had gathered he had been listening and not distracted with Merlyn's beauty.

"Are you hard of hearing? You claim to be a knight and yet here you are throwing daggers at a servant because you're bored," Merlyn hadn't quite wanted to speak with such disrespect but she absolutely refused to back down from the arrogant knight in front of her.

"You're nothing but a servant, I don't need to take advice from you of all people," Arthur flipped a knife in his hands while he spoke.

Merlyn brushed away a piece of hair that had stuck to her cheek and took a deep, shuddering breath, "and what's that supposed to mean? You won't take advice from a commoner but you're more than happy to have them clean your clothes and chambers because you're too arrogant and important to learn how." She took a quick breath, "I can't imagine how hard life would be for you if you didn't have somebody to do all the labour. You nobles don't get off your pompous arses to do anything unless it's with a sword." It seemed like after every word, Arthur got a little more agitated and his ego a little more bruised, but he played it off as amusement at the situation.

"Who are you?" He spat the question.

"Merlyn." She replied shortly.

"You think you have the right to speak to me like that?" Inquired Arthur, walking a little closer to the mystery girl.

"Yes. I can do as I please, I don't care about your title," Merlyn kept her voice steady but in her head she cursed herself for letting it get this out of hand and she knew she'd backed herself into a corner by insulting him.

"That's the wrong answer."

"Possibly, but either way I've never met somebody who could do such an arse," Merlyn spoke with venom and kept eye contact with the blue eyed knight.

"Or I someone who could be so beautiful yet stupid," Arthur said, mentally cursing himself at the round-about-compliment.

With a snarl Merlyn turned to walk away from the disrespectful man but was drawn back to the drawling of his cocky voice.

"Tell me Merlyn," he tested her name on his tongue. "Do you know how to walk on your knees?"

Her eyes narrowed, "is that a threat?"

"Perhaps," Arthur kept his tone frustratingly playful but Merlyn could see it in his ocean eyes that she was frustrating him.

"I would think twice before you threaten me," Merlyn tried to walk away again but as she turned Arthur grabbed her wrist tightly to stop her. Merlyn saw red and half a second later, he staggered back with his hands clutched to his nose, blood seeping from in between his callous fingers.

Instantly, guards flocked around the girl and restrained her, though not without immense difficulty.

"I'll have you thrown in jail for that," Arthur spat, wiping blood from underneath his nose, anger finally forcing itself from him.

"Who do you think you are? The king?" Merlyn attempted to be witty, her tone accusing but her face dropped a little when he smirked.

"No, I'm his son. Arthur."

With a nod of the prince's head, the guards dragged Merlyn across the courtyard and into her jail cell, Arthur could only watch as she disappeared from his sight.

Merlyn had just punched the future king of Camelot right in the middle of his perfect face.

Oh shit.

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