𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ─ the fight,

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Merlyn didn't make the guards' job easy, she struggled to escape their grasp by hitting them and squirming uncontrollably but it seemed to all be in vain as two knights also joined the battle to get her into a prison cell. The knights each held an arm while the two guards escorted them all down the wrought iron staircase and opened a cell, widely gesturing for the knights to throw Merlyn in. They seemed to forget their chivalry as they quite literally tossed Merlyn to the ground roughly and slammed the cell door behind her. The guards were sat a little ways down the corridor ─ out of sight but still in earshot and Merlyn rolled her eyes as she heard them chatter of the commotion she'd caused.

The girl, while young, wasn't stupid and knew she'd be kept in the dingy dungeon until the next morning at the very least, so, instead of wallowing in her own self pity Merlyn bunched the hay from the ground together into a small pile and tried to make herself comfortable. One would have expected her back to ache horribly but one of the perks of growing up in a town as poor and forgotten as Ealdor was that she'd never known any luxury and the discomfort of stone walls was familiar, even the hay that stuck into her from all angles reminded her of home. Even so, the situation wasn't ideal and she prayed she'd be let out as early as possible.

There were no visitors as night fell and Merlyn felt a little downtrodden that Gaius hadn't come to see her, she wouldn't have even minded if he scolded her, the company would've been nice. The birds stopped chirping and the square fell silent as the night progressed, though Merlyn was sat, wide-eyed and alone, haunted by the voice that continually called out her name.

"Merlyn ... Merlyn."

With a growl of frustration, Merlyn lay her head on the hay, the rest of her body on the dirty floor and forced her eyes closed. She'd be no good to anybody with no sleep so she untied her hair and let it fall around her shoulders, down her back and finally settled down for a rough sleep on a makeshift bed.

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Early in the morning Merlyn awoke to the same rough voice calling out for her and it was beginning to grate on her patience. The ominous voice seemed to edge closer to where she lay, causing her to jump up and skirt around the walls to the opposite end of the cell ─ she wondered what it was about Camelot that attracted trouble. Of course, it had a reputation of being the best kingdom but she'd hardly been there two days and she'd gotten into enough trouble to have spent the night in the dungeons.

"Merlyn," a voice much closer than the sinister whisper spoke her name, full of arrogance and smugness. "You're free to go."

Merlyn turned and the Prince came into her sights, dressed much more elegantly than the previous day with a brown leather jacket over a shirt and pants. His hair was just as neatly parted as the day before and it seemed to glow in the dull dungeons and even his eyes held a mischievous sparkle.

She gave Arthur a questioning gaze as she took tentative steps out of the cell, but once she realized he was serious Merlyn hardened her features and brushed off her dress with the backs of her hands. She held eye contact with Arthur as he brought up his hand to her face, his fingers plucking out a clump of hay from her silky locks ─ his lips turning into a frown at the dirty straw.

"You're lucky. I managed to pull a few strings to get you released," Said Arthur, quickly pulling his hand back down to his side and wiping his fingers on the tops of his pants.

"Why?" Demanded Merlyn, not unkindly.

"Can't you just be grateful, I didn't have to do that," Arthur gave a sarcastic laugh and wiped a hand down his face as if he was frustrated at the fact he was letting the girl who assaulted him go.

"No you didn't, so why did you?" Merlyn reinforced the question, punctuating each word and she couldn't stop her eyebrows downturning in confusion.

"Just go, next time you won't be so lucky," the Prince gave Merlyn a little shove in the direction of the stairs and once she started up them he turned to the guards and asked them not to mention the situation to the King.

Merlyn found herself strolling through the lower town, no particular destination in mind but just wandering throughout the vendors, it was when she passed the blacksmiths that a spirited, dark skinned girl with the most beautiful curly, black hair approached her. Her gown was white with a peach skirt, a scarlet cloak cascaded down her back and in her hands she held a woven basket full of flowers.

"I'm Guinevere, but most people call me Gwen. I'm the Lady Morgana's maid," Gwen introduced herself with enthusiasm and a contagious smile as Merlyn found herself grinning too.

"I'm Merlyn," she, albeit awkwardly, stuck her hand out for Gwen to shake and she did so with a chiming laugh, "but most people call me idiot."

Gwen's laughter stopped and she immediately tried to remedy the situation and make Merlyn feel better. "No no no. I saw what you did, it was so brave," she wore an admiring smile and her eyes glowed with sincerity.

"It was stupid," Merlyn replied.

"It was amazing! You struck the prince on your first day here. I could never be as brave as you, one day I'd wish to be." Guinevere spoke all with one breath whilst swinging the woven basket, grinning from ear to ear and ringleted strands of hair falling in front of her face with a gentle breeze.

Merlyn felt herself blushing red under the serving girls praise and stumbled over her reply. "Everybody can be that brave, a situation they feel strongly about just needs to present itself to them, but I believe that if I'd have known it was the crowned prince I wouldn't have been so bold." She confessed.

"I think you'd have done the same, you seem like the type of girl to stand up for those in need," Merlyn had no reply other than the growing crimson blush coating her cheeks. "It was lovely to meet you Merlyn but I must tend to the Lady Morgana. I await our next meeting." Gwen hurried away with a friendly wave and Merlyn expressed she felt the same and wished to see her again.

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Merlyn retired to the chambers she shared with Gaius shortly after speaking with Guinevere. Her hair was still filthy with hay and her dress was smudged with dirt from her cell floor, Merlyn noticed a fresh rip in the fabric and made a note to learn how to sew it up. Placing their dinner on the one free table, Gaius and Merlyn sat down, the latter immediately delving into his meal and the former staring into hers as if it held the answers she needed.

"I understand that you're angry with me but you could've at least visited me," Merlyn said in response to his disappointed glance, feeling a little guilty that she'd already caused trouble for the hospitable man.

"Your mother asked me to take care of you," stated Gaius, putting his spoon down with a gentle clatter. Merlyn nodded in reply, her eyes still downcast into her bowl of soup.

"What did your mother say about your gifts?"

"That I was special," she spat the word special, obviously not quite liking the description.

"You are special. The likes of which I have never seen before," said Gaius, but Merlyn merely gave him a questioning glance in response. "Well, magic requires incantations, spells. It takes years to study. What I saw you do was elemental, instinctive."

"What's the point if it can't be used," Merlyn snarled but Gaius was well aware that it wasn't aimed at him. She meant well and didn't know where to aim her anger.

"That I do not know. You are a question that has never been posed before, Merlyn," Gaius chose his words carefully, sure not to offend the young girl.

Merlyn seemed to notice his hesitance and sent him a small smile, "did you ever study magic?" She asked, leaning forward on her elbows, soup having been pushed aside.

"Uther banned all such work twenty years ago," Merlyn took this as a discreet yes but chose not to pry too deeply.

"Why?"

"People used magic for the wrong end at that time. It threw the natural order into chaos. Uther made it his mission to destroy everything from back then, even the dragons." Gaius spoke somberly, ashamed of his King's actions.

Merlyn gasped, her hand flying to cover her open mouth, "all of them? That's horrible a-and barbaric."

"There was one dragon he chose not to kill, kept it as an example. He imprisoned it in a cave deep beneath the castle where no one can free it. Now, eat up." His tone changed back to cheery quite quickly as he told Merlyn to eat her soup before it cooled and abiding with her mentor's wishes, she ate the soup rapidly, finishing so she could continue to question Gaius. "I need you to take a preparation to Lady Helen. She needs it for her voice," he added when he noticed Merlyn's bowl empty.

Merlyn rolled her eyes at Gaius' quick dismissal but nonetheless took the potion from him, gave him a short hug and left the chambers.

The witch couldn't find the Lady Helen's sleeping quarters anywhere, so she walked in circles around the palace and crossed the courtyard more times than she could count, wandering the castle and ensuring she hadn't bypassed her chambers. Giving up, Merlyn went in search of directions but her mood lightened when she saw Guinevere bounce across the courtyard towards her, her signature bright smile upon her face. The kind girl had sent Merlyn up a spiral staircase across a corridor with a balcony and there were the Lady Helen's chambers, Merlyn made a mental note to make it up to Gwen.

Upon entering Lady Helen's chambers Merlyn felt a wave of dark magic hit her all at once, causing her to stumble and grip the vanity in fear of falling. Eyes wide and chest heaving with the blow of dark magic, Merlyn took in several deep and shaky breaths before she began to light-headedly search the vanity for anything suspicious or witch-like. Her search was successful when she found a voodoo doll of a young girl and a book covered in untranslatable symbols that was bound in cloth.

Curiosity flooded into Merlyn's stomach and she gripped the book, pulled off its covering and quickly flicked through its aged and dusted pages. The language was something she'd never seen before and she chanced a glance over her shoulder only to see the lady in question nearing the door. Hastily, she threw the book across the vanity and turned, curtsying low and addressing the lady just as she burst through the threshold of the chambers.

Lady Helen was rather pretty, with dark hair up in an extravagant bun, a crown of petals around her hairline and a fancy, purple dress that fanned out at the waist. She looked like a regal and elegant princess but spoke with malice and a cold sneer, "what are you doing in here?"

"I was asked to deliver this," Merlyn lied smoothly, although she wasn't technically lying ─ the court physician had in fact asked her to perform the task. She dropped out of the curtsy and handed the bottle to Lady Helen before rushing for the door and out of sight so she could take a deep intake of breath. The rush of darkness hit Merlyn ten fold the closer Lady Helen got and keeping up the pretense had taken a lot considering how powerful and malicious she seemed to be.

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After she straightened herself out and pulled her hair into a partial ponytail, the top half of her hair tied up and the rest being allowed to float down her back, Merlyn made her way across the square to go back to her chambers.

Her flimsy shoes didn't give her feet much protecting as her heels and toes dipped into every gap and crack in the cobblestone square. Merlyn leant over to tighten the laces on her shoes when she heard the overy-cocky and arrogant voice of the Prince.

"Why hello Merlyn," his tone was mocking and his entourage laughed along with him but Merlyn continued to walk, ignoring him and not rising to the bait. "Merlyn," he drawled and his eyebrows furrowed when the girl simply threw up an obscene gesture and carried on walking. What she didn't expect was for the Prince to rush forward and grab her by the upper arm, spinning her around to face him and his men. "Don't run away," he drew out each letter as long as he could without looking idiotic.

"From you?" She retorted bluntly, impassiveness written on her face and her arms crossed over her bust.

"Oh thank god! I thought you were deaf aswell as dumb," Arthur snarked, glancing back at the knights as though he was looking for approval.

"Look. I've told you you're an ass, I just didn't realise you were a royal one," Merlyn fired back with a smug smirk that faltered slightly when Arthur sent her a look that read 'you're crossing the line here'. "Oh what are you going to do, get you daddy's men to protect you?" She mocked, nodding towards his knights and even she knew she was taking it a little too far.

Arthur scoffed, "I could take you apart with one blow."

"I could take you apart with less than that," she countered, eyes roaming his form ─ sizing him up.

"Are you sure?" Asked Arthur, grinning.

Merlyn cocked her hip out to the side and uncrossed her arms, "quite. I'm just afraid Camelot won't have a Prince by the time I'm finished." She taunted him.

"Oh, I'd like to see you try and kill me."

"Me too."

Arthur strode over to a local vendor who had a metal flail, which was well-maintained, the surface of the metal gleamed in the light, reflecting the Prince's handsome features. Nearby lay a wooden practice sword, the type used by a squire and the wood was a hardened oak, and it had seen it's fair share of training but it was reliable enough. He took the flail for himself and threw the sword to Merlyn who caught the sword by the hilt, although not flawlessly.

"I'll warn you, I've been training to kill since birth."

"Wow that's incredible," Merlyn feigned interest and adoration, "and how long have you been training to be a prat?" Merlyn asked with a smirk.

Arthur forced a chuckle, "you can't address me like that."

"Sorry," Merlyn said, furrowing her eyebrows in mock sincerity. "How long have you been training to be a prat, my lord," she bowed low only to jolt back up as the Prince began his attack.

Arthur began to swing the flail and the sound of the chain links scraping together shrieked through the air which made the surrounding villagers flinch back. Merlyn placed both hands on the hilt before switching to a defensive stance and waiting for the impatient prince to make the first move, just like she knew he would. She didn't have to wait very long. The prince moved swiftly, bringing the flail towards Merlyn's sword only for Merlyn to gracefully sidestep the attack. Arthur whipped the flail around again, rotating his wrist, before the two engaged in combat, every swing was dodged and every defensive move was hard to hold for very long.

Arthur would never admit it aloud, but the peasant girl put up a troubling amount of fight, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't struggling to maintain the upper hand. Merlyn, on the other hand, thought the battle refreshing. She'd been well trained back home in Ealdor ─ a peaceful village, so not many knew how to wield a weapon. Those who did, were dangerous. Although the fight was becoming a little too close, Arthur was a strong competitor and Merlyn didn't know how long she could keep the battle going.

She focused her eyes on the Prince's movements and saw an opening she could strike at. As Arthur went for another brutal strike, Merlyn placed the sword in its path, causing the chain of the flail to wrap around it. She tugged on the combination of flail and sword with all of her might, forcing the flail to fly out of Arthur's hand. Arthur himself also flew forward, landing face-first in the dirt, he let out a pained groan and Merlyn took her chance to put some distance between them.

She ran into a vendor's shop, standing opposite Arthur with a table between them. Having recovered his weapon of choice he swung the flail above his head, gathering momentum ready to strike Merlyn. She staggered back to escape the fatal blow only to stumble backwards on grain and hit the ground with a thud. The surrounding villagers gasped at the turn of events.

Merlyn panicked and forgot about the wooden sword that lay by her feet, her mind yelling at her to use her gift. Frantically, she searched for something she could use and she found exactly what she needed. Just by Arthur's head were a collection of metal hooks and with a burning flash of gold they swayed to the left, catching Arthur's flail and the metal objects became entangled.

Arthur frustratedly tugged on his trapped weapon, giving Merlyn enough time to retrieve her sword and recompose herself.

The Prince regained control over his weapon and continued his advance on Merlyn who again felt her eyes burn gold as she moved a box in front of Arthur. He strode into it, the solid, splintered edges whacking his shin. He let out a guttural yelp and Merlyn felt her lips break into a big grin.

Arthur swung his flail over his head but Merlyn brought her sword up to meet him, the weight of the Prince's weapon caused the wooden sword to split and weaken. Groaning, Merlyn threw it aside and for the final time used her magic. A nearby rope tightened by itself and Arthur stumbled over it, falling into the same grain that had tripped Merlyn.

"Do you want to give up?" Taunted Merlyn as she bent down to steal Arthur's weapon. "Do you? Do you want to give up?" She swayed the flail just like Arthur had been and he backed away, desperately searching for something to defend himself with.

Due to the Prince walking backwards he placed his foot into a water bucket and staggered back, once again hitting the filthy ground. Merlyn threw down the weapon and smiled to herself, she turned to leave the scene when she saw Gaius watching disapprovingly from the vast crowd. Her smile dropped off her face, and the sounds of the crowd faded into white noise as guilt filled her head to toe.

Unbeknownst to the girl, Arthur had regained his footing and snatched a broom that had been laying against a wall and hit Merlyn in the back with it ─ causing her to go teetering into a pair of guards. The same pair that had already arrested her the day before, they each took an arm and gripped it roughly, ready to take her back to the grim prison cell. She groaned.

"Wait, let her go," said Arthur after a moment of considering his options. "She may be disrespectful, but she's brave." The guards nodded and dispersed with the crowd.

Arthur looked at Merlyn, who's hair had come loose and messy in the battle, whose dress was in desperate need of repair and who's fighting skills were indeed unexpected. "There's something about you Merlyn." He looked her up and down, a frown on his lips, "I just can't put my finger on it."

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