Hello! I would like to give credit to BBC Merlin, who owns all characters that appear in the show. I also give props to Jenny Lundquist, who wrote, The Princess in the Opal Mask, for the ideal of a masked royal. Now, please enjoy:)

The mask was black; as was the hood. It was something someone might wear at a funeral, Merlin mused. Or something an assassin would don.

Hardly the attire of a prince.

Yet here he was. His life was one full of polarities.

For example:

A prince, but definition [according to his father] did not have magic and was to be a strong and mighty warrior.

Well.

As for the latter, Merlin had been the scorn of his fencing instructors for years. He could hardly lift the ruddy thing.

And… magic? Yes. Magic.

It was the reason for the mask in the first place. Ever since he was a small child. His eyes sparked and glowed at random. Usually, he stared out of startlingly bright blue eyes, but every so often, the color would swirl like a difficult storm and sunlight shined forth. Golden eyes.

Magic.

Uther was appalled. Not only was his birth the cause of the queen's demise, but Merlin was also hardly kingly material. Merlin was a bookish boy. Merlin hated parties and fancy clothing and being waited on.

And to top it all off, he was a creature of magic.

A creature to be despised and destroyed.

The fact that he was not drowned like all of the other druid children the moment his abilities became obvious was proof of the small bit of remaining humanity in Uther's heart. At least, Merlin imagined that that was what it was.

All the same, he wore a black mask that covered his entire face, excluding his mouth and eyes. The black hood cast a deep shadow, rendering a look of emptiness within the hood, and effectively hiding his flashing eyes. Black. Black. Black.

Sometimes Merlin wondered if he was being forced to mourn his own existence. The morbid thought made him roll his eyes at his own dramatic musings. It was a fitting punishment, according to Uther, for an abomination such as Merlin Pendragon.

That had been made clear to him by his father more times than he could count. Merlin, every inch of him, every flash of his eyes, every flame flickering in his direction, every window that broke without prompting, was an abomination. His magic was evil. It would inevitably corrupt him. He was only alive and cared for because of the king's kindness and the people's ignorance. If the public ever found out why the prince wore a mask, Uther foretold, Merlin would have to be exiled immediately and would be lucky not to be hanged by his father's own decrees. He was balanced on the edge of a sword.

It was within these wandering, dark thoughts that a voice finally pierced the prince's awareness. He blinked away his contemplations and turned his gaze from the window.

"Did you say something?" he asked his tutor.

The tutor was a speck of a man with a crooked back, a loosely hinged jaw, and a goatee so sharp he could have sewn embroidery as he yapped. He gave the prince an irritated glare.

He was the only man desperate enough to discard the fearful rumors surrounding the Masked Prince. According to Uther, the people could muse and plot and wonder all they liked about the reason behind his mask, as long as those rumors remained exactly what they were. Rumors.

The Professor was about to pick up his horribly dull lecture when a servant knocked on the door and entered timidly.

"Sire?" the servant spoke quietly.

Merlin turned toward him, grateful for the distraction. "Yes?"

"The King requires your presence at once."

Merlin frowned, an action the servant could not see because of the hood. With a sigh, Merlin stood. His options were thus: die of boredom listening to politics, or meet with his father.

At least, the meeting would be shorter [although probably much less pleasant]. Nodding sharply in the direction of the semi-relieved professor, Merlin followed the servant out of the room. The door thudded shut behind them, and their steps soon echoed down the long castle halls. The white stone walls posed in stark contrast to the dark hood of the crown prince. As they walked, Merlin wondered what his father could possibly want. Had there been an accident? An attack? Uther did not just summon him without reason. On the contrary, the king avoided his son.

They reached Uther's quarters within minutes, and with a quick bow, the nervous servant tittered off. The servants were always fearful around Merlin [thanks to the rumors]. Actually, nearly everyone was. Except perhaps Gias. And Morgana.

"Merlin? Don't hesitate, boy!" Uther's voice started Merlin out of his thoughts. Quickly the prince opened the door and peered in. Everything appeared to be in order. No dead bodies. No frantic screams. No witch hunter or something like that. Even Gias, the court physician, was absent. What was wrong then? Entering fully, Merlin clasped his hands behind his back. His father was alone at his elaborate desk, stony and stiff as usual. He gripped his pen like it was a weapon, the mounds of paperwork, his enemy.

"Sire?" Merlin murmured quietly.

Uther turned toward him slowly, as if it was an ache to do so. He stood, lips tight like a whipping belt. "There you are. A prince does not hesitate, Merlin."

"Yes, sire. And here I am."

"Rightly so."

They were silent for a moment, each judging the other's mood. Merlin shifted his weight and Uther coughed awkwardly. Then at once, they spoke.

"Is something wrong-?"

"I have a fav-"

They stopped. Clearing his throat, Uther cast him a confused glare. "No. Nothing's wrong. Why would there be?"

Why? Because you don't call me without it being absolutely necessary.

"Why am I here, then?"

Uther nodded slowly. He stepped nearer but continued to keep his distance. It was as if he considered Merlin's 'condition' contagious. "I have a proposition for you," he rumbled.

Merlin's chest squeezed.

That would not be good. Those words were never good when it came from Uther's lips. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the king through the slits. There was one advantage to the hood; he had no need to hide the irritation in his eyes. What did the King want now? "Alright," Merlin murmured. No trace of his nerves in his voice. He'd gotten good at disguising it. "What is it then?"

For a moment, Uther hesitated. As if he would not speak at all. But then the king shook his head and sighed. His eyes flashed venomously. "You are in a unique position, Merlin. Your mask lends you… a certain fame while continuing your existence in anonymity. The surrounding countries are enthralled by the mystery you present; not to mention the fascination of my own people. They gather in masses to see you.

"It is not the sentiment I expected but I believe it is time to use it to our advantage."

"Your advantage." He pursed his lips. "What do you have in mind?"

Uther smiled but his eyes remained dead. Like an animal's. It sent chills up Merlin's back. "I want you to travel the country. Away from Camelot. You would be a… diplomat, of sorts. People will listen to you. They would not risk not doing so lest the rumors turned out to be true. The people are fascinated by the Hooded Prince."

Not Merlin. They could care less about Merlin. The skinny, serious, black haired boy with a funny little smile that only Merlin had ever seen. They cared for the Hooded Prince; the peculiarity that he was.

The fascination they expressed, Merlin knew, was not one of devotion but pity. It was the same fascination that drew the masses to watch beheadings and burnings and other ungodly executions. It made them feel better about themselves as they gawked. I may have it bad, but least I'm not him, they'd think. Their fascination was laced with fear, disgust, and awe. They wondered why the King would force his own son to hide his face. What sort of atrocity must that boy be? Some though that his face could stop the hearts of those who gazed upon it. Either by his great ugliness or great beauty, depending on who you asked. The rare man might say that there was never a Prince at all, and that the King was simply switching out volunteers to live beneath the hood. Even wilder, some thought that he was an elf or a magical creature of some sort, brought into the world by the King's unfaithfulness.

Of course, these rumors were never spoken directly to the king. Merlin knew of them through the whispering of the servants as he hid in the shadows year after year, gathering more information and wondering why he cared in the first place. The rumors murmured on and on. The ordinary people feared what they did not know. And in that aspect, Uther Pendragon was a very ordinary man indeed. He was terrified of the unknown.

But none of this musing was truly important.

Uther was sending him away. That was what mattered most. And as a consequence, it was what hurt the greatest. The realization sent a cut of betrayal into Merlin's stomach. He gulped.

The king made it sound like a holiday, a privilege, an honor. Like he was finally trusting his mistake of a son with something.

Merlin wasn't fooled. He was not an idiot, and it seemed his father had not spent enough time around him to know it. In that moment of silence, Merlin peered into his father's averted eyes and saw no confidence. No pride in his son.

Only envy. Deep rooted, green-tinged jealous. Merlin let the disgust he felt shine clearly on his hidden face. Could the man fall any lower in Merlin's esteem? Uther wanted that attention; the attention the Hooded Prince received. The hype and clamor. He was not going to get it with his son in the way. Merlin clenched his fists and trembled. The familiar heat of magic came unwanted to his eyes, but instantly, he pushed it away.

If you want attention so bad, why don't you try wearing the ruddy hood? "What prompted this decision? Is there a reason?"

Uther blinked. He did not respond for a moment, but then his words came quickly. "The Hoods are growing in number. If they continue to increase, they could pose a problem. You know what they wish to do."

Merlin knew very well. The Hoods were a group of people who vied for Merlin's ascension. Immediately and violently. They wore black hoods similar to Merlin's and spend most of their time in the rowdy corners of the capitol. They had never been more than vandalists. Merlin watched, waiting for the slight twitch in his father's left eye which would reveal his deception.

Uther's eye twitched. Just barely.

And Merlin nearly bit through his lip to keep from lashing out.

Retaliating would prove his father right, [at least in Uther's eyes] That his magic had corrupted him. At long last.

Deadly calm, his anger and hurt almost simmering the air around him, Merlin stepped closer to his father and stared through his mask. For the first time, he was grateful for the terrifying image the hood made him out to be. "If you wish me gone, father, at least, grant me the decency of not lying to my face. I knew eventually your ego would not allow you to keep me under your roof, but like it or not, sire, I am your son. The Hooded Prince is a creature of your making."

Uther attempted to interrupt, red in the face, but Merlin plowed right on. He let the pain of thousands of received insults pour into his words. "I have been shunned since my very birth and now you would parade me as a peculiarity. If I am soon corrupted, then it is by your influence, not the magic I wield."

"Silence boy!" Uther hissed. "You know not your place."

Merlin snorted. "I know my place very well, sire. You have made your opinion of me well known. As I said. I will leave. I'll pack my bags and be your ruddy diplomat."

Whirling away with what he hopped was a significantly dramatic flare, Merlin swallowed down the ice cold magic in his throat. Sparks of fire danced in his eyes. No one saw his trembling fingers as he strode toward the door. Why was life so unfair?

"Wait." Uther's voice was strange. Stoney and dignified. And yet laced with a broken bit of sadness like a streak of cool water in lava. Merlin paused in spite of himself, hand wrapped around the handle. He clung to it like a lifeline. Uther sighed. "Take a manservant with you," he finished lamely. "When you leave."

"Can't. The last one quit."

"Get a new one. I'm sure there are plenty of boys willing."

"You'd be surprised. They like to see me from the confines of the balcony. Being a manservant is a bit too close for comfort." Besides, I don't need help or protection. Not from you.

Uther was silent for a moment. "I will see to it that this is remedied."

His forehead crinkling in confusion, Merlin almost turned back. He stopped himself at the last second. His father baffled him. One moment he was jealous and despised Merlin's existence. And the next, Uther wanted to make sure his son didn't travel alone. What sort of man was he, to hate him, send him away, and yet hesitate at the end like this?

It didn't make sense.

But Merlin supposed it didn't really matter. Uther made it clear that his peculiar son would not be coming back into Camelot until the king himself had traveled yonder.

Then, Merlin would come home weighed down by the chains of a crown. Just the thought made his stomach twist painfully.

One worry at a time, Merlin, Merlin told himself. One worry.

You have enough problems as it is.

AN: Thanks for reading! I update sporadically, but I'm pretty excited about this story so hopefully updates will be fast. Tell me what you think:)) Uther is a pain in the bottom, as usual, but he's particularly nasty in this story, in my opinion. Also, It might take a bit to see the usual cheerful, grinning, sarcastic Merlin we all know. He's holding a lot of resentment against himself, which in the cannon, he never had. Anyway, leave a REVIEW with your honest opinion:DDD