Full Summary: When a young, but promising, hunter is hired by a mysterious employer to kill the young Prince, she does not hesitate to accept his generous payment. Not remembering her employer's face, the young girl sets off to kill the future king as he makes a long trek back to Camelot. Forgetting to check if everyone was asleep, the assassin is caught red-handed, and brought back to Camelot for trial.

Featured Pairings: Arthur/OC, Gwaine/OC, Arthur/Gwen, Merlin/Arthur, Morgana/Mordred

Knocking an arrow into the oak long bow, the hooded silhouette creeps closer upon the brigade of men, who lie fast asleep on their makeshift beds. The knights sleep soundly, and the mercenary's feet silently crunch on the mulch. One of them stirs, and she instinctively draws back the arrow, her sights set dead-on on a dark-haired man who sleeps on a blue wool mat. He mumbles something in his sleep before turning onto his other side. The assassin lets out a breath they didn't know they were holding before continuing, darkened eyes searching for their target as they relax their arm.

There. Sleeping alongside his dark-haired serving boy was the angel-haired prince. The assassin frowned, their lips curling down. It was a pity, for the king looked peaceful in his sleep. Drawing the string back once more, the mercenary hardly has to aim.

"My lord!" cries a deep voice. The sound of an unsheathing sword finds it's way to the mercenary's ear. The knights begin to rise, drawing their weapons in alarm. The assailant groans; they should've checked if all of the beds were filled before even attempting to murder the prince.

Off guard, the assassin whirls around, their cloak twirling around. The assassin has a staredown with a short-haired knight before their hands drop the bow and arrow. The mercenary is carried away by light feet that soar over the ground, leaping and bounding over the twisted and gnarled roots of trees. Three of the knights pursue him, their chainmail making noises as they pick up their speed. The cloaked figure makes no attempt to stop as the knights charge towards him.

"Damn!" cries the hunter, his cloak caught on a tray branch. One of the knights, the one closest, takes this opportunity, taking his sword and running it through the petite body.

The assassin lets out a pained whimper before falling to their knees as Gwaine pulls out his sword with a sickening sound. He kneels on the ground, harshly pulling down the assassin's hood. "Who dares to harm the noble Prince Arthur?" he commands, his voice tainted with a fierce loyalty. Under the hood is a scarf that covers most of the assailant's face except for their piercing blue-green eyes.

With weakly drawn breaths, the assassin's chest rises and falls as they tumble to the side, Gwaine catching them as his friends draw near, sharp weapons in hand. Arthur kneels alongside Gwaine, interested in who would want to kill him in the middle of the night. The prince's fingers begin to peel away the light blue scarf, revealing the young, supple face of a wounded girl.

"It-It's a woman?"

The girl looks at all of them with frightened and pained eyes, her lips parted as she continues to draw in hiccuped breaths. The men stare, dumbfounded, before Arthur unfastens the strings of her cloak, throwing it to the side as he inspects her wound. "Merlin!" he calls, although the serving boy was already standing at his side, dutifully.

"Yes, sire?" says Merlin.

Arthur looks up at him, blue eyes commanding. "Treat this woman's injury immediately," he orders, to the protest of his knights.

"Sir, she tried to murder you!" argues Percival. One look from Arthur shuts him up. Arthur picks her up into his arms, her half-conscious eyes staring up into the tree tops. He lays her down back in the camp, on a patch of grass by a tree.

"Percival, this woman is badly wounded. It is the middle of the night. She will not survive the night with a stab like that. We must ride to Camelot and give her a proper trial," Arthur retorts as Merlin returns with some supplies. "She may have tried to kill me, but she does not deserve to suffer until morning."

Merlin treats her wounds as best he can, giving the girl sketchy looks as he attempts to bind the injury through her dress. The knights, of their own accord, bind her hands round the tree with a spare rope, and Arthur does not protest this time.

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In the morning, they set out for Camelot, nobody saying a word on the journey home. The girl rides on Merlin's horse, her hands bound to the saddle. Merlin leads the black mare by its reins.

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The girl is led to a dark cell, shoved in by rough hands. "Have fun, girlie," says one of the guards, who has some missing teeth and a crooked nose. He closes the cell door before she can run out, locking it and pocketing the key. Leaning back against the walls, the girl stares out the bars of the cell, wincing as she adjusts her position, her hand going to her side. The bandages the boy put on earlier are wet with her blood, and the girl hisses in pain as her hand comes away patterned with red.

She falls asleep on her bed, dozing softly when she hears soft footsteps thudding in her direction. The young woman sits up erect, only whimpering softly when she feels a stabbing pain in her side when she reaches back to draw an arrow that wasn't there.

The figure, seeing that she's startled, stops, half of their body shielded with shadows. "Who's there?" the girl demands, her voice light and airy. She can see that the stranger wears armor, so it wasn't the servant coming to change her dressing.

"I am Gwaine, knight of Camelot," the figure says, stepping up against the bars of the cell, peering in. The girl sees that he has a platter of food in his hands. "I've come to deliver your sup-"

"I do not want your pity, Sir Gwaine," says the girl. The food smells delightful, and it tickles her nose. Her stomach makes a growling sound as she says this, and the knight chuckles.

"It seems your body betrays you," he says. A guard comes up from behind him and unlocks the cell door, and Gwaine steps in, setting the tray on the side of the bed as the guard walks off, returning to his post. "Please, eat."

The girl shakes her head. "No." She doesn't tell him this, but she will only eat when she is starving. The hunger that she experienced now was no more than that – hunger. "Thank you, but I will not eat."

"I insist," says Gwaine, pushing the plate towards her. "You will not get another decent meal until morning; in fact, you may not even get a meal tomorrow morning. So please," he pauses, his eyes boring into hers. "Eat."

The girl rolls her eyes and gratefully pulls the plate towards her, eating with the spoon provided. She savours every mouthful of food, scraping the plate clean. When she's finished, she gives the platter back to Gwaine. "I'm finished."

He takes it and sets it just outside the cell. He doesn't leave, though. "What's your name?" he asks.

"Thea," the girl answers straightforwardly.

Gwaine stands up, his eyes catching the soaked bandages. He feels a stab of pity go through him. "Well, Thea, I apologize for having to... apprehend you so brutally."

"Apprehend? You mean giving me a potentially fatal wound and then dragging my sorry arse to Camelot just so I could be given a death sentence? Well, I suppose I forgive you," Thea replies coldly.

Gwaine looks at her, taken aback. Wordlessly, her exits her cell, waving for the guard to lock her in. He lingers outside the backs for a moment. "I'll have them send the physician come morning."

Thea smiles as she sees him retreat, although she soon wishes that he would return. It was awfully lonely in her dark cell.

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