A/N: Heya. So this is a Prequel to Merlin, or a Prequel to the Other Version of Events, my other Merlin story. It depends if you can be bothered to later read Other Version of Events. I don't know what to say, but this story was one that came about by me writing Other Versions when I realised that there was a whole backstory to it I couldn't explore in The Other Version... So I follow it here.

:)

Disclaimer: I OWN SOMETHING! I DO, I DO, I DO! I own my laptop. :) Bought it new and am writing this on the laptop while Other Version I am writing on my phone. Don't ask why. I'm determined to post the entirety of Other Version from my mobile.

How it Began

A Letter to the King,

My Lord, it has come to my attention that a dragon is approaching Camelot. As we hope to intercept it, Balinor and some of your men have left tonight. I shall send a letter with our return.

Sincerely,

Sayard Ambrosius

There was a fire. A fire and screaming and burning and a stench so unbearable it made the young girl want to be sick. She looked around the blaze that had engulfed her room and screamed. When her throat couldn't take it anymore, she choked off. "Papa!" she cried out.

There was a loud deafening crack as part of the ceiling caved in, and the sky revealed itself bright blue against the charred black. The claws of the dragon which had dug itself into the roof pulled away, and the beast took off into the air roaring as it flew. "Papa!" the girl screamed again.

The smoke and the flames burnt her eyes, causing them to water and her vision was blurred. She coughed and choked. Where was her papa? She looked to where the fire had crumbled a part of her home. She didn't think he was under there. But if he wasn't, then why would he leave her alone to burn? Where had he gone?

Her mind was muddled, and she was terrified. She cried out again, and this time she was answered with a massive crash. The dragon's head broke through the door, barrelling head first into her hut.

It wasn't the same dragon that had attacked. That one had been black, with streaks of white colouring the tips of its wings and eyes so dark they were like charcoal. That dragon had been so large it cast a shadow over the village that mimicked night before it even approached.

No, it wasn't the same dragon. This dragon was sapphire blue, and every fourth scale on its flank was silver like a knight's armour. The dragon swept it's head to the side, searching the hut and knocking out the eastern wall, meeting the girl with its amethyst eyes, filled with purple fire. It was small and young, twice the size of a horse. On its back was a rider, but the girl couldn't see him properly through all the smoke.

The rider leapt off the dragon's back, revealing himself to be a man. As the dragon stomped out of the hut, the man jogged to the girl's side and knelt down beside her. His cloak came off and fluttered overhead. He wrapped it around the girl's shoulders, shielding her from the heat before lifting her up into his arms.

The man effortlessly carried her through the hole in the wall the dragon had created. In the sunlight, the girl could breathe easily again. She gasped in deep lungful's of air as the man gently lowered her to the earth. "Are you alright?" he asked, bending to reach her level.

She shook her head and tried breathing deeper. Her lungs burnt and every time she drew breath she became painfully more aware of that. "Can't... Breathe..."

"Hold on. My friend is a physician. He'll be here in a moment. I think he's tending to your father."

The girl's head turned, and she saw, a little way away, her papa being treated by another man with long scruffy brown hair, already streaked with white. "Papa!" she tried to shout, but she started to choke on the ash that had built up in her lungs. The boy rested his hand on her shoulders and hushed her. A skin of water pressed against her lips, and she greedily drunk until he tugged it away. "Careful. You'll be sick."

Her breaths came out in wheezing gasps.

"Calm yourself," he crooned, stroking her hair. "He'll be alright. Gaius is the best physician in all of Albion. He will save your father. You need to concentrate on breathing."

She heard his words and took deeper breaths until they were less ragged and her blood could absorb the air. When her heart stopped racing, she realised she was looking at a gangly man with hazel eyes and thick black coils for hair that hung around his chin. He was staring at her intently to make sure she was all right and only then did she notice that he was much younger than he thought.

He looked twenty at the oldest and was apparently trying to grow a beard judging by the scruff around his cheeks. "Tell me, what's your name?" he asked gently, stroking her hair with one hand and smiling a contagious smile.

"Hunith," she coughed. "Hunith Adhan."

He smiled and kept stroking her hair gently. "Well, my name is Balinor Ambrosius. It's a pleasure to meet you, Hunith."

Bally! Do you believe in love?

No.

Why not?

That's such a girly thing to say, Ec.

But girls Bal! Don't you like girls?

Girls are disgusting and icky and don't play games with me because they think I'm snotty.

Maybe if you wiped your face now and then... Your nose is dribbling, by the way.

Uncle Gaius says I have a cold! AND GIRLS ARE YUCK!

What about Nimueh? You like Nimueh.

Nimueh's not a girl. She doesn't wear petticoats or try and give me hankies as tokens of affection. Which is stupid because you blow your nose on a hanky. So that's just telling them to get sick or that you want them to have your snot! Nimueh is just different sort of boy.

Why'd I even ask you? What's a seven-year-old supposed to know?

I know enough to know our tutor isn't going to be happy when he sees we've been writing and not working.

Fine. You win. And blow your nose!

King Uther watched from his castle, just able to see the curling smoke rise above the treetops east of the Darkling Forest. He had been king of Camelot for two years, having won it back from King Vertigern who had killed his father, Constantine, when he was young.

When the faux-king had come to end the six-year-old Prince Uther after raiding the castle, the physician's apprentice, Gaius had snuck the prince and his young cousin out of the kingdom and had them raised in King Budic of Anglia's court.

Sayard, his cousin's father and the Court Dragon Master had of course come too, along with Gaius's mentor's son, Ector had joined them. The five of them had escaped together as Constantine Pendragon was burned alive on the pyre and Vertigern declared himself king.

It took Uther fourteen years of training to reclaim his throne, and he did so, with Sayard, Balinor, Ector and Gaius by his side, as well as men who Uther had discovered along the way. They included knights made from noblemen, then only ones Uther trusted anymore since it had been the knight who had once been a slave that betrayed his father.

His men included Goloris of Cornwall, Lewis of Cambridge, brother's, Frenwyn and Lachlan of Mercia, Walden of Bernicia, Tristan de Bois and Arnold, who was the son of a knight killed for his allegiance to Uther's father. Ector was the only exception. As Camelot's ex-physicians son, he was a serf, but he was also Uther's best friend and Sayard's ward.

The army that they rallied together was like no other, and when the people of Camelot, who were dying beneath the oppression of Vertigern, saw their prince come forth for them, they cheered and joined the armies in the attack. Prince Bagdemagus of Anglia fought alongside them, as Uther was his father's ward. He gave them his armies. The battle was fierce but quick, and now, Uther was King.

"Milord, your cousin sends a message." Uther looked over his shoulder and saw a serving boy carrying a small merlin falcon that belonged to his younger cousin Balinor. The bird's name was Hermes if he remembered correctly, and it flew to Uther's arm when summoned.

Balinor was still young at seventeen. He had been a babe in Sayard's arms when Camelot had been brought down, but Uther learnt that his youngest cousin, related to him through ancient generations of marriage, was the most responsible and put together young man in all of Albion. He would have had to be with a father like Sayard, strict and domineering, and especially with all that power welled up inside of him.

He knew very well how powerful Balinor was, coming into his gifts at the age of eight and able to re-enact an entire battle with swords and invisible men. He was only ever jealous when he found out Balinor's magic meant that he could learn things much quicker than most. He could absorb the information from the pages he read and learnt footwork and swordplay so quickly that he matched the sixteen-year-old Uther and fourteen-year-old Ector at the tender age of ten.

Uther quickly looked down at the note and rolled his eyes. Despite all his magic, if there was one thing his cousin was horrible at, it was handwriting.

Dear Your Highness,

Dragon problem is sorted. Father says we shall be there by tomorrow morning. We are bringing the survivors back to Camelot as there is nothing to salvage here. Eight men, six women and two children have died. Twenty-seven shall be coming back with us. My father has sent the dragon to Mercia with instructions not to harm again.

Sincerely,

Balinor

Uther had no doubt in his mind, the words, 'Your Highness' breathtaking in a satirical manner, but he usually let Balinor's moments of attempted humour slide because he was like his brother, along with Ector.

Uther scrawled back a message to confirm he got theirs and released Hermes back to the skies, then turned to the boy who'd delivered the bird. "Send word to the lower town that people are coming. They'll be injured from the attack and they should be prepared to open their homes on order of the King." The boy nodded once and Uther looked back to the rising smoke. His lip curled slightly.

By order of the King... It still was like music to his ears. He was King of his father's Kingdom, able to uphold his legacy. He was trying to bring his people into an era of peace. But there is so still much to be done.

A gust of wind was the only warning he had that he was no longer alone. He glanced over his shoulder, unsurprised to see the young and breathtaking sorceress, Nimueh standing beside him. He should have known she'd be arriving. She rarely gave them notice of when she would be leaving the Isles, but she had a knack for knowing when they would having a feast.

"There will be casualties in Mercia."

"Let Wulfhere deal with them, just as he let me deal with the farms he had poisoned," Uther growled.

"No one can confirm that," Nimueh said, rolling her eyes. "I swear you're more paranoid than I am and I always thought that an impossible feat."

"I am not paranoid. I am calculatingly suspicious." He turned to face the young sorceress with a smile. "Now is Mercia really what you came here to speak about?"

Nimueh shook her head and sighed. "No," she groaned and leant forward on the ramparts, looking over the entirety of Camelot and chuckling. Uther sometimes thought she should laugh more. She was much prettier when she did, and her laughter had a contagious effect that had all smiling.

He had found Nimueh when they were just children, sobbing in the forest, clutching her leg as it bled. Around her wrists were magic proof cuffs that were gripped so tight, they had chaffed her skin raw. The dress she had worn, a brown garment stitched from straw was ripped and stained with blood.

He had been with ten-year-old Ector and five-year-old Balinor and King Budic's son, Bagdemagus. At the time and the three had decided to try hunting by themselves, at night. Needless to say, Budic had been furious with his son and ward but forgave them when he saw they rescued nine-year-old Nimueh. She was sent to the Isle of the Blessed for training, though she visited all the time.

"It's Sir Ector." Uther grinned a little, knowing that he was a large part of the reason for Nimueh's agreement to help them take back Camelot. "He asked to court me." She tilted her head forward in bemusement.

"About time," Uther laughed. "What did you say?"

Nimueh laughed shortly, but it sounded split between a scoff and a sob. "That I'm a High Priestess of the Old Religion and have taken holy vows!"

"And what did he say?"

Nimueh's face burnt red with the blood in her cheeks. "That he would take holy vows for me." She turned her head and stared over Camelot once more. "It's not right for me to lead him on like this, Uther. He is a Knight of Camelot. He is expected to have a wife, have a son and have a legacy. I am bound to the earth. No matter how much love we shared as children, I cannot be with him."

"Why do these holy vows mean so much? Would you lose power without them?"

It took her a moment, but she eventually nodded. "The vow to make me chaste is what gives me the power to be a Priestess. I would lose a considerable amount of magic should I break them, and I'd be unable to perform my duties," she mumbled, hand under her chin.

Uther rested a hand on her bare shoulder, knowing just how much being a High Priestess meant to his old friend, but also how much she loved Ector. It was a battle she had long fought within herself, and she often could only confess her feelings to Uther who understood somewhat, what she was going through.

As if to make a point, young Ygraine de Bois, sister to his most loyal Knight, Tristan, walked by below and headed to the markets with her youngest brother, Agravaine. The Lady of the Court had sparkling blue eyes, the exact same shade as sapphires, and hair spun from golden sunlight. Her skin was the colour of first snow, and delicate and soft like a flower petal.

The woman turned her head slightly and looked up at Uther. Her ears pinned back on her head as she smiled, her peach coloured lips curling up into a beautiful heart shape. She smiled, and she waved, and Uther weakly waved back looking like a lovesick fool.

Uther's heart thudded faster, and his mouth slackened. He must have been staring for a long while because Nimueh laughed, the sound like small bells ringing. The young King was blushing and shook all thoughts of Ygraine from his mind. "You know, you could simply order him to approve your marriage," she said. "I can't demand the Old Religion to allow me love with Ector, but I'm sure you can demand Tristan give up his sister's hand."

Uther frowned slightly and looked sickly. "It's not that simple. She's in love with Goloris and Tristan is not the sort of man who would force his sister into a loveless marriage."

Nimueh made a small 'o' with her mouth and pushed off the battlements. "While Goloris is a fine young man... Really? He's a bit… Uneasy on the eye." Uther couldn't help but snort. Goloris was his greatest friend, but it was true, to an extent. With wide bulbous eyes and flippant blonde hair that just never seemed to sit right on his head, the man resembled a giant in many ways. But he was a gentle giant and the only person who was ever keen to argue with Uther's word.

"It gets worse." Uther sighed in discomfort. But Nimueh was the only person he could confide in with such things, and he needed to get it off his chest. "Lady Vivienne is in love with me."

This time when Nimueh laughed, she threw her head back, and the sound came from deep within her chest. Uther growled, narrowing his eyes at the sorceress. "You know, I could have you beheaded for your laughter."

Nimueh's hysterics died out into small chuckles and finally, quiet giggles. "You wouldn't have me killed. Anyway, I'm too powerful for you and your Knights. So, the constantly whining Lady Vivienne, daughter of the Duke of Burgoyne and would be Seer if she just bloody practised instead of forcing her magic away with trinkets, is in love with the King." Nimueh made a face, filled with repulse. "You are disgusting Uther Pendragon for sinking so lows."

He groaned. "I do not return her affections."

"But you are considering them."

"I am considering what they could imply. Duke Burgoyne is a trusted ally and has land in Bernicia he'd be willing to hand over."

"A Duke with lands in two kingdoms is just as dangerous as he is strategic."

"That's what Ector said."

He glanced at Nimueh with a teasing smile, and she just straightened up, daring him to make a fool of her. "You should, of course, listen to your Royal Advisor. If not for anything else but the fact that Vivienne Burgoyne is a witch."

"So are you."

"I don't mean magical, Uther." She sat back on the ramparts, arms across her chest, staring at him.

"I sometimes consider I should just marry you," he said offhandedly. "I'd imagine life wouldn't be so difficult attached to you."

Nimueh snorted. "We'd kill each other. Anyway, like I told Ector. I have vowed myself to be the powers that be. Powers that were strong enough to give you a kingdom. You'd do well to remember that."

Uther watched her and the way her hair flew gently in the wind. They hit her in the face, but she did not seem to mind. There was no way he was in love with her, but Uther respected her greatly for her strength and her beauty. "Have dinner with me tonight? Or do you have to return to the Isle?"

"I don't have to do anything. I choose to stay in the Isle because I have nowhere else to go."

Uther frowned. "You do know that Camelot is your home, do you not?"

She looked confused. "I have always known the gates were open to me, but not that it was my home."

"Of course it's your home. You helped me win my father's lands back and restore the Pendragon name." He took Nimueh's hand and brought it to his lips, tilting his head in a bow. "I am forever in your debt, High Priestess."

She chuckled and brought his face up again to show his smile. "Ygraine should be toppling over her feet for you, and Tristan should sign his soul for the honour of having the greatest King Camelot has ever known as a brother-in-law."

"And you should give up your magic for Ector." He patted her shoulder. "But not all dreams come to pass."

Nimueh slapped his shoulder. Uther grinned and ran away from Nimueh giving into the chase as they did as children. As no one was around, she gave into childish traits and ran after him, leaping onto his back. Uther caught her and swung her around, giddy laughter on their lips. Despite who they were, they were still young and wished to stay that way forever as all did in their youth.

They resembled nothing of the man and woman they would eventually become, but neither knew that and neither worried about such things. To them, it was how things always were, and they both believed it was how it would always be.

Dear Ygraine,

You are the beauty that my heart yearns for...

My dearest Ygraine,

I cannot go on without...

Dear Ector,

How does one write a love letter?

Sincerely,

Uther

Dear Uther,

Well, first one requires a heart.

Love your nearest and dearest,

Ector.

Ector,

You are dead to me.

Uther.

Uther,

That is the perfect love letter, my Lord. It is a wonder that you haven't won Lady Ygraine's affections earlier. But alas, I do not share in your affections. My heart, like Ygraine's, is attached to another.

Try Vivienne.

Apologies from your unrequited,

Ector

A/N: What did you think?