Author's Note: A break from a lot of my other stuff. I love Merlin, so here we go. No copyright infringement intended. (But I do own all non-canon characters, settings, and plot points)
It Begins
Arthur and Abigail Pendragon were born on a Tuesday. Though most mothers in the age lived to bear children for years and years, the stress of birthing twins took her shortly after Arthur, the younger, came to see light. The queen took her husband's hand, and in her last breaths, spoke a wish none would hear but King Uther. After the slow passing of the queen, a young woman, a maid, presumably, stepped into the room. The king nodded solemnly, and the maid attended to the children. She wrapped, them, fed them, and kept them warm. She found that Arthur slept simply and silently, but that Abigail remained awake. Not crying, not wailing, like colicky babies oft did, but sitting, peacefully, with wide eyes set on her caretaker. The maid, named Tamora, smiled down at her.
"You're a special child, aren't you," Tamora whispered, cradling Abigail close. "Your mummy's sent something lovely for you." She kissed the baby's forehead, and, as if by magic, the child promptly fell asleep.
Uther Pendragon believed that his queen Ygraine's death was caused by magical interference with her pregnancy–as twins were something of an anomaly, at least in his eyes–and banished the use of magic in the kingdom henceforth. Strangely, it was the very day that the king made his decree that the maid, Tamora, left her service with the children and disappeared beyond the noble land of Camelot. The twins, being only two years of age when the edict passed, lost their first nurse. Arthur reacted as most young children would at the deprivation of a loved one; with tears and screams and kicks and blatant disappointment. Again Abigail displayed unconventional tendencies, simply waving at Tamora as she made her descent from the castle and continuing her play.
As the children grew older, their interests and personalities deviated largely. Arthur, the prince and heir to the throne as firstborn male, took up a traditional king's habits, practicing swordsmanship and war strategy, finding mates who were much like him, athletic and rugged. Truly Arthur was the gem of his father, and proud was his father to have such a strong, powerful heir. Abigail became sickly, pale and thin by many of her illnesses, and stayed locked within the castle most of the time. She spent hours a day poring over the old books in the royal library, watching the chefs cook, and playing with the birds in the owlery. Uther treasured his daughter as well, but was bewildered by her lifestyle. A princess such as she ought to be seeking suitors, dancing at balls, and enjoying her time with casual sport (not that which the men dominated, of course, but sport nonetheless), thought Uther. Instead, here she was indoors, simply watching and observing. He did notice that she spent a great deal of time visiting the old man Gaius, and this concerned Uther.
"Gaius," addressed Uther tiredly one night during feast, taking him from the general party by the arm. "Old friend, you know that your service in the castle is a grand gift to me and the whole of the kingdom. I must inquire of you, what intentions have you with my young daughter Abigail?" The old man chuckled lightly, eyes twinkling at the king's misunderstanding.
"Why, my king, Princess Abigail is a fascinating young woman. My only intention with her is friendship, nothing more. She teaches me many things, for she is wise beyond her years. Perhaps wiser than I," he added, smiling. King Uther took Gaius' word for value, and nodded. "Your Highness, I advise you return to your feast. Your guests beg entertainment, you see." He gestured to the prince of some far south nation, whose imperious eyes had grown glazed and lazy in his absence and an excess of mead.
"But where will you go? The feast is not yet over," replied Uther, watching Gaius ascend one of the staircases.
"Why, to my bearings, Your Highness. It is late, and I am very old, you see. Good night, my lord!"
So Uther returned to the feast, more puzzled than ever before as he watched his daughter perform a lilting melody on the flute, an instrument he hadn't known she enjoyed, slowly sending the foreign prince to slumber in his plate of caviar.
Upon Arthur and Abigail's twentieth birthday, King Uther called forth a celebration of biblical proportions, inviting dozens of the prettiest unmarried lasses and strongest, most honorable unmarried fellows in the land for each of his children. Arthur took to the plan immediately, surrounding himself and his friends with the masses of young women and sharing idle conversation with them. And meanwhile, as the male suitors attended Abigail, she simply presented them with more glasses of wine and mead until they desisted, succumbing to drunken exhaustion.
She made her way up the tower to see Gaius again, to have peace from the rabble in the main hall. She tapped thrice on his door, and entered. Gaius smiled, having a seat on his stool and leafing through an old, unfamiliar book. Abigail frowned and closed the door behind her.
"What book is that?" she inquired.
"Alas, princess, I have been ordered not to share the contents of the book with anyone, lest I fall in ill health for my disobedience," he chortled, closing it and setting it in a drawer. "Now, why have you come to visit an old man on the night of your birthday? I don't suppose Prince Arthur is making any late night visits to silly old professors as well, is he?" Abigail rolled her eyes with an audible scoff.
"No. My brother is simple, he needs only guffawing cronies and swarms of willing women to entertain himself." Gaius tutted, shaking his head.
"Prince Arthur has redeeming qualities, does he not? He is strong, certainly, a worthy heir to the throne, determined, unfaltering in his actions, and especially confident in his affairs. He seeks only to please the king in becoming a good king himself." Abigail, leaned her head back in exasperation; did no one see Arthur's flaws as well as his strengths as she did?
"Yes," she groaned, "but he is also headstrong, impulsive, crude, and brimming with overconfidence. He's made himself excellent nemeses in leaders of far-off lands, insulted nearly every diplomat he's ever contacted, and gotten himself into scrapes I'd never think he'd escape from."
"Ah," said Gaius, "but he has escaped from them, has he not?"
"I suppose, but–"
"Then you oughtn't be far so quick to judge, ought you, princess? It is true, your brother possesses qualities both detrimental and beneficial, but do not forget, you do as well. You are wise, princess, but fearful and perhaps too cautious. Prince Arthur often acts without thought, but you often think without action. Perhaps you ought to have a leaf from his book and he from yours every once in a while, eh?" She huffed once more and crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, before I forget..." He turned around, bustling through his heaps of clutter, before turning once more and grinning widely. "Happy birthday."
In her hands was thrust a simple braided leather necklace with a buffed blue stone at the end. In the stone were inscribed tiny symbols, too small for her to decipher but apparent nonetheless. She placed the necklace around her neck loyally, as every gift from Gaius heralded some hidden, wonderful value. Looking up once more, she smiled brightly at her old friend.
"Thank you, Gaius," she said softly, resting her hand atop his old, withered palm.
"Don't thank me yet," he answered, his familiar chuckle returning. "It will bring you far more trouble and far more delight than it is worth." She frowned at him. Gaius often spoke in riddles, few of which she bothered to understand at first, but all of which made sense in the end. "Unless you're to attend your party again, princess, I advise you to bed. It's rather late and your father is sure to be drinking tonight, you see." She nodded solemnly, then bade her old mentor goodnight, proceeding up to her own tower.
But as she ascended the stairs, a burning occurred upon her bosom, a burning so intense that she winced several times with pain. As she reached her chambers, she disrobed, ignoring the offering hand of her servant Desdemona, and discovered that the beautiful necklace Gaius had given her was glowing a faint yellow, a far cry from its previous sapphirine color. She frowned at it, but shook her head, as the yellow faded back to blue, and simply dismissed the occurrence, drawing up her curtains and falling to a peaceful, dark sleep after her long first day at twenty years old.