Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the TV series. That would be the BBC. And for some reason, they won't give them up... I do own the plot line and all of my OCs so hands off. If you want to borrow anything original in this story for your own work, email me or ask in a review. Chances are, I'll be fine with it, just don't steal. Thanks.

A/N: I'm disregarding all episodes but the one with Freya and the one where Gwen's father is killed and of course, any others that don't mess up my plot line. However, several episodes do get in the way so please pretend that they never happened. Especially the one where Nimueh dies. THIS NEVER HAPPENED. EVER.

-A Midsummer Knight's Mare

If there was one thing that Uther Pendragon was better at holding than a grudge, it was a ball. And, the summer solstice looming, the ladies of the court had deemed that throwing a fitting celebration was non-debatable. And so, the King had surrendered (with surprisingly good grace) to their demands, insisting only on a tourney to take place on the day, and the preparations were in full swing. The menu had been finalized; the guest list decided; the decorations chosen; the entertainment selected and the invitations sent. Seamstresses worked late into the night and servants were forced into overdrive.

One particular servant was feeling the pressure of the upcoming festivities as he tried desperately to pander to Arthur's "needs", play errand boy for Gaius and run around ferrying messages and decorations between the frazzled servants. His impossibly full schedule and Gaius's habit of sending him out at odd hours of the morning to collect 'medicinal' flowers had encouraged the popular belief that Merlin never slept.

After what felt like no time at all, the guests were arriving and people of all walks of life were piling into the stands around the arena, where the tourney was being held. Merlin was in Arthur's tent, strapping the older man into his armour, and trying to nod at the right places while Arthur talked himself up.

'...It's really just an exhibition match, so it's not as if it really matters anyway...'

'Mmhmmm...' Merlin said, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he did the clasps on Arthur's breastplate. The sound of the first two rookies hacking clumsily at each other reached them through the thin material of the tent, closely followed by the roar of the crowds.

'...half of them have only just been knighted anyway, like Sir Norman...'

Merlin made a face; he disliked Sir Norman. He hailed from Ealdor, as did Merlin, and during their youth the bigger (and older) boy had enjoyed the popular sport Merlin Hunting. As suggested by the name, this game consisted of all of Norman's friends chasing Merlin around the village until he was caught. When he was caught, whoever had caught him received the honor and pleasure of beating him senseless. Of course, the game had a few rules: the first was that the game was only to be played with no adults present. The second was that no one was to hit his face for risk of their game being discovered. The third was less a rule and more an encouragement; if he fought back, everybody got to join in the beating.

Now that Norman was a knight, he took every opportunity his new status gave him to make Merlin's life hell. From hissing 'fatherless' at him whenever he passed him, to tripping him up on his way to deliver Arthur's breakfast.

'...They're as green as they come...Not even men yet...' Merlin kept nodding, shifting his focus to attaching Arthur's gauntlets.

'...Gwen wouldn't be interested in any of them...not mature enough for her...' Merlin made a vague noise of agreement and knelt down to fasten the ties on Arthur's shin guards.

'...and she's too good for any of them...and it's not like they're handsome enough to even merit a glance from her...they're all idiots...aren't they?' He glanced down at his manservant, who was reaching around his leg, tying his laces, and frowned.

'Merlin? They're idiots, aren't they?' Merlin looked up at him.

'What? Oh, uh, yeah, idiots. Morons. You've got no competition. They can't hold a candle to you, not to her. Half of them are practically still children and the other half are about forty and married. And besides, she only has eyes for you anyway.' He hurried to assure the surprisingly insecure looking Prince. Arthur only looked slightly more confident. Merlin sighed internally, getting to his feet to stand opposite his master.

'Look, don't worry about it. You have nothing to lose. The tourney's only being held for entertainment's sake so it doesn't even matter who wins. Just concentrate on the man trying to get you with a pointy piece of metal and not on the pretty girl standing behind your sister and you'll be fine. Gwen will love you whether you flatten your opponents or get flattened so relax.' Arthur narrowed his eyes.

'You think she's pretty?' Merlin looked to the heavens, in exasperation.

'Out of my whole impromptu motivational speech, that is what you pick up on?' Arthur kept his eyes trained on Merlin. Merlin breathed out.

'I know she's pretty - a blind person could see that much - but I don't look at her the way you do. She's a close friend but nothing more. Nothing like that. So you can stop plotting to kill me in my sleep now, if you please.' Arthur seemed to accept this, then he frowned again.

'You think she loves me?'

'I know she does, Arthur.' Arthur looked emboldened and said,

'Of course she does. Why wouldn't she? I'm me.' His trademark confidant smirk had reclaimed its almost permanent position on his handsome face. "And there's the Crown Prick we all know and love..." Merlin thought, shaking his head.

'I'm the prince. Every woman in Camelot wants me - of course Gwen wants me too. I'm gorgeous. I'm the best warrior in the kingdom. I'm not about to lose in an exhibition match. Or in any other fight-' The trumpet signalling that the one of the first pair of knights had 'killed' the other. Mercifully for Merlin, it also meant that Arthur needed enter the arena.

Arthur straightened up, pulling his shoulders back and lifting his chin. He pulled his sword from its scabbard and gave it a few experimental swings, then seemingly satisfied, sheathed it with a smirk.

'Alright. We're on.' He said, the pre-non-lethal-sword fight adrenaline making him jumpy. Merlin grinned and followed Arthur through the tent flap and into the bright sunlight.

The crowd screamed at the sight of their golden boy, striding down the aisle into the middle of the arena, Merlin following behind him to stand just outside the ring, the King and his company seated behind him. The winner of the last fight gave Arthur a nod, which Arthur returned; this would be a fair fight. No underhanded tactics would be employed by either fighter and no fatal wounds would be dealt.

Arthur faced his opponent, Sir Riley, who had been knighted shortly after him. For the sake of dramatizing the celebrations, it had been decided that the Lady Morgana would start each match by dropping a handkerchief. The victor of the tourney would receive the handkerchief (symbolizing her favour) and a single kiss from her Ladyship. Needless to say, the smile on Morgana's face was as false as her beauty was true. She stood and moved to the edge of the royal box (1), smiling to the crowds. They went deadly silent as she lifted the small square of white material, waiting for it to fall.

Morgana dropped it. The second it left her hand, the sound of swords clashing began and the audience yelled wildly. Morgana looked down at the handkerchief, wishing Uther had chosen someone else, anyone else, for the job. But he'd insisted on her performing it and she knew perfectly well why: Arthur would win and then she would have to kiss him.

Another oh so subtle attempt by Uther to bring the two together. She moved back to her seat and glanced at Gwen, hoping for some conversation but her maid was clearly enthralled by Arthur. She rolled her eyes mentally and turned back to the fight. Arthur was better, of course, but both were hamming it up, making elaborate showy swings to thrill the crowd. She sighed, letting her thoughts carry her far away from the stupid competition.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she turned slightly to see who it was. Merlin leant down and whispered in her ear,

'I believe this would be yours.' He grinned, handing the handkerchief back to her. She looked at it in resigned dislike and took it.

'Not looking forward to having to kiss Arthur?' He guessed, 'Or just sick of dropping the same handkerchief over and over again so that desperate knights can fight over you'

'Both.' She answered, 'Kissing Arthur will be awful - he's like family to me. And Gwen loves him. And I'm beginning to hate this thing.' She gestured to the handkerchief she held.

'At least if it's Arthur, you know he won't take advantage of the opportunity like some of the knights would.' He said, leaning closer to her to be heard over the cheers. She could feel his breath on her neck and it sent a shiver down her spine. He nodded towards Sir Rodney, a dark haired knight standing on the side of the arena. She followed his gaze and he glanced up at her and sent her a flirty look, complete with roguish smile, smouldering eyes and toss of the head. She looked away immediately.

'I would warn you to keep a distance between him and yourself, Milady,' He said seriously, then grinned, 'but it would probably do no good.' She rolled her eyes.

'I am stubborn – not stupid, Merlin. And I need no warning to keep away from him. Gwen's told me the nature of his "love".' Merlin grimaced; clearly, Gwen hadn't told Morgana the full impact of Sir Rodney's 'games'. Well, she'd better tell her soon because he sure as anything wasn't going to.

'He's not handsome enough to attract my attention anyway, so you needn't worry.' Merlin grinned.

'Of course he isn't.' He glanced back down at the fight and saw Arthur finish off Sir Riley. He made a face and said,

'I should go help Arthur.' He turned to leave but Morgana grabbed his hand.

'No - stay. Arthur can manage by himself. It's not like he even has to take of his armour because he'll be fighting again soon. All he needs is some water and anyone can get him that. Gwen's far too interested in the tournament to be any sort of conversationalist.' Merlin's grin returned.

'If that's a command from the King's ward, I believe I can do that.' She smiled in return; perhaps this tourney wouldn't be as dull as she'd anticipated. Neither of them noticed Arthur as he looked to where Merlin was supposed to be standing and searched around for him. They didn't see the frown on his face as he spotted him in the royal box next to Morgana or the surprise that replaced it as he took in their joined hands. He shook his head, brushing it off as something weird about Merlin, and gestured to a general servant to get him some water.

***That evening, at a location not to be disclosed to the reader lest it give away the plot…***

It was dark. The sun was disappearing over the horizon and leaving only the last lights of day behind. But she could see perfectly. Her companion stood hidden in the shadows a few meters away, on the other side of the road. She returned her gaze to the road, eyes narrowing as she glimpsed the horse-drawn carriage that was the reason she'd been waiting by this road for two hours.

It came nearer and her lips curled into a smile. She didn't have to look to know that her accomplice was watching her, waiting for the signal. She kept her eyes trained on the carriage. It was only yards away. She raised her hand.

It came closer, the driver whistling cheerfully. He suspected nothing. Fool. She closed her fingers into a fist and her lips formed the word 'now' but no sound came out.

She opened her fist and the ancient words rolled off her tongue. The driver froze, looking shocked. Stop the carriage. He yanked hard on the reins, ignoring the pained noise that issued from one of the horses. She darted out of the darkness, hissing more of the strange language as the carriage door opened and a man stuck his head out,

'Odo? What's-' but that was all he got the chance to say before the black light streaming from her palm hit him and he collapsed, his body falling from the carriage to lie limply on the ground. A thud sounded from the other side of the carriage and she knew her partner had succeeded. She flicked her hand at the unconscious man and he floated behind her as she moved around the carriage to see her ally levitating the man's wife to the edge of the forest.

She followed him, ending the spell and allowing him to drop as soon as they were out of sight of the road. She took note of their features and dress before whispering another spell and watching as her companion took on the form of the man she'd just knocked out. Then she waited impatiently for him to change her appearance to that of the woman. In seconds, they were exact replicas of their victims, from top to toe.

She allowed herself a victorious smirk, before nodding to the carriage. He opened the door for her, mocking the nobility that had ridden last in it. Her smirk grew and she climbed into the coach. He stepped in easily and took the seat opposite her. Drive to Camelot. The driver seemed to wake from a trance and flicked the reins. The horses began walking. Faster. He picked up the crop beside him and smacked the horse closest to him. It whinnied and sped up. The woman's cruel smile grew.

***That evening, at the feast***

The dining hall was packed, nobles' laughter echoing in the high ceiling. The tourney was over and (of course) Arthur had won. He'd dutifully let his father congratulate him, taken the 'favour' from Morgana and grinned victoriously at the crowd as he waved it above his head. They'd cheered as he did and only cheered louder when Morgana had, after an unsubtle poke from Uther, smiled politely and taken Arthur's face in her hands and kissed him lightly on the lips. They'd shared their usual 'I hate doing this' (from Morgana) and 'I know, me too, I wish Father would give it up' (from Arthur) looks then turned to smile beatifically for the benefit of their audience.

Then the common folk had returned to their homes to prepare for their meals while the noblemen and women, along with the knights and the servants of all of the above, returned to the castle for the feast. Now in full swing, only one couple was missing from the celebrations: Sir Calibor and Lady Edith. Due to an injury he'd received in a border squabble many years ago, Sir Calibor had been unable to fight, be it for a tournament or a war. In light of this, he'd refrained from watching tourneys lest the regret and bitterness return to the usually jovial man. So he'd accepted the King's invitation and informed him that he would arrive in time for the feast.

He had not. The feast had started half an hour ago and only now did his carriage pull up outside the castle. Merlin was hovering behind his master, impatiently and glancing out the window every few seconds when it did. He squinted, trying to see the driver of the carriage better. Was it…? Yes, it was. Odo. He grinned, noticing the obvious white mark on the side of one of the horses. Odo took that horse everywhere. He said she brought him good luck and doted on her.

He looked at Arthur. He seemed to have no need of him just now, his plate and goblet full. He leaned forward to speak to him. Arthur turned.,

'Yes, Merlin. What is it?'

'Sir Calibor and Lady Edith have arrived,' he gestured to the window, 'I wondered if I could go greet the driver; he's a friend of mine.' Arthur glanced at his plate, then out the window and shrugged.

'Don't see why not. Go. But be back within the hour.' He said, returning to the other knights' conversation. Merlin gave a short bow, then left the room. He heard a man announce the arrival of the late comers as he reached the door to the courtyard.

He saw Odo, and raised his hand to wave then paused. Odo was walking away from the horses and his movements were slightly jerky, as if forced. He looked like a badly controlled puppet, Merlin realized, watching Odo drop the riding crop he'd been holding as if he'd simply forgotten to curl his fingers around it. Then he turned and walked straight past Merlin without even seeming to see him.

Merlin frowned, moving towards the abandoned horses. He unclipped their harnesses and pulled it off, then led them both to the stables. He picked up a brush and began brushing out the first horse's coat absently. Why was Odo behaving so strangely? The mare suddenly pulled away and snickered in pain. He looked down, suddenly noticing the bloody mark on her flank. It looked like she'd been hit with a crop or a whip. But Odo would never, ever lay a hand on her. He'd said so himself. But Odo didn't seem to be himself tonight-

His eyes widened. Odo wasn't himself tonight. He was being controlled by someone. That was why he was acting the way he was. Odo would never have behaved like that normally. He was usually all smiles and kind words, never missing an opportunity for a chat. He whistled unendingly as he worked but tonight he'd been silent.

So he was a puppet.

A sorcerer's puppet.

But if someone had been controlling Odo, Sir Calibor would have noticed. Unless he too was enchanted, but then Lady Edith would've noticed. So they were both in it, either willingly or unwillingly. But they weren't magic, he'd have felt it on them long ago, so there was a sorcerer or a witch involved somehow. Panic gripped him as he realized he'd just left Arthur in a room with one, possibly two potential magical threats. Threats that he couldn't fight.

He dropped the brush and pelted out of the stables, towards the dining hall. The way back seemed to have lengthened while he'd been with the horse, his stomach sinking as he noticed the lack of servants in the corridors. He pushed his legs harder.

***In the dining hall about ten minutes beforehand***

'Sir Calibor' laughed heartily at something one of the young knights said, glancing at 'Lady Edith'. Yes, she'd started chanting under her breath, her wine goblet in front of her mouth to hide the movement of her lips. Thank heavens… He didn't think he could survive another five minutes in the same room as a living, breathing Uther Pendragon without messing up their plan and shattering 4 months of work.

'…freórigan beinnan hwílfacu…wæran ac freórigan…mægenléasu.'(3) She murmured, eyes fixated on the reason she had lost everything, sitting in his throne, smiling and laughing. Drinking, enjoying himself. Guiltless. He didn't even regret it, she thought. But that would change…she could see her spell working even as she watched.

Uther's smile faltered and she could see his mind struggling to understand what was going on. His movements became slower and she saw the fear in his eyes, mirrored in the eyes of every one at the table. Everyone but her and her companion. Lor. His desire for revenge almost matched hers. She'd have looked at him but she couldn't, wouldn't, tear her eyes away from Uther. She saw Arthur struggling against the power of her magic on the edge of her vision, trying to move, stand, fight.

She stood, pushing her chair away from her. She heard Lor do the same and she walked slowly around the table to stand in front of the most undeserving King of all time.

'Hello, Uther.' She smiled pleasantly and continued, 'Do you have any last wishes for me to ignore because, as I'm sure you'll have figured out, I'm going to kill you tonight.' She paused as if listening to his response, then suddenly laughed.

'Oh, not immediately! Goodness no! You worry too much, Uther. No, I'm going to have some fun before you die. Hmmm...let's see...'

She looked at him, knowing that he was following her every move with his frozen gaze. She turned to Arthur with an innocent smile.

'Perhaps we'll start with your son…he is the reason for,' she gestured vaguely, 'all this.' Uther couldn't show his panic but she could feel it rolling off him in waves. She could imagine his pleas. Anyone but him, I'll do anything, don't hurt him…Oh she would hurt him and it would kill Uther, she thought viciously. Her hand shot out and Arthur's body rose from its chair and floated to the ground in front of her. He lay, still, and she looked up at Uther. It all ends now, Pendragon. It all ends now.

***Back to Merlin at the same time***

He was almost there. He could hear her voice through the open door.

'Perhaps we'll start with your son…he is the reason for,' a pause, 'all this.' He saw her lift Arthur from behind the table, then drop him in front of it. No!

Instinctively, his magic reached out and almost pulled the spell off the Prince. Arthur was standing in a second, sword drawn as he faced her, standing between her and his father. Merlin halted suddenly as he reached the doorway, watching the scene before him.

'Who are you?' Arthur spat through his teeth. She laughed.

'Take a guess. Who wants your father dead more than anything in the world? Who has the power to do this?' She gestured at the frozen guests. 'Rack your brains, little boy – it shouldn't take long.' Arthur's eyes narrowed.

'Who are you?' He asked again. She sighed theatrically and clicked her fingers, purely for dramatic effect. She began to change, as did the man by her side. The man grew taller, his physique improved and Arthur winced, taking in the sight of him. He would have to fight him. And chances were he had magic too. Damn. 'Lady Edith' shrunk, her hair changing colour and skin darkening. Her gown, once light blue, was now gray.

'Nimueh?' He said incredulously. She only smiled and raised her hand. Merlin was running again before the words had formed in her head.

'æledfýr.' She hissed and fire exploded from her palm, flying towards Arthur. His eyes widened then he felt something hit him and his world tilted suddenly. His head slammed into the floor and the world spun, dots appearing in his vision. He disjointedly realized that the weight of whatever had knocked him over was gone. He heard Nimueh's voice.

'You!' She sounded beyond furious and Arthur pitied whoever was on the receiving end of her anger. 'Why are you always getting in the way?' It sounded like she might stomp her foot, like a child that didn't get its way.

'It's a hobby of mine.' A man's voice returned. Wait a second - that was Merlin's voice. Merlin was defying a powerful sorcerer! Merlin! He was doomed, Arthur thought with a sinking feeling.

'Move, boy.' She commanded irritably.

'Then I'd have gotten my shirt singed for nothing,' Merlin quipped, 'so no. I won't move.' The idiot was provoking her! Arthur wanted to hit him, or throw something.

'I said, move.' She growled. Arthur opened his eyes. Sure enough, Merlin was standing in front of him and for some unfathomable reason, Nimueh hadn't slaughtered him yet.

'No.' Her eyes narrowed to slits.

'Fine. Let's try something else.' Arthur didn't even hear her say the spell but he saw the knife fly off the table and speed through the air towards his manservant. His whole being screamed at him to get up but he couldn't. His arms wouldn't hold him up. Goddamn it!

Merlin reached behind him and yanked a bowl from the table and put it directly in the path of the blade. The knife hit it and immediately ricocheted out of the bowl and clattered to the floor near Arthur's feet. Nimeuh's eyebrows shot up.

'A bowl? You're defending your King with a bowl?'

'Um, yes?' Arthur felt like laughing but the pain in his head discouraged him quickly.

She hissed more of the language that to him sounded a lot like something dying and a ball of energy appeared between her cupped hands.

'Are you really willing to die for them? Really truly? Because this,' she spun the ball around, 'can't just be blocked by crockery.' Merlin answered without thinking.

'Yes.' She paused and the ball of energy fizzled away. She frowned.

'Why? They've treated you like dirt since the day you arrived. That thing,' she pointed at Uther, 'has murdered your friends, he took little Gwen's father from her. Do you remember that? Do you remember holding her, rocking her as she cried for him? But you still defend him.' Merlin stood, resolutely silent, staring her in the eye. Nimueh glanced at Arthur.

'He killed Freya. Do you remember that? Do you remember carrying her in your arms, her blood staining your shirt? Have you forgotten that it was he who stabbed her? She would be alive if not for him. Alive, warm. You could have held her, talked to her…kissed her.' Merlin's eyes clouded over and his fists clenched but he didn't speak. Who the Hell was Freya?,Arthur wondered. And what had she meant when she said that he had stabbed 'her'? He'd never stabbed a woman but Freya was definitely a girl's name.

Merlin still hadn't said anything. Arthur's heart rate increased. He couldn't see his manservant's face. He had no way of knowing what he was thinking. He wanted to scream that he hadn't done anything; that he didn't know what she was talking about but he couldn't.

Nimueh took a step forward and put her hand on Merlin's cheek. When she spoke, her voice was soft.

'You loved that girl. You loved her, Merlin. And you never got to tell her. Because of him.' She was whispering now, her tone like syrup. 'Because of him. You call him friend but he doesn't care. He doesn't really care. Not really. He didn't think before he struck her.

'He didn't see the helpless victim that she was. The girl who had been through so much and turned out so good. He didn't see anyone. He saw magic, and he attacked. He follows his father's lead blindly. Like a sheep. Sheep don't belong in castles, Merlin. They don't sit in thrones and wear crowns. They aren't Kings. They aren't worthy.' Somehow Arthur got the impression that she wasn't talking about sheep anymore.

'They take away our loved ones without even pausing to consider the repercussions of their actions on us, their subjects. We are supposed to trust them but,' She lifted her hands helplessly, 'why should we?' She was good, Arthur had to admit. He was almost beginning to believe her.

'Should we follow them? Should we let them lead us forward, over the bodies of innocents…? Innocents like Freya?' She let her words hang for a moment.

'Yes, it hurt, didn't it...I can help you get revenge, boy, for every taunt and every bruise they've given you. All you have to do, is move. One step and they'll be gone. You'll never have to see another friend fall. Just move.' Arthur's heart sunk as Merlin tensed. He was going to step aside. He was going to let her kill his father. Kill him. No, no, no, n-

'No.' Wait - what?

'What?' Nimueh sounded as shocked as he felt.

'I said, "no".' Merlin said slowly, as if talking to a child. Nimueh's mind worked furiously. Her speech had been perfect. What had gone wrong? Where had she slipped up? No matter, she thought. She would finish this and no amount of stubbornness from an idiot serving boy would stop her.

'Fine. ásele mec æhtgeweald sylfum hys feorhbold.' (2) Merlin's body flew up and with a flick of her wrist, he slammed into the wall. His head snapped back and he slid down the wall to land in a broken looking heap on the floor. He didn't move. Arthur's heart jumped into his throat.

Merlin was down for the count, Nimueh was advancing on his defenceless father and he, Crown Prince of Camelot, was doing nothing. His lips pulled into a snarl and he forced himself to stand, moving painfully into a defensive stance. Nimueh looked at him and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. She glanced at Uther,

'This is the best your precious son can do?' She turned back to Arthur and said, in the manner of an adult talking to a very young child. 'You poor, delusional, little boy. You don't really think you stop me with that.' She gestured to the longsword in his hands.

'Lor. Take care of the whelp. I want this finished.' She said, zeroing in on her target. The man grinned, stepping forward. Arthur blanched, looking up at him. He backed away from the two so that he stood between them, directly in front of his father. He levelled his sword at his opponent's midsection. Lor's smiled widely, pulling out his own weapon, a silver broadsword half the size of a man, and swinging it around easily.

Then he attacked, sword swinging towards Arthur's head. Arthur blocked and punched his unguarded stomach. Lor tensed and Arthur winced as his hand hit solid muscle but Lor was already attacking again, forcing Arthur backwards. He defended himself, trying to push Lor away from him…and his prone father. As he did, he was all too aware of Nimueh beginning her chant. He fought harder out of desperation as Nimueh chanted louder and louder.

***Merlin's POV***

He could hear Arthur fighting the giant, the clashing of their swords making his head pound. Nimueh chanting something he didn't have the presence of mind to understand but he didn't care. He just wished they would be quiet and let him retreat back to the welcoming darkness.

Wait- Nimueh chanting- Arthur and that hulking brute of a man fighting- Nimueh- Arthur- Magic- Arthur! Suddenly the events of the last few minutes flooded back into his mind and he forced himself to his feet, eyes opening sluggishly as his mind whirred into action. He had to protect Arthur. He pushed himself off the wall, ignoring the way the world spun in front of him and stumbled forwards.

Do something, his mind screamed. He couldn't do magic – the whole court was here and aware of everything around them although frozen – but he could fight in other ways, he realized. He could fight like Arthur would. Aided of course, by magic, but no one would notice as long as he fought like a normal person. He yanked a dagger out of its scabbard on the nearest knight's belt and sent it spinning through the air with an inconspicuous flash of gold and flick of the wrist.

It struck Lor in the back of the shoulder and he yelled out, falling like a tree in a thunderstorm – hard. Nimueh glanced at him and her eyes widened but she continued chanting faster, the words tripping over themselves as they rolled off her tongue. Arthur looked up to see Merlin vaulting over the table and moving towards them. Relief filled him and he grinned.

'Arthur! Stop her!' Merlin left off the 'idiot' he instictively wanted to finish that last sentence with. He looked down, knowing that Nimueh was powerless to protect herself while casting – she'd counted on Lor to do that. Speaking of which... Merlin thought. Lor was on the floor beside him, blood quickly soaking his shirt. Merlin considered pulling the knife out and letting the man bleed to death faster, but that part of him that Arthur liked to call his 'inner girl' protested the idea.

He looked up to see Nimeuh backing away from Arthur, frantically dodging blows as she chanted even faster. Her back hit the table and her eyes showed her panic. Then Arthur struck her, opening a gash in her arm. She shrieked, breaking the chant, as blood spurted from the wound. Arthur stood in front of her, ready to defend himself if need be, but unwilling to kill her; she was a woman, after all. But she didn't have to know that, he thought, an idea in his head. In the blink of an eye, he'd pressed the blade of his sword against her neck. She froze.

'Leave Camelot. Break the spell, then leave and never come back.' He growled into her ear. He leaned closer.

'Or I will kill you.' She swallowed and looked over to Lor. Then nodded slowly, so as not to slice her neck open. Arthur stepped away from her and she stumbled away, hand pressed to the open wound, still bleeding heavily. Then she grabbed Lor's hand and, eye's never leaving Arthurs, hissed,

'Geændung. Áspédan.' (4)

And as though, she'd never been there, she was gone.

The End

FOOTNOTES (IMPORTANT!)

(1) The royal box is basically just a section of the stands that is partitioned off and, as the name suggests, it's where the King, his family (in this case Morgana), his favored nobles and/or knights and their servants sit. Or rather, in the case of the servants, stand.

(2) The basic translation of this is 'frozen in time…aware but frozen…helpless.'

(3) The basic translation of this spell is 'give me control of his body'

(4) The basic translation of these spells are 'finish' and 'escape'.

A/N: It's not the end of the story, just of this... prologue episode thingy-majig. I've written 'the end' because the prologue and chapter one are a few months apart and quite seperate. Alright! Now that the explanation's over! If you've read all of the above and are now reading this authors note, you clearly thought my work was worth reading – or you were just really, really bored – so please review! I love getting feedback on my writing (as does just about every author on the planet) and I would absolutely love to hear your comments!

Until next update! Thanks for reading,

EvanlynPendragon

P.S. The name of the chapter ('A Midsummer Knight's Mare') is a play on 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', by William Shakespeare. It fit because the feast is on the Summer Solstice (hence the 'midsummer' part) and Uther and the rest of the court owe their lives to a horse that belonged to a knight. Also, there's the play with 'night' and 'knight' If that doesn't make sense, hopefully this will explain the connection: Merlin realises that something is extremely wrong when he sees that Odo's beaten his favourite mare. If he hadn't seen that, he wouldn't have been in time to save Arthur or Uther... or anyone else for that matter. :P Okay, so that still doesn't make sense. Nevermind, if you understand, good, if you don't, it really doesn't matter. It's just the covoluted inner workings of my mind.

I'm stopping now, I swear. :P

EvanlynPendragon