Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.

This came out of nowhere to ruin the perfect little fic writing world I have been crafting since the summer. The good news is, this one will be a short story (50K words or less). I tend to start out writing short stories and ended up with novels, but if I can resist the urge to turn this into another Arwen story it should not grow into much more than I have planned for it.

So this is my first Arthur and Merlin adventure story (no slash). Because I just can't help myself, there are A/G references through out and I think this is ultimately is about A/G in the end. Anyway, enjoy and apologies to those of you who might be waiting for an update to my Sins of the Father series. This one jumped ahead in the line.


Arthur shifted in his saddle again, the many days of riding taking its toll. Over his right shoulder he noticed a preoccupied Merlin and Gwaine. Why he had agreed to the young man coming along for the journey was still a mystery. At one moment, his thoughts were clear and resolved. He remembers saying to his servant that while Gwaine was one of the best fighters he had seen, but the man was a liability and bringing him to Bernicia to fight bandits for King Ulric was not something his father could tolerate, should something go wrong. There was much at stake. There is of course, the issue of defeating this hoard, but there was also all he left behind in Camelot.

The young Prince sent a weary glare towards the direction of the loud cackles that came from his knights whenever the dark haired man went on about one of his adventures. With the rebuke, the forest was quiet again. They could just begin to see the towers of the castle perched atop the pack of trees just ahead of them.

It would not be much longer now. They would be greeted by the King and tomorrow they would begin the hunt for the wayward brigands that terrorize the woods on the other side of the stronghold.

He kicked his heels and three dozen of Camelot's knights, his servant Merlin and the one bandit that was in his company, for some strange reason he could not recall, all followed. They rode over the massive stone bridge that was so wide that the small army did not have to break their ranks to cross it. It was attached to a long, planking of heavy wooden beams that were strung together to form a massive drawbridge.

Arthur was not sure whether the bridge was always like this or if they had been seen them from some great distance away. He got his answer when a patchwork gate made of hardened iron hammered into the ground behind the last of his knights and a loud clacking of chains began to pull at the wooden structure.

Everyone stopped to admire the engineering in progress and through the small square openings of the darkened metal they could see the weighted drawbridge slam shut, sealing them inside surrounded by the despondent faces of the citizenry.

In all the tales his father told of this great kingdom, none were of the fear and trepidation being worn on the features of the men, women and especially the children in these streets.

The army regrouped, the sound of hooves stomping closer at a deafening pace. The people scattered like vermin as the horses' whining screamed down the narrow, stone road that led from the lower town towards the inner sanctum of the castle. They were coming. Charging like lightening.

The men who rode them seem to have no care of the force that stood between them and the gate. In fact, it was as if they did not even see them at all. Their specters grew larger and the speed did not slow. It was only five of them, riding in a careful, regimented arrow pattern. The streets were emptied. Doors locked tight and windows shuttered.

The only noise was a steady, regal voice commanding men to 'Hold' and the animal's feet pulling up as they stopped just a few paces in front of the Prince's steed.

The armor-clad men and their bluish, black horses with thick manes remained quiet, surveying the troupe. The leader moved his horse closer to pace the narrow gap between the two set of fighters. On his second pass, he came to rest before the Prince.

Dismounting, he bow and stepped backward to remove his helmet, revealing a sculpted face with dark eyes, black hair as sinister as their horse's and a scar that traced the curve of his cheek down to his jaw, ending somewhere below the his shiny armor.

"You must be Prince Arthur," he spoke with a nobility far above his current station. "I am Sir Richard, commander of the King's army. We welcome you and your men."

Arthur released his hand from the hilt of his blade, plucking one finger away at a time. Never taking his eyes off the man, he accepted the outstretched arm and shook it in brotherhood.

"This is not the welcome I am sure you were expecting, but these are trying times for our people." Sir Richard continued. Arthur nodded and the man retook his horse. He looked at each of the knights cloaked in red capes once more before turning and riding ahead at an equal speed. It was as if he did not know any other way to ride.

Nothing seemed right, Arthur thought. These five men approached an army of nearly forty well-trained knights with no fear. If they are examples of but a few of the men in King Ulric's army, then why on earth would he ever need Camelot's assistance to defeat a gang of outlaws?

The knights were given leave, but not before Arthur gave them a word of caution through his new messenger, Gwaine. It seems he had found a use for the man after all. Along with Merlin and Sir Leon, the foreign Prince walked the halls of the great castle towards the throne room where the King sat smiling next to an empty chair and a pale, thin but solid man with blond, almost white hair and a rich velvet robe with one hand grasping at the back of the King's throne.

"King Ulric," Arthur greeted the royal. The man's face was brightened at the sight. In two large steps the space between the pair disappeared. He hugged the Prince as if he were a long lost son.

"Prince Arthur. I am glad that you have come." Arthur did not mask his confusion well. "You and your men must be tired from the long journey. Please," he said calling a young maid. "take the Prince and the others and show them to their rooms. We will have supper in the hall after sundown. Get some rest."

A flurry of maids and man servants went to work at the behest of their liege. Within moments the visitors from Camelot were in lavish rooms, each with a servant to cater to their needs. In Arthur's case, he had two. Merlin felt unnecessary, like one too many pieces of accessory in a room. He stood as the boy made short work at removing Arthur's armor before vanishing behind the door with a promise to return with the polished garb in short order.

"Perhaps this trip will not be a complete loss. You could certainly learn something from him."

"Arthur," he started wanting to address the quip, but deciding that it could wait. "There is something very wrong here."

"I know Merlin. I should have him for a servant instead of you."

"Arthur, I'm being serious."

"I know Merlin," he answered, sighing and taking a seat at the table. He ran the tips of his fingers back and forth through his hair as he thought. After a long while, he looked up at Merlin who was tending to his tunic in preparation for the welcome feast. He sighed again and slumped back into the chair.

A tiny knock came to his door. "Enter," he said.

The door creaked open and a young woman stepped inside. She wore a dark purple dress laced in random patterns with gold threading. On her head sat a tiny crown around the soft waves of her brown hair. Her eyes sparkled with intrigue and flashed light brown and green specs each time she batted her eyes. Her skin was warm, smooth and glistened in the waning sunlight.

"Prince Arthur. I am Princess Phillipa. I know you must be weary from travel so I will be brief. I wanted to greet you properly and thank you for coming to my father's aid."

She was beautiful. Both men stood speechless at the sight of her. She looked between the two of them. When neither produced any words, she brought a hand to her mouth and cleared her throat.

"Ah, right, of course. Anything to help," the prince rambled out.

She nodded with a half smile, turned and left the room.

"She is…" Merlin spoke as soon as the door was shut. "Just…," he tried again. "I mean, I've seen…but she's..."

"Close your mouth Merlin and stop acting like a love struck little teenager. She is a Princess."

Merlin shook his head and returned to cleaning the tunic. "You could barely speak yourself," he taunted.

"Shut up Merlin."


A/N: Much more to come. Please review now that you have read it. I always appreciate hearing whatever others have to say. I should have an update for this on Friday.

P.S. The chapters should all be about this length.