So here it is - the rewrite! I hope you guys enjoy. I've already written three chapters, and I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed writing this fic. Plenty more to come.

Arthur Pendragon was annoyed. Being of an irritable nature, most of the time, this was not an uncommon occurrence, but today Arthur had a very good reason (in his opinion) to be so. His manservant, Merlin-the-bloody-irritating-sod, had managed to be an even worse servant than usual, and as he was such a bad servant anyway this had made Arthur's morning almost unbearable.

First off, Merlin had brought him cold breakfast. Ten minutes late. Arthur had been so hungry he had almost been forced to go down to the kitchen and clout the bloody-irritating-sod on the head himself. Then Merlin had decided to dust, and while Arthur might have commended him on finally taking an interest in a large part of his job, he didn't exactly appreciate the copious amount of dust he had to inhale whenever he stood up, because Merlin had forgotten to open the window before shaking out the rug next to Arthur's bed. When Arthur had mentioned it to him, Merlin had given him his blank, blue-eyed stare, as if to say, "Well just open the window yourself." And Arthur, being Arthur, had thrown his helmet at him, which resulted in a dented helmet and a doe-eyed manservant who was making Arthur feel guilty.

Add this to the fact that Arthur's fireplace had decided to belch out a considerable amount of smoke (because someone had added the wrong sort of wood to it yesterday), it was no surprise that Arthur could be found sitting on his bed being annoyed, and giving his manservant the worst sort of glare he could muster.

Merlin seemed to be desperately avoiding his eyes. He bustled around with his back turned, and did a strange sort of shimmy around the desk so as to keep it that way. Picking up the helmet Arthur had previously dented (it was only a little dent but to Arthur it was the principle of the thing that mattered), he attempted to poke it back into shape. Arthur's glare was losing it's intensity as he watched Merlin's careful attempts to fix the gear, at least until the helmet slipped out of the boy's fingers and bounced off the desk and onto the floor with a resounding CLANG!

"Merlin," said Arthur in a sinister voice.

"Um…" was all his manservant could say.

Arthur heaved a great, put-upon sort of sigh and got to his feet, Merlin eyeing him warily as though Arthur was going to beat him to death with a boot or something else just as ridiculous (though maybe it wasn't so ridiculous – there was a certain murderous edge to his thoughts as he spotted the extra-large second dent Merlin had made in the shining metal). Arthur simply walked over to the door and pulled it open with unnecessary force.

"Where are you going?" Merlin asked, picking up the helmet gingerly and examining it.

"Out." Arthur said shortly.

Merlin, sensibly, did not pursue the subject. He turned his full attention to the damaged piece of armour as Arthur slammed the door and strode off down the corridor, with no particular destination in mind, only to get as far away from that damned room as possible.

As he strode through the corridors servants scurried out of his way, the maids bobbing quick curtseys, weighed down with piles of linen or trays of crockery. Arthur paid them little attention, and instead focused on trying to calm the anger that was roaring through his system. It wasn't really just because of the helmet; that had simply been the breaking point. There had been a swell of anger inside him ever since this morning and Arthur didn't have much idea why.

Getting the vague idea that some time alone with a practice dummy and his sword would help him cool off, he headed towards the armoury. It was on the way down the winding stairs that he first saw her.

There was no doubt that she was a her. Arthur had never seen anyone quite so… exposed, before (well not in a public situation anyway. He never liked to think about that time Lady Elisia of Gallaha had set her sights on him – it was a well-kept secret and one he was pretty sure he would take to the grave). She was small and blonde, her hair pulled back off her neck and tied together with some sort of strange, thin fabric band. Her skin was tanned and she was standing with her head tilted, looking out the window, displaying her smooth neck. She was practically naked, wearing only a bit of purple fabric on her top half, held onto her shoulders by thin straps that looked as though they could fall off at any moment, and some tight, blue fabric covering her legs., which flared out at the bottom.

Arthur was rather shamefully fascinated.

He cleared his throat, attempting to attract her attention, and she turned her whole body around to look at him.

"Hi," she said. "Did you want something?"

Her accent was strange… foreign. Arthur's first thought was that she was some sort of beautiful foreign princess, visiting from some faraway land. His second thought was that she was something of a trollop, perhaps making her way either to or from the Knight's quarters.

"Sorry," he mumbled, flustered. "But I've never seen you here before."

Why on earth was he apologizing? He was the Crown Prince. Really, something very strange had gotten into him today.

"Yeah… well, I've just arrived," the girl sounded as though she was on the brink of laughter. Her blue-grey eyes roved up and down Arthur, drinking in his appearance. "Um… can you tell me where I am, please?"

Arthur hesitated. He really didn't know how to address this strange, frank creature. If she really was a trollop, he didn't want to embarrass himself thinking she was some sort of lady. But… he didn't think she was, really. She was wearing diamonds in her ears, and a thin gold chain around her throat with a ruby pendant. No trollop could afford such expensive things, but no lady of the court would dare to go about in such revealing… clothes. (Arthur could hardly bring himself to call… that… clothes.)

His theory about the foreign princess seemed to be winning.

"Well," he said, choosing his words carefully. "You're in the East Wing, just above the Armoury."

The girl rolled her eyes. The nerve! Customs must be different in her land, but you'd think she'd have learned some basic manners before travelling. Her tutor should have made sure of it.

"Yeah, that doesn't really help me here buddy," she said.

Buddy? Was that some sort of title? Arthur felt a little out of his depth.

"What do you want to know, then?" Arthur asked.

"Where am I?" she said again, waving her arm vaguely out of the window she had been studying earlier, which opened onto a market square a few stories below. "What is this place?"

"It's… it's the Castle," Arthur said. Really, she was a trifle unprepared for a visit to Camelot. She should have an escort or something. Perhaps he could arrange one. And find her some more suitable clothes.

"What castle? Castle what" the girl asked. "It kind of looks familiar, but…"

"Well, it's the Castle," Arthur said, bemused. "There's only one castle in Camelot after all."

He finally seemed to have said something right. The girl gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "Camelot? Like, Round Table, Excalibur kind of Camelot?"

"Uh… Camelot," Arthur was bewildered, but at least they were getting somewhere in this strange conversation.

The girl smiled, and Arthur blinked. It was funny how someone so lacking in the fancy clothes and jewellery of the court ladies could look so… radiant. He smiled back, weakly.

"Wow…" the girl turned towards the window and surveyed the market square. "I can't believe it. This is so cool. Giles is gonna be so jealous."

It came to Arthur, then, that perhaps she was rather simple-minded. He looked at her more kindly.

"Do you need someone to show you around?" he asked. "I presume you have rooms… perhaps you would like an escort?"

The girl did not seem to be listening. She turned back to Arthur and took in his chain mail and tunic. "Who are you, anyway?"

It occurred to Arthur that he really should be insulted by her irreverent ways. He drew himself up to full height.

"Arthur Pendragon."

The girl looked at him. "Arthur… Arthur Pendragon?" she squeaked. "Really? So… you're King Arthur?" she began to mutter to herself. "I thought he'd be older."

"Prince Arthur," Arthur corrected her.

"Oh," she said. "Okay. That'd explain it. So… Uther is king?"

When Arthur nodded, the girl said, "I knew history was good for something. Or… Giles did. I guess I'll have to thank him when I get back."

Arthur had had enough. He had some questions of his own.

"So who are you?" he asked. "What is your name?"

The girl blinked. "Buffy," she said.

Arthur thought she had sneezed for a second. He looked at her blankly, and she repeated the odd sound. "Buff-y."

"Buffy?"

"Buffy. Buffy Summers."

He'd never heard the name before. He'd never even thought a sound like that could be a name. Thinking that he really should organise some sort of escort for this… Buffy… Arthur looked around, hoping to spot a maid who could carry a message. The corridor was deserted, but he could hear footsteps up ahead, and eyed the corner carefully, wanting to catch the eye of anyone passing.

The sound of running feet made him pause, then turn around. The mysterious, infuriating girl was running full-tilt away from him, her strange, leathery shoes barely touching the ground. She was fast, he gave her that, but surely a mere girl couldn't outrun the Crown Prince of Camelot. Without thinking about it, Arthur chased after her, calling "Come BACK!" at the top of his voice.

He pursued the fleeing figure along two corridors. He didn't really know why he was pursuing her, but he thought… for some strange reason… that she was important.

Important, maybe, but she was also extremely fast. Arthur had to finally stop, hands on his knees and panting in exhaustion, watching as the distant figure rounded a corner and left his sight. He realised that he was being stared at by about a dozen maids, who seemed to be torn between giggling at him and retaining the decorum usually required by all servants. Arthur shot a few of them withering glares and strode off with as much dignity as he could muster, thinking that he should really head back to his room, and maybe have a bath.

Merlin stared at him when he entered. Arthur noticed with amazement that the previously dented helmet was shiny, freshly oiled and conspicuously undented, and hung next to his scabbard on the wall. His manservant was sitting on a chair scraping at one of his boots with a knife.

"Where have you been?" Merlin asked, his features twisted into confusion and a bit of amusement. "You look like you've had a race or something."

Arthur ignored him. Nose in the air he stalked over to his bed and pulled off his mail, which he had donned that morning in anticipation of a practice with a couple of the Knights. Merlin raised his eyebrows but said nothing more, and resumed the continual scraping of his boot, occasionally flicking glances over to Arthur, who sat on his bed deep in thought.

His brain could not fully make sense of what had happened in the past half hour or so, but there was one thing he was almost certain of, which was that that was not the last time he would see the mysterious girl.

As ever, reviews make my day/night/week/year!