A woman entered the throne room. She walked steadily, with her head bowed in honour of the king and from years working on fields. Her hands were rough, her dress grey and frayed and her bones protruded from under her skin, but her youth and bright eyes made her pretty. Not what the bards would call a great beauty, but a woman who could catch a man's eye easily enough.

Clutching at her skirts with wide eyes was a small boy, no more than six years old. He was tall for his age, just past his mother's waist, and lean, with pale skin and black hair that made the hollowness of his cheekbones even more prominent.

Arthur stood by a pillar and watched her explain to his father that there were men attacking her village and stealing their food, and that her own king refused to help.

When King Uther said he could not help, she pleaded with him but he would not change his mind.

The hollow boy stared at the King, standing slightly in front of his mother as if to protect her. His expression appeared strong, but his eyes were damp with fear. Without the King's help, he and his village would surely perish.

Pitying the child, Arthur said they should send a few men to help. "They could teach the villagers to defend themselves," he said. The King glanced at his son, then continued as if there had been no interruption, and told the woman to leave.

"Please," the hollow boy begged. "We're hungry and we can't make mean men leave. You have to help."

The King explained in harsh tones that the village was in Cenred's kingdom, and that they couldn't send men without it being seen as an act of war.

"Ealdor's only on the border though," he hollow boy said, his high voice lacking the respect he had not yet been taught to give.

"Ealdor," the King repeated.

The hollow boy nodded, a child's hope already crossing his face. "You know it?"

The King was silent a moment. "I knew a man who lived there. A dragonlord." The King looked at the woman, whose face betrayed her shock. "He left when I tried to find him, and the villagers were unhelpful with their directions.

"If you have any information about this man I will send men to help your village."

The hollow boy with hope in his eyes was oblivious to the King's malicious tone. "What was his name?" he asked, his voice holding only curiosity.

The King said, "Balinor," as the mother flinched.

"That's dad, isn't it?" Smiling at knowing something useful, the hollow boy looked at his mother, surprised by her sudden tears.

The King stood up and started forwards, his cloak sweeping behind him. Arthur wondered if he should do the same, but decided that he didn't like the gesture. It felt cruel and angry and mean.

"The dragonlord is the boy's father?" the King demanded.

The woman sobbed and wouldn't answer. The hollow boy nodded slowly, asking, "Is that the kind of informarion you wanted? Does this mean you will send the soldiers to help us?"

Arthur couldn't help but pity the hollow boy, knowing that his father had no tolerance for magic and that the child would pay the price of his father's deeds. Or, at least, his mother would.

"I will send no soldiers to your village," the King proclaimed, adressing the incoherent woman, though only the boy listened.

"But that's not fair!"

"Hold your tongue! I've had enough of your disrespect, child." The boy's eyes widened and he hid behind his weeping mother, his bottom lip trembling.

The King gestured to his men, two of whom stepped forwards to drag the child from his mother. Two more held the woman in place, before the King, while the boy was restrained in a corner of the room.

The King stepped towards the woman, who struggled ceaselessly, despite knowing that she would not get free. Her sorrow had been replaced by a fierce protectiveness, and mind numbing fear.

"Tell me where Balinor went and I will spare your son's life." The King was quiet, but everyone heard him.

The woman looked towards her son, who tried not to look scared while his eyes leaked liquid fear.

Sighing in resignation, emotions almost gone, she said, "I will tell you, but I ask a favour in return."

"I don't grant favours."

"It is a tuppence to one such as you, and without it I will never tell you where Balinor is, and you will never find him."

The King sighed and gestured for her to make her request.

"I want your word that no harm will come to my son. Ever." Hiccoughing sobs broke free from her throat, but her expression remained strong.

"Your son will not be harmed."

"I want your word that he will be protected. I know I am to die so I wish for him to be safe." She looked at the floor, then summoned her couage and looked The King in the eyes. "Your word. And I will tell you where to find Balinor." She glanced at Arthur. "His too."

The King's face was red and a vein stuck out from his forehead in anger that she would ask for such a boon, but the woman did not yeild.

"Your word and his," she repeated.

Arthur stepped forwards, no longer able to stand his father's refusal. "I give you my word that your son will be safe."

The King remained silent.

"Yours will have to do." The woman smiled at Arthur gratefully, suddenly looking very old, and very tired.

Ignoring his fuming father, Arthur asked her, "What is the boy's name?"

Held loosely by armored knights in the far corner of the room, the hollow boy with tear streaked cheeks said, "I'm Merlin."