Hello all! It's been a while since I posted anything but I'm back with a new story and it's going to be a decent multichapter fic. Hooray! Updates will be sporadic due to real life but they will come, I promise. In advance, thank you for your patience and any reviewing/favoriting/following you may choose to do. This story is post season 4 before season 5/Arwen/Merthian (because I want to try my hand with those last two). Now for the famous disclaimer!

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Enjoy! :)


Chapter 01


Courtiers and servants crossed each other's path in the spacious courtyard of the magnificent castle of Camelot, going about their usual business like any other day when - CRASH! - Broken glass from an upper story window shattered, the jagged pieces falling onto the stone floor below. Amidst the glittering remains was an ornate crown of gold, slightly bent from the impact it made with the ground. Once over their fright, the people looked up nervously at the broken window, none daring to go near the mess but all wondering the same thing: what on earth was happening in the king's chambers?

Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, was in the attempted process of tearing off his armor, caring very little that he'd just thrown his crown out the window; he hated wearing the thing anyway.

It had been six months since the ban on magic had been lifted; six months since Merlin had been promoted to Court Sorcerer leaving Arthur with the unfortunate predicament of finding a replacement manservant. The only problem was that no one was capable of doing the job properly – hence why, at this very moment, the king was destroying his personal effects.

"The utter moron!" he snapped to no one in particular as he struggled to remove the vambrace from his right arm. "Not even capable of putting armor on properly – I should have fired him weeks ago!"

"Arthur?"

The king whirled around and his anger momentarily vanished at the sight of his adoring wife. The former servant was now every inch a queen, her long hair falling loosely down her back and her majestic form clad in a gown of the finest blue silk. Arthur would have rushed over and kissed Guinevere on the spot had it not been for the disapproving glare she was sending his way. All of a sudden the king felt like the inexperienced prince he used to be when the then brave serving girl put him in his place.

"What?" he asked defensively, preparing for a fight.

The queen stepped further into the room and folded her arms. "Care to explain why I just saw Kallum fleeing from your chambers in tears?"

Ignoring the guilt in his chest, Arthur huffed and returned his attention to his crooked vambrace.

"It's not my fault! The boy has no clue how to put on armor! The buckles are all in the wrong places, he put my right vambrace on my left, and he didn't get the straps tight enough on my shoulder! If this had been a time of war I would have had him thrown in the dungeon for his incompetence!"

"He only started two weeks ago and he's barely fifteen!" Guinevere argued.

"That's no excuse! When Merlin started he hadn't seen or touched an ounce of armor in his life and yet he knew where everything was supposed to go!"

"Because he asked me what to do," Guinevere retorted, striding forward to help the still struggling king. "He knew I was the blacksmith's daughter and therefore had more knowledge of how to wear armor than he did."

"Then why didn't Kalvin go to the blacksmith too? Or even a knight? He could have sought out the information but instead he tried to figure it out alone. Thanks to his stupidity I'm late for training! How can I teach the knights the importance of punctuality if I, myself, am late?"

Guinevere sighed as she worked, fixing her husband's armor as he continued to rant over the ineptitude of servants. After tightening the last strap to his shoulder, she stepped back and nodded her head. Seeing that everything was finally as it should be, Arthur started heading for the door. His hand was on the handle when Guinevere cleared her throat. The king turned around and saw her standing with her arms folded, clearly desiring something. He floundered. She frowned.

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice," she prompted.

"Sorry," Arthur apologized sincerely before adding, "And thank you, Guinevere. It's nice to know at least someone in this castle knows what they're doing."

The queen's frown was still prominent as she shook her head in exasperation. "Arthur, you can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Firing every manservant that fails to meet your expectations."

"Guinevere, I keep firing them because they have yet to meet the necessary requirements," Arthur grumbled. "Kalvin didn't even know what the hauberk was!"

"Kallum," Guinevere corrected.

"What?"

"His name is Kallum not Kalvin."

"Whatever. The point is he was completely inept."

"And what of Ralph, Joseph, Aaron, Thomas, Edwin, Wallace, Clive, John, Horace, Arnold, Victor, and Silas?"

Arthur stared. "Who?"

Guinevere's eyes flashed with anger. "The manservants you've fired since promoting Merlin, Arthur!"

"You remember their names?"

"Of course I do! How could you not?"

Bewildered, the king shook his head. "With everything I have to do I don't have time to remember who they are, Guinevere. None of them lasted longer than a week anyway."

"They've all worked in the palace for years!"

"Really? I've never seen them before."

Guinevere huffed and, though not understanding why, Arthur realized he'd said something he shouldn't have.

"What?" he asked when she brushed past him, making for the door. "What did I do? Guinevere!"

The queen whirled around. "I don't expect someone like you to understand, Arthur Pendragon! Why is the life of servitude beneath your notice? Is a person's value merited by their station alone? For years I served in your court and you never bothered to remember my name until after Merlin showed up! How many others must go unnoticed by their king? The disrespect that nobles show to servants is deplorable. I had hoped that after all these years you would have changed but it would appear my hopes have been in vain."

The queen stared at him with severe disappointment before leaving the rather stunned king, slamming the door behind her with a deafening bang.

Another moment of silence passed before Arthur let out an angry cry and threw his sword across the room. He then proceeded to remove his vambraces and armor, drawing his knife and cutting through the straps, flinging the metal away without care. He forced himself out of his chainmail, removed his gambeson, and shrugged out of his undershirt, leaving everything on the floor. Striding to his wardrobe, he yanked the doors open with unnecessary force and pulled on a simple blue tunic before wrapping a worn belt around his waist. Still caught in his whirlwind of rage, he stormed out of his chambers and made for the stables.

Once there, he snapped at Tyr to ready his horse, tapping his foot impatiently into the stone floor as the heavier set man went to work immediately. Across the way several servants could be seen cleaning up the glass that used to be his window. Someone had removed his crown; probably already on a mission to fix any damage it may have endured.

What was taking Tyr so long?

Another minute passed and Arthur was about to storm into the stables when the servant in question appeared leading Brenin, his favorite riding horse, by the reins. Arthur snatched the reins from Tyr's hands without thanks and hoisted himself into the saddle before spurring Brenin into a gallop.

The king was completely furious.

Why did Guinevere feel the need to reprimand him instead of Kalvin? It was his fault for not knowing what was required of his position not Arthur's! Merlin had never made those kinds of mistakes. How difficult was it to arrange armor properly anyway? Anyone with a brain could do it! And why would Guinevere get so upset over something as trivial as remembering peoples' names when Arthur knew he was going to fire them anyway? There was no point remembering them!

Angered, the king kicked Brenin in the sides, spurring him to go faster.

The late summer wind whipped through Arthur's short blonde hair, cooling the sweat on his brow from the sun beating through the dense tree cover. The further he went away from Camelot, the more his anger seemed to abate – which was the whole reason he'd ditched training and left the castle.

There was something about being in the forest that Arthur always loved. Perhaps it was because trees didn't judge his every move. Trees were constant and consistent, expecting nothing from him; what a nice feeling! Sometimes the burden of the crown was so heavy on his brow that Arthur felt like he might sink into the earth.

So much was expected of him! So many people desired he cater to their every whim. He had to manage an entire kingdom – oversee the taxes, secure the borders, keep peace treaties between other kingdoms – all while the lords watched his every move, the ladies of the court gossiped daily over his choice of marrying Guinevere, the servants whispered behind his back sharing details of his life to the town, and the people expected him to provide and protect them from harm. And Guinevere demanded he remember the names of every servant in the castle?! Was she mad? There was no way he could make time for that!

Sometimes Arthur couldn't help but resent those who were lower than him in station. Their lives and the burdens they carried were nothing compared to his own. Servants merely had to show up and do the jobs required of them. Peasants simply woke up and went to work in the fields. The only thing they had to worry about was keeping their crops alive. None of them had to deal with pompous lords and ladies judging their every move and resenting them for wearing the crown. None of them had to make sure the borders of the kingdom were maintained and that peace treaties were being kept. They didn't have to make decisions that would affect thousands.

Turning a corner, Arthur was pulled from his frustrations by an unexpected obstacle and he abruptly pulled on the reins, forcing Brenin to a halt.

A woman had appeared right in the middle of the path, seemingly unfazed by the fact that she'd nearly been trampled by his horse.

"Are you mad?" Arthur demanded as he leapt out of his saddle."You could have been killed!"

The woman frowned as she watched him approach. "My apologies for causing such a fright. Do you often greet others in such a boorish manner?"

Contrite and surprised, Arthur halted his aggravated pace and begrudgingly cleared his throat. "Forgive me, my lady."

"No harm done," she said, studying him closely with her silver-gray eyes.

Something in her stare sent a shiver down his spine and Arthur's senses instantly switched to being fully alert. The woman was young, probably a few years younger than he; hardly a threat by any standard. She had light blonde hair and a persona of the highest nobility but he'd never seen her before in his court. Who was she and why was she out here in the middle of the forest? There wasn't any evidence of a carriage accident or an attack to her immediate person. Neither was a horse close by.

"Are you lost, my lady?" he asked, trying to keep his nerves to himself.

"Not at all, my lord," she answered, "I would say that, out of the two of us, it is you who is somewhat lost."

Arthur's frown deepened. "I fear I don't understand. I know exactly where I am. You, however, seem to be alone in the woods without horse or carriage. I find it hard to believe a woman of your station is traveling on foot. Are you headed for Camelot?"

A dazzling smile lit the maiden's face. It was both alluring and dangerous. Arthur took an unconscious step back.

"I've not had reason to personally come to Camelot for many years," she answered. "I was not welcome, you see. But recent changes in the law have amended that."

There was only one law that fit that description.

"You're a sorceress."

"Very astute observation, young king, but I fear incorrect."

Arthur frowned. "If not a sorceress then what are you? Only those with magic were unwelcome in my kingdom before I lifted the ban."

"Indeed," the woman agreed, "but just because I possess magic does not mean I am a sorceress. Did Emrys not teach you there are more than just sorcerers and sorceresses in the magical community?"

"He did," Arthur admitted warily, "and he also taught me to be cautious of those who belong in said category."

"Really?" the woman asked with a sinister grin.

She took a step closer and Arthur's hand went for his sword. It was only when his fingers clutched air that he realized he'd left it behind. Silently cursing his stupidity, he took another step back, his brain starting to form some kind of escape plan should it prove necessary.

"Are you threatened by me, kind sir?" the woman asked curiously, noticing his actions.

"No, my lady," Arthur denied.

"You cannot lie to me," she whispered, taking another step. "I feel your fear."

"I fear nothing."

"Everyone fears something," the woman gently scoffed, "But I will assure you that you need not have fear of me. I am merely here to help further Albion along."

Arthur's eyebrows drew together. "What do you mean?"

The woman's smile grew larger, a mischievous glint entering her gray irises.

"I know who you are, Arthur Pendragon. And I also know that in order for you to become who you are truly meant to be, a certain ignorance must be amended."

Arthur's heart stuttered with dread and he took another step back. Though he knew it was a pitiful gesture against magic, he raised his fists and settled in a position to defend himself. The woman's eyes lit with a golden glow and her magic froze the king's body in place, rooting him to the earth. Arthur tried crying out but his mouth was sealed shut. His eyes widened in fear as she closed the remaining distance between them.

"When the time arrives, Emrys will be allowed to end my spell. Until then, I fear you will find yourself unable to speak of what is about to happen. Do not fear, young king. I do this not only for your good but the good of your people whom you love so much. You will thank me in the end."

Terrified and unable to defend himself, Arthur watched as the woman leaned forward and kissed his forehead. At her touch, the most peculiar sensation started from his head down to his toes. It almost felt like standing under a gentle waterfall except it was combined with the general exhaustion experienced after a heavy day's training. Arthur's muscles ached all the way down to his bones. The feeling lasted several more seconds before his body was released and the king fell to the earth, panting heavily on his hands and knees.

"What did you do to me?" he demanded but then froze.

The voice that had just left his mouth was not his own. It wasn't deep and commanding like that of a king. It was higher pitched and youthful. Horrified, Arthur looked down at his body. Gone were his strong, secure limbs, replaced with thin arms and legs of hardly any muscle. His clothes, now too large for his scrawny body, hung off him like a loose second skin. The king leapt to his feet and looked around for the woman only to find he now had to look up to meet her rather pleased gaze.

"What did you do to me?" he repeated, positively horrified.

The woman smiled happily. "I've simply made you twelve years old – minus the muscles. You can't be as sturdy as you were when you were actually twelve in order for this plan to work. Don't worry; you still look just as handsome as you were before."

Arthur spluttered incoherently but the woman did not seem to notice.

"Right, there are a few rules you're going to need to follow in order to return to your proper age and appearance. First, you cannot tell anyone who you really are; only your first name is allowed. Second, you cannot tell anyone you are under a spell. Third, you must accept the offer presented to you by a nobleman with red hair and refrain from returning to Camelot and your loved ones unless he decides to go to them of his own free will – you must not influence his decision in any way, shape, or form. If you abide by these conditions, you will be returned to your former glory. Right, I believe that's everything. Have fun then!"

"Wait – what?!" Arthur cried but the woman simply disappeared into thin air, leaving the rather terrified youth standing alone in the middle of the forest path – a path that looked entirely different than the one he'd been standing in a moment before.