Chapter One:
It was one of those evenings at the end of winter, when the clouds were grey and the trees moist with the previous night's rain. The great city of Camelot was bustling with noise and movement as traders and peasants hurried about, closing their businesses for the night. Children dressed in rugs carried bowls of water back to their homes from the fountain at the King's Court. Foraginers, young men with large wagons and hidden goods, eyed young girls and women as they passed by with the smaller children, hooting and whistling. They were here for the grand celebrations of the Prince's twenty third birthday, and had come from all over the realm- all over the Five Kingdoms.
The Five Kingdoms, of which Camelot was by far the largest and most wealthy, were the largest and most powerful force in the region. They hardly shared any borders at all, but what they did share were the agreements of peace signed just a few years previously. Now, the royal courts of said kingdoms were readying to gather at Camelot, as they had only five years ago, when the young heir had turned eighteen. Twenty three was an important age in Camelot. It had no name, but the children of the court, in their eagerness to witness this day, had found it one. To them, it had come to be known as The Age of Responsibility.
But more on that later.
At this same evening, while the young girls smiled back at the handsome foreigners and the knights of Camelot marched the streets, keeping the peace, King Uther was at the Meeting Hall in the castle, dressed in his finest robes and staring out the window, heart thumping in his chest.
This was it, then.
He turned his gaze thoughtfully to a small, rat like man grinning ruthlessly at him through exceptionally light, small eyes.
The two men stood silently, studying each other. A curious spark could be seen in Uther's eyes, as he considered the man before him. They had not seen each other in many years, and he had begun to think they never would.
At that same moment, in an explosion of noise Prince Arthur burst in, dressed somewhat hastily in a rather gooey red robe. His manservant, a boy known only as Merlin whom Uther scarcely precieved, came after him, his eyes laughing, stumbling over his own clumsy feet as he carried his Master's sword. The two paused at the entrance, the heavy oak doors closing behind them.
"I apologize for my delay, father," Arthur said, straining not to give the still grinning boy a murderous glare. "There was a disturbance in my chambers."
"I hope everything is well," Uther said, moving his gaze from the pale man to his disarrayed son.
"Just… a mouse," Arthur muttered vaguely. He glanced back at his servant, who let out a hardly discreet chuckle, and muttered something which had him quite considerably.
The sun was beginning to set outside, and the meeting hall was unusually dark. The guards that normally lined the walls were absent, and this servant boy was to be no different. "This is a private meeting," Uther said, staring at Merlin. "State matters." He added, as his son gave him a questioning look. Arthur nodded, and turned to his servant, smirking only a bit.
"Off you go then," He said, seeming a tad pleased to see the disappointed curiosity growing behind Merlin's bowed head. "The horses need to be fed, I think."
Merlin bowed his head and left, the guards stationed outside closing the door behind him.
Arthur returned his gave to the others in the room. The man was standing before the king, dressed in new, black robes with a silver belt tied around his thin waist, grinning disconcertingly from ear to ear. By his side, visibly trying to keep away from him stood a young girl of maybe thirteen years, her blonde hair hanging lifelessly around her face. She stood hunched, her hands tied in front of her with iron chains held by two dark skinned giants who stood motionlessly, staring forward. But there was no time for catching up, Uther knew. Not now. When the end was so near.
"We are all here, Amaroe," He told the man, walking over to his throne and sitting comfertably within it.
Amaroe breathed in deeply, laboring to hide the excitement sipping off his every vowel. "It is ready, my Lord," he said.
Uther raised his eyebrows, surprised.
"Well, it certainly took... a while," He said, glancing briefly at the young girl. "Have you tested it?"
"Yes," the man said, nodding his head enthusiastically.
"And?"
Amaroe's smile widened, showing his yellowing teeth. He was not a good-looking man, his skin pale and diseased, his eyes small and haunted. But Uther did not need him for that. "It's perfect, Sire."
"Good," The king said, smiling. "Very good. And the side effects?"
"Nothing much, my Lord." Amaroe was saying. "Some of the tested showed signs of… loss of appetite, nightmares, and a decrease in speech. Otherwise the patients are perfectly healthy."
"And that's all?"
"Yes," The man said certainly, but then glanced at the girl, pausing. "Well, no." She was shivering. But it was winter, and she was wearing hardly anything at all. "It appears that the symptoms get worse the more powerful the illness, my lord. And they take longer to take-effect."
"Ah," Uther said, thoughtful. "But, the purpose is... acquired?"
"Yes. Of that I am certain, my lord."
There was a moment of silence, as the king gazed at the young girl. Tears slid down her face, as she stood motionless in the dark, shaking slightly with fear. She, too, was pale, her hair blonde and filthy from dirt and debris.
He felt his heart ripping his chest apart.
This was it, then.
"Excellent!" Uther grinned with satisfaction. "You will be well rewarded for this, Amaroe, well rewarded! Guards!" He called loudly, and the men standing outside the hall opened the door slightly. "Give the man his gold." They left hurriedly, bowing low. "Now," the king muttered, turning back to Amaroe. "We must find a way to administer the cure to the ill, without harming the… normal."
"That is not a problem, my lord," Amaroe said, his eyes shining sadistically. "My cure does not affect anyone but the ones that it should."
There was a moment of silence. Voices from the training field seeped in through the windows, of eager young lads tired of winter. "What are you saying, Amaroe?" The king asked, his excitement evident in his hungry eyes.
"We could pour it into the water," Amaroe said. He licked his lips greedily. "No one need know."
The king stood up, and looked out the window at his prospering city below once again.
He closed his eyes, imagining it, free of the pollution of sorcery. Arthur stood, silent and thoughtful, beneath his throne. He seemed slightly bothered, but overall, did not object. Uther's worse nightmare was that one day, Arthur would find out about the death of his mother and the circumstances of his birth. With all the sorcerers in the kingdom powerless, finding the few who knew about the occurrences of twenty-four years before would not be difficult.
"Do it," He said. Amaroe's smile grew.
"Yes, my lord," he said, and behind him the girl began to whimper silently. "Of course."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
He could see the stars.
They winked at him, joyful, from the black blanket that was the sky. He hadn't seen the heavens in hours; the thick foliage of the treetops hid it thoroughly. Lancelot gazed upwards, letting his horse rest and nibble lightly on the clearing's grass. Their light washed over him, and he closed his eyes, smiling.
He'd been riding in the woods for the past month or so, heading nowhere in particular, searching for himself. It wasn't much of a search really. All his life he'd been striving to become someone. A knight: noble and gallant, saving the lives of the people. But with that dream becoming as unlikely as it had, Lancelot found himself with a lot of free time.
In the rucksack on his back was a canteen of water, an unopened map, and a bag of food packed by the village woman he'd met only days ago, whose son he helped find after the boy got lost in the forest. He was heading south, toward Camelot. He wasn't sure yet if he would enter through the city gates. He wished to visit his friends there, Gaius and Merlin, but the idea of seeing Gwen, the woman he loved, and not being able to express his feelings for her was too intolerable to bear.
And yet he was riding the road, slowly and surely, toward the great city.
Lancelot got off the horse, petting it affectionately on the head. He'd gotten Brown at a market in the east, from a merchant whose daughter he had helped to escape from bandits in the road. He hadn't chosen the name.
He sat under a particularly large tree, the ground beneath him soggy. The forest was peaceful, only the sounds of the nesting birds bothering its tranquility. A wolf howled in the distance, as Lancelot leaned back, breathing in the cool night's air.
The sound of women's voices broke the silence.
"My lady, please stop!"
"I would if I could, don't you think!"
Lancelot got to his feet, looking around for the source.
"Just pull at the reins!"
"What do you think I've been doing for the past- Ahhh!"
A horse broke through the tree line, galloping madly through the clearing. Lancelot jumped out of the way, landing unceremoniously in a bush. A woman had been sitting on it, her long dress waving in the air behind her, holding on for dear life.
"Wait! My lady!" Another horse came through, this one still under the control of its mistress. Her eyes were open wide and frightened as she pushed the animal on, calling loudly.
"Hi!" Lancelot said. "Are you alright?"
"Help!" The girl said, not stopping. "It was spooked by the wolves!"
Lancelot grabbed Brown's reins, jumping on. She reacted instantly, sprinting after the other horses at the speed of light. The girl who'd talked with him pointed the way as he was passing her by. He could just see the petrified horse and the girl sitting upon it breaking through the trees powerfully, heading toward god knows where.
He caught up to them slowly, letting go of his reins. The girl looked at him, frightened. "Give me your hand," He yelled, and she did.
He caught her, pulling her onto Brown's back. Her heart beat against his vest, and she held on tight. Her horse kept running. Lancelot slowed Brown till she was moving at a light trot.
"You can let go now," He told the girl when Brown stopped. She smiled shakily, dropping onto the moist soil. Her companion caught up with them, hysteric.
"My lady! Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
"No, Lora," the girl said. Lancelot slid down from Brown's back, catching Lora as she fell off her horse. "I'm fine."
"But- the stallion-!" Lora breathed, accepting Lancelot's assistance with gratitude.
"It was no stallion. Let it run. I promise it'll be back in its stable by the time we get back to Zorath."
Lora bit her lips, uncertain. The girl turned to Lancelot, smiling again. She was very lovely, with long, billowing hair reaching down to her waist and large, chocolate brown eyes. "My name is lady Atora of Zorath," She said. "My father is King Boro's twin brother, and I owe you my life."
Hello...
This is the beginning of the story (quite obvious by the fact that it says "Chapter one" at the beginning...). It's been rewritten, but you can forgive me that, can't you? This is why some of the chapters have the wrong chapter number at the top. But never mind that.
This is one of those Merlin bushing stories we all love so much. The bushing is just around the corner, worry not. If you have any ideas, suggestions, criticism, hatemail, etc- please let me know! I'm sort of using FFN for my own purposes, to improve my writing, and long, fat, point by point reviews/ messages are sort of the aim... But also short, whimsy, one word reviews of encouragement, only to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
So... I hope you enjoy the rest! (And give Norane a chance. Please. She has a point, I swear. :-) )
