Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with the characters for fun, no profit is being made.

Time for another story. It's an AU this time, so I hope you like! Please remember to let me know, reviews make it all worth while!

The wind howled outside and an answering shriek whistled through the cottage. Nimueh shivered, pulling a shawl around herself and sighing as a wail also began. As she waved her hand, a stream of magic escaped her and her eyes flashed in the darkness, strange words rolling from her tongue. Candles were lit and her power persuaded the wood in the walls to expand just enough to stop the wind forcing through the cracks. The temperate instantly rose, but the wails did not quieten.

Trying not to stub her toe on the unfamiliar stairs, the sorceress moved quickly through the rundown house. She knew her magic would fix it up in no time, but she hadn't dared venture outside yet. If the king's men got so much of a glimpse of her, it would all be for nothing. She would have to patch things up the best she could from the inside for now and hope her magic wasn't too obvious.

There was only one room on the upper floor that had a full ceiling. Nimueh wasn't the type to put her own comfort to one side but she had no choice. It didn't matter she would prefer to be warm and dry, used to living in luxury. Again, it would all be for nothing if the infant caught a chill. Even her magic wouldn't be enough to save him if he sickened and as of yet, Nimueh had no idea who she could turn to. Mothers in the nearby villages must have remedies for their own little ones. But Nimueh was not a mother and she knew it was obvious by the way her lip curled as she picked up the crying infant.

Arthur didn't quieten even when being held. He was hungry again. Suppressing a groan and wondering if this had been a good idea after all, Nimueh took him downstairs. She didn't have many supplies left. Only a meal or two for her and not even that much for the child if he carried on the way he was going. They would have arrived much earlier in the day if she hadn't needed to stop and tend to him to avoid drawing the attention of any soldier passing. Or any commoner for that matter, for no woman would be carrying and subsequently ignoring a crying baby. The last thing Nimueh wanted was for suspicion to be aroused and word to reach the king.

"Stop it," she said firmly. She settled him in the crook of her arm and picked up her canteen. There was very little milk left and Nimueh knew magic did not stretch for food. She hoped it was enough to last the night. She couldn't leave him here, but she didn't dare venture out in the dark with an infant. But as she started dribbling it slowly into his mouth, Arthur finally stopped crying and began drinking greedily.

Just like his father, the witch thought bitterly. Tension shot through her body when she considered whose son she was holding. But Arthur sensed the shift in emotions and stared crying again. Taking a deep breath, Nimueh forced herself to relax, not letting the breath out again until Arthur was feeding once more. This was going to be harder than she thought.

But almost before he had finished drinking, Arthur was falling asleep again. Putting the canteen down, Nimueh stared at him for a long while. She didn't know how she felt. Killing him would be easier; she could have her revenge on Uther and not have to deal with a young baby in return. But keeping him alive, fashioning him into her tool until she could unleash him on his father… That was a different type of revenge altogether. The prophecies of old stayed her hand, making her curious as to whether this boy could indeed be the Once and Future King. She would have said no child of Uther Pendragon had that much potential. But she understood more than most how Arthur had come into the world and knew not to judge too quickly.

She didn't return him to the upstairs room. It was warmer down here and there was just enough flammable material around for a fireball to fly from her hand into the grate and ignite. All she had made his previous bed from was her old cloak. She was wearing a warmer one and pulling it around her body created more warmth for the child. Settling against the wall – there was no chairs as of yet – Nimueh started to think about how she was going to handle this.

The cottage was empty and judging by the state of it, had been for some time. No one was about to turf her out and for the most part, it was inhabitable. She had some money and knew her magic would be enough to ensure they would want for nothing – apart from food. First thing in the morning, she would set off to the nearest village. The sooner she established her presence, the better. She would just need a story – a woman alone with a child this young would bring some questions about why she was travelling.

If she was going to raise Arthur here, she would have to make sure they had enough nourishment. He was to be her tool and therefore would be no good to her too skinny to hold his own. She had to turn him into a warrior and for that she needed food. Maybe she could hire someone for a few days to teach her what she would need to know. Magic might not create food, but it could be used to help encourage crop growth. There would be no draughts or famine for her.

Leaning her head back on the wall, Nimueh felt her eyes fall shut. It had been a long few days. The escape from the castle had been easier than she imagined, but she hadn't expected the guards to be so insistent on their pursuit. She didn't blame them; they had only just had their future secured by an heir, they weren't about to lose him again without a fight. Although Nimueh had magic at her disposal, Arthur's tender age meant she couldn't use a transportation spell.

As it caught up on her, Nimueh fell asleep, the baby tucked neatly into her chest. She slept long and deep, not having realised how late it had grown while she contemplated their future. Dawn was forcing its way through the cracks in the wall and Arthur was crying again. She warmed the last dregs of milk over the fire, checking the temperature (he had flatly refused to take it cold during their flight from the kingdom) and feeding it to him before his cries grew in volume. Once she had done everything necessary to make him comfortable, Nimueh took off her cloak and once again placed him in it.

Fetching the one from upstairs, she emptied the basket of food and made a nest inside of it before placing Arthur in it. Blue eyes blinked up at her for a long moment before he seemed to approve of his new bed and made Nimueh's life easy by falling asleep again. Once she knew he would be secure in there, Nimueh used magic to sweep the floor before hooking the basket over her arm and leaving. She hoped this would be their new home. But she didn't want to make it obvious she had been there in case soldiers came to call while she was out.

Checking the area was clear, she walked swiftly in the direction of smoke. Dawn had properly broken and the early morning sun lit her path. She would have taken enjoyment in the stroll once. Back when she had been a lady of the court, close friend and confidant to both the king and queen. But now she was a sorceress, her power putting her on the wrong side of the law. She had to be one of the most hunted people in Camelot right now and trivial matters such as the warmth of the sun didn't matter. Luckily, the warmth kept Arthur asleep. If he cried without being hungry, she wouldn't know how to comfort him.

It took her a short hour to make it to the village. It was bustling with life by the time she arrived and many people stopped to stare as she walked in. But she held her head high and used Arthur to deflect the stares. If she had gone alone, she might have been turned away. With a look of desperation on her face and a young baby in her arms, she was fine. Wives scolded their husbands for staring, pretending they hadn't been doing the same. Two moved towards her.

"You're not from around here, are you?" The woman only just kept the accusing note out of her voice, but Nimueh shook her head.

"Bandits killed my husband. I had to flee. I stumbled upon the cottage last night…" There was no point in lying. They would know where she was living soon enough and if she needed help with Arthur, they had to know where to find her. "But it's run down. I have no one to help me… I wouldn't stoop to begging but the little one…"

Nimueh jostled the basket just enough to make Arthur whine in his sleep and knew she had the women in the palm of her hand. Before another hour had passed, two men had already been dispatched to examine the roof and prepare to fix it. She had food being pressed on her, but after spinning a tale about managing to hide their gold in the baby's basket, she was able to pay. Nimueh had her pride and she didn't want this village thinking she would be a drain on resources and would be better driven away.

But when mid-morning came, Arthur woke up. And he was hungry. Exhausted, Nimueh set the basket on the floor and sat on a low wall, using her foot to rock it a little.

"He's hungry," a voice announced. Nimueh glanced around to see a pregnant woman watching her closely, her hand resting on her stomach. She was only just showing, obviously still in the early stages. Nimueh nodded.

"I know. But I have nothing to give him."

"Stay there." The woman waddled back into her house and returned faster than Nimueh thought was possible given her state. She had a small bucket in one hand and a piece of cloth in the other. She twisted the cloth into a nozzle and Nimueh caught a glimpse of milk as she poured it through. Taking it, Nimueh held it over Arthur's mouth and watched in amazement as the milk dripped through at a much easier rate than her canteen had.

"Thank you." She meant it. She had forgotten that mothers out here raised their own children rather than passing them onto wet-nurses. The woman smiled.

"Old Morton down the road raises goats. You might be able to buy one off him. He will drive a hard price but he has a soft spot for the little ones. Saved half the children of this village with his milk over the years. He'll help you."

"Thank you," Nimueh repeated. She paused, not knowing the woman's name.

"Hunith. And don't thank me. That little one needs food if he is to survive." There was a tight line to her lips. Nimueh wondered if she was thinking about the welfare of her own unborn child and whether the baby would be strong enough to survive. Nimueh managed a small smile of her own as Hunith turned and walked back towards her house. Nimueh couldn't help but note the condition of the cottage and draw her own conclusions. This woman had no man in her life either. And unlike Nimueh, she couldn't spin a tale about the absence of the father to her unborn child, not if she had lived here the entire time.

Yet despite the fact she must have been on the receiving end of the stares from the woman, she had still helped. Glancing down at the content Arthur, Nimueh sighed. This was going to be harder than she thought.

MMM

"Run off like that again and you won't have any meals for a week." The threat left Nimueh's lips before she could stop it. She was exhausted and Arthur was not helping. Even now, the five year old was looking up at her with wide blue eyes, trying to keep the tears of pain away from where she was gripping his arm tightly. Nimueh let go. She had reacted on instinct, grabbing the boy and yanking him closer when he had come into reach.

She knew she was being harsh. It wasn't often she let Arthur out of the house as it was. The cottage was their home now and there was no sign of the run-down shack it had been when they had arrived. But soldiers still patrolled the edge of the forest and Arthur was such an inquisitive child that Nimueh knew he would try and talk to them. She kept him in, forcing him to learn to read and write practically as soon as he had been able to talk. She needed to train him, to make sure he was unstoppable. She would let him out when he was older, when he could defend himself.

Continuing to move towards the village, she wondered not for the first time if she was right bringing the boy with her. She usually locked him in his room, using magic to keep him in place. Leaving him with his lessons, she would fetch what they needed. But Arthur had been whining about headaches the last few days and Nimueh had relented, knowing a good walk would do him good. But he was restless, constantly darting out of her sight to explore whatever had caught his young imagination.

She didn't hold his hand; she gripped his wrist. She didn't love the boy. But she couldn't deny she cared for him in her own way. She had raised him this far, after all. Arthur didn't know anyone else. Nimueh had driven it into his head that he couldn't trust anyone else. But Arthur trotted obediently at her side this time, no doubt too worried about the threat to risk running off again. His appetite was one of the few things that hadn't changed about him since he was a baby. He drew closer as the sounds of people reached his ears and Nimueh shifted her grip to a more comforting one. She could pass off him being shy. Trying to explain that she had made him terrified of strangers would be harder.

"Remember: talk to no one and stay by my side. This won't take long."

When she had first run, Nimueh hadn't planned on contact with people. But having a growing boy meant she had no choice. Her magic could provide for them, but it would raise questions. The people knew she was there and would wonder how she was clothing him. Nimueh didn't want them knowing she was a sorceress. The speed Arthur was growing meant she was forced to make the journey more frequently than she wanted.

Arthur pressed against her legs as they walked into the village. Nimueh didn't care for these people, but she knew how to smile and call out greetings to the ones she was on more familiar terms with. She was playing the long game. She had to be patient. Several came over when they saw she had Arthur with her, but he hid behind her skirts and refused to come out. Murmuring apologies, Nimueh pushed through the people until she found somewhere she could buy some clothes. She didn't like the man, he always leered at her when she entered and she didn't want Arthur exposed to him.

"Stay here," she said firmly. Letting go of his hand, she sat him on a low wall. Making sure no one was looking, she allowed her magic to rise within her. Nothing happened other than her eyes turning gold, but it was enough for Arthur to nod frantically. She needed him to love magic if he was going to overthrow his father. But so far, Arthur related her magic to being punished and he wouldn't go against it. When he was older, he would understand. When he stopped trying to do the opposite of everything she told him, she wouldn't have to use magic like that and he would know she was keeping him safe.

Giving him one last warning look, Nimueh disappeared into the man's hut and Arthur swung his legs, bored. He sat on his hands so he didn't get tempted. He didn't mean to be bad the whole time but he couldn't help himself. His lessons were boring, he wanted to play outside. For a few moments, he occupied himself by bouncing his heels off the wall and watching the sights around him. But it wasn't enough to keep him interested and Arthur bit his lip. Looking around to check Nimueh wasn't about to reappear, he slid off the wall and took a few steps away. He wouldn't go far and would be back before she was returned. He was good at recognising her footsteps.

His hands gripping the bottom of his shirt nervously, Arthur edged away. He wouldn't go near the people, but he could see a couple of pigs in a nearby garden and he wanted a closer look. Keeping close to the huts so he wasn't seen, he moved towards them.

But he never got that far. As he passed a house, he saw a small child playing in the front garden. The boy had shocking black hair and an infectious giggle as he picked flowers. Arthur stopped, staring. He was a little smaller than Arthur, but Arthur had never seen another child before, not one close to his age. It was fascinating watching him.

Whether he would have approached on his own or not, Arthur never found out. Some older boys shoved past him. One looked as if he was going to say something, but another hissed in his ear and they left Arthur alone. Arthur frowned. Were they scared of Nimueh as well? Is that why they wouldn't talk to him? Arthur would like to talk to someone… He wasn't as afraid of strangers as he had led Nimueh to believe. He couldn't be; he didn't know any. How could he be afraid of something he didn't know? He trailed the older boys, only to stop when he reached the fence of the boy's house. The older ones had walked right in and as Arthur watched, they slapped the child's hand until he dropped the flowers.

An indignant and angry expression crossed the child's face as he stared at them. Arthur gaped as he recognised the faint shimmer of gold in his eyes. He had magic just like Nimueh! But magic was only used for punishments and Arthur didn't want this child to do that. It wasn't nice and often left Arthur sore. He ran into the garden, planting himself between the older children and the younger one.

"Go 'way," he said boldly. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at them. "That was mean and I'm telling. Go 'way."

"It's him, isn't it?" One of the boys muttered, just loud enough for Arthur to hear. "The witch's brat."

Another nodded in confirmation and Arthur watched in amazement as they turned and ran. He didn't understand what had just happened, but he did know the situation had been resolved and he didn't have to worry about the child using magic now. He turned, only to see the boy watching him uncertainly. He looked as if he thought Arthur was about to make fun of him as well. Biting his lip and not knowing what to do, Arthur thought for a moment. Then he bent down and picked up the flowers the boy had dropped, pressing them back into his hand.

The child stared at them in awe, then back at Arthur. Then – before Arthur could say anything – he had thrown his arms around him and hugged him.

"Than' you!" The boy pulled back and beamed up at him. Arthur froze for a moment before smiling back. The pair of them sat down on the ground and Arthur was unable to resist running his fingers through the dirt. He hated being clean all the time and feeling reckless, he smudged some of the dirt into his cheeks. The boy laughed again.

"What's your name?" Arthur asked, realising he didn't know.

"Merlin," the boy said, patting the dirt into a mound.

"I'm Arthur."

After that, they didn't need words as they constructed a mud-pile that other children would be jealous of. It looked like it was going to topple at one point, but before Arthur could think about rescuing it, Merlin's eyes flashed again and it steadied. Arthur stared. Merlin had used magic. But not to tell him off or drag him to his room.

"What did you do?" Arthur asked, bewildered. He had seen Nimueh use magic for other things, but only when she didn't know he was watching. Before Merlin could respond – although Arthur could see how his eyes had gone wide with fear – an angry voice yelled his name. Arthur gulped but before he could stand, Nimueh had grabbed the back of his collar and pulled him up.

"I told you to stay still and you disobeyed me. This is the last time you come to the village with me…"

"He my friend! He has to come and play!" Merlin yelled, also jumping to his feet. His loud voice brought his mother hurrying out and Nimueh stared. She rarely saw Hunith when she came to the village but there was no denying this was the same woman.

"Merlin! What's all this shouting about?" She bent down to her child, lifting him onto her hip before glancing at Nimueh. Then she did a double-take as she looked at Arthur.

"Well you've certainly grown since I saw you last," she murmured. Nimueh felt Arthur pressing back at her again, unsure now adults were presence.

"Forgive us for disturbing you," Nimueh said icily, turning and pulling Arthur around with her. As she made to leave the garden, the gate slammed shut.

"Merlin!" The scolding voice made her turn and to Nimueh's astonishment, she could feel the boy's magic. He was powerful, even though he couldn't be older than four.

"I want him to stay," Merlin whined, burying his face in his mother's shoulder.

"What have I told you about using magic to get what you want?"

"But…"

"Merlin." There was a firm note to Hunith's voice and Merlin wrapped her arms around her neck. Nimueh saw the fear in Hunith's eyes and knew what she was worried about.

"It is not my secret to tell," she said. Even outside of Camelot, having magic was dangerous. But then something nudged the back of her mind. She had taken Arthur because of the prophecy – his potential future had saved his life. But he wasn't the only one the prophecy was about. There was another, one destined to be the most powerful warlock to walk the earth. Only with his help would Arthur become king. Nimueh looked between Arthur and Merlin.

Could it be that her troublesome ward had managed to find his destiny on his own?

"Well, I have a few things still to get, if you want to stay and play..?" Arthur stared up at her as if he couldn't believe his ears. Nimueh managed a tight smile and just hoped Arthur didn't start talking about their home life. It would be obvious Nimueh didn't care for him like a mother should.

But she was curious. An hour of play might just be enough for her to sense whether the bond being forged was one of innocent friendship or something much deeper.