A/N: Allright, so the beginning is set and now we can get on with the actual story. And yes, I have a small "Merlin" obsession when it comes to the movie. As soon as I saw that movie the first time, I was immediate taken by the way Sam Neil portrayed Merlin. From then on, I can't really see Merlin acting any other way except a small portion of the really old Merlin being from the Disney cartoon movie, which still puts me in tears as I laugh at him.

Chapter One

Arturia Pendragon looked at the cold gray sky of her native home. Her white blonde hair was pulled back against her head in a tight bun with a black ribbon and some was left to frame her face so that she might look less severe. This did not serve her well, as she usually looked very severe most of the time. Her pale gold eyes scanned the rocky hill where some sparse grass grew. A sword was stuck in one of the rocks, holding it in place as though it was a marker of some sort.

She saw her teacher, master, walking toward the sword and settle down on one of the rocks, beckoning her with a hand. He was middle aged in appearance, though she knew he was far older than he appeared. He kept the hood of his cloak up at all times to keep others from knowing him on sight, his face famous throughout the legends of Briton, her home. The Scots of the north kept a boundary up at all times to keep the Britons out of their land and away from their precious royal family, who kept the secret of the magics there. One thing plagued her, however, as she stood in front of the sword and stared at the frozen hilt of black and red. Was there only one royal family or no royals at all up north? She had never seen any come to the castle for any reason; there were wizards and witches that would come, but never any royals.

She reached her hand out to the hilt and felt a spark go through her. She jerked back and looked up in surprise at Merlin. Merlin smiled faintly and shrugged. "It is the nature of the thing, my dear Arturia. You must do as your heart bids," he said with a faint smile on his face, "However, you must remember that to take that sword will grant you power that is unimaginable as well as the curse of being king of this land."

Arturia gazed at her master with a granite like face. That was the most unnerving thing about Arturia, the cold, stone like look that would often come across her pale features when she looked at you. It was as though you might as well have been staring into a mirror, for all it was going to tell you. Merlin grunted and sighed as he leaned back against the rock behind him, his staff next to him. "Be like that then, Arturia, but you won't be any closer to having the sword. The sword goes to the king of Briton, and only to the rightful, true, GOOD king of Briton."

Arturia looked at the sword again and a faint reddish light pulsed like a heart in the circles and runes engraved in the black metal. She reached out again and put her hand on it, gritting her teeth in her mouth as she felt the electricity flow into her. It was impossible! She took her hand away and rubbed it as she watched the sword with increasing irritation.

"It seems as though you aren't the one it was seeking, then," said Merlin as he watched her through blue eyes. "I told the rocks beneath your feet that the one who would take the sword would be the true, just king of this land, would rule over the people as a true king should and not one wanting power only."

Arturia afforded Merlin a small glance before she gazed at the rock holding the sword steady in front of her. "I do not promise anything. I can't feel anything other than the cold of this world, however, I want to make sure none of my people will suffer again the way they have. If I am the daughter of Uther Pendragon and they need an heir for the throne, then, by God, I will do what I can."

Merlin felt a small amount of pride swell in his heart as he gazed at his pupil. The girl was strong of spirit and prideful like a lion, however, she did not know anything of emotion of feelings, as she was never brought up with true loving people around her except, of course, him. He tried his best to give her something akin to the love of a father, but she knew he was neither her father nor any sort of relation toward her. Her own mother hated her, her sister hated her more and both shoved her off onto him to deal with for they both could not stand the very sight of her. As powerful as she was in her heart, he also knew that magic flowed strongly in her veins, though she had never received the letter from the same magic school he did. They didn't even know of her as a possible witch. The magic in her blood would be useful in using Excalibur only, wielding it would consume a great deal of her power just to fight. However, there was one other thing he needed to complete the sword's power. To fight, she would need Avalon at her side, which was named after the holy island that was in legends.

Avalon, the scabbard for the holy sword, was still with the lady of the lake, as he had asked her to keep it for him while he made certain that the sword was kept safe elsewhere. One could use the sword by itself, but one could not fight safely without the scabbard, for the scabbard healed the user even near the point of death.

Merlin watched Arturia walk toward the sword once more and watched her reach out to it. "I will do what I can to protect the people of Briton," she said softly and touched the sword. The sword sparked and glowed. He was wrong, the sword wanted her, but she didn't know that she had to grasp it with both hands in order to get a good enough grip to withstand the shocks going through her body.

Arturia put her other hand onto the hilt and pulled with all her might as she put her foot onto the ground next to the sword. "Please! GIVE ME EXCALIBUR!"

It was as though the rock understood her as the sword suddenly leapt into her hands and she stumbled backward with it. She was very strong for a young girl of fifteen, though the weight of the blade was still a bit much for her. Despite her small size, she could still hold it up. She looked up at the tip and looks up at the dark clouds as a bit of snow started to fall.

Merlin stood up with the use of his staff and got off the rocks. "It seems you are to be the king of our little island, then, Arturia."

Arturia didn't look at Merlin as he came closer. She simply put the blade point down toward the ground and closed her eyes. "I am no man, I am a woman. I am a Queen, not a King."

Merlin was taken aback slightly as he watched her. She could say such a thing with such a straight face, he couldn't tell if she were joking or not. "I raised you to be a king, to act as a boy would, not a girl."

"Nevertheless, I am a woman. I am of marriageable age and I will find myself a husband to rule beside me, but not before I establish Camelot as a good power in this realm." She finally looked to him with those odd, gold eyes of hers and he wondered if she might not have inherited more magic from his help than he had thought.

Merlin nodded slightly and walked down to her side. "All right then, you will tell the people that their new ruler is a woman and see how well they accept it."

Arturia flashed him a glare that sent his heart into his throat. If she could have killed him with a look, she would have. "They will accept it or they will not be in Camelot. There were women who ruled the ancients of legends and there were women who are still accepted as great warrior women of a time so long ago that they seem more like they were really fairytales told to children to make them grow stronger. If the people can not accept me as their Queen, then they will have to reevaluate their own history." With that, she turned on her heel and headed straight for Camelot, her black wolf fur lined cloak billowing in the wind picking up.

Merlin had a strange feeling in his stomach that this was not the last of this conversation. Indeed, he feared that this was but the beginning of something far more sinister and more terrible that he could have possibly imagined. The legends said that when Briton needed him most that Arthur Pendragon would come back from the island of Avalon and take his place as the rightful ruler of all Briton. When Merlin had heard this as a child in school, he knew that it would come to pass when he was still living, that he would aid this man into becoming king. If the king was indeed, instead a man a woman who was proud of being as such, then what would happen to the legends?

A young man, lithely built and strong with a spear, practiced beside his comrades in the field next to the castle of Ulster. He was growing still, though he had been small for his age, yet, he held a great deal of power and prowess in all his activities. As a child in the boy corps, he was known for being the best of all the boys in hurley, and gained his name from an incident where he used this prowess in hurley to his advantage against the guard hound of the castle's blacksmith Culainn. He watched the boy corps as they played in the field, just before getting the wind knocked out of him by one of the men. "OW!"

The man pulled away and chuckled, offering him a hand. "Apologies, Cuchulainn, please take my hand so I can make you fly into the air as I lift you up!" Because he was much thinner than the men he fought against, he often had the chance to hear of this sort of comment. However, he knew they meant it in jest and took it as such. They knew what sort of anger boiled under the surface of the Hound of Culainn.

A lone rider was galloping for the gate at a fast pace. He wore black armor and wore a dark red tabard that he did not recognize. Cuchulainn had been all over and he had never seen such clothing before. He looked to his fellows and shrugged. "Must be a messenger of some sort," he said and grinned.

"Indeed, it is. It's a rider of Camelot," said one of the older men. "I would recognize that black armor anywhere. They used to say that the metal was made black to better block the chill of the air in Briton from the knights, but I have yet to see such a thing ring true."

Cuchulainn frowned and watched as the rider ran up the steps to the castle and disappeared into the main hall. He had a strange feeling he couldn't shake, as though he would be seeing that armor sometime soon.

Arturia frowned at the petition she held in her hand. The people were rioting outside the main hall doors and demanding she relinquish her power. A woman could not be a ruler, not of these people, they said.

"I told you that they would not have it. It is fine in legends, but for the now, it will not come to pass. The only place I have seen such a matriarchy is in my old magic school and it is rare for them to go south past the wasteland. The knights of the school are led by a woman who looks a great deal like you and shares your name.

Arturia flicked her gaze up at Merlin. "Where is the scabbard."

Merlin felt his insides chill as he saw the look upon her face. "It is with the lady where it will rest until you are accepted by your people as Queen."

Arturia narrowed her eyes at Merlin, causing him to move back slightly. "Is that so?" She smiled faintly, very faintly, and nodded. "All right, then I shall make sure my people accept me. You are dismissed, Merlin."

Merlin frowned at the rather short dismissal from his pupil, but he saw the task she had ahead of her was indeed a daunting one. The books she had in front of her were of legends that she herself was a part of and she was reviewing them all with enough energy for three of him. She would find a solution and he would have to take her to see the lady. He knew that for certain.

Cuchulainn found that the messenger had brought news that the great sword Excalibur had been taken from the stone that had imprisoned it for the great king of Briton to take. He blinked at this news, unable to recall this part of the islands. He knew Briton well enough, but Camelot was someplace different. The armor and the people were unknown to him. The rider had been from Camelot and was staying within the walls of Ulster until the next day when he would ride back out at dawn to go home.

"What of the one who took the sword? Who was it? Are they king yet?" He looked to his companion with those eerie red eyes of his, blue hair getting in his face when the wind blew it forward. Cuchulainn frowned and pushed it back before looking to his companion once more for an answer.

His companion shook his grizzly head and spat into the grass. "It's a woman, they said. A woman who is of the Pendragon line. That she took the sword and the people do not want her as their king, indeed, she wants to be their Queen. To be ruling them as a woman. I'm surprised that she didn't pretend to be a man to deal with the people."

Cuchulainn shook his head and leaned on his spear. "No… if she is a woman, she should claim to be as such, for claiming otherwise would be lying to her own people and thus more wrong to them than showing herself to be who she is. Nay, she did the right thing and I'm glad to know of such a woman. I hope to see her one day when I find myself over there. She sounds like a woman I might like," he said, a twinkle in his red eyes.

The old man he spoke to snorted and laughed. "Aye, that is the lad we know. Always one to praise women rather than condemn them for being women. Eh… never really liked being women other than in bed, but this sort makes me nervous. Don't like it when they are this straight forward, but that is this old man talking and not you."

Cuchulainn grinned a wide, charming smile at the old man. "Aye, 'tis true enough. I prefer that they say what they want so that I might know what they want rather than guess." With that, he looked over to the girl he knew he would have for his wife. Emer's long purple plait swung at her back as she moved to not look at him and rejoin her fellow maidens in their embroidery. To have the hand of that maid, he would have to go see the warrior witch Sgatha and train a year. He knew this and he knew he was going to make certain he had this girl as his wife by the end of the year he would spend with the warrior witch. At that last thought, Cuchulainn kicked up the spear he had borrowed for the day and went off.

"Show us how you stole the sword!"

"Show us how you took the sword!"

Arturia stepped up to the stone where the sword had been placed. She dreaded the thought that she had only lucked upon taking it from the stone, but placed the sword into the stone no less. The people stared at her and backed away from her as she moved into the back of the crowd.

"Look! Look you there," she called to them, her anger starting to show in her cold features, "Look you there and tell me if that sword will come out of the stone!"

A man walked over to the stone and touched the sword. The sword didn't twitch in the stone, but the man leapt back from it as though he had been shocked. She nodded. "Anyone else, wish to take the sword? Anyone else wanting to know how a mere slip of a girl could take such a thing from the stone?"

A boy moved to the stone and touched the sword, crying out as he did and moved away from the stone. "It shocked me! My arm is numb!!" he cried.

"Let a woman try!"

"Yes, see if a woman can do it, if a girl can!"

A tall, strongly built woman walked up to the sword and placed both hands on it and pulled. The sword did not move. Arturia gazed at the entire display with a calculating gaze. A strong woman could not take the sword, yet a small girl like herself could take it? A man with muscle jumped from it like a boy running to his mother and crying that his arm was numb from it? Yet, in all this, a girl could take the sword from the stone?

Arturia stepped forward after a couple more men tried and failed to pull the sword from the stone. She climbed the rocks and stood on top of the largest stone, the one with the sword in it. She felt the electricity inside of the hilt and grasped it with both hands as she pulled it up out of the rock. She held it up for her people to see and listened to the gasps. She was meant for this blade, that much was certain. She was the one meant for it and no one else.

The people bowed down to her as she walked down the side of the rocks to their position. "If by this sword I am ordained to be your leader, then I will rule as I am, a woman, a Queen. If I must find a husband to fulfill the role as king, then I will do so with the best man I may find, but until then, I will not allow you to tell me I can not rule when it was you who said that this sword was meant for the leader of Camelot alone. Just because I am small, a girl, means little to me." Then, she walked back toward Camelot, her cloak billowing in the wind. The people behind her simply stood and watched her as she left, but followed soon after; some grumbled as they followed, others cheerful, but all followed the new Queen of Briton.