I never wanted to go to Camelot. Father made me because he thought Roger would need accompaniment. I was sure he'd done it on purpose; he knew how much I hated traveling. But there I was anyway, in Castle bloody Camelot for another one of Roger's precious tournaments. I hated tournaments. Just a bunch of men prancing around waving swords. So I thought I might as well entertain myself by exploring the castle.
I'd just managed to avoid the guards and a couple of servants, found a torch, and ventured into the unlit passages deep within the castle when I was knocked right off my feet.
"Oh, oh God, I'm so sorry...er, my lady."
I looked up and this lanky, dark-haired bloke was standing over me, holding a torch of his own. By his clothing it was obvious he was a servant. "What do you think you're doing?" I demanded, doing my best to imitate my mother's haughty glare.
"I, er, was getting, I mean I was..." he trailed off helplessly, staring at me for a moment with a pair of very blue eyes. Then he abruptly stuck out his hand. "I'm very sorry for knocking you down, my lady."
It was hard to keep glaring, both because I was terrified he'd call me out and because he was rather handsome...for a serving boy. I took his hand and let him pull me up. "Well, you're lucky I wasn't hurt," I told him.
"Yes," he said, glancing curiously at the unlit torch I'd dropped. "Were you lost, my lady?"
I grasped at that instantly. "Yes, I am. Could you show me back to the towers?"
The serving boy frowned. "Weren't you at the tournament, my lady?"
Perhaps my scowl was a bit petulant at that moment, I won't ever tell. "Yes," I said with a sigh. "I suppose I was."
He blinked at me in surprise. "You don't want to watch the tournament?" he asked. "But I thought all the ladies liked watching the knights."
"Not if one of them is your brother and he thinks he's God's gift to knighthood," I said angrily, and covered my slip by putting my hands on my hips crossly. "Anyways, why do you care?"
He laughed. "Oh, no, I agree with you. Wholeheartedly. But it doesn't matter much."
His suddenly annoyed expression drew a startled laugh from me. "No, it doesn't does it?"
His eyes twinkled at me. "May I escort you back to your rooms, my lady?"
"You may," I replied, pleased at his manners. "And what is your name, my good sir?"
He offered me his arm. "Merlin. I'm called Merlin."