Chapter Two.

My head was throbbing. That alone was like a slingshot into consciousness. My eyes popped open and I sat up in the bed. Suddenly everything was hurting. I had to ignore that, though. I looked around myself frantically surprised I was still alive and not even chained to a wall. I tried to put my right hand to my forehead as if that would stop the pounding, but it was bandaged and in a sling. I tried to remember what had happened, but everything was so fuzzy. All I could remember were the kicks and punches and the arrows, and then everything went black.

I threw off the blankets using my other hand and lifted my skirt and saw my thigh bandaged tightly, where the other arrow shot me.

The baby, I thought. I placed a hand on my stomach, afraid of whether it was still inside me, alive.

Around me was plain room. Plain stonewalls. I was sitting on a bed. There was a table next to the bet with only a cup. I picked it up and saw water. I drank it down hungrily, not realizing how parched my lips and throat was.

I heard shuffling in the next room, and I immediately looked at the door.

Escape, was the one thing that came to mind.

Wincing, I got myself off the bed. The pain in my abdomen was too much for me to stand straight, so I had to be hunched over and I limped my way to the door. Through the wooden pane cracks of the door, I peaked through to see what lay beyond. There were two people – maybe more, I couldn't tell – talking in very hushed voices. I could see their lips moving, but couldn't hear the words. There were books and glass instruments strewn about the room. It was much more full than the room I was in now. The two people I could see were one old man and one quite young, standing close. The older one, whose hair was long and white, was putting something in a bowl. When he seemed satisfied, the younger boy took the pestle and began crushing the ingredients.

The first idea that popped into my mind was poison – they were going to fulfill my last wishes and kill me. I was foolish then. Now I wanted, more than anything, to escape and be finally free.

I turned away from the door just as I saw the old one add a liquid to the mortar. I saw a window, but it was too high to get to and too small to crawl out of. Besides the window, there was no other way of escape.

Before I could plan any further, the door creaked open and in walked the younger boy. He first looked at the bed and became confused then when he glanced around the room, he saw me cowering against the wall.

"Oh," he said, smiling. "You're awake."

He stepped in and walked closer to me, but that only made me cower against the stone wall more. He stopped, and looked confused again.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, looking over my sickly bruised body. I still said nothing. I eyed him warily, wondering what he was up to. He seemed too nice to poison me, but then again I also never thought my entire village would try to murder me.

The boy sighed and set down the mortar of paste. He didn't move towards me anymore, but I watched his movement closely. Any moment he could come at me, and this time I was determined to take a stand. Once the boy was out, the old man shouldn't be too difficult to take down.

"My name is Merlin," he said slowly, pointing to himself. He was acting like I was simple-minded, not a complete, competent person.

Merlin.

The name sounded familiar. Maybe he stopped into Zerca once or twice for wheat – our main export. I could have met him before at the market, but that was highly unlikely; I rarely ever spoke to anyone. I raked my brain for the source of his name, and why it drew no fear to me.

Merlin.

In realization, my eyes snapped up to meet his.

"Merlin," I breathed in shock. "I-I… This is Camelot," I said stupidly.

Merlin nodded. "Yes, it is."

I felt my lips twitch into a smile. "I made it."

Merlin stepped timidly closer to me, picking up the mortar again. "I should really take care of your wounds before they get infected." He motioned to the bed.

I swallowed, and reluctantly went to sit down. Despite knowing who he was, I was still a little frightened. Merlin sat next to me and began putting the paste over my wounds.

"What's your name?" he asked softly.

"Deloria," I answered, wincing as he touched the stuff onto my skin.

"It's going to sting a bit," Merlin told me. "What exactly happened in the woods?"

I gritted my teeth. I wanted nothing more than to erase those hours out of my head. I knew who Merlin was to the king, so I couldn't very well go out and say my village attacked me. I had a feeling that wouldn't bode too well for the king or the village.

"Bandits," I lied, saying so almost too quickly. "I was attacked by bandits."

Merlin looked at me, as if he knew I was lying, but didn't say anything about it.

"Why were you in the woods?" he asked, looking away from me and back to my cuts.

"I–" I stuttered, "I was on my way to your market. Zerca, you see, didn't have all the things we needed, so I figured I would come to Camelot's market to get what I needed."

"That's a long trip," said Merlin. "You're from Zerca?"

I nodded. "My father's the elder of the village."

Merlin smiled again, and I couldn't help but smile back. Something about him was contagious. He began to unwrap my arm and I winced as it was let free.

"That must be pretty prestigious, to be the elder's daughter. Especially of Zerca. That village is one of our best," he said.

I swallowed. "Yeah, it is – prestigious, I mean."

"Well," Merlin said, "Gaius and I will have you patched up in no time so you can return. I'm sure you'll find everything you need in our markets."

"No!" I said quickly before thinking. Merlin looked confusedly at me and I went on, "I – I can't go back."

Merlin's eyebrows scrunched together. "Why not? Won't your father miss you?"

Thinking of my father made my insides twist. "I don't think so."

Merlin said, "I don't understand."

I bit the inside of my cheek nervously. "I just can't go back." Merlin's expression didn't change. Something about me must have convinced him to not ask any further questions. I quickly decided to say something – anything – else. "You have magic. Why don't you just use that to heal me?"

Merlin's smile slipped onto his lips again after he lifted my skirt only high enough to reach the other bandage and take it off, and he replied, "Since magic's ban has begun to lift, there are still a few who are weary of it. I just wanted to play it safe. The last thing I want is to frighten you, Deloria." He applied the paste to my leg and I drew in a sharp breath.

I shook my head. "Since I was little I would hear the men of my village say how disgusted they were in people who used magic; they said sorcerers were just lazy workers, who chose to use magic instead of their hands to get things done." I shrugged. "I always found magic fascinating. Of course, I could never tell anyone because it was so forbidden. Anyone who even seemed that of a sorcerer would be either cast out or killed. At least, until King Arthur lifted the ban."

Merlin nodded. "The fact he decided to let me live after what I'd done was astonishing," he said, "let alone the fact that he allows magic – somewhat, at least."

I managed a small smile. "So it's true."

Merlin set the mortar down and leaned back a little on the bed. "Depends what you know. Rumors float about faster than a bird can fly."

"In the market one day, I heard the women whispering that the King had survived the fight of Camlann, by not only the hand of his boy servant who had magic, but also by a dragon."

"Kilgharrah," said Merlin.

"Hm?"

"The dragon," he said looking down into his hands. He began scraping off the paste that had begun to harden on his fingertips. "His name was Kilgharrah."

I suspected a sensitive subject, so I said, "I'm sorry. I'm sure he was a noble dragon."

The boy nodded. "He was. He most certainly was."

I turned to Merlin. "I should be going."

"Going? Where?"

I shrugged. "Anywhere. I need to find a home and a job somewhere here. I need to start a new life, one for me and one for my child." I placed hand on my still-flat stomach, half-expecting it to be round with child for some reason.

A look crossed Merlin's face that made me want to run and never find out what he was about to say. He slowly moved closer, taking my hands into his large, warm, calloused ones.

"Deloria," he said cautiously, "When we got to you… there was blood. Too much blood. I could sense you were with child, but when we got back… There was nothing more Gaius or I could do. Your baby… Your baby is gone."

It felt like someone had kicked me in the gut again. The world began to swim around in my vision, and I had to grip the bed to steady myself. I closed my eyes until I felt the world be still around me again.

"Who is the father?" Merlin asked, unaware as to the pain he had just inflicted with those four words. "I will send one of the knights to him and let him know."

I just shook my head. "It was girl."

"…What?" asked Merlin a little confused.

"The baby," I whispered, my voice lost somewhere in the past. "It was a girl. I could feel it."

"Deloria," Merlin said sitting beside me again. "The father – who's the father?"

I shook my head again. "No one. A monster of a man."

"That's why you came here – to get away from him."

I could only nod. I couldn't bring myself to reveal who the man was to Merlin, afraid of how he would take it. Would he judge me? Would he cast me out like my village did his kind, only months ago? Would the knights go to Zerca and kill my father? He was a monster, but he didn't deserve to be killed.

"Deloria," Merlin called. My mind suddenly resurfaced; I didn't know how many times he called my name. "Deloria, you do not need to worry about a thing. You are safe here, in Camelot. Until you are well, you can stay here in our place and then I will help you find a job and a home. I promise you, I will keep you safe. I promise you with my life."

I looked up at him, my vision blurry from the tears. Never in my life had someone been this kind to me. "Thank you," I said, my voice wavering. "Thank you, Merlin."

"You should rest," he told me. "Your wounds will heal faster if you sleep."

"You can just use your magic, you know." I shrugged. "It doesn't bother me."

He looked worried. "Are you sure? I can heal them only just. You will have scars, maybe even some scabbing. The bruises will not go away, but they will hurt less and appear weeks old. Magic has its limits."

I nodded. "I'll take that over this pain any day."

Concern crossed his face. "You're in pain."

I lightly touched his knee. "Only for a few more moments."

He nodded, and held his hands out towards me. He shut his eyes then muttered the phrase, "Accipite haec, et a vulneribus tuis sanabo."

Take these words and heal thy wounds.

The magic worked within seconds. One moment I was wounded and hurt, and the next I looked like I would a month from now. The only sensation I could feel of the magic was a slight tickling feeling that ebbed away. I moved my shoulder and was ecstatic to know it could move nearly in a full rotation. My leg felt better, as well.

When Merlin opened his eyes, his face dropped slightly from what looked like shock. "Wow," he breathed.

"What?" My hand reached up to my face, touching it worriedly. What happened? Did something go wrong?

After realizing my worry, Merlin smiled brightly and shook his head. "Oh, no, everything is fine. It's just… your face. The swelling has gone down around your cheekbones. It's… your beautiful."

Heat rushed to my face. No one had ever been so nice to me, let alone call me beautiful. Not even my father when he was in a drunken stupor and thought I was my mother. I swallowed nervously and stood from the bed. The pain was gone, all of it.

"Thank you," I muttered, still in shock at his words. "Again, I mean. Thank you… again." He nodded and stood as well. "I guess… I guess this means I am free to leave." I turned to the door but Merlin grabbed my wrist. Out of instinct I yanked it back and twisted to face him. I was about to mutter "sorry" when he stopped me.

"I said I would help you find a home and a job, and I will. I must go to the King – come with me? He knows of your condition and will be glad to see you are alright. And I'm sure he can find you some work."

"The… The King? You want me… to go with you… to see the King Arthur…"

Merlin chuckled. "You needn't be afraid, Deloria. I promise you he is as harmful as a mouse – unless you happen to be me or an enemy, of course."

I smiled back. What was I supposed to say? No? Stories of Arthur had travelled around about his conquests and his victories and his compassion for almost four years now. To meet him personally was a true honor, mostly only bestowed to his knights, his wife, or his servants.

"Of course," I said smiling. "I would love to meet the King."