AN: How good it is to have the internet back again! :D. I can finally post some things :D.

Hmm, this chapter was a difficult one, as dear old Isolde (the OC) has some Sueish qualities. However, I'm hoping that I managed to make her seem frightening and slightly strange as well as beautiful and witty; believe me when I say that she has many sides to her. BTW, her beauty does play a part in the plot, so it is there for a reason. :D

If she's too Sueish, don't hesitate to leave me a snotty review. :D As always, all feedback is appreciated :D Thanks to Lady Midday for reviewing the last chapter :).

Without being fully conscience of his actions, Merlin broke into a run, his fists clenched. Emrys meant only one thing; danger. Gaius watched him go, stunned by the sudden departure of his ward but dismissing it as flightiness. Merlin had always been quite strange and it seemed that today was not going to be out of the norm.

Merlin reached the alley in seconds, surprised to see that there was no grey clad figure in sight. Everywhere he saw blues and greens and oranges and yellows but no grey, never any grey. He grabbed the arm of the woman on his left whirling her round to face him.

"A person," he panted, "clad – in grey. Where did – they go?"

She pointed to his left, mouth opening to reveal rotten teeth. Merlin recoiled, nodding his thanks as he did so. Then he was off again, weaving his way through alleys and streets alike, desperate to avoid crashing into people who might stop him from completing his mission. Occasionally, he would catch a glimpse of grey as it disappeared round the corner, but never did he see a full sighting until he had more or less given up, slumped onto the wall with his head in his hands, panting heavily from exhaustion.

Footsteps. They were soft, gentle against the stone but they were there. All at once, Merlin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand as he realised that someone was there. Watching him. There, watching him and he was a sitting duck for their attack.

He glanced up, dismayed to find the grey clad figure scrutinising him, the slight rippling of the fabric shimmering as she advanced. She. Merlin was certain that that's what they were. A female sorcerer. Nimueh maybe – though it had not sounded like her – or some other woman desiring to kill him.

"Stop!" he called, jumping to his feet and stumbling slightly on the cobbles. "Don't come any closer!" To his surprise, the figure did as he asked, the footsteps ceasing and he allowed himself to breathe again.

I wouldn't dream of it.

"Stop that!"

Stop what?

"Talking inside my head."

The figure laughed and Merlin's suspicions were confirmed. Definitely feminine. Definitely something to hide.

"If you wish," she said from under the oversized hood. "Though you are hardly in a position to negotiate. I must admit to expecting more from you, Emrys."

"More?" he stuttered, eyes wide. Beside him, his hand twitched and the woman looked at it with mild amusement barely visible in the dimness.

"You wish to kill me." It was not a question, Merlin realised, listening to the soft lilt of her voice as she spoke. "I can't blame you, I suppose, though I wish you would be friendlier."

Merlin scowled, annoyed that she was being so cryptic. He remembered Gaius telling him once that sorcerers would rely on anything to accomplish their goal, be it magic, persuasion, mystery, blackmail or taunting. Other words came to him then, words he'd heard spoken many times in his youth; know your enemy, Merlin, know your enemy and then you will be unstoppable.

Unstoppable. It didn't feel like it, not at the moment. If only he could see her face, everything would be so much easier...

"Who are you?" Merlin asked suddenly. "What's your name?"

"I have many names, Emrys." She paused, pale hand lifting before dropping back to her side, "They say you can do great evils to someone if you know their name."

Merlin found himself shuddering, wondering if, by naming him, she had

"You call me Emrys? You have dealings with the druids?"

"Perhaps," she said, once again drawing Merlin in with the lilt of her voice.

"I don't recognise your accent. Where are you from?"

"Around," she said in that mysterious, seductive tone of voice.

"You don't originate from Camelot, do you?"

"No," she said with a slight shake of the head, "though I have lived here for many years. I come from wilder places." A small smirk twisted the corners of her mouth upwards. "It seems even the great city of Camelot cannot tame me."

All ways riddles. Merlin found himself being reminded of another entity who would never give him a direct answer, and a small smile blossomed on his lips.

"Yes, Emrys," she said, misunderstanding the gesture. "Smile, for I will not hurt you."

"Why won't you show yourself then?"

"You had not asked it of me, but if it will convince you that I am a friend and not a foe, I will do as you ask." And with that, pale skin reached up and the hood slipped from her head.

What Merlin had been expecting was not what he saw. Long, fair hair cascaded in waves down the woman's back. Her face was heart shaped with high cheekbones, angled brows and cherry lips set in a small, crooked smile. It was her skin, however, that tugged at his attention; she was not just flawless and pale but white, the colour of death. He shuddered, reminded of the body he'd seen earlier. Her blue eyes widened and she spoke with a tremor in her voice.

"I repulse you?"

"No," he said, "no you don't. Not at all"

Her eyes narrowed, and he realised that they were the blue he had seen. Framed by thick black lashes, they were strangely beautiful; unnatural and unsettling yet captivating all the same. That was her; exceedingly beautiful but unnatural and frightening because of it.

An odd look flitted over her features and she chuckled.

"Do I frighten you?"

Merlin stared at her, not sure if he was more unsettled by the fact that she could read him like a book, or the odd tone she had spoken to him in. It had almost been excited.

"Yes," he said, deciding that honesty was probably the best option. She laughed again, peals of laughter escaping her lips before she became deadly serious.

"Don't be afraid, Emrys," she said moving closer towards him. "I mean you no harm."

"If you mean me no harm then why have you been following me?"

"I came to find you."

"What? Why?"

She looked at him

"I dreamt of you. I dreamt of Camelot and I saw it burn."

"Saw it?"

"I've seen a lot of things, Emrys."

"Why does everyone keep calling me that? My name is Merlin."

"Yes," she nodded, "but a man can have more than one name and you have many. In time, you will discover the truth," she paused, an odd expression flashing briefly across her face, "and so will your prince."

"Arthur?"

"Yes. You and he are –"

"– two sides of a coin. I know."

"No," she said softly, face solemn. "Not just two sides of a coin. Two people. Two friends." Merlin stared at her, a slight frown tingeing his lips.

"I don't think so," he said eventually.

"It's already began," she replied. "There are some things in life that we're destined for, Emrys, whether we want it or not."

There was that look again, that fleeting shadow that passed across her face. Merlin forced himself to look away; her beauty was beginning to make his eyes ache.

It couldn't be real beauty though. She seemed to glow with an ethereal light, pearly skin white against the grey. No one could be so terribly striking, not naturally. A spell maybe, or a potion...

"It's a glamour," she told him, dark eyes twinkling. He gulped, realising that he had mused out loud.

"A glamour?" he asked, remembering reading something about it in his magic book.

"Yes," she said. "Of sorts."

"So it's fake?"

"A glamour can't give you beauty, Emrys. It emphasizes what you already have, but it can't give you something you don't. In effect, it makes you more noticeable, more..." she paused, searching for the correct word, "memorable. I want people to be special, Emrys. I want my face to forever be burned into their conscience, their thoughts, their wants... I want them to remember me."

Merlin found himself taking an involuntary step back at the sudden fervour in her eyes, the way her fists clenched white by her side, the way her cherry lips tightened into a cold, hard line.

"I'm frightening you again," she said softly, gently as if she was speaking to a minor. Merlin studied her closely; she looked about his age, maybe younger, though it was hard to tell. She'd already admitted to deceiving him once; why should she be honest about her age. She could be like Nimueh. No, she could be Nimueh. All at once, his distrust returned and he eyed her warily.

"How old are you?"

"So inquisitive," she said, the smirk returning, "but I shall tell you. I have been on this earth for eighteen winters." A troubled frown briefly twisted her features, but Merlin dismissed it as another of her looks. "Eighteen winters," she repeated. "I fear my time is running out."

"What do you mean by that?" Merlin demanded, cautious and yet curious.

"How would I keep up my mysterious facade if I told you all my secrets, Emrys?" She chuckled and her eyes twinkled, and once again, Merlin was struck by her beauty. False, he told himself, false and yet true. She watched him with interest before continuing, "Now I must leave you, and may meet again tomorrow as friends."

"Friends? I barely know you. How do I know that I can trust you?" he said tentatively. The frown returned, saddened this time and there was remorse in her eyes.

"You can't."

He blinked and she was gone, leaving Merlin with the realisation that he hadn't even learnt her name.