Disclaimer: I am not English- I'm an Aussie- therefore, not Angie Sage. (English accents rock though)

Author's Note: I am so sorry it has taken so long to post again- I have been so incredibly busy with everything, and now i have exams in a couple of weeks. Procrastination is the best, but it is a gross habit to break. I am so thankful to everyone who constantly faves and reviews, you guys are my angels, seriously. This chapter is dedicated to It's All In Your Mind- thanks for the help in everything, love. You are simply amazing! Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving and didn't get run over by mad-shoppers on Black Friday. :)


The next few days were a headache for Wren, to say the very least.

Having lived in the Wendron Forest her entire life, she was not used to the hustle and bustle of the Castle and it's people. For the first few weeks, Wren would jump at every shout and yell that she heard and pin herself against the nearest wall. Most people found this relatively amusing and thought nothing of it, but Wren did receive her fair share of odd looks when she did this.

One of the many things that Wren would have to get used to was a wake-up-call.

Every morning at precisely 7: 30 am, the clock tower on the Wizard Way chimed rather loudly, loud enough to be heard from even Sally Mullin's Tea and Ale House, which was quite a way away. It was as if the clock tower was warning all the inhabitants of the Castle that they had to get up and have breakfast, for there was work to be done. Years ago, some rather grumpy resident of the Castle got tired of the 7:30 chime, so he had stormed up the winding steps of the clock tower, intent on resetting this clock. Yet somehow, the man never made it to the clock, he suffered a nasty accident from falling down the stairs, and died from the impact. To that day, Castle children would gleefully recount this event, each time a different cause of this man's death. A certain Erik Heap was partial to a version of death by a three-headed monster with pointed teeth and seven legs, but Sarah Heap had prohibited this particular version for fear of scaring her younger children. Nonetheless, Erik managed to terrify his younger siblings with this monster to the point that they avoided the clock tower altogether, for fear of this horrible monster jumping out the window and attacking them- as it was rather fond of children. Still, even adults avoided the clock tower, for none of them wanted to end up like the grumpy resident; and so the wake-up-call stayed.

Before journeying to the Castle, Wren had been lucky; she was far enough away from the clock tower that she and the Wendrons escaped the droning noise in the mornings, thus were granted an uninterrupted, peaceful sleep-in. Wren wasn't generally awake until noon, as was custom in the Forest, but this was going to change soon enough.

When the clock tower chimed on her very first morning in the Castle, Wren almost had a heart attack. Nothing in the Forest made the chiming noise of the clock tower, and thus she had never heard anything like it. So Wren, like the half-asleep Wendron Witch she was, gathered she was being attacked and did the only thing one can really do in that type of situation. She leapt out of her teepee-, which had suddenly gotten much higher off the ground and a lot larger- and ran out the door. Or tried to.

The blankets got in the way, winding their around Wren's legs and the next thing Wren knew, she was lying facedown on the cold wooden floor of her room in Bertie Bott's house. It took a moment to orient herself, in which she realized that she was no longer in the Forest nor in her teepee, and that she had fallen from her bed in a panic. She took deep breaths and tried to calm herself, yet it wasn't long before she heard quick footsteps padding across the floor to her door, which was flung open to reveal the concerned face of Mr. Bott.

"Wren? Are you alright?" Mr. Bott leaned down and helped Wren up, green eyes concerned.

"Wh-what was that?" Wren was breathing quickly, her fear subsiding as quickly as it had sprung.

A smile of amusement broke over the man's face, and he laughed softly. "The clock tower, Wren. It tells us what time it is by chiming." Seeing Wren's amazement, he laughed louder, "Don't worry. There is nothing wrong- we're all fine."

Wren managed a smile and shook her head at her own idiocy, "I hope I won't act this way in the future."

"As do I." a disapproving voice chimed in, and both Mr. Bott and Wren looked up.

"Darling," Mr. Bott sighed, "Wren is not used to the customs of the Castle, she just needs time."

"Well I certainly hope she gets used to it sooner rather than later," The woman at the door quipped irritably, "I don't intend to be woken by a loud crash every morning, and I don't think the neighbors will either."

Tabitha Bott was quite an impressive woman. She was short and shapely, with short, frizzy red hair that she had tied back with a white scarf. She showed close resemblance to her cousin, Sally Mullin, and also shared her skill at cooking. Like her husband and children, she flaunted the striking green eyes of a wizard family, but unlike her husband, she didn't have the easy smile that he was known for. Her mouth was generally in a tight line of no-nonsense, which contrasted with her otherwise gentle appearance.

She didn't approve of Wren much, either. Tabitha, like Sarah Heap and Marcia Overstrand, had a very distinct view of Witches: A complete waste of space. Yet, like Sarah Heap, she put up with them simply because of the debt her husband owed to the Wendrons, and same went for Wren's presence. But she didn't have to like it, and made that very clear to her from the first moment Wren had walked in the house. "She's a tough one, Tabitha." Bertie Bott had commented quietly to Wren, "But she is really a good woman at heart." As much as she wanted to believe so, Wren took another look at this scowling woman and found it hard to believe anything positive.

"Breakfast is ready, come quickly if you want it hot." And with that, Tabitha swept from the room, leaving her husband behind to make excuses for her rather curt behavior.


Much to Tabitha's distaste, Wren continued to fall out of bed in a panic at the sound of the chiming. She did it for a week, until, at the end of her patience, Tabitha threatened to send Wren right back to where she had come. There had been a lot of protest following this comment, mainly from Aimee, who had taken an immediate liking to Wren and considered her an older sister. She had clung to Wren's leg like a little terrier, sobbing and pleading until at last her mother had relented, on the condition that there would be no strange reactions from the young Witch.

So she wouldn't get up to too much mischief, also to take her off the hands of his less-than-patient wife, Bertie Bott kept Wren working in his shop as his assistant, running errands of different sorts, setting up clothes, and just doing the odd job. Wren was quite happy with this, for she was quite bored with sitting around the house with nothing to do (and everyone knows having a bored Witch in the house is in no way a good thing) and it gave her the chance to meet the people of the Castle on her many errands.

It was on one of these errands that she met him.

Wren walked out of the shop, closing the door behind her and clutching a list in her hand. Her long hair was tied back into a ponytail and she was wearing a pair of muted green trousers, an off-white blouse, and a sturdy pair of sandals. She knew Tabitha disapproved of her love of trousers- they made a teenaged girl look like a boy- but Wren thought they were practical and much easier to work in.

She stretched like a cat and strolled out into the Wizard Way, looking over the list of things she had to pickup. She let out a low whistle as she studied a particular passage; Manuscriptorium- pick up fabric import, make appointment with CHS, extra quills. Under the passage in underlined letters, there were three words. Job Application, Wren?

Wren smirked, a job then? Sounded good to her. Maybe there was a vacant job as a physician… or something like that. With a smile and a suddenly quicker gait, Wren made her way to the Manuscriptorium.


Merrin Meredith was in a foul mood.

As usual, his dreams had been filled with the screams of this wild girl, the Darknesse swarming around her like a hive of angry bees while he was chained to the ground, useless. These dreams had been worse that night, and thus Merrin had gotten little sleep. There were dark bags under his haunted eyes, making them look even darker than usual. His hair was a mess, dark bangs falling over his face and sticking up so haphazardly that it closely resembled a rat's nest, and his skin was plaer than usual.

In short, Merrin was a complete mess.

When he had walked into the Manuscriptorium that morning, Partridge, who was taking over for Ms. Djin in her rare two-hour absences, had pounced on him with demands for this and that. It was clear that, for the two hours until Jilie Djin came back, Partridge was going to make Merrin's life a living hell- and he was going to enjoy it immensely. So, for the last hour and a half, Merrin had been wandering around the Manuscriptorium on the many "errands" that Partridge had ordered him on, all the time trying to keep it together.

So thus, on top of the fact that he had had a terrible night and had torn his only cloak that actually fit, Merrin was an active volcano about to erupt.

He sat in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, clicking his fingers and watching as a small black flame shimmered in and out of existence, a scowl on his face. The small black flame danced tauntingly across his palm, hovered in front of his nose, and danced across the parchment of calculations that he was supposed to fill out- another of Partridge's errands- leaving a trail of green smoke in it's wake. Merrin scowled again, and cupped the flame in his hands, holding it there like he was afraid it would escape.

He was so interested in this flame that he barely noticed the door of the Manuscriptorium open, and ignored the irritable clicking noise of the Customer Counter- a new invention. It was probably Jilie Djin back from her two-hour seance, nothing really important. He went back to his calculations, sighing in annoyance. It was only when the new comer cleared their throat that Merrin even bothered to look up.

"What?" He snapped, glaring at the customer - for Merrin really had no regard for the courtesy a scribe must show a customer. The moment he laid eyes on them, though, he practically choked.

A girl with long brown hair and trousers was regarding him quizzically, brow raised and arms crossed like his. Her angular face was tilted slightly to the right, as if in question, and her eyes- which were the half-blood eyes he had seen before- were confused. Apart from the trousers, which Merrin found somewhat odd, he was almost positive that she was the girl that he had seen dancing a few days ago. Merrin felt his throat dry up, much to his annoyance, and he felt an unpleasant warmth crawl up his neck. He swore under his breath; he had never been good with girls, that was everyone else's thing, not his. Why did he, of all people, have to serve a girl, especially one his age? Why couldn't Partridge, or even Foxy? He didn't even know how to talk to a girl! So why should he-

"Hello." She said, jolting him out of his mental panic-attack. She seemed pleasant enough, but Merrin could only nod in answer until he gathered enough sense to scowl and stand up.

"What d'you want?" he demanded of her, arms crossed and chin stuck out.

"I believe that a parcel came in for Bertie Bott?" The girl inquired, brows raised.

"Who wants to know?" Merrin sneered, hardly in the mood for pleasantries.

"His assistant does."

"Who, you?"

"Yes. Me."

Merrin's brows raised "I didn't know that he had an assistant. And I didn't think he'd take a girl if he did." suspicion tinged his voice, which sounded, at that moment, remarkably like Jon Bott.

The girl chose to ignore that remark, taking a deep breath before answering. "I am helping out Mr. Bott, and have orders to collect this parcel." she waited a beat before continuing, "If i remember correctly, a Scribe is supposed to help a customer, or am I wrong?"

"Hmph." Merrin scowled again, and holding his head high and trying to retain his dignity before turning and fetching what she requested. With a rather nasty look, he handed it to her.

Idiotic, know-it-all, b-

Wren Ellawyn could successfully say that she had never met a more unpleasant boy in her entire life, even though this wasn't saying much for a Wendron Witch. The boy in front of her was tall and lanky, with long dark hair that looked like it could house a couple of mice. His uniform was unkempt and his expression resembled someone who had come across something rather disgusting, but his face... It was so familiar! His face was angular and his skin was very pale- almost unhealthy-, and his eyes... they were what unnerved her the most. Dark, dark grey with flecks of green in them, and filled with horrible memories and encounters that haunted him. The dark bags under his eyes were so pronounced that Wren got the feeling that he hadn't slept properly in weeks, and that, much to her own discomfort, made her yearn to help him.

Maybe Lavender would help...

She found herself thinking potions and herbs again as she took the parcel he offered and bagged it, thanking him quietly,

Willow bark too, for dreams...

"Anything else?" he growled petulantly, snapping Wren out of her herb-filled thoughts and back to reality. This boy didn't want her help.

"Yes, actually. I would like to see the Chief Hermetic Scribe." She informed him, trying to remain calm.

"Well, she's out. I'm in charge."

"Alright then, I would like an appointment to see her then, as soon as possible."

"What!" Wren swore that the boy's eyes bulged, "Why on earth would you want to see her?"

"That is none of your business, if I may say so." She spat, her tone mimicking his own as met his heated glare with her own.

Chauvinistic, ungrateful little-

Incorrigible, self-absorbed girl.

Merrin leaned over his desk, hoping to look as intimidating as humanly possible. He couldn't believe he had been staring at... her. He had made a fool of himself those days ago because he was looking at her! The very thought made his face burn with embarrassment and anger. She may've looked alright when she was dancing, but in fact, she was the exact opposite. Hard to deal with, know-it-all, self-centered; she was impossible!

"Well, actually, since I'm the Front Office Clerk, it kind of is my business." Merrin couldn't keep the sneer off his face and the triumph out of his voice. He had her there.

The girl stuck her chin out stubbornly, mismatched eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment Merrin hoped that she would turn around and walk out- good riddance too. But then she looked away, biting her lip in annoyance, and Merrin smirked; he had won this battle.

"Mr. Bott wants an appointment." she finally told him, "He needs to see the Chief Hermetic Scribe... something about some fabric order or the like. " She sighed heavily, and Merrin got the idea that sewing and working with clothes wasn't exactly her cup of tea.

"Well, she's out." Merrin told her again, then with exaggerated, mocking patience, added, "Technically, I'm the only one here. So if you could be specific-"

"He wasn't specific! He just said he needed an appointment and he needed one soon, alright?"

"Well I can't give you an appointment until you tell me exactly what it's for! Standard procedure!"

"Why exactly? Can't you just write down 'fabric order discussion'?"

"No! I can't!"

"AHEM!"

The two teenagers, who had been so thoroughly engrossed in their argument, looked up at the sound of an intruder. Apparently, this argument had gotten rather loud, loud enough that Jilie Djin, Chief Hermetic Scribe, had heard the clamor from down the Way and had come running. Expecting the worst, Jilie Djin had charged into the shop to find her Front Office Clerk and Bertie Bott's new assistant in the middle of a rather nasty shouting match. They made a rather interesting pair, actually- the boy was tall, looming, and had a presence of Darkenesse around him, where the girl was lithe, strange, and had an air of one who had been outside for too long. It was actually quite amusing to see them in the middle of a yelling match, but Jilie Djin was not an easily amused person. Her mood, which had been rather pleasant until this particular moment, soured quickly, and making herself as imposing as possible, interrupted the two. Her Front Office Clerk let out a small groan when he saw her, prompting the girl to whirl around and swallow hard, eyes widening.

"Ms. Djin., err... your highness... Madam.. um.." The girl fidgeted in her stance, and flailed for the proper greeting, much to Merrin's immense amusement.

"What is your inquiry?" Ms. Djin looked down her nose at the girl- rather up actually, as she was a little taller- and raised a brow.

"I...I needed- Mr. Bott rather- needed an appointment with you. As soon as possible." She looked away from the Chief Hermetic Scribe, uncomfortable.

"Hm... Alright then. Mr. Hunter, schedule the soonest possible appointment." Merrin clenched his jaw and, with some aggression, pulled out the big black book of appointments and scribbled a meeting down in the closest slot. As he filled out a slip for the girl, he noticed, with mounting irritation, that she was hiding a tiny smile. He thrust the paper at her, and she took it with smirk. "Why, thank you, Mr. Hunter. You have been so helpful." She said in a cheerful way that made Merrin imagine many painful ways in which he could cause her bodily harm- one of which including a long fall from a cliff top.

"Is there anything else my Front Office Clerk can help you with-" Ms. Djin was about to ask, but was interrupted immediately by Merrin.

"No. She was just leaving." He glared meaningfully at the girl, who shrugged and smiled at Jilie Djin.

"I appreciate the help though." She told the older woman's retreating back as she ascended the steps to her office and disappeared, leaving the silk rustling in her wake.

Merrin scowled at the girl once his employer had gone, "Allow me to show you out." He growled, wrenching the door open so she could walk through it. But, to his surprise, she remained halfway through the doorway, hand on the door, and she turned her bicolored gaze on him.

"Lavender and Willow Bark." She murmured, as if in a trance.

"Huh?" Merrin asked, halfway between confused and irritated; the girl wasn't making any sense.

"The scent of crushed Lavender helps promote sleep." She informed him, quietly, "And chopped Willow Bark dispels nightmares." Seeing his surprise, the girl added, "You seem like you could use them."

Without another word, she left, leaving Merrin staring after her, wondering if she had insulted him or was just being kind. Merrin, having not known much kindness, went with the former, and spent the rest of the day muttering about crazy teenaged girls. Wren, having been so caught up in the argument with "Mr. Hunter", realized upon re-entering the house that she had completely forgotten to buy the quills and inquire about a job, the latter in which she was glad that she hadn't. Though the lack of quills resulted in another complaint from Tabitha Bott.

For the rest of that day, whenever something went wrong, each blamed it on the less-than-pleasant encounter they had had with the other, although this didn't help either of their predicaments.


AU: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it! Now that Merrin and Wren have met, things will start to speed up a little. Don't go away- the action is just beginning. :)