Real life is getting in the way so my posts will slow down for a little while. Enjoy.

Guarding the Gates

"…rlyn. Merlyn, wake up. Merlyn!"

She let out a pained grunt when she tried to move and she felt someone press a hand to her shoulder to keep her still. "Do not move," another voice commanded; Gaius. He said, not to her, "Go to the King and tell him of our guest's duplicity. Merlyn is in no state to fight tonight."

"But I am merely –"

"You are a Knight of Camelot by his very decree. You have just as much right as any other nobleman to call for audience. Now, please, tell him that Arthur has been enchanted by powerful beings disguised as mortals and has been spirited from the city. Go!"

Lancelot's heavy tread quickly faded and Merlyn whimpered as she tried to move again. "Stay still, my girl. Your spine is too inflamed to determine if there has been any critical damage. Now, open your eyes, I need to check how severe your concussion is."

She did so but immediately slammed them shut again. Everything was blurred and too bright, piercing straight into her brain with a razor-sharp intensity. She gasped and Gaius pressed a vial against her mouth.

"Drink," he said and she obediently pursed her lips, only to grimace and turn her face away when the flavour hit her tongue.

"Yuck," she rasped but he was insistent.

"It's a pain tonic, Merlyn, not sweet tea." She held her breath to gulp it down and shuddered as the texture coated her throat.

"Tell me if you can feel this," the old man ordered and set about testing her for paralysis and numbness.

When the tonic began to take effect, Merlyn let out a relieved sigh at being able to think again and Gaius urged her eyes open once more. Light still stabbed at her skull but less potently, allowing the old man to check her pupils and vision.

"Definitely concussed," he said disapprovingly, his craggy face unfocused above hers. "I warned you not to confront them again. You're lucky you didn't die!"

Memories trickled back to the forefront of her brain and she sucked in an alarmed breath at realising the cause for her situation. She forced herself into a seated position before Gaius could stop her and groaned at the protests of her back and head. A high-pitched ringing deafened her hearing and she put a trembling hand to her temple.

"Arthur?" she hissed. "Sophia, Aulfric?"

"Gone," he said. "Morgana saw them vanish and came to me. I searched for you and found Lancelot just waking by the door and you completely unresponsive. I feared the worst, Merlyn… my heart cannot take this stress every week. I thought you didn't want me to find an early grave."

"It's not every week," grumbled Merlyn drowsily. "And don't say that. Most of the time, it can't be helped."

Though she had closed her eyes again while rubbing her head, she just knew Gaius had raised his eyebrow at her. It was a particular kind of silence. She finally blurted, "I'm sorry, alright. I don't mean to, it just, kind of happens."

"I know all too well, Merlyn," he said. "Now we must get you to my chambers so you can rest somewhere more comfortable than the floor. Uther will soon send out a brigade to find Arthur and the Sidhe."

"But it doesn't matter if they find them, Gaius," she said, peering up at where he was growing a little less fuzzy to her eyes. "They are powerful. Those knights will be going to a slaughter."

"You are too injured to make it to the lake, Merlyn. You'll pass out trying to mount your steed."

At that moment, Lancelot returned, panting, and informed them of the King scouring the city for the trio. Merlyn turned to stare pointedly at her mentor. "Lancelot can aid me. We have doubled before and he knows where we must go. Perhaps we can beat the knights and stop this before they come to harm."

Lancelot glanced between the two, unwilling to enter the feud. Eventually, Gaius relented with an aggravated sigh. He dug through his medical bag and withdrew two different brews. "This one will stimulate adrenalin to give you energy, but be cautious for after it wears off, you will crash, hard. This one is a slightly stronger pain tonic, but I warn you now, you will not know if you are severely injured until it is too late, so please, I beg of you, be careful."

Merlyn nodded seriously and took the vials from him. The pain one, she downed immediately, but the other she left for when she was closer to Arthur. No need to drop from exhaustion during the middle of a fight.

Lancelot said nothing as he helped her up and they hobbled out the door. Merlyn knew he was displeased with putting her in harm's way once again but he guided her honestly.

When he moved to the knight's stables, Merlyn objected. "Sunstrider is the strongest and has the most stamina. He'll be able to carry us both more quickly than any of the others."

She took the lead, the pain tonic beginning to take hold, and moved to the royal stalls. Sunstrider nickered a greeting and she stroked his face, pressing her need for them to double into his thoughts. He shook his head and nipped the air near Lancelot in displeasure before giving in with a groan. "Thank you," she whispered and led him from the stall.

Lancelot boosted Merlyn onto his bare back before using a fence to vault on behind. Sunstrider made his protests known with little pigroots as they headed out of the city. He settled when Merlyn nudged him into a canter, enjoying letting his legs stretch more than disturbing his riders. The setting sun cast long shadows through the trees as they dashed along the path.

She slowed him once they neared the lake, throwing back the adrenalin tonic. They could hear the sound of Aulfric incanting and Merlyn quickly scrabbled off her steed, landing awkwardly on the ground before she dashed off through the trees.

"Merlyn!" hissed Lancelot only to give a short cry when Sunstrider tucked his head between his knees and gave one big buck. The brown-haired knight went soaring over the horse's head and clattered to the ground heavily, winding himself. The stallion gave a satisfied snort then dipped his head to nibble some shoots of grass growing between the forest debris. Lancelot groaned pathetically from where he was sprawled.

Merlyn skidded to a halt at the last tree before the clearing and stared out as Arthur and Sophia stood waist-high in the lake while Aulfric chanted on the shore. "… Dondiay. Dobior colt oghum. Anvin. Flatau. Dondiay. Dobior colt oghum, Artur Pendragon…"

Arthur fell backwards into the water just as a troop of knights clattered on scene and Merlyn gave a frustrated growl.

"Stop!" Sir Leon called. "Cease your actions in the name of the King!"

Aulfric roared and slashed his staff, knocking horses over and sending knights flying. At least one man was trampled beneath flailing hooves and the black-haired girl moaned in remorse. Her eyes settled on Sophia's discarded staff and, with a hissed word, it soared into her hands. Most of the knights reformed their ranks and charged at the offensive sorcerer. From the water, Sophia held up her hand and cast several spells, knocking the knights down one by one.

Her eyes searched for her staff but Merlyn gave a feral snarl as she aimed it at Aulfric just as Sir Leon slashed his sword towards the man's neck. "Swelt goldbeorth!"

Sir Leon's weapon connected with the old sorcerer's staff and Aulfric exploded an instant later with a sharp cry. Sir Leon appeared startled and Sophia screamed from the lake.

"Father! No, father!" she threw out both hands and the few remaining warriors were knocked forcefully into the trees.

Merlyn turned her new weapon onto the scheming enchantress and growled, "Og kelis!"

A blast of wind and Sophia exploded also, leaving the area silent and eerie. Merlyn dropped the staff and shoved off her jacket, running for the lake. None of the knights were rising quickly enough, and some were not rising at all.

"Arthur!" she cried as she dived into its chilly depths, gasping as the shock of the temperature stole her breath.

The water was surprisingly clear – though burning her eyes with ice – and the rays of fading sunlight pierced its surface with ribbons of light. She spotted Arthur quickly, resting peacefully at the bed of the lake and wasted no time hooking her hands under his arms then springing off the silty ground towards the surface.

She emerged with a gasp but quickly sunk again under the weight of the prince's stupid chainmail. She tried to keep his head up and paddle but her own dipped beneath the water with her efforts. She flailed, swallowing liquid, and tried to rise but they both descended like stones.

Before she could panic, she felt someone grab a fistful of her shirt and haul her to the surface. She choked and sputtered as she breached the water but automatically pulled Arthur's limp head to rest on her shoulder. The water was in her eyes, stopping her from seeing her saviour but she was dragged steadily into the shallows where another pair of hands relieved her of the prince. She wiped at her eyes as her saviour moved his hands from the back of her shirt to hook under her arms and glanced up to see Lancelot's face. He was dragging her ashore.

As the buoyancy of the water disappeared, she hunched over to burp up the water she'd swallowed, gravity making the liquid heavy in her gut. Lancelot braced her easily, rubbing her back as he soothed, "Easy, Merlyn."

Once she could breathe clearly, she rubbed her face and squinted at her friend. He smiled at her tightly as he looped one of her arms around his shoulders and hauled her the rest of the way from the water. She staggered in her soggy dress and Lancelot guided her to where the prince lay prone on the shore, surrounded by several of his knights.

She let herself fall to her knees beside him and quickly checked him over. He wasn't breathing.

"Come on, you clotpole," she growled, pushing on his unmoving chest. "Breathe." She forced all her weight on her hands and felt a little give but not enough. Desperately, she tilted his head up and plugged his nose, sucking a breath before pushing it into Arthur's mouth.

The knights exclaimed in confusion and outrage as she effectively kissed the semi-dead prince before them but she worried not, for Arthur's body spasmed beneath her hands.

She pulled away just as he vomited a stream of water and quickly turned him on his side so it could drain. She met the astonished gaze of Sir Leon and explained sheepishly, "It's an experimental treatment. It's, er… it's been banned in the eastern lands because they believe the breath holds your soul and giving it to another is demonic. I-I hope the King doesn't think the same."

The curly-haired knight peered down at where Arthur was unconscious but his breath steadying. "He will be grateful his son is returned to him alive. You have done the kingdom as great service tonight, Merlyn." He shook his head and mumbled in awe, "The Kiss of Life…"

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Merlyn started flagging halfway back to the castle, her aches and pains throbbing worse and worse with every beat of her heart while exhaustion began to suck her under even though she was astride her steed. She was almost too tired to shiver in her wet clothes.

Her head drooped and she would have slipped sideways to a very uncomfortable fall if Lancelot hadn't wrapped an arm around her from behind and braced her against him.

"Is she well?" asked Sir Leon concernedly from his own steed, though Merlyn couldn't summon the energy to reassure him. Not even to open her eyes.

Lancelot answered, "She is feeling the consequences of the past few days. She was attacked alongside myself when we discovered the Tír-Mòr's treachery, for the second time in two days." she felt a light hand rest on her brow. "She persuaded Gaius to feed her some concoctions that would numb her pain and tiredness until Arthur was found. She is much too stubborn for her own good."

Merlyn wanted to argue, to defend herself, but their words garbled in her ears and the world fuzzed into nothingness.

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Arthur awoke the next morning with a slight headache, confusion and his father by his side. The latter explained the past few days and memories trickled back into place, hazy with the fog of bewitchment. He sat up in alarm when he recalled Merlyn's incidences but the King assured him of her wellbeing, being treated in the Court Physician's chambers. Arthur was dissatisfied with his simple answers but forced himself to leave it be until his father exited to deal with the fallout.

"You have an extraordinarily loyal servant," he mused before he left. "She went to great lengths at great personal risk to ensure your safety – and it isn't for the first time."

"Merlyn is selfless and courageous," Arthur replied, a little bemused. "And she serves this kingdom well."

"Hmm," he said, tapping the doorframe before leaving. The blonde knight frowned at where he had been before pushing himself from his bed – the only piece of furniture in the devastated room left mostly undamaged. He was distracted from his slow escape, however, when Lancelot stepped inside the open doorway, looking as noble and proud as any knight.

Arthur winced as more memories cropped up; "I remember Sophia's father knocking you out," he said in lieu of an apology.

"I am well, sire," the brown-haired knight said with a small bow. "I came to inform you of the evening's events."

"No need," he said, straightening up and trying to appear dignified despite his body's aches. "My father already updated me."

Lancelot dipped his head. "With all due respect to the King, My Lord, he does not know the full story."

"Oh," queried the prince, cautious.

The knight's rich chocolate eyes locked onto his own sky-blue ones and said candidly, "You were saved by the actions of a sorcerer, sire."

"What?" he exclaimed. "Who?"

Lancelot lowered his gaze once more. "They did not identify themselves. However… they wore the same red cloak as the one who aided in the defeat of the griffin. I believe them to be one in the same, My Lord."

"This makes no sense," said Arthur, shaking his head. "Why would a sorcerer help me, then or now? What have they to gain from it?" he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"Perhaps…" Lancelot trailed off then said. "Never mind, sire. I wish not to talk out of turn."

"Speak," the prince commanded and the brown-haired knight clenched his gloved fists in trepidation.

"I thought, perhaps… the sorcerer is trying to show you that not all magic is evil." at Arthur's dark expression, Lancelot backtracked. "It was merely a thought, My Lord; a fanciful explanation."

"I warn you not to utter such ideas while in the King's presence," warned the prince. "Sympathisers of sorcery are treated with the same prejudice as the magicians themselves, regardless of status."

"Of course, sire," said Lancelot, bowing low. "Forgive my impertinence."

Arthur waved his contrition away. "I value the discussions of a trusted comrade," he said. "You shared with me your thoughts and now I will share with you my truth: sorcery and magic are corruptive, right down to one's very soul. Whether a man has good intentions when studying the dark art or not, he will always end up the same – greedy, selfish and hateful. Magic opens pathways that should not be explored by mortals and to traverse them brings only wickedness. Which is why my father is so strict with his judgements. Sorcery creeps through the shadows and only fire can burn it away."

"I understand, sire," the new knight said. "I'll not suggest it again."

The prince nodded. "See that you don't." he scratched at his stubbly face and stared out the window before asking, faux nonchalantly, "Truly, how is Merlyn? I remember…" he shook his head and looked down at his feet. "I remember standing by while she pled for me to trust her; remaining motionless as she was harmed right before me."

"She… has not yet woken from the ordeal last night," revealed Lancelot carefully. "Gaius says that it is a result of the tonics she drank rather than any life-threatening affliction."

"Tonic?" queried Arthur with a frown.

Lancelot swallowed, knowing the prince would not like it. "She was determined to join the hunt for you, sire. She would not take no for an answer, so Gaius gave her a potion to numb her aches and another to boost her energy. It was what allowed her to dive into the lake after you, My Lord, when all the knights had been knocked down by Sophia. Had she not acted so quickly, I know not if you would be here now."

"And why is she laid up now because of them?" he demanded. "What effects did they have?"

"Nothing long lasting, I assure you, sire. Only… the Court Physician will be able to explain better than I."

"Then let us go," the prince said and marched passed Lancelot and out the door. The brown-haired knight stared after him for a moment before shaking his head and following after.

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Merlyn, apparently, had mild swelling of the brain due to exacerbating her concussion and exhaustion from the energy booster she'd downed to chase after him. Arthur sat down in the stool beside the patient bed Gwen vacated for him and shook his head at his senseless maidservant.

"You are a complete idiot," he muttered and, spotting some fever sweat upon her brow, squeezed out a cloth in the bowl of water nearby to dab it over her face.

Behind them, Gaius and Gwen shared a surprised glance but said nothing. The handmaiden bid him a quiet farewell and left with Lancelot, who was watching the proceedings from the doorway. Gaius watched the brown-haired knight rest his hand upon Gwen's back as she passed and shook his head in bemusement. His blue eyes tracked back to the prince tending his maidservant.

Perhaps there was something in the water causing a different kind of enchantment.

He shook his head at his fanciful thoughts and quietly left the prince to care for his ward while he attended to his duties. After all, if he couldn't trust Arthur Pendragon to act with decorum around his niece then he could trust no one with her at all.

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Merlyn awoke shortly that evening before falling into a true healing sleep. She stirred the next morning with a headache but not much else, which Gaius attributed to her magic. Once he was satisfied with her recovery, the old man set about thoroughly berating her, pacing as he ranted about her recklessness, impulsiveness, impetus and a host of other similar words. She let him go silently, eyes glazing over as she waited for him to calm. Then something he mentioned struck an odd memory.

"Wait – what? Morgana came to you with suspicions due to a dream?"

Gaius' temper was halted and he drew a heavy breath that stretched into a worried sigh. "What do you know about seers?"

Merlyn's eyes narrowed in suspicion and she struggled to sit up in the bed. "Not much," she said slowly. "They're supposed to be able to see the future – like prophets."

"It's said to be an innate ability. Those who have it are born that way. Some aren't even aware that what they see is the future. It comes to them in their dreams." Gaius neared and lowered himself slowly onto the stool beside the infirmary bed.

"Morgana's dreams… surely you don't think…"

The old man sighed, rubbing his brow. "I don't think it. I fear it. I've been watching Morgana since she was very young. And, though I tried to persuade myself otherwise, I realised that some of the things she said she'd dreamt came to pass. I've kept it secret from Uther, of course. The gift of prophecy is too close to the work of magic."

"Do you…" Merlyn leant closer to Gaius, even though they were alone. "Do you think she could have magic also?"

Her mentor looked down at his hands. "It is unclear. I've read that many who are seers also possess magic but it never states if it is learned or instinctive like your own. I can only hope, for her sake, that she does not."

"Would it be so bad?" asked the black-haired girl; a little hurt. "I could help her with control and teach her what I've learned."

"No, Merlyn," ordered Gaius sternly. "To wish for such a thing is to wish for her to live in fear. If Uther ever found out, things would never be the same again."

"But I do it every day," she argued. "I have nightmares of Uther sentencing me to death, of the pyre, of Arthur standing by while I burn. But I manage because I have embraced who I am. I live in fear but I do not regret. I am magic and I will die magic, any way it comes to me. Living in fear of the unknown is worse than any knowledge."

"And you would decide for Morgana, would you? Strip her of any choice by forcing your ideals upon her? Your hubris astounds me, Merlyn."

"No!" she defended, stunned by his attack. "I didn't mean it like that – I would never – I'm not like that! Morgana should… she should know. She should know her potential. But I would never influence her like that."

Gaius dropped his head, craggy face pinched with an expression she couldn't decipher. "I know you wouldn't knowingly, Merlyn, but these times are dangerous, and risking both yourself and the ward of the King will only bring ruin."

"But what of her premonitions?" questioned Merlyn weakly. "She helped save Arthur's life. Is that not reason enough to tell her the truth? She and I could work together to protect him. We could save more lives with her early warnings."

"Meddling in future events without true context can lead to horrible consequences, Merlyn. Neither you nor she are wise enough to navigate such murky waters. Now banish these ideas from you head. Morgana must never find out the truth. For everyone's sake."

The next morning, Gwen was carrying more flowers to her Lady's bedchambers and told Merlyn with a sad smile that Morgana was still suffering night terrors despite Gaius' nightly tonics. Merlyn watched the curly-haired maid trot up the stairs to the Royal Wing and felt horribly guilty for giving into her mentor's demands.

But, with a grit of her teeth, she turned away and went to fetch Arthur's morning meal, and, finally, request a leave of absence to go search out the young griffin. Blast all these incidences ruining her plans. No one had better harm the prince while she was gone or there would be hell to pay.

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Arthur and Merlyn were awkward around each other that morning, having not spoken since that final incident with Sophia in that very room. Thankfully, it had been refurbished and all traces of the magical explosion removed. She hadn't thought about it until she arrived but she realised there was a very real chance he remembered her using sorcery. Admittedly, the magic had been invisible until it touched the offensive spell but the incident brought questions forth; questions she hoped the prince would not think to ask.

"Merlyn," said Arthur suddenly and she jumped in surprise from where she was straightening his bedcovers. She stared at him and he stared back, playing with his food instead of eating it. She gulped. Rarely did Arthur not enjoy his breakfast and always it was because of something grave.

Uh oh! She thought. He knew.

"I just wanted to say… that I'm sorry for the way I acted while influenced by Sophia. I know I wasn't myself but I should have known something was wrong. I should have fought it more; done something."

Merlyn blinked in surprise. "You're… sorry? You're not – you don't…" she shook her head and sighed in relief. Then she said happily, "You were fighting her enchantment. Several times you broke free enough to listen to me. The only reason she kept you subdued was because she was present and could re-ensnare you immediately. She was a creature of deception and disguise, Arthur, there was nothing more you could have done."

"Magic appears to always be getting the better of me," muttered Arthur, stabbing the sausage on his plate. "I have no defences and no awareness of it. How can I battle something that ghosts through shadows and distorts my own thoughts without notice?"

Merlyn ducked her head and finished fluffing a pillow. "I know not, sire," she merely said, though her mind was churning with similar questions. Could a mortal man learn to defend against magic? was there a way to learn?

Silence fell between them until Arthur finished his meal and sat back to ruminate. Merlyn bit her lip and neared him, sensing the opportunity.

"Arthur," she said, twisting her fingers together as she tried to form her words. "I was wondering – I mean, I would like to request –" she licked her lips, cursing her verbal trips. "I want to visit my mother," she blurted. "I-I-I mean, I would like to request leave so that I can visit my mother. In Ealdor."

The prince blinked at her, surprised, before a frown drew his brows together. "If this is because of the violence you have suffered these past days…"

"No," exclaimed Merlyn, rushing to assure him. "No, nothing like that. I'd been hoping to talk to you for a week now, only things kept getting in the way. It's just… it was always my mother and I together, and now I'm here, she is alone. I-I understand that it is a late request and it will remove me from your service for maybe two weeks but I just – I want –"

"Merlyn," said Arthur and she stopped talking. "Of course you can visit your mother. You saved my life at great risk to your own – and not for the first time – take as long as you need. You will still be employed when you return."

The black-haired girl smiled in relief and gratitude. "Thank you, Arthur. I shan't be more than two weeks. I'll be here for your birthday, I promise. Just don't go and get yourself killed before then."

The prince scoffed. "I think I should be warning you of the same," he jested. "It seems you're the one who keeps throwing herself into danger. I, at least, know how to wield a weapon."

"I… have strategies," she defended weakly.

"Running headlong into peril is not a strategy, Merlyn. It's stupidity."

She gaped in affront. "It is not I who runs into problems without a plan, Arthur. Speak to me when you have saved my life as much as I have saved yours." She stuck her nose in the air haughtily and the prince snorted, shaking his head fondly.

"I believe that day may come sooner than you think with your recent track record," he said with a wry smile.

"We shall see," she replied cockily then swept towards the door.

"Oh – there's to be a celebration tonight," he called, forcing her to stop her haughty retreat. "You're to be in attendance as a guest. I'm sure Morgana will enjoy dolling you again if you ask."

She looked over her shoulder, frown on her face. "A celebration? Whatever for?"

He raised an eyebrow. "We conquered an enemy of Camelot. Is that not cause for celebration?"

"Well – yes," she admitted. "But why am I needed. And as a guest? That's a little weird."

"Merlyn," drawled Arthur, leaning back in his chair in exasperation. "Stop asking questions and just be glad you don't have to be there to refill my cup. Honestly."

"Alright, fine," she said, glaring. "But this is out of the ordinary and you know it."

He rolled his eyes and waved her off so she stuck out her tongue and left. It seemed she was to start her quest tomorrow on a shortage of sleep. Not the best way to start an adventure, but also not the worst. At least she knew to stay away from the wine.

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The party was in full swing when Morgana and Merlyn swept in with Gwen, fashionably late like the highborn preferred. Merlyn edged off to the side with the maid while Morgana moved straight through the middle to greet the King, a smug smile revealing her pleasure at having the crowd's attention. The black-haired girl couldn't understand how she thrived under such scrutiny but couldn't begrudge her the power she wielded at that moment. Even Arthur's blue gaze was intent on tracking the flow of Morgana's deep blue skirt and smooth, exposed back.

Merlyn's own back felt the breeze keenly, bare as it was with her costume. Morgana had not allowed her to wear the other dress the highborn had gifted her – the more promiscuous one with the tight corset – and instead pulled one from her own wardrobe. Merlyn's body had been developing without her notice. She was still slender but her hips had widened and her small breasts had budded a bit more. Her body wasn't as womanly as Morgana's or Gwen's but it was further along than Merlyn had realised, busy as she was with more important things.

Thankfully, her borrowed dress was still conservative; high across her chest and clasping behind her neck with full sleeves encasing her arms. It washed over her breasts loosely before the stitching gathered beneath them to run smooth over her belly, keeping the fabric close to her skin so the low cut exposing her back to the world didn't also display her front if she leant forward. Goodness knew how humiliating that would be. It brushed her slippers but wasn't long enough to trip her, which Merlyn was eternally grateful for. The colour was a beautiful soft lavender that Gwen said contrasted her creamy skin wonderfully and brought out the pale pigments in her rich blue eyes. She was glad the maid was confident in Merlyn's appearance because dressed up like this always made her aware of every one of her flaws.

She touched her neck where a beautiful silver choker covered her scar, the delicate metal woven to looked like lace against her skin before coming into a spiral that cradled a polished pearl in the hollow of her throat. It was understated in its opulence but clearly the jewellery of a princess and not a maid – not that Morgana seemed to really care about social structure all that much.

Merlyn picked up a goblet of water just as the King stood up in his chair, creating a hush through the crowd. His voice rang clearly through the hall as he spoke, slowly walking around the royal table to the edge of the dais. "This week, we were faced with a familiar evil disguised in a new form. Sophia and Aulfric Tír-Mòr, come to seek the aid of Camelot, were not of the noble birth they claimed." There were a few gasps from the highborns who had not yet been informed and a murmur of astonishment. The King continued. "They bewitched my son with their sorcery, coerced him from his home in the dark of night and tried to sacrifice him for their nefarious deeds. But Camelot's strength won out and their evil lives no more. A toast," he raised his goblet. "To a successful purge of the evil in our midst."

"Hear, hear," someone called and the crowd followed suit, taking a sip. Gwen appeared by her side, dark features split by her white smile. Merlyn wondered what had her so happy.

"Now," continued the King. "The acts of the mighty should be celebrated but it should not overshadow the acts of the small. The measure of loyalty is not weighed by the status of the person, but by the importance of the deed and the willingness to sacrifice oneself for the wellbeing of another. Arthur's servant has shown time and again the strength of her devotion, even in the face of adversity. And I, as King, cannot belittle such fidelity. Merlyn of Ealdor, come."

Merlyn stared, frozen in shock, eyes wide and breath caught, as many faces turned to her. Surely she heard wrong. She was a servant – the King didn't even know her name.

But he did. And he'd called her forth. And she wasn't moving.

Gwen gave her a shove and the momentum started her walk on stiff legs towards the King. The crowds parted before her and sealed behind, giving her no hope of fading into shadow. She looked at the King but his regal features were too frightening to bear. Her gaze slid across to Arthur, who was watching her impassively, though a smug grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. She narrowed her eyes. He knew. He knew this was to happen and he left her to be caught unawares. That – that – clotpole! He was so going to pay for this.

She halted before the King, his body rising above her own as he stood on the dais and she remained on the communal floor. She didn't know what to do with her hands, the limbs feeling like big awkward weights on her sides, so she clasped them in front and tried to appear stately.

"Your Majesty," she said to the King, fumbling through a curtsey. "My Lord," she aimed at Arthur, trying to contain her resentment until later. His amusement told her she hadn't quite succeeded.

The King said, "You have shown bravery beyond measure this past week and in the months since you were assigned your position as Arthur's servant. Time and again you have risked life and limb to ensure my son's safety. I feel this must be rewarded."

"Oh –" she stuttered. "There's no –"

"From this day forth, you will be named a Friend of Camelot. From today to the day you die, you will always be welcome within our borders." He turned to Arthur who had produced a small red pillow holding silver medallion with the crest of Pendragon. He picked up the pendant and lifted the necklace over her head, forcing her to tuck her chin so he could bestow it upon her. It came to rest just above her breasts, two inches in diameter and weighed with intricacy. The crowd erupted into applause while Merlyn stared at the King, stunned as a mullet. Arthur moved down the steps to her side and turned her so she faced the clapping nobles. His hand rested warmly on her back and she was jolted from her shock by the warm sensation of skin on skin.

She sucked in a deep breath and muttered to Arthur, "Why didn't you tell me this was happening, you dunce?"

He smiled at the crowd and murmured back, "The look on your face was priceless. I've never seen you look so stumped."

She caught Lancelot's eye in the crowd, standing by Gwen, both with wide, proud smiles. Gaius stood on the other side, beside a pillar, wiping away a tear. She turned to Arthur and his hand slipped from her body. "I'm going to get you back for this," she said. "Just you wait." She curtseyed him then turned to the King to do the same.

"I look forward to it," Arthur replied cockily as she melted back into the throng. She shot him a glare. He had no idea of the thoughts brewing in her head. If he did, he would know to be cautious of the next few meals she served. Game on, buddy.

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"So, what does being a Friend of Camelot actually mean?" Merlyn asked Gaius later that night. The old man was heading for bed and Merlyn was eager to do the same, but questions were rolling at the forefront of her mind.

"A Friend of Camelot has the right to bring forth concerns to the court. And you cannot be banished, even by the King, unless you have broken the law. If someone harms you, it is taken as an assault on Camelot." He shot her a stern glare, eyebrow raised. "However, that does not give you leave to throw yourself into danger. You are not a noble and you are not supported on the same level."

"What does that mean?" she asked, tilting her head at him.

"If you are attacked by a powerful ally or – god forbid – kidnapped by another kingdom, you are not assured the payment of ransom or war."

Merlyn scoffed. "I know that!" she said. "Though why anyone would kidnap me is anyone's guess."

"You'd be surprised," Gaius muttered darkly and she didn't press him to elaborate, not really wanting to know the motivations of the shadow community.

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So there's that. Hope you liked.

TBC…