Hey there! So this is my first multichapter I've actually gotten far enough for me to feel good enough posting. Pretty much this is me testing the waters, getting a feel for this whole author idea that's been plaguing me since I was in nappies. I have this story planned out the entire way and am halfway through the second season. This first book starts similar to the series, since the only thing I've changed is Merlin's gender and the consequences thereof, but as I go on, it will deviate more and more until it is completely AU
As of this moment, I'm unsure how many books I'm writing, but it will probably be four since things that happen later will negate or increase certain Canon reactions and plotlines. But have no fear, this is NOT a recap of the series with a woman in place of Merlin making the same decisions as he. It is not a smut-story (though there will probably be elements of such later in the game), nor is it a Hate-on to any particular character. I like them all and so none of them will be OOC (I hope *Pulls at collar nervously*)
So, um, onwards - and, er, leave me a review? *Flutters eyelashes coaxingly*
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Episode One: Call of Camelot
The ground rolled beneath her back, lurching as if the earth itself was trying to toss her off. The stone walls of her mother's house fragmented, large chunks of masonry tumbling down around her body. Overhead, the thatched roof caved in, straw and heather falling on her like dirty rain. Dust and soil churned, clogging the air and gritting in her eyes.
She felt the rumble deep in the earth, the tremors throwing her body side to side like a ragdoll in a toddler's grip, but the expected bass roar of the tumultuous terrain went unheard. Instead, an unnatural, dual-noted shriek rent the air like a horror story of Bean Sidhes come to life.
The relentless pitch pierced eardrums and brought the entire village of Ealdor to its knees, agony overriding the desperation to flee the chaos.
Helpless on the ground, Merlyn tasted the blood of another person in her mouth and the warm slide of her own on the skin of her throat. Her head pounded mercilessly with pressure as magic and sound pressed on her body like a living thing. She looked up at the stars where her roof used to be and all around her, her home crumbled into dust.
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"I don't want to go."
"You must, my love. Ealdor is safe for you no longer. Don't despair. Gaius will guide you in ways I am unable. He will not lead you astray."
"I don't need his help. I've stopped all that. I don't want to be a monster anymore. I don't want to leave you."
"You are not a monster, Merlyn. Your magic is not evil, no matter what anyone says. It is a part of you as much as your heart or your mind or your fiery spirit. You cannot turn from it without destroying yourself." Hunith kissed Merlyn's forehead and wiped away a tear that darted down the girl's cheek. "Your magic is a reflection of who you are and you, my love, have a good and pure soul. Now you must go. The village will awaken soon. William will escort you to the forest."
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The kiss was passionate and hungry. He nibbled her lip and touched her tongue with his own, stealing her breath with the strange sensation. He pressed closer so his front was firm against her own. It caused butterflies to flutter low in her belly and heat to zap through her limbs. When he eventually pulled away, she was dizzy.
"There is no one better for me than you, Merlyn. I will wait centuries if I have to. Go out and heed your mother's wishes. I will be here when you return."
Merlyn left with tears clogging her throat, Will's devoted gaze hot on her back.
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Camelot was magnificent. White and solid and impregnable, it rose above the surrounding forest like a sentinel to which the whole kingdom bowed. It was beautiful and terrifying.
She passed under the heavy city gates, walked through the subdued lower markets, skulked between the forbidding double-gated guardhouse separating the lower and upper town and made it to the royal courtyard that spread before the citadel's front entrance. She stopped at the back of the crowd gathered and watched as a young, blonde woman was led to a pyre. Merlyn listened as the King announced her crime of sorcery and her sentence of death and cried as the flames gobbled up the kindling then greedily moved onto the woman's helpless body.
The black-haired girl gagged when the woman's screams finally gurgled into nothing and the stench of sizzling flesh invaded her nose, so strong she could taste it.
She staggered away as fast as her legs could carry her, bile in her throat, and morbidly questioned how much it would hurt when it was her turn to feel the flames.
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She truly didn't know how she always ended up in these types of situations. Broken banisters and magical displays and secrets revealed. The sound of the pyre crackled in her ears and nearly drowned out Gaius' words.
Thank you? She blinked at him and balked on the steps to her new room. Magic was not something to be appreciated. Surely he knew that.
"I – my mother told you what happened in Ealdor?" she half stated, a non-sequitur.
He raised an eyebrow at her and said carefully, "she explained that your home was invaded by two travellers in the night and that you were saved from a terrible fate by a mysterious earthquake."
Merlyn lifted her chin. "Did she also mention that it destroyed half the village and caused my mother's friends to turn their backs on her. If Will hadn't accepted me, my mother and I would be homeless. So… so, even if I did something good just now, it's not enough. Magic is… magic is merciless and-and untrustworthy and I don't intend to use it again, no matter what my mother may have written to you." She nodded her head to the letter scroll in his hands then spun on her heel and escaped to her room, shutting the door quickly behind her.
She pressed her forehead against the wood before taking a deep breath and shoving her whirling emotions to the back of her mind. She would just have to try harder in the future to not fall back on her instincts in a crisis.
She turned then stopped short in surprise. In front of her was a bed. An actual mattress-wielding bed. Her mouth opened in awe, previous thoughts flying from her mind.
With an excited squeal, she dropped her bag and rushed over to it, twisting around and flopping onto her back like she'd always dreamed of doing.
"Oomph!"
The solid impact sent all the air rushing out of her lungs and left her groaning breathlessly in pain. It was a lot harder than she'd expected and slightly lumpy.
But still! She wheezily pushed herself up on an elbow and smoothed a hand over the mattress, the grin irrepressible even as she wrapped an arm around her aching chest. I have a bed!
She stood up and grabbed her bag, dumping it beside the rickety nightstand to be sorted later. She only had a couple of items of clothing, her favourite lily-scented soap and the remains of the salve for the skin on her throat, which she dug out to give to Gaius. He could do with it as he pleased; it was a simple mixture.
She loitered in her room for a good hour before her grumbling stomach and the image of her mother's scolding face forced her to join her new guardian. He was standing at the main table, scraping together a paste. She cautiously stepped closer to observe.
"I was about to call you," Gaius said without looking up and Merlyn jumped, not realising he knew she was there. "You have an injury I'd like to examine."
Merlyn's hand lifted self-consciously to her neckerchief-covered throat and she mumbled, "I'm perfectly fine."
"Your mother's letter was rather insistent." He eyed her shrewdly before directing her to the table to sit. "Something requiring eight sutures is no small matter."
"It's nothing," she argued weakly as she reluctantly seated herself. "Almost completely healed."
"I'll be the judge of that," he said, raising an eyebrow at her until she sighed and untied the faded red fabric from her neck, pulling it into her lap and twisting it between her fingers. Gaius stepped closer and unwound the sloppy bandages before patting a damp cloth over the dressing to unstick it from her skin. His face was a mask as he examined the wound, prodding carefully with his fingers.
Merlyn swallowed. "It looks awful doesn't it?"
Gaius looked up and caught her badly-veiled discomfit. His craggy face gentled. "The wound is deep and slow to repair. It will look grave for a little while yet but it will heal. There's no sign of infection or swelling and the sutures are clean and undisturbed."
"Is it going to scar badly?" she asked. Having such an obvious mark on display for the world mortified her. It didn't take much reasoning to recognise what caused such a clean cut through such a delicate place on her skin nor the intent behind the action.
"With diligent treatment and no trauma to the sutures, the scarring should reduce to barely noticeable. But it will take time – though you are healing at a remarkable rate," he added musingly. "Almost magically."
Merlyn's eyes shot to him but he was being deliberately obtuse. She scowled. "Magic is banned in Camelot. I won't break the law and I refuse to succumb to the lies it offers."
Gaius met her angry gaze and dipped his head apologetically but she saw his lips were pressed together as if holding back words.
The tense moment was interrupted by the door slamming open and a regal but ruffled woman strode in. Merlyn jumped in surprise and covered her throat.
"Gaius," the woman called. "Gaius, I am in need – oh!" she stopped short when she caught sight of Merlyn. "Forgive me. I didn't expect you to be busy."
"That's alright," said the physician, turning to uncork a paste to smear on the stitches. "I'm just finishing up, if you could give me a moment."
"Of course," agreed the woman, coming closer. "It's nothing that cannot wait."
Her sea-green eyes were alight with curiosity as they roved over Merlyn, causing her to flush. She was distracted by Gaius touching her hand. "Let me see."
She glanced in the lady's direction but reluctantly obeyed, crinkling her nose as the stench of the paste assaulted it when Gaius held the salve close. She grimaced and turned her head away as much as possible while he scooped some out and smeared it on her skin. She forced herself not to flinch at the grainy texture against her raw flesh.
Silently, he dressed then rewrapped her throat, snug but not restrictive so she could still breathe and swallow, then he retreated to wash his hands in a bowl. The regal woman took the opportunity to introduce herself, surprising Merlyn with the courtesy.
"I am Morgana," she said pleasantly.
"Mer-Merlyn," she stammered then added hastily, "My Lady."
Gaius stepped in with further introductions, to the younger girl's relief. "The Lady Morgana is ward to King Uther, Merlyn. I trust you'll show her the appropriate respect." He raised an eyebrow at her as if he expected her to start swearing and carrying on. She felt a little insulted.
"Gaius," said Lady Morgana reproachfully, rolling her eyes. "I'm hardly some small-minded noble who expects my subjects to kiss my boots – I leave that to Arthur."
"Indeed," said the old man noncommittally as he dried his hands. He changed topics; "now, what is it you need, my dear?"
"Well…" Lady Morgana trailed off, green eyes dancing reservedly towards Merlyn, who was busy tying her neckerchief around her throat. Gaius took the hint – which Merlyn thought particularly unfair since he ignored her own unease not five minutes ago.
"Away with you, my girl. Fetch some water from the main courtyard; I'll heat you up a bath to wash away the grime of your journey. Now go. Shoo!" he pointed to a couple of pails near the door and she did as told with a theatrical sigh, even if she was secretly eager to soak in a bath – particularly one with hot water.
Usually, residents of Ealdor simply scrubbed in the frigid water of the nearby stream, the effort of lugging enough water to fill a trough too much after a long day toiling in the fields. Some folk went so far as to forego bathing altogether, though it was never encouraged by their neighbours.
It took Merlyn a little while to find the courtyard faucet, hidden by the stairs and she studiously focused on pumping the lever, keeping her gaze away from the large soot stain where the pyre had once been. A pair of servants were working on removing the last of the evidence, their scrub brushes leaving unmarred, white stone behind while the water turned into a filthy, black sludge. If only it were so easy to rid oneself of such darkness, she thought then snorted at her own dramatics.
She closed the faucet when her second pail was full and heaved a fortifying breath before lifting the heavy buckets, hauling them back to Gaius' chambers. By the time she returned, Lady Morgana was long gone and Merlyn was aching, sweating and swearing off having baths ever again.
"How do you do this every day, Gaius?" she panted, arms feeling like dead weights as she shook them out.
The old man had the gall to smirk at her. "I don't," he said. "I go to the castle bathing room. They provide excellent, prompt service."
Merlyn gaped at him in outrage. "Why didn't you tell me that before?" she exclaimed. "I would have gone there instead!"
"As you are not a member of the royal household, I'm afraid your access would be prohibited. On the morrow, I will show you the upper town bathhouse. They provide heated water at scheduled times throughout the day. I'm sure it will be to your satisfaction."
Merlyn snorted. "As long as I don't have to drag those things up the stairs ever again, I'll bathe anywhere." Then she frowned and asked, "I thought I was to be your apprentice. Wouldn't that make me a member of the royal household?"
"Unfortunately," sighed Gaius, giving the smaller pot over the fire a stir. Vegetable stew wafted on the air and Merlyn's belly growled in anticipation. "Uther believes the time is not yet right to fund an apprentice, though what time he would deem appropriate is beyond me." Gaius shook his head and met Merlyn's gaze. "You will continue to help me until I can find paid work for you. You may take over my rounds for the patrons of the castle while I tend to the lower town, unless there is an emergency. It will do you well to familiarise yourself with the royal house. "He glanced sidelong over her attire. "Though, we may need to exchange your outfit for something more suitable."
Merlyn looked down at her clothes. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" she asked. "It's not unheard of for women to wear men's garments when for working purposes."
"I think you'll find Camelot is a little formal in their conduct. Many nobles will find it distasteful."
Merlyn scoffed. "I don't care what the nobles think. They don't have to work a day in their life. They have no clue how cumbersome a dress can be."
"If you wish to survive here, my dear," said Gaius as he scooped up some stew into bowls. "You will need to learn to accept the opinions of those with more power than yourself. Camelot is a reserved community and it doesn't take lightly to nonconformities."
He handed Merlyn her bowl but touched her arm when she went to turn away. She looked back at him questioningly. "Your mother wished for you to find peace here," he said solemnly. "The best way to do that would be to keep your head down, your chin up and heed your neighbour's words." He tapped her under the chin lightly then moved past with his own dinner. Together, they sat down to eat.
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In the early hours of the morning, she was disturbed from her sleep by a voice in her head.
Merlyn… Merlyn…
She refused to listen, curling into a tight ball on her new bed. She was not hearing bodiless voices. She was not going crazy.
Merlyn…
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She was sitting across from Gaius, eating breakfast when he began the dreaded but inevitable conversation.
"What did your mother tell you about your gifts?" he began, tone carefully light.
Merlyn glanced up at him from her inspection of the runny porridge. "She said I was special," she replied flatly.
"If what she described is true then you are special, the likes of which I've never seen before."
Merlyn gazed at him from under her lashes. Even if she had vowed not to use it anymore, it didn't mean she wasn't curious. "What do you mean?" she finally asked.
"Magic requires incantations. Spells. It takes years to study. Your mother wrote that you have been able to move things with your mind since before you could talk." The question was implied.
The black-haired girl sloshed her spoon through the gruel and hunched her shoulders. "I used to pretend my dolly was alive. I'd act out scenes from stories mama would tell me. But I never had to touch the toy to make it move."
Gaius' craggy face was fascinated. "And you never incanted a spell, not even in your mind?"
"I don't know any spells," Merlyn admitted.
"Nothing from the Old Religion?"
"I have no idea what the old religion is," she said honestly.
Gaius hummed noncommittally, peering at her like she was a beguiling specimen. It made her a little uneasy so she posed a question of her own, watching him shrewdly.
"Did you ever study magic?"
He hesitated then said, "Uther banned such work twenty years ago."
"Why?"
"People used magic for the wrong end at that time. It threw the natural order into chaos. Uther made it his mission to destroy everything from back then." He met her questioning stare and added, "Even the dragons."
"What?" exclaimed Merlyn. "All of them?"
"There was one dragon he chose not to kill," Gaius said carefully, picking his words. "Kept it as an example. He imprisoned it in a cave deep beneath the castle; where no one can free it."
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Merlyn finished her noonday rounds with the castle patients and could boast to getting lost only twice. With a few hours of free time, she decided to head to the main training grounds to see what all the fuss with Camelot knights was about – and yes… to ogle at some of the fine male specimens there too.
She halted in the shade of one of the stone tunnels connecting it to the courtyard and watched as the two knights closest to her moved with lithe, deadly grace as they sparred. She was admiring the broad expanse of the curly-haired one's shoulders when a disturbance at the right archway, perpendicular to her position, drew her attention.
There were a few surprised shouts as a broad palomino steed leapt onto the fields from the entrance, scattering men as it galloped and kicked like a wild thing. He was tacked up but riderless and, while the knights in attendance were diligent in avoiding its sharp hooves, they didn't appear particularly concerned. In fact, several of the men were laughing.
The horse completed a lap of the field but skidded into a turn away from the low balustrade at the far end, possibly sensing the long drop to the lower town on the other side. He dodged a lunge from a knight and kicked out at him, tossing his head as he sped away. He adjusted his direction for the only close exit and Merlyn's stomach dropped when she realised he was heading straight for her.
She darted to the side of the tunnel but glanced behind her and saw two servant boys, probably there for the same reason as her. Their eyes were wide and faces pale and they weren't moving.
"Run!" she shouted. "Run!" but they were paralysed with fear.
So, in a moment of utter stupidity and recklessness, Merlyn jumped in front of the arch and threw her arms wide.
"HeeYAH!" she shouted, startling him into shying. His hindquarters swung around but she leapt for the reins flapping on his neck before he could lash out.
He shied again with her movement but her firm grip of the leather had her soaring with him. He lurched a bit more then reared up but she fell against his shoulder, missing his flailing hooves through dumb luck. He squealed and darted backwards, tossing his head, but that brought his rump closer to the two petrified boys still in the archway: exactly what she didn't want.
She flung her free hand back to smack his flank and his back end skipped away, pushing him towards the wall instead. "Easy, easy boy… steady on now… easy…" she murmured desperately, not strong enough to stop him by force.
She had no experience at all with horses. Only seeing them once or twice at a distance with a traveller. But she had handled a couple of steers used for ploughing the paddocks and those tough beasts couldn't be defeated with brute force alone. She went for the most malleable part of him instead.
Grabbing the pommel of the saddle with one hand, she reefed on the rein with her other to wrap around the horn, effectively forcing his head to his shoulder. He spun a few tight circles and tried to buck but the position kept him off balance and he was forced to stop or fall. He decided to halt with a frustrated snort.
She patted his neck reassuringly and murmured nonsense words, waiting a little bit before letting him have his head back. He was breathing heavily and his nostrils were still flared but the wild look in his chocolate eye was gone. She stroked the half-sun mark on his forehead and said, panting herself from adrenalin, "now that wasn't so hard, huh?"
The horse heaved a large sigh and dropped his head to her chest, accepting her ministrations grudgingly. She grinned at his attitude.
It was one of the only things she was proud of that wasn't connected with magic. Her ability to calm panicky or mulish animals. Her mother had admitted that it was a gift she'd inherited from her father – and was one of the only things she'd ever said about the man.
Laughter erupted from the far archway and the crowd parted enough for Merlyn to see a disgruntled, brown-haired knight being joshed by his fellows as he marched closer, a nervous stableboy in tow. He was clearly the knight who owned the horse.
Merlyn shifted uneasily as he drew near and the horse picked up on it, head lifting and ears pricking. She kept a hand on his neck and held the reins out for the man to take. He snatched them from her without thanks then turned to the stableboy, ignoring the flat ears and raised head of his steed.
"You see that?" he snapped. "You hand over the reins when I'm ready for him. You don't drop them or scream like a little girl when he paws. Now hold him while I mount."
However, when he tossed the reins to the poor boy, the horse jerked back, dragging the boy along. The knight stepped closer, snapping, "Control him!" but the large animal struck out with a hind leg to keep him away.
Merlyn leapt forward to help just as the stableboy fell over and grabbed the reins before the horse could bolt again. The knight tried to approach but the stallion danced around Merlyn so he couldn't, leaving her to be tugged along like a string toy.
The man barked in irritation, "Keep him still!" but Merlyn was fed up with his attitude.
"Just wait a bloody minute and let him calm down some. Can you not see you're scaring him?"
The brown-haired man along with several watching – and laughing – knights stopped in surprise at her cheek. The horse owner sputtered in indignation. "Excuse me, boy? I'll have you flogged for your insolence."
"If you took a minute to watch the horse instead of charging in, you'd see he doesn't take kindly to your temper," she said, forcing herself to calm.
"And what do you know of horses?" he demanded, looking over her scrawny form.
"Well," Merlyn retorted then fumbled. "Um… n-nothing really."
"And yet you presume to know more than a knight of Camelot?" his left hand rested pointedly on the hilt of his sheathed sword.
"I don't presume anything!" she denied hotly. "Anyone with eyes could see he doesn't like you! It doesn't take a horse master to know that!"
"This beast likes no one. He's injured eight stablehands, permanently disabled two grooms and attacked the stablemaster from within his stall." He pointed at her warningly. "You, little boy, shouldn't comment on things above your intellect."
Merlyn scowled. His condescension raised her hackles. "A horse isn't so different to a steer and I've handled those."
"A cow?" he looked incredulous and several of his fellow knights guffawed. "You're likening a knight's destrier to a peasant's cow?"
"No!" she cried hastily, seeing his affront and cursing herself for getting involved at all. "I-I just think the idea of handling them is similar! If you find his sweet spot and exploit it then he won't fight you anymore. You have to make it a pleasant experience."
"Is that what you think?" he asked scornfully. "That a young, green horse can be tamed by being soft and weak?"
"Not weak," she retorted, gritting her teeth. "Just kind."
He smirked at a few of the knights to his right. They grinned back in anticipation. Merlyn was wary.
"Then why don't you show me how it's done, O' wise one?" he said and approached to pick her up.
"No – what? Wait – unhand me!" she tried to wriggle free but he lifted her like she weighed less than a bag of flour. "I-I don't even know how to ride!"
"Then pretend he's a cow and work it out," he mocked and threw her on.
Merlyn was thankful she had the presence of mind to swing her leg over before he let her go because as soon as the horse felt weight on his back, he reared.
"Hold on, now," laughed the knight, dodging out from under the hooves.
With a girly scream, Merlyn wrapped her arms around the steed's neck and clamped her legs to his sides – which was apparently the wrong thing to do as he leapt forward and took off, galloping. The jeers of the knights were whisked away in the wind and her vision filled with long, whipping, flaxen mane. She had no idea where the reins were. She'd let go of them when she tried to get free of the knight. And the stirrups too. She knew they were where the feet went but she could feel the leathers flapping against the horse, much too long for her to reach.
Pleasestoppleasestoppleasestoppleasestop.
The mantra tumbled through her head as she closed her eyes, waiting to be tossed to her death. She could feel the power of the horse beneath her and the propulsion in his strong strides. Beyond the wind howling in her ears, the pounding of her heart was all she could hear, thumping in her ribcage faster than a frightened hare.
As tense and panicked as she was, it took several long minutes for her to realise that, instead of feeling herself slip sideways to her doom beneath his hooves, she felt the horse's mad dash turn into something slower, more wild beating turning into a controlled gait, a rocking canter that was steady enough for her to risk lifting her head to see what had changed.
Seemingly nothing. They were even still on the training fields, loping around the edge so casually it was as if it had been planned. Merlyn blinked the frightened tears from her eyes and caught sight of the reins dangling on the crest of his neck. She grabbed the horn of the saddle, which had been digging into her gut, then reached with her right hand, breathing a victory as her hand closed around leather. Sitting up a little, she gathered them in one hand, the other still gripping the pommel like a lifeline, and – praying for it to work – pulled on them to slow him down some more.
He responded easily with little pressure, though she felt in his coiled muscles that it was only because he had decided to listen to her – for whatever reason. He broke into a trot and Merlyn gritted her teeth as she bounced like a sack of potatoes. She tried to imitate what she'd seen the few people who passed through her village with horses do. Lean back a little; grip with her thighs; roll her hips. She felt ridiculous but the animal beneath her responded and smoothed his stride, tucking his head and picking up his legs like a show off.
Clumsily, she steered him back to where they started but when she tried to bring him to a halt, he instead danced around the group, snorting at them challengingly until she managed to lay a soothing hand on his wither. He stopped, right in front of his owner and she had to bite her lip to stop a proud grin at her success.
"What would you like me to do now?" she asked, looking at the deep saddle to figure out how to dismount.
One of the knights watching near the fringes stepped forward and took the reins for her. She recognised him as the curly-headed man she'd been admiring before. The horse nipped at him but didn't jerk away and the knight didn't seem insulted by his attitude, touching the horse's nose calmly when he shook his head.
"Do you work in the stables?" he asked, looking up at her curiously.
"No, sir," she said. "I arrived in the city yesterday to find work. I've never been near a horse in my life before now."
"Hmm," he said and his eyes flicked to the knight who owned the horse. "You should let this lad have a go at him; he has some natural talent. Perhaps the butcher can yet be avoided."
"You suggest I pay some peasant runt to train my horse?" he asked incredulously.
"He can be employed by the stables and learn the trade. If he retains his natural talent, then you would do well to employ him provisionally. You've not had any luck with others and the stableboys all fear to go near him. What's the worst that can happen, Ulric?"
Unable to dispute the other knight's logic and reluctantly deferring to the seemingly higher rank, Ulric turned his glare to Merlyn – not that she noticed. She was a little preoccupied feeling affronted that she wasn't being consulted on matters of her own life. Perhaps she should tell them that she was actually a girl. She certainly wouldn't be allowed into the stables after that.
But she needed a job and also, ousting herself as a girl while surrounded by brawny men probably wasn't a good idea.
"Do you hear that, runt? You have a week in the stable's service before I expect you to be present for duty. If he doesn't improve, he'll be to the butcher's and you'll be in the stocks for wasting my money. Take him to the stables and have one of the boys aid you in untacking then come to my chambers to retrieve a letter for the marshal. He will need to know you are under his employment and mine."
With that, he turned and strode away, one of the knights joining him with a smirk and nudge of the arm. With the excitement over, the rest dispersed to their previous activities, leaving her with the horse and friendly knight.
She smiled at him sheepishly and said, "I'm Merlyn, by the way."
"Sir Leon," he replied.
"Thank you, Sir Leon… er; I was just wondering…" she scrunched her nose. "How do I get down?"
His cute face crinkled into a smile as he stepped closer to help.
And that was how she got a job. Gaius was going to be pleased.
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That night, she fell, exhausted, into bed, limbs sore from shovelling and sweeping and brushing and tacking and untacking and cleaning. She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Merlyn…
The black-haired girl groaned, half-awake as she pulled the pillow from underneath to over her head.
Merlyn…
"Go 'way," she mumbled. The voice sounded annoyingly amused.
Merlyn…
She curled her hands around her large ears and tucked into a ball, begging for sleep. Who are you? She whined in her mind.
To her utter surprise, the voice replied.
I am below.
Merlyn shot up in bed, gasping.
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Merlyn glared defiantly at the great golden dragon chained within the bowels of Camelot.
"I don't want my gift. Give it to somebody else."
"It was given to you for a reason. Prince Arthur is the Once and Future King who will unite the land of Albion."
"So?"
"But he faces many threats from friend and foe alike."
"I don't see what this has to do with me."
"Everything," the dragon declared. "Without you, Arthur will never succeed. Without you, there will be no Albion."
"No," she denied. "No, you've got this wrong."
"There is no right or wrong. Only what is and what isn't."
"You're wrong," she shouted and pointed a finger at the large reptile. "Prince Arthur is the prince. I'm a peasant. The only time I'll see him is during public appearances and perhaps formal events Gaius invites me to. I won't nearly be close enough to guide him to some great destiny. And I will not be using my 'gift'," she added spitefully. "I haven't used it for over a week. With practice, I'll be able to stop it permanently. I can do things the old-fashioned way."
The dragon's top lip curled back in a facsimile of a smile. "You exude magic from your very essence, Merlyn. You cannot stop being who you are."
"I am not magic. I don't need it and it doesn't control my life." She jutted her chin proudly. "I got a job today without using magic. I tamed a wild horse in minutes and now I'm employed in the royal stables. All in one day of being here."
"Foolish girl," he ridiculed. "Your talent with beasts stems from your magic. Creatures are drawn to it. The sooner you stop fearing that part of yourself, the sooner your future can unfold. The Pendragon destiny was foretold long before you or I walked this earth. There is no escaping it."
He stretched his wings before she could reply and launched from the rock. She shouted at his retreating form, "I'm not part of some destiny! I won't let magic rule me! You're wrong!"
He disappeared overhead and she was left feeling unfavourably judged and condemned. "You're wrong," she murmured again to reassure herself.
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She met Guinevere – or Gwen as she preferred – the next day. The cocoa-skinned maid sought her out as she did her morning rounds in the castle to praise her for her bravery, having watched from a window. She told Merlyn that Knight Ulric was a friend of Prince Arthur's and that their group seemed to derive great pleasure in humiliating servants. She had been pleased to see a lowly commoner one-up them, even if she wasn't a rough, tough, save-the-world kind of bloke.
Merlyn grinned at her then, deep azure eyes sparkling in amusement. Gwen looked confused. "What?" she asked.
"I'll tell you a secret?" she asked, glancing around furtively. Gwen leaned in interestedly and Merlyn divulged, "I'm actually a girl."
"What!" laughed Gwen, obviously thinking Merlyn was joking. Then she saw the honesty in her face and the smile slid off like stone. She looked her over and her eyes went wide. "Oh my goodness, you are! What are you doing? You could get into serious trouble if you're discovered."
Merlyn smiled and shook her head. "I'm not doing it on purpose," she reassured. "It's simply easier to move around in trousers. If you haven't noticed already, I'm a bit of a klutz. In a skirt, I'd be a hazard to everyone around me."
"What about your hair?" Gwen asked, reaching out to touch a strand by her ear. "Surely you don't enjoy it this short?"
Merlyn touched the hacked off length nostalgically. "This was only for the journey here, to make sure I wasn't accosted. It'll grow back." She laughed. "It's not like I'm looking to impress anyone."
"You never know," said Gwen. "The fates may surprise you."
"Uh-uh," Merlyn shook her head firmly. "I don't believe in fate or destiny or futures written before I was born. I want nothing to do with any of that."
"oh-kay," said the other woman slowly, looking at Merlyn like she was the strangest being she'd ever met. "Anyway, I have to get these dresses to the laundry room. I'll see you around, I think," she smiled kindly and moved around her, basket of clothes in her arm.
"Right, yes, um, me too… bye!" she waved as Gwen disappeared around a corner then smacked herself in the forehead for her inelegance. She was never very good at having friends. Everyone back home had been distant so she'd been fairly lonely until Will had stood up for her against some bullies. Here in Camelot, she hoped to change that. And Gwen seemed to be a nice person to befriend.
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Two weeks passed.
During the second, she was thrown in the deep end with learning how to ride. Such direction as heels down, elbows in, back straight, bottom tucked, thumbs skyward, hands steady, calves resting, "and no pressure unless you're giving a command." And that was just standing still. She had to learn leg aids for Sunstrider to obey without reins. The groom tutoring her assured that the palomino already knew the basics from the stud but was too stubborn to obey his riders without reinforcement.
But he obeyed her, even when she was pretty sure she'd botched the command. Merlyn – with the dragon's words running tauntingly through her mind – had tried to avoid touching him with bare skin unless necessary, but it didn't seem to matter. Their first encounter had left an impression on him, for he was more like a big, possessive puppy dog than a fearsome, temperamental stallion.
It was both good and bad. Good since it meant he listened and responded to her without a fight but bad because he still refused to have other stableboys tend to him and the one time Knight Ulric appeared for an update, he'd lunged forward in his stall, almost stealing a chunk from the man's arm. Needless to say, Sir Ulric hadn't been pleased.
Other than stable work – where most of the staff realised that she was a girl rather quickly – she continued to help Gaius with his rounds in the castle, remedying the patients at the higher end while Gaius took the ones with less stairs, grumbling about old knees.
She caught up with Gwen a few times as well, quite surprised at how easy it was to talk to her. She'd never had a girl friend before and found it was quite different to being friends with boys. There were no mud fights for one.
And the Lady Morgana seemed to have taken her under her wing in a strange motherly/sisterly acquaintance thing whenever they crossed paths – which, considering Merlyn delivered her tonics when she needed them, was often. At first, the younger girl had been terribly discomfited in her presence – not only because she was of noble blood but also because she had seen the ugly mark beneath her neckerchief. But then she'd learned that the beautiful highborn wasn't displaying pity with her care, she really was just that compassionate, treating the other servants of the castle kindly too.
Merlyn hadn't visited the dragon beneath the castle since that night and quashed the urge whenever it arose. She was still firm in her vow of no magic, refusing to relax even in her dreams. The itchiness under her skin worsened when her subconscious ruled and she'd taken to wearing socks on her hands so she didn't scratch herself raw as she slept. Gaius continued to watch her vigilantly but didn't mention magic again, leaving her decision be.
She fell into a comfortable routine; she had some evolving friendships, hadn't slipped up with magic and, all in all, was feeling quite content with her lot in life.
Then Sir Ulric decided it was time to test Merlyn's progress, having observed a smooth training session between her and the gruff old groom who'd somewhat adopted her as his pet project. He hopped on.
A lot of things happened but suffice to say, it ended badly.
Sir Ulric's arm was broken. His right arm. His sword arm.
After being tended to by Gaius and told he was out of commission for minimum six weeks, he demanded the destrier be taken to the butcher's immediately, face red with fury. So Merlyn did something she'd never done before. She begged.
"Please," she implored. "He's a good steed. He just needs a-a bit more training. I'm still learning too. Perhaps, perhaps in a month or so I will know how to make him accept others on his back."
"I will not pay another month's wage," Knight Ulric said, sliding awkwardly off the patient bed with only one arm, bare from the waist up.
"I will do it for free," she bargained. "I'll work with him as I have done but you will not pay me for it."
"He needs care; feed, shoeing, agistment…" he looked at her with an eyebrow raised.
"I haven't the money," she said, as she knew he knew. "But please, he doesn't need to die."
Knight Ulric shook his head once. "If he's unable to be handled by anyone other than a single servant then he is useless to me. I'll not pay for the keep of an untrainable beast. Now leave me." He picked up his jumper, unsure of how to put it on so Merlyn took it from his hand and placed it back on the table, picking up his loose undershirt instead.
"You will be unable to wear jumpers for now," she explained, taking his hand and sliding it through the sleeve then lifting his arm so she could pop it over his head. He looked disgruntled at needing the help but Merlyn was clinical, her mind working furiously for more ideas to persuade him. She ignored the glances Gaius was shooting her from the far bench he was working at.
"I will go to the castle seamstress this evening and ask for some jumpers with toggled fronts. They tie together so you don't have to lift one over your head to put it on." she smoothed the shirt over his braced arm then grabbed his cloak and put it around his shoulders, clipping it at his neck.
She stood back and met his gaze beseechingly. "Please," she said. "I'll work off his upkeep. You'll need help with daily chores until you are healthy again. I'll fill that role for free."
Sir Ulric looked at her with narrowed eyes. She held her breath and waited to see if she passed his judgement. "You are employed by the stables. You haven't the time to work for me also."
"I do," she assured. "I'll make time. I'll… clean your chambers and – and retrieve your evening meals and if you need assistance with anything, just send for me and I'll come. Just please, please allow Sunstrider to remain. You won't have to see or care for him at all; it'll all be me but I don't have the gold to pay in hand."
He eyed her for a moment then said, "Morning and evening meals, armour duties and if I require you, you will come. You are paid nothing. Are you agreeable?"
"Yes," breathed Merlyn, unable to help the giddy grin that spread over her face. "Yes, certainly."
When she smiled, Sir Ulric frowned, eyes roving over her face as if she suddenly looked unfamiliar. He blinked and shook it off a moment later to say, "Breakfast by the seventh bell. I like eggs, pork sausages and strong black tea. Don't be late."
When he turned to open the door, she beat him there and smiled him out. When she closed the door, she couldn't help but do a little jig in excitement, twirling in glee. Sunstrider was to live and be hers (very nearly) and she didn't have to worry any longer about not finding that big, golden face in the mornings. She squealed in happiness and bounced over to Gaius, not caring about the disapproval in his gaze.
"He gets to live! He gets to live! He gets to live! Oh!" she stopped suddenly. "I have to tell Gwen. Gwen will want to know."
She spun away but Gaius' voice halted her in the doorway. "Be careful, Merlyn," he warned. "This may not end well."
Merlyn looked back at him, frowning. "What do you mean? This is better than the alternative."
"For now perhaps," said Gaius. "All I ask is that you remain wary. It would not do to build your hopes only to have them crushed if circumstances changed. Knight Ulric holds all the power in this arrangement and eventually, he will need another mount. The destrier is only taking up space."
"I'll work it out," she said, refusing to be dragged down from her high. "I have some time now whereas before I had none."
Gaius conceded her point and Merlyn left with a skip in her step. She didn't have much time to talk to Gwen before she was due in the stables but tidying their stalls for the night could wait a few minutes. Picking up poop… probably the worst task of her work but not so bad on the whole. She had passed by the pigpens once or twice, after all.
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Another week dwindled into nothing and Merlyn was juggling her new tasks fairly well. The relatively rigid schedule of Knight Ulric and the variable hours of the stables made it easy to negotiate a timetable. She'd even taken on the task of picking herbs for Gaius since she took Sunstrider out of the city most mornings after her predawn duties anyway.
It was on one such venture that the calm, foggy atmosphere in the lower town was disturbed by a brigade of soldiers abruptly marching out of an alley, scaring Sunstrider into shying. They were dragging a dazed male peasant along while one of the rear guards held back a distraught old woman.
"My son!" she cried, sobbing and reaching for the petrified man. "My son!"
Disliking the noise and disruption around him, the palomino stallion reared, tossing his head and drawing the attention of the lead soldier. He left the group and stepped closer, hand on the hilt of his sword as he demanded, "What is your business here?"
Merlyn stroked her steed's neck until he stopped fussing and stuttered nervously, "I-I'm venturing past the gates to collect herbs for the Court Physician."
The man with light hair and symmetrical features – which was about all she could glean in the shadows of predawn light – said sceptically, "this early in the morning? And with Sir Ulric's destrier? I think not." One of the spare guards in the group peeled off to join him but the rest continued on to the citadel with their hostage.
"It's true!" she exclaimed, worry setting in. "I come this way every morn after tending the horses. I'm the hand who cares for Knight Ulric's horse. You have to believe me!"
"It's true, sire," said a gravelly voice to her right. She looked over and saw one of the gate sentries, Favian, standing at attention. Merlyn felt relief explode in her chest. The older soldier was a regular night sentinel of the city entrance and they'd become something like friends in their interactions. She'd even collected him flowers for his pregnant wife a few mornings prior.
The blonde soldier looked past Sunstrider to stare at the intruding guard. His eyebrow was raised at the man's gall. "You have seen him before?" he asked.
"She and the beast pass through most mornings, indeed collecting plants for Wiseman Gaius. She has caused no quarrels or disturbances."
"She?" the blonde man said in surprise, looking back up at Merlyn – not that he would see much. Though it was midsummer, the nights were cool in Camelot and she had her faded red scarf tied around her head and mouth to keep in the warmth. She hated having a numb nose.
"Yes, sir," she said then prompted politely. "May I go? I haven't much time before I'm needed at the castle and Gaius requires some feverfew." And she might go collect some raspberry leaves to make a calming tea for that poor old woman.
"Yes, go," he waved her on and ordered Favian back to his post. Sunstrider was glad to move and tossed his head as he neared the archway but, for some reason, Merlyn was too distracted by the blonde soldier's eyes on her back to quieten him.
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She and Sir Ulric had shared some awkward moments as she helped him through the days. The first morning, when she delivered breakfast, he demanded she help him dress for the day. She didn't truly grasp what it would mean until he dropped his daks right in front of her innocent eyes.
She squeaked and spun away, blushing scarlet as she cried, horrified, "sir!"
"What?" he demanded. "I asked you to help me dress. Taking off the old clothes is part of the process."
"Surely you can put on your pants yourself. I can aid with everything else, I promise. I-I've just never… I mean, I haven't… you do know I'm a girl, don't you?" she asked. She thought he had known. He'd been around her enough to look past the outfit and hair; he would've had to notice her feminine features.
But apparently not for he bellowed, "what!"
"Oh," she exclaimed, utterly mortified. "Oh goodness, I thought you knew!"
"Certainly not!" he objected. "This is… that's just…" he sounded flustered. "At least now your girly face makes sense."
Merlyn snorted a little hysterically.
After that, they adjusted their dealings. She still needed to tie Sir Ulric's pants before she could step him into his trousers but since the material was loose, he managed to pull them up one-handed and preserve his modesty and her virtue.
It was the same sort of thing with baths. She prepared the water and loosened his ties but she didn't stick around for the washing. Sir Ulric was actually quite blasé about it all after he got over the shock. He still enjoyed bossing her around at any rate.
Because of that, she was forced to clean his unused armour – again – before she was able to escape to prepare tea to take to the old woman in the lower town. The calming and fruity flavour of the drink would hopefully take the edge off her emotions.
In the lower markets, she was directed by a sorrowful lad to a ramshackle house in the same alley from that morning. She took a fortifying breath then knocked on the thin wooden door. There was no answer.
Cautiously, she unlatched and edged the door wide to peer into the gloomy shuttered hut. She found the old woman slumped on a wooden chair by the empty fireplace, staring into its ashy depths without expression.
She cleared her throat nervously. "Excuse me, Mary Collins. I've come –"
"I don't want your condolences or your pity or your accusations," she said dully, not looking away from the hearth. "Leave me be,"
"Perhaps a calming tonic?" suggested Merlyn.
The old woman turned her head slowly to stare at the young girl. She asked in that same monotonous tone, "Do you believe that a herbal draught is going to make me forget that my son is to be murdered by the King on this day?"
"No," said Merlyn, inching a little bit closer. "But I do believe that one should not be left to wallow in grief alone." She crouched down by the old woman's chair and asked, "Will you let me stay for a while? I can build a fire and collect some water for a good, strong tea to mask the unpleasant taste of the tonic. Maybe open a window for some light."
Mary looked at the black-haired, big-eared girl with a faint frown. "I don't know you," she said.
"No, you don't," agreed Merlyn. "I'm the Court Physician's ward. I was present this morning when the guards came. I did not think you should be left without care."
Listlessly, the old woman's worn eyes drifted out of focus and her head turned back to the fireplace. Merlyn took that as her cue to start her tasks.
Over the couple of hours Merlyn spent there, Mary floated in and out of awareness but as the noonday sun beat down and the black-haired girl readied to leave, she was surprised to turn and find the old woman by the hard, narrow bed, digging through an old gullet pouch purposefully.
"What are you searching for?" asked Merlyn, going over to help.
"Something to make it all better," said the weathered woman.
Merlyn cocked her head in confusion but didn't argue, chalking it up to the senile mutterings of a desperate soul. "What does it look like?" she asked, looking under the thin pillow and raggedy blanket for anything unusual. "Perhaps I can help."
"A talisman," she said. "My mother's necklace. I need it to be strong enough."
"Okay," said Merlyn gently and looked behind the rickety bedside table to see a small leather purse wedged there. She pulled it out and turned it over and out fell a large amber stone connected to a leather cord. The moment it touched her palm, she felt a strange tingling that called to the magic inside her.
Instinctively, she flinched back and the jewel fell from her grip. But in a show of startling dexterity, the old woman caught it mid-air. Her craggy face transformed into a cold smirk of triumph but Merlyn was too unnerved to take notice. She beat a hasty exit and went searching for Gaius: she needed to know what that stone was.
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"I thought I told you not to get involved," Gaius ranted. "What if someone reported to have seen you with her? What would I do if you were dragged before Uther and accused of consorting with sorcerers?"
Merlyn rolled her eyes at his melodrama but she was also curious to hear his answer. "What would you do?" she asked, cutting into his speech.
Gaius stopped to glare at her but didn't seem able to think of a reply. He finally said, "let us hope never to know."
He moved to the left wall and climbed up the steps to the balconies with a grunt. "What did you say it looked like?" he asked.
"Um… about two inches long, amber coloured – I felt the magic in it, Gaius. It was strange, not as if the jewel was magical but that it held magic, if that makes sense."
"Perfectly," mumbled Gaius, squinting at several tomes before pulling the one on the left from its place.
The city bell tolled for the second hour post noon and Merlyn remembered a patrol was due back to the stables soon and Gaius still wanted her to deliver more hollyhock and feverfew to Lady Perceval.
"Gaius," she called, disturbing him from his study. He glanced down at her. "Where's the tonic for Lady Perceval? I'm due to leave."
"Oh," said the old man and he stuck his hand into a few pockets before he struck gold. "Aha. Here." He leant down to drop it between the banister's bars but as Merlyn approached to catch it, the wooden barricade gave out with a snap, Gaius tumbling from the terrace.
"No!" Merlyn cried and felt the sudden heat of magic explode from her body, slowing time around the old man's falling form. She looked around for a means to soften his crash and locked onto his bed. She willed it to slide under his body then released him just as he face-planted the pillow.
He huffed in shock at the heavy landing then scrambled to his feet; face the perfect image of befuddled astonishment. "You just used magic!" he exclaimed, looking over the bed then back to her.
Merlyn didn't answer, too busy being breathless under the euphoria washing over her body. It felt like she'd taken her first gasp of clean air after being drowned in water for a month. Her blood buzzed in her veins and her heart thumped erratically in her chest. She felt sky high but despair and anger dragged her back to earth rather quickly.
She looked at her hand and saw a literal spark fizzle on her tingling fingertips. She clenched it into a fist, clamping down on the rush under her skin and locked it away once more.
"I was doing so well," she growled. "A whole month and nothing! Those banisters need to be reinforced! I won't save you again!" she turned on her heel and stormed out the door, ignoring Gaius call her name.
She was not a tool for destiny. Magic did not dictate her life. It didn't.
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It was early afternoon and Merlyn had just spent all her free time scouring the lower town for Mary Collins after hearing from Morgana the vow the old woman made against the prince after the execution. "A son for a son," Morgana had quoted, looking worried despite herself.
Walking up the path by the upper markets, Merlyn was distracted from her thoughts by an arrogant male voice asking, "Where's the target?"
She looked over to her left and saw a small cluster of knights hanging in a small cobbled square by the courtyard entrance. In front of them, a young male servant pointed to the fairly evident green and yellow target. "There, sir?" he said uncertainly.
"It's in the sun," stated the blonde and Merlyn recognised him from the morning before. So he wasn't simply a soldier; he was a knight.
The servant looked up to the overcast sky and contested, "but it's not that bright."
"A bit like you then," the blonde knight mocked with a false smile.
"I'll put the target at the other end, shall I, sire?" the young man said resignedly and moved off, hefting the heavy board onto his shoulder.
One of the blonde's friends muttered something to him and he smirked, changing the hand of one of his throwing knives then hurling it at the target. The servant heard the thunk! and peered over to see the imbedded blade in alarm.
"Hey! Hang on!" he cried.
"Don't stop!" Blondie called amidst laughter, aiming another knife.
Another few steps and the servant asked, "Here?"
"I told you to keep moving!" another knife whooshed by and buried in the wood. "Come on! Run!"
Merlyn looked on in distaste as they laughed when the servant tripped, the target dropping out of his arms to roll along the ground towards Merlyn. It fell over at her feet and she put a boot on its painted front to prevent the servant from picking it looked at her incredulously before glancing back at the knights. Merlyn looked at them also.
"Hey," she said, working a smile to be pleasant. "Come on, that's enough," They were all much bigger than she was but if she could diffuse the situation nicely then maybe she could escape with no bruises.
"What?" said the blonde as if he couldn't believe her cheek.
"You've had your fun, my friend," she said.
He strode closer while his friends hung back, smirking in anticipation. "Do I know you?" he demanded.
She held out a hand for him to shake. "My name's Merlyn."
"So I don't know you," he said, stopping in front of her and ignoring her hand.
"No," she agreed, a little miffed as she dropped her arm.
"Yet you called me 'friend'."
Merlyn feigned an overly sweet smile.
"That was my mistake," she said.
"Yes, I think so."
"Yeah," she looked down. "I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass."
She turned and started walking away but the knight snorted and said, "Or I one who could be so stupid."
She stopped, cursing her pride for not letting him have the last word. He continued, "Tell me, Merlyn, do you know how to walk on your knees?"
She'd been asked that once before, in Ealdor. But in a completely different context. She hoped he didn't mean it the same way. She faced him and his buddies warily. "No," she said as he strutted closer, hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Would you like me to help you?" he asked leaning in threateningly and she stepped back defensively.
"I wouldn't if I were you," she warned him.
He chuckled in disbelief, looking at the spectators. "Why? What are you going to do to me?"
She glared at him. "You have no idea."
He opened his arms invitingly. "Be my guest!" he said. "Come on… Come on… Come on," he mocked when she didn't move.
She gritted her teeth and tried to punch him in the throat but he caught her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. She stomped on his foot but that only made him laugh so she hooked her foot behind his left knee and wrenched it forward, unbalancing him enough that she managed to twirl out of his hold. She backed out of his reach guardedly while he regained his footing but wasn't bold enough to turn tail and run. She didn't know how fast the knights were and she didn't particularly want to be cornered and at their mercy in some alley.
She took another step away, not realising the danger until two men came up from behind and seized her arms tightly, kicking her knees out so they slammed onto the cobbles below. She hissed in pain and tried to struggle but their grips were firm enough to make her fingers tingle in pain. She stopped fighting and glared up at them instead, turning her seething eyes to the blonde knight when he neared.
"I'll have you thrown in jail for that," he said and she glowered.
"Who do you think you are?" she snapped. "The King?"
He bent down so his face was close to hers. "No. I'm his son, Arthur." Then he nodded at the guards to drag her away with a satisfied smirk.
Curse it all! She thought, stumbling slightly as she was hauled along. That was the prat she was supposed to guide in some epic destiny to unite the lands? Oh hell no!
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In the chill of the dungeons, Merlyn watched the sun sink lower in the sky, anxiety churning in her gut over what would become of Sunstrider without her. When she didn't show up tonight with Sir Ulric's dinner, would he decide that she wasn't trustworthy and rid himself of the palomino stallion?
God! Merlyn thumped her head against the cold, stone wall. She was such an idiot!
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TBC…
So there you have it! Good? Bad? Ugly? Love to hear it!
Thanks for reading!
B