(3/17/19) – Thanks to everyone who read the first chapter of this story, and especially alchemistofplants for favoriting. This chapter acts as a way for the Merlin characters to be introduces, and as a fan I'm trying to do every one of them justice.

Without further ado, chapter two!

Arthur Pendragon took a laborious look around his chambers, finding an unmade bed, no breakfast, and his armor still unpolished. He'd assumed that by the time he got out of his personal washroom, Merlin would've taken care of, or at least got a head start, on the tasks he was supposed to do. And yet again, no. Perhaps another night at the tavern was to blame.

"Merlin!"

He let the shout carry past the walls, then was about to bellow before the door creaked and the manservant entered. Dressed in his brown jacket, blue linen shirt, and red scarf coiled around his neck, Merlin stood standing at relaxed attention. His face looked pleasant; Arthur sure wasn't.

"Yes, sire?"

"Where were you?" Arthur asked accusingly. "You're normally – no, supposed to be here by now."

The manservant scratched his fluffy black hair. "Uh…slept in late while studying. Sorry, it won't happen again."

"Really?" Arthur touched his temple. "We may work together Merlin, but that doesn't mean you can slack off at the tavern when you feel like it."

"I wasn't-" Merlin paused as he noticed the state of the room and then looked back to Arthur. "Sorry, sire. Anything you need to be done today?"

"Glad you asked," Arthur responded with visible satisfaction. "Besides cleaning my room up, I'd like some proper breakfast, and it'd be a great help if you could polish my armor for the tournament in a few days."

"There's a tournament?" asked Merlin as he bent down to start folding the bed back into place. Every time he heard the word tournament only meant more work for him.

"Are you lazy and deaf at the same time?" Arthur asked. "Everybody has been preparing for it during the last month or so."

"Guess it slipped my mind," Merlin replied.

Arthur sighed. "Of course you did. My father's holding it to honor his first slaying of a witch at the start of the Great Purge. I don't know the exact details, but it's something quite close to his heart. Also, several other kingdoms we have friendly relations with will be attending."

Merlin's head perked up, almost done with making the bed clean again. "Doesn't that seem a bit much? Holding a tournament to honor killing someone years ago?"

"I don't have a say in the matter, Merlin. No matter how…dark it seems."

The manservant noticed a black fog over Arthur's eyes and decided to change the subject.

"Since you're probably going to enter, Arthur, at least you've got one thing going for you in this tournament."

Arthur withdrew from his solemn position. "And that is?"

Merlin smiled as if the other man was missing a huge clue. "Gwen, you clotpole! You can show off your moves while she's in the audience!"

"Merlin, if you breathe a word of this to her, I'll have you in the stocks again." The prince pointed a finger at him, half-serious and half-flushing.

"You're kidding, right?" Then Arthur's deadpan continued to hold and he gulped. "Okay. Lips sealed. Better get off to finding your breakfast and polishing your armor, eh?" He grabbed the gear and exited through the door, closing it in a hurried fashion.

"…Clotpole? How long is that name going to amuse him?" The prince couldn't help snickering.

Post-getting Arthur some breakfast and then polishing his armor as good as new (which took an hour at least), the manservant maneuvered through the castle hastily. He still had an errand or two to do for Gaius, but thanks to his embarrassing sleep, had forgotten what exactly they were. A necessary reminder would be most helpful.

He was turning the corner when he bumped into another figure. Neither managed to fall, but Merlin noticed the person had a familiar face about them. "Gwen!"

"Merlin!" The dark-skinned servant, dressed in a watery green dress, paused. "Where are you off to?"

"Gaius," he elaborated. "He's probably got some chores that I need to attend to. You?"

"The usual," Gwen replied with a warm smile. "I'm getting some water for Morgana's evening bath. You think Camelot would have a more productive way to fetch it rather than carrying buckets…"

Merlin nodded. "I know what you mean. Gwen, out of curiosity, what are Morgana's feelings towards the new tournament?"

Gwen gripped her arm, her demeanor dropping into concern. "Not good. We haven't talked as much as we used to since she returned, but…recently, she's been going on about how she despises it. The whole concept seems chilling to her."

"And yet, it's still happening," Merlin added.

"Well, Uther is the king," Gwen pointed out. "Might as well deal with it. Anyways, I better be off. Good luck with your tasks."

"You too!" Merlin exclaimed. He turned the corner and continued on his way, but he couldn't help wondering if the tournament was going to illicit another assassination attempt from Morgana. He'd already foiled a few already, so would an event like this spur another?

How's she going to take this?

Morgana sat at the window of her room, watching through the glass as banners and wooden decorations were carried by a few legions of commoners. She mentally spat at them and their efforts. It wasn't until she singled out a mocking banner cloth with some vulgar witch drawing that she retreated to the rest of her space.

The very idea disgusted her. Not only could it disrupt her plotting with Morgause, but it was just…unfathomable! Uther treated witches, warlocks, and anything magic as dirt beneath his heels. Appropriating it was a level too far. She wanted to speak out and decry him, maybe even use her off skills to secretly embarrass him, but the caution in her mind whipped out. She and her sister had plans for the future of Camelot, and acting now would put those plans in jeopardy. Playing wiser moves would be necessary at the moment.

"The fools," she breathed. She took another slow breath and walked to her drawer, her finger on the cabinet handle. She would write a letter to Morgause and get the wisdom she needed. Yes, that was the answer.

But what Morgana was planning on writing would have to wait. A heavy knock sounded on the door.

"Just a moment!" Morgana called, tucking the drawer back in and then waltzing to the door. She opened it, not expecting it to be the king himself. "Your grace!"

"Morgana," Uther replied warmly. He looked a little into her room. "Your chambers are quite dark. Are you sure you get enough light in this part of the castle?

She managed a smile, even though internally her will hissed at the comment. "I have adequate lighting. Is there something you wished to discuss?"

"Yes. As you're already aware, there's a tournament in a few days, dedicated to my slaying of Alara the Terrible." A golden look seemed to buzz in his eyes, which Morgana struggled not to detest. "Several of our allies will be in attendance, as will be the knights that protect us. I was hoping that I could count on you to be there?"

No, you monster. I will not be there to support you. You might as well burn yourself!

"Of course. When have I let you down?"

Uther chuckled. "Never that I can recall. See you at dinner, Morgana." He bowed a tad and turned past the stone hallway, his cape disappearing past the corner.

Morgana shut the door with a slow motion, but once she had entered into the darkness again, silently squeezed her fist and stretched her lips in anger. Pretending for the sake of appearances was exhausting, too much for her taste. She dashed back to the cabinet, opened it to find the paper and ink, and placed them on the table to start writing.

"Sister, I hope you can be here soon. We must do something about this tournament..." Morgana read out as the letter stated.

Passing up aged stone steps, Merlin entered the dusty chambers that he shared with Gaius, finding the scientist hovering over one of the wooden tables with two concoctions in flasks. The elderly physician put them down when he spied his apprentice.

"Where have you been? I've been requiring your help for some time, Merlin!" He asked.

"Uh, working?" Merlin pointed out. "Gaius, I overslept and already got in hot water with Arthur. So please just tell me what I need to get." His face pleaded sincerity with innocence.

"Fair enough," Gaius reciprocated. He moved to the other wooden table closer to the stairs, reading a short parchment list in his hand. "I'm expecting plenty of injuries and drunkenness from the upcoming tournament. That means we'll need a few hands of blue poppy and some Frogbark. Think you can go get me some, quickly?"

The boy balked. "Frogbark? That's all the way on the other side of the forest! By the time I'll get back, it'll be pitch black."

"Then maybe you should've thought in advance about that," said Gaius. "It's not as if you're defenseless, Merlin."

"I know…" He sighed, grabbed his satchel, and made for the door. "I bet if you were in my shoes, Gaius, you'd complain as much about this as I do."

Gaius chuckled. "How did you think I became a physician, Merlin? It's good exercise for someone your age."

"Right…" The young man tugged at the satchel and left, trudging down the stairs in compliance.

"Oh, and Merlin!" Gaius yelled down. "If you can find a leech or two for my tank, that would be splendid!"

He prayed that he had heard that.

The evening was highly apparent, even in the forest. Through the pines and large wooden trees, Merlin made out an aged orange sky that seemed to be slowly fading into blue. The point? He needed to hurry up. He knew by the paths he passed that he was getting close, but lately he'd been hearing about bandit raids in this very area. And what happened if Merlin had to use magic to defend himself? What would happen if he was found out?

Clearly, he was overthinking it. Merlin's mind got a break when he came to the edge of the spot and saw near the upcoming lake plants with blue colors. Blue poppy! He raced to them, his hands inspecting the symptoms, and quickly rolled them into his bag. Gaius would be pleased, as would he. Now all he needed was Frogbark, and if his knowledge was correct-

"Aaaaggghhh!" He ducked backward, falling onto a pile of leaves as a geyser of bright fire flew over him. No part of him was screaming with pain, but his mind was already racing. An attacking dragon? No, he was the dragonlord. That was wrong. Another sorcerer could've done it, but he thought he might've sensed them at least…

"Mick, don't fry people we've barely met!"

A woman's voice? It was rough and…might he say, savvy. And there appeared to be a group with her, as he heard the leaves and twigs snapping under multiple feet. Once Merlin righted himself, he saw at least five strangers dressed in varying types of clothing walking up to him.

"W-who are you people?" was all that he could manage to get out.