A/N: Hello again, everybody! To the Guest who said an update would be a swell Christmas present, I took your advice! Thought I'd make this update a gift for y'all. Merry Christmas Eve and Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate Christmas; if not, Happy Holidays for whatever you celebrate. Hope you're spending the holidays with the ones you love.

Soulmate Number Four this chapter, if I remember right. Hope everyone enjoys that chapter, and thank you so much for your reviews! I tried to reply to all the ones I could; if I missed you, let me know.

To the guest reveiwer uniiquity: I totally agree. Merwaine is a particular favorite of mine. :D And you will just have to wait and see; you might approve of what I have in store.

And on to the chapter!

Summary: The soulmate words were seemingly the one form of magic Uther Pendragon could not best. Merlin has never wanted hers; they are sure to be a great deal of trouble on top of being a warlock. After all, soulmarks are a type of magic, and she has eight.

Spoilers for BBC's Merlin, Seasons One-Five

Warnings: Slight Angst, Multiple Canonical/Non-canonical Character Deaths

Chapter 5:

It's been almost a full year since Merlin came to Camelot when Arthur announces that they are riding out to the Court of Ordon.

"The who at whatnow?" she asks, perching on the edge of Arthur's table to polish his left armored gauntlet as he eats lunch. Merlin has not had another dream that doesn't feel like it's just a dream, and she's glad. Every one so far has led to a bad thing happening.

Arthur sighs and uses his Merlin-Could-You-Possibly-Be-Thicker look. "Ordon is a training court on the far side of Mercia, permanently declared neutral territory by the kings of all five kingdoms. The best knights from each court go there to share training methods and skills without fear of enmity or strife between them. It's so far out of the way that news of who is fighting which wars against each other hardly ever reach it."

His explanation is obviously meant to clear up the issue. It doesn't.

Merlin pauses in her polishing, narrowing her eyes at him. "So…why do we care?"

Arthur groans exaggeratedly, slamming his goblet back onto the table. Merlin frowns at him. The goblet didn't do anything. "I would think that it's obvious, Merlin!"

He doesn't continue. Merlin raises her eyebrow. The warlock's been watching Gaius carefully and looking in shields and swords when she polishes them to perfect the result.

"Well, Merlin," Arthur drawls, going slowly as if talking to a small child, "we sent my second in command, the senior knight of Camelot, Sir Leon, to train with them for a year, and then bring his newfound knowledge back here to teach our knight recruits."

Merlin switches to the right gauntlet, crossing her legs and frowning slightly in thought. "Sir Leon…the name sounds familiar, but he must have left before I got here."

"Yes, well," Arthur sighs, stretching out and putting his boots up on the table corner Merlin isn't occupying. "I'm honestly not surprised you've heard of him. The man is barely six years older than I am, but he has a cool head the like of which I've never seen. Leon somehow retains the ability to be calm and logical in practically any situation, though he is a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, or if you anger him with good reason."

Merlin's other eyebrow joins the first. "He sounds…nice. That's pretty odd, coming from you."

Arthur leans back in his chair, brushing his hair back and trying to appear as though he has done nothing out of the ordinary. He doesn't often extol the virtues of others beside himself, and they both know it.

"He is a good man, an excellent knight. And a friend. He was knighted at seventeen, for God's sake, Merlin. No one is knighted at seventeen! I was only eleven at the time, and he got stuck tutoring me quite a bit, as the most junior knight. Never lost his head with me once, I tell you, and knew how to wrap me around his little finger. Very diplomatic, Leon. Best knight we have, really."

"You sound like you miss him." Merlin observes, debating whether or not to throw the gauntlet at Arthur's face in good fun as she would usually.

The prince is unusually somber and he gazes off into the distance, blue eyes cloudy with memories. "I do. Quite a lot, actually. But the point is," his tone turns brisk; "we're going out to the Spokes to replace him with Sir Invar in two days' time. I need Leon back here to help and support me, as I'll soon be taking on more responsibility as Crown Prince when I turn twenty-one. Also, the journey will take almost four weeks each way, so pack a change of clothes."

This is very annoying news. Merlin decides to throw the gauntlet at his face.

"Merlin!"

She puts on her innocent face. "Yes, Sire?"

Arthur growls and fumes for a moment before remembering that there's a reception feast for some Lady or Lord or whatnot to get ready for, and yelps. "Merlin! I've got to get ready!"

She rolls her eyes, puts down Arthur's stray bits of armor and goes to help him get dressed. "Really, Sire, I hadn't noticed."

"…and Merlin, speaking of clothes." Arthur tries to open the delicate topic sensitively. "You should probably wear a dress for the reception. Wouldn't do to have you look like a boy."

"Arthur, I wear breeches and a tunic and jacket because they are twenty time more practical than a skirt. Also, they hide my numerous soulmarks much better than a skirt or anything with short sleeves. I really don't want to be tossed into the dungeons, thank you." she trails off, helping him with his ceremonial shirt.

"Point taken." Arthur concedes, wriggling into his new trousers.

"Mmm-hmm." Victory, Merlin thinks triumphantly.

"…You wouldn't consider leaving that confounded neckerchief off, would you?"

Or not. Merlin tightens Arthur's belt a notch too far on purpose. "Prat."

The trip isn't really that bad, but Sir Invar is just a bit stiff for Merlin to be stuck with for four weeks.

Taking that into account, by the time the party of three arrive at the Spokes, Sir Invar and Merlin have formed almost a comradeship of necessity, sharing exasperated looks and trying not to laugh or punch Arthur in alternate moments. The prince of Camelot has been practically beside himself for the whole length of the trip, constantly waxing eloquent about the standard of training available there. The subject of Sir Leon has also been practically exhausted; between Invar's inquiries of the man he would be succeeding at the Court of Ordon and Arthur's willingness to extol his virtues.

They ride into a courtyard similar in structure to that of Camelot, although all the stone is of a dark brown color. Unlike Camelot, there are few or no towers and high battlements, and the walls are shorter and wider than that of their home.

Merlin privately thinks the place was positively ugly in comparison. Camelot will always be more beautiful to her—it has become her home.

But however ugly Ordon might be, the cheerful mood belays any other misgiving she might have about the place. Everywhere that you can see, men in various types and stages of training gear are talking, laughing, listening to an instructor, or sparring out on one of the many low, flat fields. The actual training accessories seem to be impressive, even to Merlin's (mostly) untrained eye. It reminds Merlin a bit of the bustle of the Camelot marketplace, only with less plump, cheery women and food, and more metal and pointy things.

The Steward of Ordon, Sir Bavarian, meets them at the door to the Great Hall. The man is rather short, and a bit stocky, but obviously in shape. He has a square jaw and short cut brown hair, but a pleasantly cheery face.

"Prince Arthur, Sir Invar," he greets them. "I received your messenger last week, with no small amount of sorrow. Sir Leon is one of the most respected knights here at the Court, and we shall all be sorry to see him go. Although," Sir Bavarian adds with a small bow in Invar's direction, "I'm sure Sir Invar will be welcomed without delay."

He is right. Within a matter of moments, a crowd of young knights around Invar and Arthur's ages come sweeping up, filling the silence with their chatter, drawing Invar in, and sweeping him away. Arthur laughs outright of the sight of his overwhelmed fellow Camelotian being pulled away by the river of young men.

The prince manages to pull himself together, half-snickering into his glove to disguise it as a cough. "I appreciate the welcome, Sir Bavarian, and I must say it's an honor to be here. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to clean up and have a chance to ride around and see everything before we make off with Sir Leon at dawn tomorrow."

Sir Bavarian bows again, obviously delighted. "Of course. And it is an honor to meet you, Prince Arthur. I only wish you had enough time to stay and show us some of your widely-known skill."

Merlin rolls her eyes, trying not to laugh. As if the prat needs any type of ego boost. They head to the rooms they have been given for the night, and Merlin orders enough hot water for two baths from a passing servant. Even she is dusty and grimy enough to warrant one today.

After they each bathe and eat, clothes sent off to be washed before the morning, Arthur heads back outside with a spring in his step, Merlin only a few paces behind. Outside, a curly-haired, handsome knight bearing the crest of Camelot on the shoulder of his red cloak is waiting for them with three horses.

Arthur immediately lights up, jogging the rest of the way to the knight. "Leon! It's good to see you, my friend."

"And you as well, Arthur," Leon replies, smiling almost as wide as his prince. "It feels even longer than it has been." They grasp elbows, and Arthur turns to mount one of the horses.

"I'm glad I got the extra horse," the knight remarks to Arthur, mounting his own. "I was told your servant would most likely wish to accompany you."

"Yes, thank you," Arthur replies, refusing to acknowledge Merlin rolling her eyes yet again. "Merlin here is not only my servant, but my soulmate, and would hate to be left behind."

"Prince Arthur, Sire!" Up ahead, Invar is being pushed into a sparring ring with a few other young men. "Come see this!" Arthur laughs at the young knight's enthusiasm and spurs his horse into a canter, leaving Sir Leon and Merlin walking their horses sedately behind. The silence is comfortable, almost, but Merlin really isn't one to stay quiet for long.

"It is always like this, Sir Leon?" she asks, referring to the craziness surrounding them as well as the upbeat, festive mood.

The curly-haired knight inhales sharply as though surprised, before seemingly collecting himself. "Well, yes, but you may as well drop the Sir, seeing as we're soulmates and all that."

The smooth script winding about her right ankle burns with a gentle warmth, as Merlin's head whips around to stare at him so fast her neck twinges. Flailing with the arm not holding the reins, she reeled forwards on her horse, which sidesteps nervously and eyes her distrustfully. Leon grabs her arm and stops her from falling completely, holding on until she can hook her soft leather boots back into the stirrups.

"Sorry," she mutters. "I'm really clumsy. Um, what did you say?"

"Soulmates. I mean, I thought from your words…I couldn't be sure, of course, but I thought it safe to assume…." he trails off ruefully.

Merlin stares at him, slowly breaking into a huge grin that seems to Leon to make even the sun glow brighter in the sky. "Yeah. Soulmates. We are. Sorry. I just…wasn't expecting it. Arthur is going to be…"

"Appalled? Annoyed? Shocked?" Leon supplies calmly, twitching his reins to ride in closer to Merlin's horse with a casual smile. "If you ask me, I think it's quite good timing. We'll have the full four weeks back to Camelot to get to know each other."

Merlin rolls her eyes and laughs, slightly out of breath. "Oh, you've no idea. Arthur hasn't shut up for ages. It's either The Court at Ordon this or Sir Leon that, I nearly kicked him again."

Leon chuckles in amusement. "Yes, I heard from Invar earlier while you and Arthur were freshening up about your first meeting with Arthur. He wanted to warn me not to get on your bad side. I think he may have witnessed the event personally."

"Did he?" Merlin focuses on her memory of the event, recalling that one of the men with Arthur at the time had, indeed, looked quite similar to Invar. "Yes, I think you're right," the young warlock decides. "He was there."

"Although he didn't quite get through his account of that bungled mace fight before he was swept off again by his new friends," the knight muses. "It sounded rather entertaining. I'm sorry that I missed seeing it for myself. What was Arthur thinking, I wonder, giving you a mace?"

Merlin huffs in indignation, turning to glare at him. "I handled myself rather well for never having touched one before," she protests. "And anyway, His Royal Pratness may have almost won, but I kneed him in the stomach."

Leon shakes his head, clearly trying not to laugh. "Oh no, that's not what I meant. I just wondered at the prince's idiocy at giving you a mace when you'd had the guts to put him right the day before."

"Oh. Well…good. Fantastic," Merlin says, beaming as she brushes one of the strands of black hair that have fallen loose from her messy bun back behind her ear. The quest, however, is futile; the black lock of hair quickly rejoins the other wavy strands framing her face.

Beside her Leon glanced sideways at her obvious joy and mentally heaved a sigh of relief. With only one soulmate he had hoped for a particularly nice one, and so far it seemed that luck had prevailed. He couldn't help cracking a smile of his own as they rode once more in a comfortable silence up to where Arthur was waiting for them, holding his horse's reins.

"What on Earth could have taken you so long?" he demands, narrowing his eyes at the matching smiles on their faces. "Why are you smiling?"

"Arthur," Merlin starts hesitantly. "Something may have kind of happened…"

"It's not a bad thing," Leon cuts in hurriedly. "There's nothing to be worried about, Sire…"

"Then why am I worried?" Arthur growls, crossing his arms and adopting a rather cross expression. Merlin and Leon exchange glances, bright blue eyes meeting warm hazel ones.

"We're soulmates," Merlin blurts. "Sir Leon and I."

"Just Leon, please," he says mildly.

Her face flushes pink. She's been staring at Leon's words for only her entire life, she ought to remember. "Right. Sorry."

They both look back to Arthur, awaiting his reaction.

"Well. Of course you are," he says, exasperated. "Honestly, Merlin, nothing really surprises me anymore."