A Tale of Two Arthurs.

Part 1

Authors Note:

Sorry for the long delay. I am in the midst of essay writing at the moment! This is my first attempt at an original Merlin fiction. As always I own nothing, Merlin belongs to the BBC.

Would just like to say a big thank you to all the reviews I've received with this story. Any advice, criticism and encouragement are warmly received. Please bear with me, updates might be slow but I do have over chapters plotted out and will update when I can. Again thank you!

Arthur signed with relief as he dismounted from his horse. They had made the decision to make camp for the night and with any luck would arrive back in Camelot the following evening. It had been a long day riding though the mountains and the Princes mind had been working overtime. He had been sent to escort and be part of Camelot's peace delegation to the neighbouring territory. Arthur knew his father sent him to observe and learn from the proceedings in his relentless quest to mould his son into his vision of a great king. It was an unusual arrangement, particularly as Camelot's relationship was not strained with Hyrin. The delegation was to help King Edwin with a civil upheaval after his step-son had attempted to overthrow him. Edwin had quickly and decisively dispatched the threat to his throne and regained control quickly, but there were still noises of rebellion. Camelot's presence was suppose to be a show of support for the tyrannical ruler, but what he had witnessed in the other kingdom disturbed him.

King Edwin ruled with a heavy hand, even heavier than Uthers, and the people were not happy. The man himself was hard and uncompromising, refusing to budge on many key issues. It had been a long week and they had left Hyrin with the feeling that the calm behind them was only a temporary peace. It had been nice to leave the castle with things between father and son decidedly uncomfortable. Arthur had spent more time watching his father, examining his rule, and finding himself unhappy with his father's decisions, especially after his father had been content to let Merlyn die to teach him a lesson. His faith in his father had been shaken which let to tension between the two.

He found his attention once again distracted by the passing thought of Merlyn, and straight away his thoughts centred on the handmaiden. He had expected things to go back to the awkward, uncomfortable avoidance that they had the last time they had…had a 'moment'. Instead there was a calm acceptance. That there was an attraction between them, but they would not act on it. Strangely, Morgana had taken to spending more time with him, meaning Merlyn had to chaperone. Therefore he was seeing more of the handmaiden. Morgana treated Merlyn almost as informally as he, Glen. Therefore he had learnt more about her during these visits. Careful to pay more attention to his fathers ward then her maid, he had discovered she was raised by her mother, had a wicked sense of humour and hated people touching her hair.

His pleasant thoughts were interrupted as his manservant landed heavily beside him on the fallen log facing the fire. Glyndwr handed him the bag of bread and cheese as another servant began preparing the stew. He sat beside his master, a forlorn look on his face as he gazed out on the flames. Arthur sighed in frustrated amusement. Glen had been moping during the three day journey to Hyrin. He seemed to have cottoned on to the fact that Merlyn didn't feel the same way he did. Then much to Arthur's amusement (and small measure of relief), Glen had fallen head over heels for one of the castles kitchen maids. Glen had followed the girl, Mary, around with shy puppy-dog eyes for the whole week. Now he was sulking as he had had to leave Mary behind. Poor Glen seemed to fall in love every other week. As his love sick manservant let out yet another sad sigh, Arthur groaned.

"Will you stop that Glen, if that girl made you so happy why didn't you stay?"

"Ahh, we decided that we would be better off as friends." He said, miserably. "Why does it always happen to me? I mean I thought that me and Merlyn had something but she doesn't see me the same way I see her."

Arthur had frozen for a split second at the mention of the young woman and couldn't stop himself prying further.

"What makes you say that?"

"She told me." Arthur had no right to feel the relief that passed though him. He had no claim to Merlyn. He couldn't. Yet he didn't want anyone else to have her.

"She told you?"

Glen nodded glumly, looking down into his pot of stew. It was Arthurs turn to sigh at his manservant sulk before he heaved himself up on his feet and into his tent.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The Lady Morgana was bored. Merlyn recognised the signs. They had been discussing the ladies wardrobe for over an hour, re-arranged her hair for dinner and she had assisted her ladyship on her rounds. Morgana had then tagged along as Merlyn delivered Gaius's remedies, and she made conversation with all his patients. The constant pestering and longing sighs were slowly driving her insane. Life in Camelot was very quiet, especially with the Prince away.

Merlyn found herself missing the arrogant man. She was used to seeing him at least once a day and exchanging banter and insults on a regular basis, especially as Lady Morgana had taken to spending more time with the Prince. This meant Merlyn had to chaperone them. She found this duty uncomfortable as it was becoming clear that Morgana seemed to be developing feelings for Arthur and her own feelings for the Prince were strong and confusing. Morgana would spend hours flirting with him and although Merlyn knew she had no right to be jealous, she was secretly pleased that Arthur seemed oblivious to the extra attention Morgana was paying him.

He was due back tomorrow and the King had arranged a feast for the delegations return, hence, Morgana's wardrobe epic. Finally Lady Morgana retired for the night and Merlyn walked though the dimly lit castle. She paused at the foot of some stairs and after a beat ascended them to reach the balcony.

Something was up. The air was shivering in anticipation, her veins sang. She could not put her finger on it… but something was afoot.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Restless Arthur lay in his tent attempting to sleep. He could not settle, it was a hot summer and his air was humid. Remembering the small stream he had seen just before they set up camp, he left the tent and spoke quietly to the guards. He walked into the woods and wondered a small distance from camp, until he found the small stream he saw before they camped. He was itchy from the mud they had been ploughing though and dying for a quick wash. He was a skilled warrior, on high alert as he strayed from camp. Satisfied that the area was clear, he disarmed and knelt down by the stream.

He did not hear the three men, slowly lower themselves from the surrounding trees, creeping over the wet forest floor, but he sensed the shift in the air, he carefully, nonchalantly reached toward his knife, tucked into his ankle holder, he whipped around quickly, only to meet a fine midst of blue sparkling dust. All at once the world began to swirl around him, his knees buckled and he fell heavily on to them. Unknown to him, the same midst encompassed the camp and the two watch men, dropped to the forest floor in a deep sleep.

XxXxXxXxXxX

He woke to the sound of chanting. Groggy, he slowly became aware of his surroundings. He was sat uncomfortably upright, his arms tied tightly and unfortunately securely, his arms straddling a young tree backwards. The knots were expert, he had no room to move his limbs to gain any leverage without nearly ripping his arm muscles. Slowly he raised his head, ignoring the sickening roll of nausea in his stomach. He was in a clearing, not far from camp, but it was not empty. A roaring fire was raging in a dark stone circle. Instead of the familiar warmth red flames, there was a cold dance of green and blue flame. On the other side of the fire, two men sat in knelt reverently in long dark clocks, threaded with gold. His head rolled around his shoulders, his neck too weak to support it. He could hear mysterious chanting in a strange language which somehow felt familiar. He felt his hand being raised and winced as he felt the coldest of a blade slide across his palm and the sting of an open wound, the taste of blood in his mouth. Raising his head, he watched as his blood dripped from his palm, into a silver goblet. The older man smiled at him, but it was not a pleasant smile. Instead it sent a chill though Arthur and he forced himself to watch as he returned to the fire.

The second man took the goblet from him and chanted again in the mysterious tongue. He held up a small bowel, whose contents seemed to be emitting heavy putrid fumes and gaseous clouds. Arthurs' stomach clenched as the breeze pushed the smell towards him. The second man then stood. He rounded the fire, and Arthur saw his face for the first time. It was a thin, haggard face, one that might have been handsome once. He had dark brown eyes and even darker hair. A long thin scar sliced though his left eyebrow in a downward slash, passing over his rugged cheek. He raised his glass to Arthur as if raising a toast, before drinking the potion in three large swallows.

For a minute nothing seemed to happen. Then he looked back up at Arthur and the prince watched in awe as the brown orbs changed into a light green, his hair turned strand by strand into a shiny cap of blonde locks. His diminutive frame suddenly began to bulk, muscles filling out his clothes. Arthur watched in horror as the contours of the man's face morphed into his own. The man in front of him was his spitting image.

"What..?" He was horrified and speechless. The implications were immense.

"It is extraordinary." The other man said in awe. "I don't think I really believed this could work until now."

"You doubted me, Rowan." Arthur shivered at the sound of his voice spoken by his double. "Get me his pack, I need to change."

"Yes, Odin." The man named Rowan disappeared into the darkness, leaving the two Arthurs alone.

They studied each other warily before Rowan sat down opposite the Prince.

"You think you can pass as me." Arthur asked false arrogance in his voice. The drug was still heavy in his system and he had to fight to focus on the man in front of him.

"I have watched you from afar in Hyrin, studied your movements and habits. This enchantment doesn't only change my appearance. There is now a link between us. I now possess an impression of your life. Your manservant, Glen, wakes you up in the morning with breakfast. You are not like other masters. You are good to him, to all servants, but don't let them forget you are their superior. There is a girl with dark hair. I believe she is the Lady Morgan…" Odin stopped and cocked his head suddenly, frowning in concentration before continuing.

"There are two girls with dark hair, but otherwise completely different. A Lady and a handmaiden. They have been visiting at least once a day. You enjoy these visits. It is then time to inspect your knights and for training. You will then prepare for the feast set for your return. Yes Arthur Pendragon, I believe I could pass as you for as long as I need."

Arthur felt sick at the level of detail the man had of his life and the ever mounting fear of what this sorcerer's plan was.

"To do what?" He demanded feeling unexpectedly vulnerable knowing that Odin could read his emotions.

Odin considered him again, a thoughtful look on his borrowed face. "You are not what I expected, Pendragon. I expected a spoilt, arrogant man-child, the father's son. You are perhaps spoiled and indeed arrogant. But you have a pure heart, an open mind and great courage. You value all live, even that of a servant. And you do not follow your father blindly. I believe Camelot would prosper under your reign.

I lived in Camelot once, with my mother, my father had died in the service of the King Uther at the Battle of Dell-lock. We managed to live a quiet life; my mother was medicine woman who worked with the court physician, Gaius."

A cold fist of dread settled into Arthur's stomach at distaste on Odin/Arthurs face, the hatred. Odin looked up at him, and smiled.

"I know he is still in Camelot. I will be seeing him." Arthur swallowed at the look in Odin's eyes. It was strange seeing such a look of pure hatred cross his features. In the back of his mind he hoped he would never look at anyone quite like that. Pure hatred, malice and vengeance shone from eyes that were his, but not.

"He is an old man, Odin, who has spent his life helping others."

"He betrayed others. He betrayed my mother. She was burnt in the Great Purge and yet he was spared. You did not know he had the gift of magic?" No he didn't. But it didn't register at that moment, be was more concerned with his life, Gaius's life.

"His family even escaped!" Odin thundered angrily. "There is only one person in the world I hate more, who I demand justice from!"

He knew before Odin uttered the words.

"Uther! It was his fear and ignorance that murdered hundreds of people. He murdered my family!" Odin collected himself. He looked back at Arthur, his gaze refocusing on the prince's face. "I did plan to kill you both, make Uther watch as the life drained from you. Then I decided that he would die at his son's hand. Obviously it won't be you, but he will think it was."

"I suppose your going to kill me now then." Arthur said matter of fact. Not that he was resigned to it. He was carefully taking into account his surroundings and thinking. He knew Odin could sense his thoughts but he wasn't going go quietly or without a fight.

"I don't suppose you believe me when I say I will let you go on my return?" Arthur snorted in disbelief.

Odin considered him a second before answering again. "You are not your father. You have an open mind. And you do not possess the cruelty that he has, the distain for anyone different, and the irrelevance of those he perceives as lesser, people like Glen. And you are not sold on the belief that magic is evil. If you knew the true scope of your father's actions during the great purge, you would be appalled."

"Maybe." Arthur agreed, knowing this could well be true. "But he is still my father."

Odin nodded, knowing he would not convert the prince, but who also knew that it did not matter.

"You will be released when the deed is done, Pendragon. I only want Uthers blood on my hands and perhaps Gaius's."

Arthur thought of Merlyn and what would happen if her Uncle was harmed, or if she was used in the way he was. Some of his thoughts must have been transferred though the invisible link between the two Arthurs, and Odin stopped, looking back at the Prince who quickly schooled his face. The sorcerer gave him a long searching look before walking to greet the man emerging from the forest.

"Is everything set, Rowan?" He asked. Arthur strained to hear the conversation, stilling his hands that had been attempting to work the chains from his wrists.

"Yes, the switch should be undetected."

"Watch him. Remember, he must be unharmed."

"Of course. Good luck my friend."

"Soon, our task will be complete, justice finally dealt."

"Finally."

The two men parted and Rowan returned to the campsite, sitting down on the opposite side of the fire, watching his prisoner. He was older than his friend. Unkempt and dressed in fraying robes. His face was worn and lived in, his eyes held a heart-break and a coldness which sent a shiver down Arthur's spine. When their eyes met, Arthur saw hatred, stronger than the flash he'd seen in Odin's. He knew with a certainty, that he wasn't safe in this man's hands.

To be continued.

Will Arthur escape Rowan? Will Odin pass as Arthur? Will he get his revenge?

Sorry for the long delay and any grammar mistakes in this story. Very sleep deprived at the mo (night-duty, essay, flu and chest infection. It's been a rough couple of weeks). Hope to update in the next week. Please bear with me.