Writing Merlin is quite easy compared to HP/PJ. I've no clue why, it just is. I'm so tired, and my muse has lately been filled with non-fanfiction fiction. So I'm gonna start writing the next PJ chapter, and then this, then work on all the other ideas I have with the little amount of time I have. You'd having a kind of year off school would give you time, but apparently not. So here you go. If it's crap, I'm really sorry. Like really.

From inside, we could see flames flickering in all the wrong places in the courtyard and dozens of armed riders galloping in. The fort we were in wasn't as well defended as Tara, but we had had to leave Tara, because of the supposed curse.

As the men and their horses neared the castle, Mother began to panic, along with the other women. Áed kissed his wife, and with two guards, went outside to help, but not before he told the rest of the men in the room to look after us women. I couldn't help but scoff tearfully at that. I've been in trained with a sword and bow almost since my infancy, and defensive magic often feels as natural as breathing.

Quietly, I slipped out of the throne room, and ran to my chambers, where I began to dress in more appropriate clothes for fighting. But I hadn't left unnoticed, apparently. Just as I began to tighten the belt holding my sword around my waist, my mother walked in the door.

"Mother, I must fight, for father." I told her, with as much conviction as I could muster in my voice.

"You cannot, Fionnait, you must flee."

"Run away? And leave Áed and the rest of his men to fight? They don't have magic; I could help them, protect them."

"I cannot let you. You are the reason we are being ambushed."

I can't pretend that didn't hurt. My own mother, accusing me, blaming me for our temporary home being attacked. But I must not have hid how hurt I was well, because immediately she softened.

"I do not mean it like that. Those men have come to hurt you, and have been looking for you since you were born, since your mother died."

"But…you're my mother….Are you not?" I asked, incredulous.

She wrapped me warmly in her arms, but I couldn't respond, couldn't feel her heat. All I could do was stiffen with the sudden cold.

"I love you as much as any child I could have. But you are not mine, not through blood."

I stared at her, mouth wide open, eyes dry. I had cried enough tonight.

"My being here endangers everyone."

She looked stricken, but she couldn't disagree.

"So, I must lure them away." I continued.

She looked as if she was about to argue, but I cut her off. "I shall, and you cannot stop me, a Mháthair. Once I am ready and prepared, I shall ride away on Aenbharr and get them to follow me so that everyone here is safe."

"But you won't be!" She cried, "You will leave, but in secret. I will not let you die. I cannot lose you too."

I watched my mother, no, not my mother, wipe her eyes, and compose herself.

"You will leave on Aenbharr. Ride towards the coast. There have been plans in place for many years. There will be a boat. A man will guide you across the water, and from there you will make your way to Camelot. Uther will keep you safe, so long as you keep your magic a secret. Understood?"

When she was like this, all regal and all powerful, it was hard to argue with her.

"Understood."

"Now go, out through the window, so that no one sees you."

I grabbed my things, and put them into a simple brown bag. With a sword, bow and arrow across my back, and a cloak around my shoulders, I was ready. I strode to the window and saw Aenbharr standing alone beneath. An Bhanríon had been busy.

I hitched a leg over the ledge, and prepared for the jump. I took what would probably be my last look at my mother, and smiled. "Tá grá agam duit, a Mháthair."

She blew me a kiss, just as a cold grey blade protruded out of her middle.

I screamed and leapt. Thankfully, my chambers were not high up, so only bruised my ankle a little when I landed. I climbed atop Aenbharr, glad that I had changed out of my dress into a practical, but small pair of breeches.

I walked Aenbharr silently to the gates, so as not to draw attention. I tried so hard not to cry, so hard not to react to the screams of pain emitted by my people. Then and there, I almost gave up and I would have rushed into the fight. But my mother, who wasn't really my mother, but was, was gone, and she wanted me safe. It felt like an insult to her if I went against what were now her last wishes.

So, with a heavy heart, I put Aenbharr into a gallop, towards the shore. It was cold, so cold I was afraid my tears would freeze. Slowly, the large span of water came into view, like a large sheet of mirrored glass on the horizon. As we neared, I saw a man, smoking a pipe, and leaning against an old, shabby boat, and watching our approach.

Cautiously, I trotted towards him. He wasn't young, but he wasn't old. He was almost ageless, with short black hair, vibrant green eyes and unusually long arms. He was dressed like a warrior, but a warrior of old and he made me feel incredibly inferior, just by breathing the same air as him. Magic emitted from him like electricity, full of ferocity and fire. He frightened me. I wondered was he already waiting because he was prophetic or because my poor Mamaí had sent word.

"So," He began, breathing in deeply through his pipe, "You're Gwendolyn."

"No, sorry, I haven't been called that since-"

"Since you were last in Camelot, yes, I know. I know everything."

"Surely that's impossible."

"A bit, yeah. The horse is a bit big for the boat, y'know."

I looked down upon my steed, and realised he was right. Aenbharr was a big boy. But not big enough that magic couldn't help.

I got off of Aenbharr, and untacked him, placing all of his tack into the boat. With a simple nod, and flash of bronze in my eyes, Aenbharr became the size of a large dog.

The mysterious man gave what seemed to be a nod of approval and gracefully entered the boat.

With a large puff of air, I struggled to lift Aenbharr, who had shrunk but had not decreased in weight, into the boat, and then clambered in myself.

My eyes were incredibly sore, and when I reached up to wipe them dry, I found that, unsurprisingly, my tears had frozen into perfect crystal droplets. Amazingly, they didn't melt in the palm of my hand, but seemed to harden.

"They're real gems now."

Startled, I looked up. We were already sailing. The man pointed towards my hand.

"They won't melt, and they'll never break. It's a simple bit of magic."

I realised he must have done it. "Thank you."

"You should sleep now. We'll be there by dawn."

I lay my head down on Aenbharr's small flank, and with the evidence of my sorrow clutched in my hand, I let the rolling waves put me to sleep.

Tá grá agam duit, a Mháthair = I love you, Mother

Reviews are love, people, and like any human (except sherlock) I crave love. So please! Same goes for PJ, and other stories I'll write.

Love ye!

CaChrisSo