It is ridiculously easier to write for Merlin than it is Percy Jackson/Harry Potter. I have no clue why. Anyway, just an update on my other story, things are coming along slowly. It will be Harry Potter eventually, it'll alternate between the two.

Anyway this is mainly a filler chapter, so it's shorter than the rest, but I'm quite happy with it.

Disclaimer: My first (oops), I obviously do not own Merlin. (No matter how many times I pray.)

When I awoke, I was alone, and Aenbharr was his correct size. The boat was firmly wedged into the sand of a completely different shore to the one it had left. I stood up wearily, and went to stretch, but the movement caused a flare of pain across my midriff that was so intense, I almost cried with the agony.

I gazed down, and seemingly out of nowhere, a long and jagged slash that tore from one side of my stomach to the other appeared. Where had that come from? I had not fought anyone. I cursed, there was no way I could heal this, my healing magic was mediocre at best, and it was always recommended by the court sorcerers that a wound should never be healed by the recipient, for they would be under too much pain and stress to heal it properly, and would most likely make it worse. It would have to wait for now.

Aenbharr had long stepped out of the boat, and had just watched me the entire time. Now, he trudged through the wet sand towards me, and placed his head against my hand, as if to comfort me. I tenderly placed a kiss on his brow, and bent slightly to pull his tack out of the boat.

"You'll have to wait for a rubdown, a chara, until we reach Camelot."

Tacking him was a struggle. Reaching up to place his saddle correctly, bending to tie his girth. Every movement hurt, every breath stung. When Aenbharr was 'dressed', I went to use the rickety boat as a step up but sensing my discomfort, he sat himself on the ground so I could get up more easily. I had always wondered how my horse was so…insightful. When I was given him as a young girl, I thought he was magical. I thought that he was the magical great horse Enbarr that could travel both land and sea. So I named him after Enbarr. It was clear to me now that he never could be Enbarr. As if his master would ever let him leave his side.

Sat on Aenbharr at so low a height, I was now able to see a carving in the boats side that before would have been unnoticeable. It read Sguaba Tuinne. Wave sweeper. A chill quickly ran down my spine but I ignored it. Almost immediately, Aenbharr stood up, and I urged him onwards. To Camelot.

I had not been to Camelot in many years, but I still knew the path like the lines on my hand. Aenbharr was galloping as fast as he could, and a cloth was pressed tightly against my wound, but there was little I could do to staunch the flow of blood.

Lights seemed to flicker before my eyes, and I fumbled with the reins and the neck strap, desperate not to fall off.

Minutes, perhaps hours, passed, and the white top I had been wearing was now stained a bright red, which continued to spread. It was chilly, and my cloak barely kept out the cold. I wished I had changed into a warmer one. I wished Camelot would hurry up and appear.

Suddenly, as if someone had been listening to my inner thoughts, a great white brick fortress rose up in the horizon, like the morning sun, and grew bigger and closer with every one of Aenbharr's strides. The pain in my stomach grew worse, and the rose-coloured patch on my shirt turned darker and darker still.

Aenbharr slowed his pace, and the rocking gait he took up felt like it could lull me to sleep. Instead, I sat up straighter in my seat, and fought a terrible and great battle of dominance with my eyelids.

The guards watched me as I neared, and nodded at me as we passed through the gates.

The city was filled with bright colours, and people covered every spare inch. It was a happier Camelot than the last I had visited.

At a slow trot, we reached the heart of the city, where the Castle with its many occupants dwelt.

A passing knight noticed me and approached. I had hardly any strength in my body left, so I couldn't even attempt to dismount. The knight was tall, with a trimmed beard and short, curly light ginger hair. Although he had changed, Leon had not changed vastly. The only difference I saw was the fact he could actually grow a beard, and an increase in height.

"Milady," His tone was strong, and kind. "Are you alright?"

I decided to be as honest as possible. "No, not really." I gasped out with the pain. "I've been stabbed, and I must see the King." Even though Uther hates magic, he was a good friend of my father, and I am sure he will help me.

I watched Leon steadily lower his gaze to my stomach and his face blanched.

"Milady, I think you should see the court physician first. Your wound is deep and you appear to be losing blood rather quickly."

"Seeing the King is more important."

"But Milady—."

"Leon, what's going on?"

And then it appeared. That big, massive, stupid, blessed blonde head.

His smile disappeared as quickly as the darkness came.

Guess who?! :D

Anyway, hope you liked it!

Review, Follow, whatevs!

:D

Love you lots like jelly tots!

Peace!

CaChrisSo