Of Love and Magic
Disclaimer; I don't own anything in Merlin besides Estelle and my other OC's. Anything unrecognisable belongs to me. BBC owns everything else.
Prologue
The young girl couldn't stop running; she wouldn't. If she stopped, she would get caught, and she didn't want to think about what would happen to her if that happened.
The sound of horses galloping and men shouting reached her small ears. They were closer than she thought. She willed herself to run faster, fear creeping through her body. Her legs ached and her lungs screamed for breath, but the primal instinct of survival kept her moving.
The undergrowth and fallen leaves crunched from beneath her agile feet. She didn't dare glance back. Her forehead and neck were drenched in sweat, her red hair sticking to the glistening skin; she couldn't remember how long she had been running for.
A loud and abrupt bark echoed through the trees, followed closely by a chorus of howls. She allowed herself to pause and closed her eyes in anguish. They had released the hounds. People were easy enough to trick and misdirect. But her confidence was rattled with the addition of the dogs.
She ran towards a large tree that had a plethora of branches; the perfect tree for climbing. Glancing towards the ever-growing noise of the hunters, she hurriedly pushed her auburn waves back and started the ascent.
The girl thanked the heavens that climbing trees happened to be an important part of her childhood. Or the little childhood that she had. Whenever she was able to get away from the probing eyes around her, she would escape to the comforting forests. It was more of a home than she ever had with her family. How odd, she thought, that the last time she had climbed a tree, she was full of excitement and laughter… and now she was filled with an overwhelming terror.
The sounds were getting closer; she could hear their tumultuous laughter. The hunters were enjoying this, and it sickened her.
Perched atop a high branch, she stilled. Six men materialised from the underbrush, sauntering through the woods. They stopped beneath the tree that she had taken refuge on, shouting orders to each other. She didn't move; didn't breathe. She couldn't.
The dogs started searching. There were four of them - various different hunting breeds - and they sniffed along the ground frantically, trying to pick up her scent. Then one barked enthusiastically.
The girl held a hand over her mouth, trembling infinitesimally. Her other hand clenched the chain that hung around her neck. It was an heirloom that bore the crest of her kingdom, a roaring bear's head. The dog that barked followed her invisible scent trail towards her tree and howled. The men grinned maliciously and nudged each other in jest.
"Come on out, little girl," one of the men called out. Through the branches below she could make out his features. He wasn't much to look at - he was the smallest of the group with mousy brown hair. It wasn't his stature that intimidated her; it was the mean glint in his eyes.
The group stood at the stump of the tree, yelling taunts and threats up at her. She glanced down at the group, not caring about being seen anymore. They already knew she was there. All she needed was an escape.
The young redhead barely dodged the arrow that was released her way, gripping onto the tree bark to steady herself. She stood up on the thick branch shakily and exhaled a sharp breath.
"You can't escape." The sing-song tone was starting to get on her nerves.
Their thundering words and yells continued, but suddenly turned to laughter again when one of the hunters started to climb the tree after her; a balding man with a thick scar running through his cheek.
The girl panicked. She didn't get this far only to be caught again. By the murderous glares she received from the group, she doubted she would survive.
She struggled to formulate a plan in her mind, and the man climbing closer and closer certainly wasn't helping to clear her head.
She couldn't jump down. Even if the group of hunters weren't there, she would surely break her legs. Her gaze scanned the surrounding trees and she frowned in contemplation. They were close enough. If calculated correctly, she might be able to leap across to the nearest tree.
She took another look at the climbing man. He was getting too close for comfort and, if she didn't act now, she would undoubtedly be caught.
Taking a deep breath, the girl swiftly ran along the branch - ignoring the yells and jeers of the men - and jumped. Her stomach dropped as she was momentarily airborne, the sudden fear of falling straight to the forest floor tightened her throat. She'd landed a branch lower than she anticipated but shrugged it off, relieved. She was alive.
The group were shouting even louder than they had been before. Some of them seemed excited that she was giving them a challenge, but the majority were impatient now, wanting the chase to be over.
Not if she could help it.
In a burst of confidence, she continued to leap across the trees, evading several arrows that were sent her way. For a second, she forgot about the men chasing her, and enjoyed the novelty of bouncing between the trees.
Until a searing pain tore through her left thigh. She cried out in agony. Her foot slipped on the branch and she was sent flying off the tree, a silent scream rising in her throat at the fast-approaching ground. Desperately, her hands flailed about, and she managed to painfully grab onto a passing branch. The rough bark dug into her skin; she knew her palms would be covered in scratches.
She hung from the branch for another moment, quickly peering down to the ground. The forest floor wasn't too far and the hunters had yet to appear from the nearby shrubbery, so she closed her eyes and let go.
The girl landed hard with a pained oof-, gripping her injured leg as a spasm tore through it. She quickly scurried off towards a particularly large bush and hid inside of it, needing a moment to examine her leg. It was a gruesome sight and looking at the protruding arrow made her feel queasy. She gave the arrow an experimental tug and quickly gave up, tears streaming down her face from the agony.
The men weren't shouting anymore; it was suspiciously silent - and that didn't put her mind at ease. She peeked out through the bushes and felt something inside of her rise. The men were there, and they were advancing on her. There was no laughter or taunts or jeers - just intent.
Fear rose up and she slowly limped out of the greenery, arrow and all. She was tired, and a resigned sigh fell across her features as she stared at the oncoming group of men.
And, as a last minute resort, her eyes flashed gold.
The men were violently thrown back - some thudding painfully on to their backs, others having been thrown into trees. They were all unconscious… or worse, though she did not want to think about it. She staggered up to the man nearest to her and took two of his knives. It wasn't a lot, but it was all she could carry.
The girl looked at the incapacitated group and used the advantage to run. Well, get away as quickly as her injured leg would let her.
Gripping the daggers tightly, she ducked through the forest, wincing with every step. Her leg burned and throbbed painfully, fresh tears pricking her eyes. A thick, red substance seeped through her trousers, and she absently worried about the amount of blood she'd lost.
The girl travelled for what seemed like hours before reaching a small river. She collapsed next to the body of water and drank from it, greedily. At that moment, she felt nothing but pain and exhaustion and, with that, she slowly let the darkness overtake her body as she fell unconscious.
The young prince laughed as he rode horseback through the forest, his father not far behind him. They were racing each other towards a small clearing that they both knew well. It was one of the only moments that the son and father had together and so, they made the most of it.
The boy was particularly excited. He would get to go hunting with his father again. Normally, his father would have been too busy to spend any spare time with him.
Racing ahead, he dived forward to avoid a low hanging branch, laughing at the adrenaline that pumped through his veins.. He had always loved the forests and the freedom it gave him.
He had almost reached the clearing when he spotted a figure out of the corner of his eye. The boy slowed down to a trot and quickly dismounted his horse.
He carefully climbed over a fallen tree trunk and froze at the limp body of a girl. She was young - maybe a year or two younger than him - with wild, auburn hair. Her clothes were dirty and ripped, making the prince wonder how long she had been out there.
"Arthur!" Called his father, causing the boy to pause for a moment.
Arthur returned his gaze towards the young girl. He moved forward to check if she was alright and noticed a large, crimson stain on the girl's trousers, quickly recognising it as blood.
Kneeling down next to her, he noticed that her skin was unnaturally pale. A layer of sweat glistened on her skin and her chest was rapidly rising and falling, her breaths mere gasps as she struggled for air.
Arthur knew enough from Gaius to know that that wasn't normal.
"Father!" He yelled, hoping that he might be able to help her.
King Uther came out through the dense shrubs at the sound of his son's yell. He paused when he saw Arthur sat next to an unconscious girl and immediately tensed as he noticed the daggers in her hands. He demanded that Arthur stand by his side.
The young prince, however, was hesitant to move. He knew that the girl was in danger of infection and shook his head mutinously.
"She's wounded, father," he pleaded. "We should take her back to Gaius."
The King, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, gave the boy a reprimanding look. "We don't know who she is, Arthur, or where her parents are."
The young boy frowned, shaking his head softly. "It looks like she was attacked. What if she wasn't with her parents? We can't leave her here!"
"We cannot bring an unknown girl into the heart of the kingdom," he told Arthur, sternly, keeping his wary eye on the girl.
"Father, if it were me–" the prince began.
"But it's not you." His tone was one of finality.
The boy looked up at the King, his eyes pleading with him. The guilt would eat him alive if he left the girl, knowing that she would probably die of her injury.
"Please."
Uther glanced away from the girl and into his son's eyes. He seemed adamant on taking the girl back with them. The older man strode towards the limp body, taking in her fragile state, and removed the knives from her hands. Just in case. He had encountered people who seemed innocent enough, only for them to betray him or try to kill him.
He caught sight of an object that was loosely hung around her neck. Taking the chain in his hand, he narrowed his gaze back to the girl's face. She carried the crest of the royal family of Branlant. She was a princess.
He had heard rumours that King Monnan of Branlant had another child. A girl, in fact. But that's all they were at the time. Maybe the rumours were true.
"We'll take her to Gaius and send out a message to her parents," he told his son.
Arthur smiled brightly at his father. At least the girl would be properly taken care of. Maybe when she woke up, he and the girl could become friends.
The young girl woke slowly with a groan, her eyes peeling open with great difficulty. Her leg was still sore, but nowhere near as painful as it had been before. This filled her with a tired confusion. Blinking, she waited for her vision to clear before she realised that she was not in the forest but inside an unfamiliar room.
There were shelves upon shelves of thick books, the names of which she couldn't even hope to pronounce. On those shelves also lay an array of vials and beakers, all filled with mysterious liquids of equally bright and disgusting colours; some a vibrant fuschia and others a murky shade of seaweed.
"Oh good, you're awake," a voice said cheerfully from behind her.
She jolted upright instantly, staring at the man who had spoken. He was an older man - but not old enough to be classed as elderly - with kind, pale-blue eyes. He had greying hair that reached the end of his chin and a small, yet sincere, smile upon his face. His presence gave her pause. If they had caught her, they would have bound her hands and feet. She wouldn't be on a bed, but in a dungeon. She wouldn't be looking at a caring face. Truth be told, she would probably be dead.
"Where am I?" She asked quietly, her throat aching.
"Camelot, my dear." He handed her a vial of a green liquid, smiling at her. She eyed the bottle warily. "It's to help with the pain."
She wasn't sure why, but she trusted the man in front of her. Taking the vial, she looked back up at the man and drank the liquid. It didn't taste horrible, but she certainly wouldn't be rushing to drink it again.
"Who are you?" She questioned. She was starting to feel more confident now that she knew she wasn't in immediate danger.
The man visibly brightened. "My name is Gaius, the court physician of Camelot. You're lucky you didn't get an infection," he told her gently, gesturing towards her injured leg. It was now wrapped up with bandages.
Gratitude washed through her at his words. "Thank you for helping me," she replied sincerely.
Gaius just smiled at the girl sitting before him. She looked startlingly familiar but he couldn't place where from. He had been worried when Uther came into his chambers with a weak, shivering girl in his arms. The King had told him how he had found her and that she was potentially of royal lineage.
"If I may ask, what is your name, my dear?"
The child looked at him with curious blue eyes before softly answering. "My name is Estelle."
A/N: I'm awful, I know. I recently started re-watching Merlin and the inspiration to continue what I had started almost 7 YEARS AGO hit me like a tonne of bricks... So here I am again. Hope you enjoy x
