Chapter Text
The sun shines warmly through the leaves of the tall trees. There are some birds chirping in the distance and a couple squirrels and other small animals flee from the two men passing through the royal woods of Camelot.
What a wonderful day, Merlin thinks. And what a terrific way of spending it, he adds sarcastically to himself.
It was another day of one of Arthur's seemingly never-ending hunting sessions and another day of Merlin having to drag all the equipment for the young prince while having to listen to his endless self-praise and previous achievements. Truly not Merlin's favorite way to spend such a beautiful summer day.
"...Did I ever tell you how I hunted down a whole pack of wolves threatening the local farmers?" says Arthur, not waiting for his man-servant to give him an answer, "I was all on my own but of course I've beaten every single one of them with ease. You should have seen me. I had not one scratch on my armor,"
Merlin, a few steps behind Arthur, rolls his eyes. Yes, of course he had heard this story before. Probably a thousand times already. It's one of Arthur's favorite ones to tell whenever they were out hunting. Well whenever Arthur is out hunting. After all, Merlin is only here to carry his things and quickly refill the crossbow with new arrows when a shot misses, which Merlin has to admit, rarely happens.
"And did I ever mention how I shot this huge swan midair when I was out hunting with my father as a child? My father was impressed as well. Obviously he was. It was a majestic shot. Straight through it's heart." continues Arthur.
This bragging goes on for what feels like an eternity to Merlin. For one second he thinks about the possible consequences of him dropping all gear and running back to the castle. Arthur would be furious. He would probably have Merlin scrub his entire chambers twice and clean every damn nook of the stables. But maybe it's worth it? At least it would be better than having his ears getting further tortured by Arthur's stories.
But just as Merlin is about to run for his dear life, Arthur quiets down and holds up his hand, signaling Merlin to pause. Only now the young warlock notices what stopped Arthur in his monologue.
There is the sound of galloping in the distance. The sound is coming closer and closer to where Arthur and Merlin are currently standing. Is it a traveler perhaps? No, the sound is approaching too fast for a mere traveler. Besides, it's common knowledge that the royal part of the forest is off limits for every peasant. Generally speaking, entering the royal woods without permission from a member of the royal family is strictly forbidden. Every trespasser awaits a serious punishment for lingering where one shouldn't, thinks Merlin.
But is it a messenger from another kingdom then? The Question comes up in his mind. Though that is also highly unlikely so far away from the official path leading into town. Maybe it's just a lost horse or a wild one. Yes, Merlin tells himself that this is the only logical answer to the sudden sound of a horse echoing through the forest.
Now that Merlin is convinced why there is a horse here, he concentrates on where the sound is coming from exactly. But something stops him. A realization, which Arthur also just has had.
The unknown horse is approaching the two men. And it's fast. And there is no acoustical sign of slowing down.
Artur gestures for Merlin to hand him his loaded crossbow and gets into position in one swift motion.
Merlin, on the other hand, seeks cover behind a fallen tree a couple steps away from Arthur and watches carefully as the royal huntsman aims at the direction the sound is coming from.
Just mere seconds pass and the horse comes into sight. It's a magnificent, black beast. A Friesian horse, as far as Merlin can tell.
But there is something else that he notices. Or rather someone else.
The horse has a rider.
And this rider is still keen on pressing towards where the pair is standing.
The figure is wrapped in a dark green cloak and Merlin can't make out their face as it's covered by a big hood. Other than that, he can't make out anything that would reveal the mysterious rider's identity, origin or destination.
"Stop your horse immediately!" Merlin hears Arthur shout.
But the rider seems to either not have heard the words of the now in his path standing blonde or they just don't care. There are no signs of them slowing or even attempting to slow down their mount.
Merlin grows nervous. He tries to think of a way to slow down the horse. But he can't use magic here in the open, right in front of Arthur. He looks around for another way. But no idea comes to mind.
Arthur on the other hand, starts to aim at the horse again. His gaze is steady. And so are his hands.
A swoosh breaks the tension. An arrow hits the ground. Only mere feet away from the rider. A warning. And a successful one at that. The horse rears. Almost dropping it's master.
Arthur takes his chance, draws his sword and runs to the horse. Grabbing the bridle, he quickly calms down the animal and points the sword towards the rider, who still sits in the saddle.
Slowly the rider gets of the horse. Face still covered by the hood. But now Arthur realizes that the figure is significantly smaller than he has thought. Almost a whole head shorter than himself.
"Identify yourself!" demands Arthur angrily. Though, the unknown person remains silent.
The young heir to the throne grows impatient and calls for his servant: "Come here, Merlin. Take the horse while I interrogate our guest here."
Merlin, still surprised at what just occurred, walks cautiously towards where Arthur and the cloaked person are standing.
When he approaches them, he immediately feels the unknown's gaze fall upon him and in a split second, the cloaked figure pushes Arthur to the side and dashes towards where a panicked Merlin is now standing. Her horse stands still with the bridle now hanging down it's neck.
Shocked by what just happened, Arthur loses his balance and falls to the ground.
"Thank God! Merlin! Is that really you?" A female voice echoes through the forest and Merlin quickly feels himself being embraced by a tight hug from the woman.
Her hood slips from her head and Merlin's eyes widen by surprise. Never would he have expected to see her here in Camelot.
The woman got long, hazelnut brown hair that is braided to the side. Her amber colored eyes rest softly on the young warlock.
Calmly she speaks: "I thought I'd never see you again, I've missed you so much."
"What are you doing here, Arwen?" stutters Merlin, still stunned by seeing one of his oldest childhood friends standing in front of him in the middle of the royal woods, so far away from Cenred's territory.
The woman, called Arwen Ravenscroft, slowly lets him go, but not without breaking eye contact. "Ah well... you know I just decided I had to get out from time to time," her words were quite cautiously chosen, "And this time is now."
Arthur, who got back on his feet quickly, approaches the two furiously. How dare that woman push him, prince of Camelot, to the ground? He doesn't care, who she is or why Merlin seems to know such a ruthless rogue. But he swears to himself, that this woman will pay for what she did.
He stomps with his sword still drawn. And points it's tip at the woman's neck.
However, the woman, who he sees as just a mere idiotic rogue, is quick to draw her own sword and dodges his attack. Readying herself for a counterattack, she jumps to the side and locks eyes for the first time with Arthur.
"Don't, Arwen! He is Arthur Pendragon." says Merlin quickly, realizing what is about to happen.
"Who?" questions Arwen, still holding her gaze on the man she just discovered is named Arthur.
"Prince of Camelot and it's future king." says Merlin, a bit puzzled as to why a woman of Arwen's status wouldn't know who Arthur is. Then again, he doesn't recall her ever studying what her father told her. Instead she preferred to visit him and his mother in Ealdor almost daily.
"What?," Merlin hears Arthur call out in utter shock, "You don't even know my name?"
"Ah, so this prat here is Uther's son?" says Arwen to Merlin, ignoring Arthur and his open displeasure.
"So you do know my father's name but not mine," exclaims Arthur, "Fantastic." He is always quick to hate it whenever he has the feeling of standing in his father's shadows. Meeting his and the other's expectations is stressful enough he thinks.
"Of course I know the king's name," Arwen turns back to Arthur and adds with a hint of mockery: "After all, I'm currently passing his kingdom."
Something snaps in Arthur's mind. He feels his jaw clenching. This woman will pay for what she did.
to be continued...