Merlyn's Only Hope

The Dragon's Call P3

After escaping the endless cascade of questions from Gaius, Merlyn walked to the lower town. Armed with a bag of gold, she proceeded to the same book stall that she'd been eyeing the day before, admiring the way the white stone of the castle glimmered in the sunlight. After purchasing a green, leather bound set of Greek poetry, as well as a few, stories of golden heroes and books on herbal remedies- Gaius had mentioned something about her becoming his assistant- her eyes wandered to a dark tome, it's brown cover worn, much unlike the other works scattered across the table. She picked it up, eying the strange illustrations carved into the front, images suspiciously like the runes in her own tome hidden under a lose floorboard beside her bed.

"How much for this?" she asked waving the yellow pages in the air. She knew it was risky, but it was unlikely the owner knew much about the book. He certainly wouldn't be selling such an artifact in the heart of Camelot if he truly knew its meanings. Unless he was a spy, she supposed, but it was a little late for her if that was the case.

"For you, a couple of pieces of silver." he answered, a mysterious smile on his face. Merlyn's eyebrows rose: she was surprised at that reaction. He appeared to understood what this book was; the fact that he hadn't instantly screamed treason allowed the witch a glimmer of hope for Camelot, that even small acts of rebellion could occur so close to the castle. She returned his knowing smile, handing him a gold coin before turning away and making for her chambers.

As she spun around, the tome safely buried under her other purchases, she knocked into someone, causing all of her books to scatter on the ground. As she bent to pick them up, she listened to the strangely familiar man grumble, as if her spilling of books had caused him some kind of problem. After retrieving her green poetry, she stood, trying to maintain some dignity, and glared at the rude figure. Frankly, she didn't know why she was surprised to see the sandy blonde hair and watery blue eyes of the prince standing behind her; the way his widened when he saw her face was almost hysterical.

"It's you."

"Sire." Merlyn replied, her tone nothing short of mocking. She curtsied, dropping overly low, carefully balancing her books, before defiantly meeting his gaze. She was surprised that, rather than anger, his eyes were full of amusement, but as his fellow knights began to gather around him, she knew he wouldn't let her go.

"Look, I already told you that you're an ass, but I didn't realise you're a royal one. What more is there to say?" She curtsied clumsily again, reckoning that the situation couldn't get much worse. At least, for her, it could be fun.

"Tell me..." He trailed off, realising that he hadn't bothered to learn her name.

"Merlyn." she supplemented, her tone full of mirth, eyes shining in glee.

"Merlyn," he said with as much sneer as he could muster, "Are you looking for a week in the stocks or are you just stupid?"

"Well sire," Merlyn said deliberately punctuating his title, evidently mocking Arthur's tone, "You may think me stupid, but at least I'm not a blonde buffoon." She was playing on his pride, seeing how fragile his ego really was.

Arthur stared at her for a moment, genuinely astonished at the complete lack of respect she had shown him. As if his rank didn't matter, as if they were equals.

"I'm sorry Merlyn," this time, he coated his words in venom, as if it would do something more than cause her to chuckle. "But even if you are a woman, I cannot let this pass. Arm yourself." He brandished the mace he'd been using in training, putting on a show for the curious crowd that had gathered.

Again.

Only, this time, he would beat her, would show Camelot why he was their leader, why she wasn't someone to be admired, but a fool. Not a courageous warrior standing up for herself, but a lucky, insignificant bastard.