Merlyn's Only Hope

Excalibur P3

Merlyn stood in the armoury, Arthur's chainmail gleaming in the dim light coming through the few windows in the room. The prince hadn't got up for training that morning; instead, a messenger had been sent, telling her to get his things ready amongst the broken shields and maces, strange, considering the fact that she normally dressed him in his chambers. She picked up her new blade, smiling at the golden sheen it gained in the morning sun, beautiful in every sense of the word.

Uther walked into the room, an unusual sight in his chainmail and red tunic. He kept his face carefully expressionless, but Merlyn could see something flickering behind his eyes. He looked almost scared.

"That's a fine blade." he said, admiring the craftsmanship, seemingly oblivious of the runes decorating the sword.

"It's for Arthur." she twirled it absentmindedly in her hands before putting it back down, looking back at the King questioningly.

"He won't be needing it today." Uther strode forwards, grabbing the hilt of the sword. "I will be taking his place."

"But sire-"

"Prepare me for battle." he spoke firmly, his certainty vaguely heartening. Merlyn had no idea where Arthur was, but the fact that Uther appeared to have decided to fight in his place, to die in his place, was extremely touching. She debated for a moment, wondering if she should hand the king another sword, if she should let him die by the hand of the wraith, but she knew that Arthur wasn't ready to rule. He would never let magic thrive if his father died from it.

"No."

Uther narrowed his eyes at her, shocked that she would disobey her king.

"The grievance is with me, the fight is mine." he said sharply, scowling with all the entitlement he could muster.

Merlyn had made a promise to the dragon, that only Arthur would wield the sword. She had no intention of keeping that promise, but she wasn't cruel enough to hand the king the blade. If Arthur was otherwise indisposed, then she was sure he wouldn't mind her taking his place.

"You don't need to die, there's another way to get rid of the wraith." she stated urgently, sheathing the beautiful sword in her own belt. "Let me fight today; if I fail, you can sacrifice yourself tomorrow." she kept her voice even, daring the king to refuse her request.

A range of emotions rushed through the king's eyes, but he nodded hesitantly; he had no choice but to agree. After all, what was the life of a servant when there was a chance to save the King?

"Fine." he hissed, strangely angry. He turned to leave, but paused, reaching his hands out expectantly. Merlyn raised an eyebrow, but handed him the sword, watching with curiosity as the king examined the metal.

"It is fine indeed." he murmured. "Who made it?"

"Uh, Tom the blacksmith." Merlyn mumbled, tying her hair in a loose ponytail. She didn't fancy a new hairstyle; she very much doubted that the wraith would care enough to avoid slicing through her unruly locks.

"It's worthy of a king. It has an almost perfect balance." Uther almost smiled. Almost. "Of course, you would know that wouldn't you." he spoke almost to himself. "Arthur has told me of your training. Tell me, how does a commoner reach your standard without any formal tutelage?"

He seemed reluctant to return the blade, so she smiled tightly, deciding to humour him. "A couple of knights settled in my village. They taught me everything they knew."

Merlyn decided to leave out the fact that one of them was her father. That would just lead to more questions, ones she wasn't sure if she could handle.