Merlyn's Last Dream

The Sorcerer's Shadow P1

"What do you mean I'm not allowed to compete?" Merlyn scowled, dragging Arthur's sword through the courtyard. The prince had just delivered the news, flinching at the sound of metal hitting the cobble stones. "It's meant to be a contest to all comers for a hefty chest of gold. It's hardly going to be a tournament of chivalry."

Arthur, who Merlyn suspected had argued with Morgana on this subject many times before, seemed to temporarily forget how to meet her gaze. "It's tradition, Merlyn. The tournament has been held every ten years for centuries and, in all that time, a woman has never even tried to enter."

"Well that's hardly fair. I've beaten many of the knights who have put their names down. It's not like I'm not skilled enough." the servant hissed, doing her best not to jump as a competitor lopped off the head of a training dummy rather viciously, his mighty axe glinting dangerously in the sun.

Arthur sighed, barely blinking as they passed men around twice his size. "I know, but my father-"

"Your father has never said anything when I accompany you on missions despite the rules in The Knights' Code. Surely he doesn't care that much about one competition." Merlyn ducked a dagger thrown over her head, wondering why the prince was having so much trouble meeting her eyes. He looked so solemn; she was sure he wasn't telling her something.

"Are you sure you're not just worried that I'll beat you?" she questioned, elbowing him teasingly.

He looked at her then, his mouth twisted into a wry smile. "This is an open tournament. I could use any weapon I like and, despite your sword skills, we both know that I am far superior in... other areas."

Merlyn raised an eyebrow, her cheeks flushing pink. "I think you'll find that's only when we fight under the code. In this tournament, the only rule is that there are no rules, including anything surrounding women entering."

She gave Arthur a pointed look, but he just shook his head, marching off to a relatively empty part of the field. The servant knew why the prince couldn't speak up for her, that anything he said could look suspicious seeing as she was fairly certain that Uther didn't actually believe the whole Dragoon nonsense; the moment he thought anything was amiss between them, she would be forced to leave. Or kill the king, or be executed, or burn Camelot to the ground. Essentially, it would be better for everyone if Uther never thought about her again.

Hauling the prince's kit up in her arms, not really wanting to have to polish it after dragging it through the mud, Merlyn was just about to follow when she sensed some sort of danger. Ducking instinctively, she felt an axe fly overhead, sailing towards one of the targets. Time slowed as she watched its path; her eyes glowed gold, the axe bouncing off the wooden rings, landing harmlessly in the grass. She smirked, turning to find the man who had thrown the axe glaring at her, as if he could have known that it was her fault. Luckily for him, she had other things on her mind. Otherwise, she might have turned him into a frog.

~

Merlyn had never been much of a fan of polishing the prince's armour, at least, by hand. If she could get away with it, she'd just let her eyes flash gold and, mysteriously, her chores would start doing themselves. Unfortunately, with the number of the people in the castle, there weren't many quiet places to illegally use magic and, with Gaius in his chambers, she found herself working in the armoury, pondering her chances of sneaking into the tournament unnoticed.

As she contemplated copying what Arthur had done, hiring somebody to face the crowd whilst she did the exciting fighting bit, she listened to two sets of footsteps entering the room. Glancing upwards to see the man who had very kindly thrown an axe at her and, who she presumed to be, his gormless accomplice.