I knew I was in for it today. I didn't want to get up. The moment the sunlight filtered through my closed eyelids, forcing me awake, my heart began to fill with trepidation. No matter what, my day was going to be horrible. He would see to that.

But, like the hapless but harmless servant that I am, I would have to smile and bear it. What good was it to complain? Would that make my day any less miserable? No.

But perhaps if I never got out of bed at all…

Just then, my sister, Blair, came singing into the room. "Time to arise, Tucker!" she cried happily. "Tempus est surgere!"

This was her favorite way to tell me it was time to get up and go, but I did not respond as I usually do jumping energetically out of bed.

"No," I moaned pathetically, rolling over in my cot.

Blair was surprised, but she laughed lightheartedly. "No, brother? No? Why? Is it more important to catch up on your sleep than it is to get money to eat with?"

"Yes," I said firmly, blocking out the hostile light from the window with my hands. It didn't work, so I tried hiding beneath my threadbare blanket.

Instantly the smile lines disappeared from the corners of her eyes. "Tucker? Are you sick? What's wrong?"

Finally I faced her. "You didn't hear? Prince Arthur had a fight with his father last night. They very nearly came to blows."

A woman through and through, Blair's ears perked up. "They did? What happened?"

"Arthur got sent to bed like a naughty child," I groaned, pulling a face.

She laughed—actually laughed! Didn't she understand? "Well, I'll bet that put him in quite a lovely mood," she said almost nastily, a voice I wasn't used to hearing from my serene, sweet sister. Sarcasm didn't suit her, but she knew how much I truly disliked Arthur, and was rejoicing at his expense.

I wasn't. "It made him furious," I said, "And I have to attend to him today!"

The color drained from Blair's rosy face. "Why, Tucker?"

"He fired Asa last night," I said, giving the name of the prince's one-time manservant. "So he'll be looking for someone else to take his temper out on—with a smile, of course."

Blair's brown eyes softened in pity. "I'll have an extra-special dinner for you when you get home. But for now, you must go. I'm sorry."

I sighed and finally made myself leave my warm, nice bed. "I know, Blair. I know. Wish me luck. Maybe I'll come back with all my fingers still attached." I stood sadly but determinedly.

She smiled at me. If I was laughing, she must've figured, then it would all be okay. Impulsively she rushed across the room and hugged me, pecking my cheek. "My brave, brave brother," she said. "Don't forget, your just as good as any spoiled prince."

I laughed at her affection, but it made me feel slightly less like I was going to be sick. Slightly less like I was walking into an arena with the angriest lion that ever shook its mane.

How was I to know I was going to meet fate itself today? That I was to see the future of Camelot change in a second? I couldn't know that I was to play a part in the re-shaping of a country, the beginning of legend. It would be many years until I saw that day as part of the bigger picture.

Break

"Where's the target?"

And just like that, my heart sank. "Eh?" I said, stupidly.

I had forgotten to put the target up, hadn't I? A really foul word crossed my mind. Today, of all days, I should not have done something so stupid. Today I needed to be perfect, because Arthur would take any chance I gave him to take out his anger. I'd just given him that chance.

When Arthur said something about the sun, I muttered that it wasn't too bright, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was busy thinking of that smile I needed to plaster on my face—where was it? I needed to find it, so I wouldn't look hurt when Arthur mortified me…

"A bit like you, then?"

Ah, there was the mortification beginning. And here was the beginning of the bland smile. I mumbled in reply while I reached for the target. Holding it in front of me, I looked around for the place to set it up.

"This'll teach him," I heard Arthur say with a laugh. What'll teach me? I had time to wonder before the knife hit the target with a dreadful thump!

"Hey, hang on!" I heard myself cry in horror. I hadn't really expected the prince to try and take a few of my fingers…!

"Don't stop!" said Arthur with a laugh. "I told you to keep moving!" (He had?) "Come on! Run!" I heard him laugh about moving target practice as another knife hit the target.

Oh, dear, I thought, along with many stronger sentiments that would have shocked Blair. I began to run this way and that, blushing horribly. I knew I looked like an idiot, and the laughter from Arthur's men attested to that fact. I wasn't sure if the humiliation or the fear was the uppermost feeling in me at that moment.

Arthur, I assured myself, was too good at aiming to hurt me. Unless he wanted to. I was pretty good at judging people and their emotions, though, and something told me Arthur didn't really want to hurt me. He just wanted to prove he could step on me, control me, and that made him better than me. I was too scared of knives to tell him otherwise.

He laughed, his light face lighting handsomely. The big bully looked like some type of carefree angel.

Suddenly my foot caught on something, and I felt my body sailing through the air, on its way to hit the ground. The target tumbled out of my hand, rolling away.

I guess we'll find out if he wants to kill me or not, I remember thinking as I hit the ground. There was no question; fear was now my uppermost emotion. I winced, expecting a knife blade to dig into me…

And not expecting a foot to come firmly down upon the target. "Hey, come on. That's enough," said a new voice, and I looked up to see a dark-haired, thin man standing there.

I couldn't believe it. Was this maniac saving me? Was he actually challenging Arthur?

Arthur looked just as shocked as I felt. "What?" was all the Prince could manage, staring at the new arrival. I saw that all the cockiness had begun to fade from Arthur. He looked… interested. Even a little nervous. In his own princely way, of course.

"You've had your fun, my friend," said the man with a funny accent. He smiled, but he was anything but amused. I thought he looked a little mad.

Stumbling to my feet, I saw that this man was wearing peasant garb. And facing down Prince Arthur. For me.

Knowing that hiding my face in horror would hardly be impressive, I kept watching.

"Do I know you?" asked Arthur, recovering from his moment of being nervous. He just looked curious now. Curious and dangerous.

"I'm Merlin," said the strange man.

"So I don't know you."

"No." This man – Merlin – looked a little uncomfortable for the first time, but he hid it well.

"Yet you called me friend."

I should say something, I thought, watching the Prince and peasant as Arthur walked threateningly forward, standing about a foot from Merlin. Merlin didn't flinch. But I said nothing. What could I say, after all? It was my place to remain silent.

"That was my mistake," the strange man was saying pleasantly, not fazed by the fact that Arthur was twice his size.

"Yes, I think so," said Arthur, thinking he'd won.

Merlin then told him that he'd never have a friend who could be such a… well, just say I'm glad Blair didn't hear it. And Merlin turned away, triumphant. Arthur had just lost that round of verbal sparring.

But pretty words are worth nothing against a sword, and I knew it. And Arthur knew it. Seemingly only Merlin didn't realize that words were useless against a man with a weapon, no matter how intelligent or true they were. Perhaps this Merlin knew something we did not, of course, but I doubted it.

"Or I one who could be so stupid," Arthur said as he drew his sword.

I felt my heart leap into my throat. Arthur wouldn't kill an unarmed man, would he? I hoped not.

Merlin did not look scared when he turned around. He looked amused. "I wouldn't if I were you," he said as a response to another remark of Arthur's… something about walking on his knees. I felt a little sick.

Really, I should say something.

Arthur walked forward, still talking, asking this man what he would do. Merlin responded with a laugh and a "You have no idea."

Arthur's cockiness was back. Merlin had finally made a threat that Arthur could easily make look ridiculous. He spread his arms, inviting Merlin, telling him to go ahead, to come on.

Merlin stood still.

"Come on."

Nothing.

"Come on," sang Arthur happily. He was sure Merlin would do nothing.

Merlin started forward, as though about to make a move, rethought it, and made a different move. He punched at Arthur's face...which, I was sure, was probably much stupider than any other move he could've made. Instantly Arthur had Merlin in a tight hold, his arms pulling back Merlin's.

"I could have you put in jail for that," said the prince calmly.

"Why? Who do you think you are, the king?" asked Merlin coldly, struggling.

"No. I'm his son. Arthur."

And so Merlin realized who he'd been talking to. But he didn't grovel or cry. He didn't apologize. He just looked like he was cursing, not ashamed, but mad.

Looking back, I think that was when Arthur found someone he liked to taunt more than anyone else. That's when he found someone willing to fight with him. And I think that even Arthur was forced to admire the other man's bravery.

But I wasn't thinking those thoughts at the time—no, I was too busy looking the other way as Arthur squeezed, driving the stranger who tried to protect me to his knees. Merlin was totally helpless.

When I looked the other way, I froze, my eyes meeting Blair's soft brown ones in the crowd. She'd seen the whole thing.