Merlin P.O.V.

It had been a few weeks since anything had really gone wrong. Sure there had been little things. Normal things, but no "Kill the sorcerer" or "Camelot is going to be destroyed unless…" How much I was going to miss those few weeks...

i was scrubbing the floors of Arther's chambers, when he stormed into the room, rattling the wooden doors on their hinges. He practically slid on the wet floor to the cupboards, removing his belt and scabbard.

"Merlin, get the horses ready. There have been reports of raids in some outlining villages near the forests. Saxons."

I nodded and quickly ran to the stables to fetch the horses. Over the years I had known Arthur, I had come to realize his ever-changing expressions. The expression he wore at that moment was his gravest. No one could mess with his people and live. Bridle, saddle blanket, saddle, girth, tacking equipment piled carefully in my arms, I tugged along Arthur's brown mare and my chestnut, leading them into the pavilion supplied with the necessities.

To my discontent, I found Mordred mounting his horse as well as the other knights, Gwaine, Percival, Leon, and Elyon. They wore the customary, billowing red capes and heavy chain mail. Arthur mounted shortly after his men, having kissed his queen goodbye first. He too wore his usual chain mail. I smiled slightly as I remembered how he barely wore anything else.

"Merlin, once you're done daydreaming, I would like to see to my people." Arthur baited, before pulling on his reigns and leading his horse at a fast trot out of the citadel. The knights chuckled and followed after their king.

"Dollop head." I whispered under my breath and took off on my horse.

We spent the rest of the day riding, listening to Gwaine's mindless chatter and amusing bar stories, and riding at a minor tempo through the woods. The preordained pace was to keep the horses well rested, but it upset Arthur to be going so slowly. I could tell he was worried so I did my best to keep him occupied after Gwaine took a breather. I started telling a story from when I was in Ealdor, but Gwaine butted in.

"Why don't you tell us one of your tavern stories, Merlin?"

"Me? I don't have any tavern stories. I barely have any time to spend in a tavern."

Arthur snapped out of his solemn mood just in time to laugh pompously. "No, you never spend your time in the tavern. You spend my time in the tavern. Last time it was three days!" He laughed. I scoffed at him.

"I did not—" I stopped remembering why Gaius told him I was in the tavern. "I —It's not—I go and pick herbs for Gaius! I don't know why he says I'm—" My objections were interrupted by angry battle cries from Saxons rushing down the embankments with very pointy swords. Arthur reacted immediately, his battle instincts sharp from training since he was a boy. He unsheathed his sword, his knights following his lead, and kicked his horse into charging the enemy.

I looked around me and cursed, tugging on the handle of one of my cooking pans. "Why do I never have a sword? Or armor?" I slid off my horse and held the iron menacingly at a charging Saxon.

He struck with a back-hand swipe and quick jabs at my midsection. I was able to fend him off but my arm was already tired from his thrusts. The pan was not meant for fighting, and he was a really big guy. Almost six feet tall and was all muscles. I jumped back, feeling the air sliced by the blade. Quickly and quietly, I whispered, "hleap on baec!" The Saxon flew backwards, crashing into three others as he fell. If I were lucky—which I definitely never am—he and his friends would be out of commission for the rest of the fight.

But my victory was short lived as another Saxon came at me. Hastily, I searched for Arthur, hoping for his help. He was fending off his own attackers with no chance of aiding my own plights. Mordred was at his back, killing those who were a threat to his king. For a fleeting moment, I had conflicting feelings for the druid, but the fact he was destined to kill Arthur hardened them. But I couldn't think of them now, not if I wanted to live.

I refaced the oncoming dangers but didn't look behind me. I took a step back to gain ground but tripped on a well concealed root. I went down hard and as one of the Saxons brought down his sword, I raised my hand in moot defense. My pan was feet away from me, no chance of my retrieving it.

Just as the sword was slicing through the air, I closed my eyes. There was a high pitched clink, and I cracked open my eyes to see the Saxon held off by a blade. I followed the glowing gold metal up to the hilt, along the arm of my rescuer, to the face. He was young, about 16 or 17 years old. Midnight black hair fell shaggily to the sea-green eyes of the boy, his expression was nonchalant except for that gleam in his eyes—that hunger for battle. His clothes, wrinkled and dirty, were once brightly colored and strangely foreign. An antique necklace bounced at his collar bone, clay beads dotting the thick string.

"Careful! You could hurt someone with that thing." He retorted before jolting his sword back, throwing the Saxon off balance. He made a large arc with his blade and took up an offensive position. I looked up as someone grabbed my arm, tugging me to my feet. I turned to find a beautiful blond girl staring at me with intense gray eyes. She jerked me behind her and drew a bronze dagger.

"Percy, behind you!" She yelled and joined her friend, who I figured was Percy. She rushed forward and thrust her dagger at the man sneaking up on the boy. She caught the man's swipe on the cross-guard of her dagger and struck him the face with her fist. Their fighting style was like nothing I'd ever seen before. They used their enemies' strength and momentum to their advantage an obviously had a lot of previous training. Together, they worked perfectly in sync, checking each other's weaknesses and defending their backs. They took out many attackers, moving closer to the king and the bulk of the Saxons. Soon, they were fleeing back up the embankment.

I hurried to Arthur's side and checked him over before confirming he only had minor scratches then moved onto the other knights. No one was hurt badly, mostly minor cuts and bruises. I prepared a remedy for the minor cuts so none would take an infection before seeing to the two strangers.

The boy, Percy, didn't have any wounds, not even a scratch. He grinned sheepishly at me before edging away and looking at his friend. The girl had only a few slices on her hands but nothing else.

"Stop coddling us, Merlin." Arthur said distractedly. He was staring intently at the two new arrivals and observing if they were a threat or not. Arthur pushed me away repeatedly but he finally allowed me to coat his wounds with a odorous ointment.

After I tended to him, he wandered over to the pair. Arthur nodded appreciatively and said, "I thank you for your help. It was much appreciated."

Percy coughed and extended his hand, switching his sword into his left. Arthur clasped his forearm, which seemed to surprise the boy. He shook of his surprise and offered his name then indicated his friend, who was standing by his side.

"I'm Percy Jackson, and this is—"

"Annabeth. Annabeth Chase." The girl stepped forward and offered her hand as well. Arthur took it and kissed her hand. This time it was her time to be surprised, though she hid it better than Percy.

Now out of any danger, I was able to examine them more clearly. They both seemed close to the same age, and both held the same author active aura as commanders, but the similarities ended there. Percy was tall and olive skinned, his hair a raven black. His rugged hair stuck up in every direction like blades of grass, reaching down to the nape of his neck and to just above his eyes. Little seas churned in his eyes, like storms about to erupt. Annabeth was also tall and lithe, but her hair was as golden as the king's crown. The thick curls were tangled and matted, cascading down her back in a plait. He clothes were like Percy's, meaning brightly colored and more masculine than a young lady should be wearing. Her trousers were tightly bound to her figure, her shirt billowing loosely but sheer enough to see her undergarments.*

We stood for a moment, unsure of what to say. I could see Annabeth was curious about us; she seemed surprised that we had been riding horses, and she eyed our clothes and swords with apprehension, like we were the ones dressed strangely.

Finally, I asked, "Where are you headed?"

"Um, we don't have any basic direction in mind. We're pretty much tossing a stick and following the point," Percy said lightly; although, Annabeth nudged him in the ribs. Their accents were strange, I noted. I hadn't notice them before when they introduced themselves, but now they didn't sound like any person in Albion. I exchanged a glance with Arthur, who noticed the cadence as well.

"Where are you from?" asked Arthur.

Annabeth hesitated for a second. She's lying, I thought. "An island. I doubt you've heard of it. Manhattan? It's very far away and we've been traveling for so long. Could you tell us the—land we are in?"

"You don't know where you are?" I asked incredulously though Arthur silenced me with a wave of his hand.

"You're in Camelot, and I am Arthur Pendragon, king of this realm."

Annabeth squeaked and exchanged a glance with Percy.

"If you have nowhere to stay, I'd be happy to house you in Camelot Castle, after I rid a villages of raiders."

Annabeth, who I was beginning to suspect was the brains of the two, exchanged yet another glance with Percy. He scratched his head and shrugged to which Annabeth looked ecstatic.

"We'd be honored," she answered with a slight dip of the head.

Arthur nodded and glanced at the sky, the sun's shadows falling short of the trees. "We should camp here tonight and leave at first light. We should reach Scarborough by late morning. Merlin, get some food ready."

"Yes, sire." I said mockingly.

Annabeth whipped her head around and stared at me. "Merlin?" Her voice was higher than before. I looked at her curiously.

"Yes?"

She shook her head and followed Arthur deeper into the woods, off of the road.

"Where did'ya learn to fight like that?" Gwaine asked while scrutinizing the two with his Gwaine stare. I laughed to myself as they shifted uncomfortably. Gwaine could be a little… disconcerting and entertaining at the same time. "And what an interesting sword you have. Is it gold?"

Percy unstuck his sword from the ground and flashed it in the fire light. "It's bronze. My father gave it to me, called it Anaklusmos. And I've trained since I was twelve, but I guess you can say fighting's in my blood." He grinned lopsidedly at Annabeth, who grinned back. "I'm sixteen now, so I've trained for about four years."

Arthur whistled and commended him on his skill with a sword. He also gave accolades to Annabeth's skill with a dagger. She flushed and inched towards the fire to cover it up.

Something about them didn't feel right about those two. They were hiding something and I wanted to know what it was. I watched the knights. Percival, Gwaine, Elyan, and Arthur were all laughing and telling jokes with Percy and Annabeth. But I noticed Mordred watching them curiously, scrupulously. He sensed my gaze but didn't turn towards me.

You sense it too, don't you, Merlin? His voice rang through my head, startling me. It took me a moment to decide whether to trust telling Mordred my feelings. The power?

Yes.

*when I say undergarments I mean a tank top—just to clarify

review please :)

I'm going to try to re-write/edit my chapters...also it just occured to me that celestial bronze can't harm mortals and goes straight through them. This is my answer-the time travel messed with the metal and since practically evryone back then knew about magic and was immersed in it, the metal works on mortals too...