Balinor cupped his daughter's face and gave her one last, long look.

"I'm proud of you Merlin. And I can still come with you if you will allow me."

Merlin smiled sadly, "It's too risky. Uther's men would kill you in a second if they saw you. And even I can't keep up a glamour spell indefinitely to disguise your features."

She took a deep breath and set her shoulders.

"No. I have to do this. Alone." At his weary look, Merlin rolled her eyes. "I'm ready, father, you've trained me well."

Balinor smiled at that. His little girl, the expert marksman.

Not exactly what he had pictured when Hunith told him she was pregnant. He missed her terribly and cringed to think of what she would say, knowing that he was letting Merlin go back to Camelot while Uther yet lived.

But Hunith would never know. Balinor had already lost the first woman he had ever loved and now he was about to lose the second.

He walked back into the cave, shifting around some stones to reveal an alcove in the wall where he found what he was looking for.

"Here," he offered two short swords to his daughter, hilt first, "I had these made years ago for your mother but she never got the chance to use them. They're light enough to carry on long trips and wield simultaneously. I expect you to carry them at all times in case your magic isn't available to you. And, of course, a new sheath to carry them in."

She took the swords with a smile and swung one, testing the weight and balance.

"Thank you," she smiled, "They're beautiful." She inspected the engraved hilts of the twin swords, noting the swirling patterns and foreign writing.

She strapped on her new gear and sheathed the swords. She picked up her bed roll, gathered her meager belongings, and hugged her father one last time. No goodbyes though, they never did those and she would see him again. One way or another, she knew she would.

The forest never seemed "quiet" to Merlin. Not the way it did to other people, at least. She could hear the birds and the wind and flowing water and deer running in between the trees. But the journey to Camelot was long and the trip gave her plenty of time by herself to think.

Merlin knew many things. She knew what Uther would do (or try to do rather) if he discovered she had magic. She knew her father's loved ones had been duped and slaughtered by Uther because of his prejudices. She knew she would come into her powers when Balinor died. She knew that Kilgarrah would call to her when she arrived in Camelot, trapped by her father at the bidding of Uther. She also knew her destiny to protect his son, Arthur.

Balinor had never treated her like a child, not really. He had protected her, provided for her of course, but he had also always been honest with her, even blunt. Balinor had realized his daughter was special relatively early on when her magic manifested as soon as she was out of the womb.

He did not realize that she was Emrys though until the druids found them living as hermits and told him his duty to protect and encourage his daughter and her magic.

He had told Merlin all of this. She knew, she understood.

What she didn't know, though, was how she would be able to protect the hellspawn that was Arthur Pendragon. His very conception and birth, all through black magic, had triggered the Great Purge. Every problem had its root in something, and the crowned prince of Camelot was the root of the oppression and persecution of magic. He was an abomination.

But according to the druids, he was also the only way to bring magic and peace back to Albion to end the chaos that his very existence had caused.

She had suggested, at the ripe age of 9 years, that instead of protecting Arthur Pendragon, she could just kill Arthur and Uther, claim the throne for herself, and be done with it.

Balinor had been pleasantly surprised by her analytical thinking, but the druids though warned her that such a use of her powers would only lead to more bloodshed.

Merlin cracked her neck and she nostalgically remembered her time at the druid camps. As much as Balinor had appreciated their hospitality and guidance, the druids were too aggressively peaceful and their leader's personality clashed with Balinor's after a few short weeks.

For as long as she could remember, it had been just her and her father. Now she was going to live in a strange city filled with people who would hate the thing she loved the most about herself. All to unite a nation of people she didn't even know.

Destinies were ridiculous, Merlin thought, what benefit would she be getting out of fulfilling hers? But here she was, in the woods, walking away from the only home she had ever known.

But she would do it. Live in the shadows as she had all her life, kill all those who threatened Arthur Pendragon, wait for his natural death, then return to her peaceful life, and wait. Knowledge could be a great burden and a comfort and this paradox was exemplified by her knowledge that her life was tied to the magic. She would never die so long as magic existed and as long as Arthur lived as well, she would be tied to him. It was the will of the fates.

As she crested a hill outside of the borders of Camelot Merlin tugged at her clothing. She wanted to be inconspicuous, but she also wanted to be protected and comfortable. Light leather armor should do the job well. Her eyes glowed golden as she transformed her clothing into bulky knee height boots, slim pants, and a vest. After a second thought, she added soft black underclothing that grew sleeves and a hood. She pulled the hood over her head, obscuring her face and long braid.

Satisfied with her sartorial choices, Merlin set foot into Camelot. It felt suffocating, like a magical desert. So different from the ebbing flow of earthly magic of the forest and the constant, comforting force from her father.

Still there were echoes, magic users she could vaguely sense through the web of the city.

As she stepped into the square she saw her nightmare and every mental image she had of Camelot realized. The execution of a magic user. She made eye contact with the man on the chopping block and heard a voice in her head.

"Help me, please." His voice was desperate and broken, the stuff of nightmares.

Merlin filled with panic and anger, she had to do something! She scanned the castle, the crowd, the executioner. The handle of the axe was metal, the spell to overheat it was on the tip of her tongue when suddenly she heard a sickening crunch and it was over.

The rest of the scene was a blur. The grieving mother swore revenge. This woman, Merlin realized with dizzying anger was meant to be her first victim in the quest to protect Arthur Pendragon.

Out of some sick joke, the fates had decided to make her an instrument of Uther Pendragon, becoming this silent angel of death using her feared and illegal gifts to kill her magical kin. Well she wouldn't do it. She would speak with the woman, show her reason, give her an out.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Merlin was pulled out of her reverie as a group of thugs surrounded her. So much for keeping a low profile.

One of the other men answered his friends most likely rhetorical question, "A real pretty foreigner playing with Daddy's swords it looks like." His lips pulled back to reveal several missing teeth.

The third man looked her up and down and asked, "What's a pretty little girl like you doing all alone in this big city?"

He reached out towards her but Merlin took a step backwards as the men began circling her.

"Leave me alone." Merlin intoned, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention.

"Aw come on," the man standing behind her used a mocking tone, "We only want to have a little bit of fun."

He used his own sword to tap one of hers and she immediately unsheathed both swords.

"Drop your weapons and I will let you leave with your lives."

Their only response was a chorus of laughter. Merlin dropped into a battle stance and swung both of her swords.

"Come on, sweetheart, drop the act," one cajoled, "You're just going to hurt yourself swinging those around. What're you going do with it, run me through?"

Merlin turned towards him and answered his question by doing just that. She knocked the sword out of his hand, grabbed his shoulder with one hand, and rammed her sword through his gut with the other.

"Yes." She said simply as he fell to the group, blood bubbling up out of his lips.

She turned to the other four men.

"Leave now and never return to this place." Her hood had fallen down and they were beginning to attract attention.

This was really not how she needed to make her debut in Camelot.

She cursed her inability to maintain a gender-transformation spell. A man in her position would never face this kind of harassment.

The men looked unsure, but the one with very few teeth, apparently the leader stepped forward with a sneer on his face.

"You killed my mate. And now I'm going to kill you."

The remaining thugs unsheathed their weapons and advanced on her. With the aid of her magical (and poison) enhanced swords she was able to keep them at bay for several minutes. But they had drawn a large crowd at this point and she couldn't exactly spell them all unconscious.

Merlin was growing tired and the thick crowd didn't allow for any easy escape routes.

She felled a second man, only serving to further enrage the remaining three who began swinging recklessly at her. She began blocking and parrying as well as she could with three men swinging at her at once

She was forced to focus on the leader as he relentlessly beat her back until she was trapped against a wall. She kicked him in the chest, knocking him into the ground, stepped forward and plunged her swords into his chest.

A loud clanging sounded directly above her as she bent over to retrieve her swords. She rolled out of the way, stood up, and turned around to see a soldier of some kind had intervened. He had blocked one of the men from running his sword through her back as she killed his leader.

Three down, two to go and, finally, it was an even fight. She turned to the last unoccupied thug, feeling a second wind of energy as she easily disarmed him and slit his throat.

She turned to watch the other pair for a moment, still surprised and confused by this stranger's defense of her, before taking two steps back to the dueling pair and sliding one of her swords between the thug's ribs. He fell to the ground with a grunt.

Merlin sheathed her swords and pushed the hair that had fallen out of its braid away from her sweat-slicked face. She took one last look at her mysterious defender, turned heel, and walked away.

"Wait!" He called after her, "Wait!"

She didn't.

In fact, she hurried up her steps, not even sure what her destination was other than somewhere away from this man. He was. . . attractive, she would give him that. But that was just another kind of trouble that she also didn't have room for.

He broke into a run and caught up to her, grabbing her wrist. She wrenched it out of his grasp and snapped at him, "What do you want from me?"

He took a step backwards.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes I'm fine. Perfectly fine, in fact, I really didn't need your help. So don't expect any gratitude from me you overgrown man-child."

"Alright." He took another step back and raised his hands palm outwards as if calming a wild animal, "Alright" He repeated, "It's just that you're bleeding," he pointed to Merlin's cheek. She reached up, surprised to find that he was right.

"You should have the court physician look at you." He advised

Gaius, she remembered her father speaking of him. The traitor who had sworn allegiance to the King. He had also snuck her father out of Camelot during the Great Purge. Merlin needed to seek him out later.

"And," he continued, "you should probably give me those weapons. Fighting is not women's business."

He reached for her swords and she angled herself away from him.

"Like Hell I will," she growled, "Leave. Me. Alone."

She turned and walked away again. Like a puppy, he trailed after her.

"But you were a maiden in distress! I came to your aid; don't I at least deserve to know your name?"

She turned around and glared.

"No." She kept walking. "And I wasn't in distress. I had them exactly where I wanted them."

"Ah," he nodded, "So you wanted the last one to stab you in the back? How unconventional. And rather uncomfortable sounding to be quite honest."

"What do you want from me?" Merlin ground out, frustrated, tired, and hungry she realized as her stomach growled.

"I want to know who you are. I've never seen you before today. You come into my kingdom, kill five of her citizens, and then insult me. Who does that?"

"Your kingdom?" Merlin parroted mockingly, "And who the Hell are you, the King?"

"You know swearing is not very becoming on a woman. But no, in answer to your question I'm not the King. I'm his son."

This was him.

There was only one thought in Merlin's mind.

This must be a joke.

This overgrown man-child, this sword-wielding puppy, this walking talking fighting dandelion was the product of black magic, the hellspawn sprung forth from Uther's seed and Nimueh's spells. The ludicrousness of it all came crashing down on her and she began laughing.

Arthur was . . . surprised. Of all of the reactions she could have had, this was not what he expected. But then again, nothing about this afternoon had been expected.

And that was how she left the crowned prince of Camelot: in the middle of the square, slack jawed, sword still dirtied with blood watching her walk away.

What kind of woman, he wondered, could slaughter five men and walk away laughing? Surely not a sane one.

This, he thought, felt like the beginning of a problem.

A problem that he should probably bring to the attention of his father.

But for some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to do so.

So he sat quietly at dinner awaiting the Lady Helen's promising performance, trying to generate reasonable explanations of what had happened earlier that day.

His favorite theory was bounty hunter. It would definitely explain the leather. He had always pictured bounty hunters wearing leather. If he saw her again, he thought, he would get her name.

A/N: Thoughts? Let me know if you want to read more! This will be more of a cunning Merlin who has still has a strong sense of justice, but also some more Machiavellian inclinations than the original.