Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

SEASON ONE

Maiden, Listen To My Song

Maiden, Answer My Call

The moon is humming, the moon is humming

Lovely melodies

The forest echoes, the trees are crowing

Hungry, hungry harmonies

…

My pulse is clear, rushing in my ears

I hear something calling me

- Sleeping Giants by The Crane Wives

I hear your voice on the wind

And I hear you call out my name

…

“Listen my child” you say to me

“I am the voice of your history

Be not afraid, come follow me

Answer my call and I’ll set you free”

- The Voice by Celtic Women

See, I was born the second child

With a spirit running wild, running free

And they saw trouble in my eyes

They were quick to recognize the devil in me

…

See, I was born a restless child

And I could hear the world outside calling me

- Second Child, Restless Child by The Oh Hellos

Hello, my old heart

It's been so long

Since I've given you away

And every day, I add another stone

To the walls I built around you

To keep you safe

- Hello My Old Heart by The Oh Hellos

Chapter Text

Being a travelling bard came with many benefits.

For Wren, the favourite was always being able to go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

The Wandering age of a druid, which coincided with the maiden age of a woman, would emphasise the urge to travel. As Wren was at the height of this period, she quite enjoyed travelling the continent, and the cover of being a bard allowed for this.

Despite the protection of her cover, Camelot and Essetir were normally avoided by even the bravest of druids. The fear of being caught using magic hang over their heads like a dark cloud, no matter if they used it in the lands.

However, Wren would often find herself at the border of Camelot and Essetir, visiting a small village: Ealdor. A place so small that it was sometimes missed on maps; a place with a population of only around 100.

And yet, this town was home to two people that Wren held most dear:

Hunith and Merlin.

When she had visited as a child, they had become a sort of second family to her. Hunith, her second mother, and Merlin, another younger brother.

When she visited this time, she was expecting to see both for the first time in a few years. She anticipated being greeted with excitement and to spend a few days in the village before she continued with her travels.

However, when she arrived, she found the village dishevelled and neither Hunith nor Merlin anywhere to be found.

Matthew, the unofficial head had told her that Merlin was in Camelot and Hunith had gone to ask for help against the bandits that plagued the village.

Wren had thought of leaving then and there. Her horse would outrun the bandits easily, but she couldn’t leave these people. There were children here; children who would starve without their rations. She opted to stay in Ealdor, at least until help arrived, whether that be the Knights of Camelot or Merlin himself. While Wren’s magic alone could not rid them of the bandits without a great toll to herself and the land, with the help of Merlin, it would be no issue.

“When is Hunith expected back?” Wren asks. She sits on a bench in the centre of the village, her sword in her hands and a bow slung over her back. No-one knew when the bandits would come next, so it was best to be prepared.

“Soon,” Matthew says, “It’s been about the travel time to the citadel and back. We can only hope she did not run into any setbacks.”

Wren nods. She places her sword back into her hip sheath and grabs her lute from beside her. She began plucking at the strings, trying for form some sort of melody. Having already sat there for about an hour just holding her sword had been so boring. It would only take her a moment to put her lute down and grab her sword, so surely it would be okay to strum for a little bit.

Matthew walks away from her to go speak to his fiancée who was hiding some spare grain for the village. The plan was to try and sequester some off that the bandits wouldn’t be able to steal when they next came to pillage.

Just as Wren began to think of some lyrics that fit her new melody, she hears shouting. She raises her head to see the group of bandits had returned. She swore under her breath, places her lute on the bench beside her and stood up. She places her hand on her sword handle and begins slowly walking towards the men.

She had hoped they wouldn’t come back until Hunith returned. There were much more than she would take on herself, even with the use of her magic.

She peeks out from beside a house to see a bandit holding the bag of grain that the village had hidden towards his leader. Kanen, as she had heard the man call him, turns to the pleading Matthew before striking him and raising his large axe.

Wren curses once again, rushing to take her bow off her back. She did not know if she would be quick enough, but she has to at least try. She could not yet do the spell for time to slow without the words, which she knew she could not say quick enough. Despite only properly meeting Matthew a few days ago, she did not wish to see him die.

However, just as she is beginning to nock an arrow, she watches a sword fly into the post behind Kanen.

Wren whips her head towards where the sword had been thrown from. A handsome, golden-haired man sat atop a horse wearing glittering armour. He looks very similar to the someone that Wren had known before, but she couldn’t quite place it.

The man glares at Kanen as he swung of his horse and began to fight the bandits within the town. Gorgeous, Wren thinks as she watches the man fight. His sword moves like it was an extension of his body, his footwork was better than she had ever seen before. She saw his blue eyes were hard with concentration and his blonde hair glowed in the light, like a halo.

Just as Wren thinks she was beginning to place where she knew the man from (A lovely night, many years ago … yelling and fighting the next morning…), she notices the boy who came up behind him. Her face lights up.

Merlin. Despite it being a few years since she last saw him, she would recognise him anywhere.

She watches three more people arrive: Hunith and two women she did not recognise. Clearly not the Knights of Camelot, but reinforcements none the less.

Wren releases the arrow from her bow, striking a bandit in the shoulder. She quickly slings the bow on her back before grabbing her sword and joining the fray.

She had barely joined the fight, only able to disarm one man and have another block her killing strike, when the bandits ran off as Kanen mounts his horse.

“You'll pay for this with your lives! All of you!” Kanen yells.

Wren rolls her eyes. As a bard, she was used to being dramatic, but this man seemed to be worse than her. He’s the one who tried to take these peoples livelihood.

Wren turns to where Merlin was and smiles. She runs over as she watches the boy release Will, their childhood friend, from a hug.

“Merlin!” She yells out. Merlin turns to look at her, and the smile present on his face only seems to widen.

“Wren!” He answers as he envelops her into a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I came to see my little brother and his mother only to find they weren’t in the town.” Wren answers pulling out of the hug. “Why the hell were you in Camelot?”

“I heard he was skivvying for some prince.” Will answers.

Wren furrows her brows and glance at Will before turning back to Merlin.

“No,” Merlin responds, “Well, I wouldn't say I'm a skivvy...”

“Merlin!” a voice calls out. Wren turned to see it was the handsome man from before. That feeling of recognition hit her again, she could see the man’s eyes flicker to her and have a hint of that same feeling before he looks to Merlin. “Gather the villagers, I need to talk to them.”

Clearly a leader of some sort, Wren thinks. The man looks to be a knight, most likely one of Camelot. Wren was unsure as to why the Kingdom would send help but only through one knight and two women. As far as Wren can remember, women could not become knights or even guards within Camelot. And none of these people were wearing any sort of emblem of the kingdom.

“Yeah, in a minute.” Merlin gestures to Will and Wren, “I'm just talking...”

“Now, Merlin. There isn't much time.” There goes thinking he was handsome. Why couldn’t he gather them up himself if it was so urgent?

“Yes, Sire.” Wren’s eyebrows rise. Sire was reserved for royals only. This golden-haired man couldn’t be…

Wren turns to talk to Will, only to find he’d moved away from her. Wren rolls her eyes. The boy had been avoiding her ever since she’d arrived; she’d rejected his confession last time she had been here and clearly it had taken a hit to his ego. Still, they had been friends in childhood, surely, he could move past it.

“Wren!” A voice yells, startling her from her thoughts.

“Hunith!” The smile returns to Wren’s face. She ran over to hug her second mother. The women looks exactly as she had the last time Wren had been in the village and it warms Wren’s heart to see her.

“Oh, my dear, it’s been far too long.” Hunith says, pushing a rouge strand of hair behind one of Wren’s ears before grasping Wren’s hands in hers.

“It truly has.” Wren smiles.

Suddenly, Wren remembered her lute that she had left on that bench. It shouldn’t be left in the open for long, lest something bad happen to it.

“Just a moment Hunith.” Wren says, squeezing Hunith’s hands before letting go.

She quickly jogs over to where her lute sat. However, as she looks upon it, her face grew hot with rage.

“Those motherfuckers!”

Many eyes turn to her in shock. Hunith and the golden-haired man in particular look the most scandalised.

“Wren!” Hunith chastises.

The strings of her lute had clearly been slashed in the fight. There was blood upon the light grained wood that made up the body of the instrument that would take forever to clean. Luckily, the strings could be easily replaced. Whatever had struck the lute had not hit the wood at all, which would be much more of a hassle to fix.

Wren cradles the instrument gently as she tries to remember if she had packed spare strings and walks over to join the gathering of villagers. When Hunith realises why she had sworn, her eyes soften just a touch.

The golden-haired man (Wren refuses to call him handsome now, no rude man could be considered handsome) turns to address the villagers.

“I know Kanen's kind.” The man says, “He'll be back. And when he is, you must be ready for him. First, we must prepare for—”

“Am I the only one wondering who the hell this is?” Will interrupts. While Wren is curious herself, the man was helping them, so she truly does not care too much and wishes to hear his plan.

“I'm Prince Arthur of Camelot.”

Wren gasps in shock, as does a few villagers. She had thought correctly. This man was Arthur Pendragon, only child of Uther Pendragon, the butcher of magic kind. Wren was glad she had not used any magic during the fight; while using it in front of a Knight of Camelot was dangerous, using it in front of the Prince of Camelot was practically a death wish.

Wren is brought back to the conversation around her as she hears Hunith yell beside her. “He saved Matthew's life!”

“That's alright, Hunith. This is his village. What would you have us do?” the man, Prince Arthur, says, addressing Will.

“We can't fight against Kanen. He has too many men.” Will answers. Wren is slightly sceptical of this. While only a few people had come to help, four from Camelot and Wren herself, surely the people of Ealdor would be willing to try to fight them off too.

“So, what's the alternative?” Prince Arthur asks.

“We give him what he wants.” Will answers.

“Fuck no.” Wren feels herself answer before she can help herself. Hunith wacks her on the arm but she continues, “Those motherfuckers cut the strings of my lute!” She pauses for a second, “and people might starve without those rations.”

Prince Arthur furrows his brows at the first statement but nods at the second. “That’s right. And then those who don't starve to death will face him again next harvest! And the harvest after that.”

Wren nods.

“We'll manage. We'll survive.” Will argues.

“How?” Someone asks.

“The only way he can be stopped is if you stand up to him.” Wren nods in agreement with the prince.

“No. You just want the honour and glory of battle!” Will yells back. “That's what drives men like you! Look, if you want to fight, then go home and risk the lives of your own people, not ours!”

Wren sighs as Will runs off and Merlin scurries to follow him. It was to be expected that Will would not take this well. His father’s death had truly turned him fully anti-nobility, no matter who they were.

“I'll follow you.” Hunith says from besides Wren. “If I'm to die, then I want to go out fighting.”

“That goes for me, too.” Matthew agrees.

Wren nods. “Yeah, me too. I want those bastards dead.”

Hunith sighs, clearly giving up on chastising the girl.

A few more villagers yell out their agreement until all present are nodding along with the prince’s plan.

“Very well.” Prince Arthur says, a small smile gracing his face. “We’ll reconvene here tomorrow. For tonight, rest. We shall need it.”

The villagers around them begin talking among each other, Matthew goes up to the prince to thank him for saving his life. His fiancée, Julia, also going up to thank the man.

Hunith turns to Wren. “Where have you been staying, my dear?”

“I’ve set up camp just past the line of trees,” She points to where her horse, Marigold, is tied up next to a small encampment.

“You could have gone to mine, you know.” Hunith says, a hint of worry on her face.

“I couldn’t!” Wren shakes her head, “You weren’t home so I wouldn’t dare assume. And I enjoy sleeping under the stars.” She shrugs, “the weathers been kind to me so there was nothing to worry about.”

“Well, you should stay with us tonight.”

“I couldn’t possibly! Where are these Camelotians to stay?” she stumbled over the word, unsure what the people of Camelot were called.

Hunith furrows her brow. It was true, her house had barely been able to hold her and Merlin; now she would also have to house three extras. Another would only cause more problems.

“Hunith!” A voice calls out. Wren turns to the two women who had been with the group. One is a women of clear noble decent, dark straight hair pulled back wearing a dark green cloak and a sword on her hip. Wren briefly recalled seeing the woman wield it; she was quite good. The other is a woman with dark curls, also pulled back, clearly a peasant from the clothes she is wearing, a simple brown tunic and pants. Both are quite stunning, Wren wonders if all people from Camelot are just unfairly gorgeous. “Are you okay?” The noblewoman asks.

“I’m alright, thank you my Lady.” Hunith answers, nodding her head in respect.

The lady turns to Wren. “And who might you be?”

“My name is Wren, my Lady.” Wren gives her a slight curtsy. “I am but a humble travelling bard.”

“A female bard?” The lady blinks in shock, “I have never heard of one.” She stands still for a second, before she remembers her manners, “oh, well my name is Morgana and this is Guinevere.” The woman beside her gives a nod of her head.

“Yes, female bards are quite uncommon. I only know of one other who travels, besides myself.” Wren gestures to her sword, “I carry this so that I may protect myself on the road.”

Thinking back on the name, Wren’s eyebrows raise, “wait, Morgana? As in the Lady Morgana, ward of the King of Camelot?”

“That is correct.” Morgana, Lady Morgana, answers.

“I mean no disrespect, but why would the King send his two children to aid a border village?”

“He didn’t,” Guinevere is the one to answer me, “we all came without King Uther’s permission.”

Wren is a little shocked at this. She had heard tales of the Prince of Camelot, of how he did nothing without his father’s permission. How he followed his father’s every word and command without question. How he was shaping to follow in the King’s footsteps, to become another Butcher. Clearly, the rumours weren’t entirely true. At least, not anymore.

The Lady Morgana nods, “We all owe Merlin a debt.”

“Speaking of Merlin,” Prince Arthur buts in, joining the group of women, “where is that idiot?”

“Hey!” Wren interjects, turning to the prince, “only I get to call him an idiot!”

The prince raises an eyebrow. “And why would that be?”

“Because he’s my brother.”

All three of the strangers look at Wren with raised eyes. The two look nothing alike. Wren’s tanned, freckled skin is shades darker than Merlin’s practically deathly pale. Her wild, vibrant red hair while as messy as Merlin’s is still a completely different colour and texture. While in certain lighting their eyes could be seen as being similar colours, it was clear that Wren’s forest green eyes were not the same as Merlin’s bright blue. Alongside that, none of their facial features looked all that similar to each other.

Noticing their confusion, Wren continued, “in all but blood.”

“He went off to talk with a friend of his.” Hunith says, answering the prince’s initial question.

Prince Arthur nods. “Well then, Hunith would you show us to your house? I assume that’s where we will be staying.”

Wren rolls her eyes. Yes, he is officially no longer handsome. He’s now just a prat.

Hunith nods and turns to look at Wren. “Wren, please at least come for dinner.”

Wren smiles, “of course Hunith. I had some rabbits I caught earlier for dinner if you wish to use them?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Wren gives Hunith a quick hug and begins to walk back to her camp, but notices Merlin slowly walk out of Will’s house. She changes directions and begins walking towards him. She notices the downtrodden look on his face and realises the two friends have most likely had some sort of argument.

Wren walks up to the boy, “you alright there, Merlin?”

Merlin looks at her, a little shocked. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.” A small smile graces his face, “it’s good to see you.”

Wren smiles, “it’s good to see you too.” Merlin and Wren stand in comfortable silence for a moment, before Wren breaks it, “So, Camelot. What the fuck are you doing there?”

“Mother sent me there to stay with my Uncle Gaius to try and get control of my…gift.” Merlin answers, looking around to see if anyone could be listening in. “Then I accidently saved Arthur’s life and got given the “reward” of being his manservant.” He mimed quotations around reward.

“Sounds like you’re still getting yourself in trouble.” Wren shakes her head, but the smile never leaves her face. “I can only imagine you used your magic to save his life?”

Merlin sighs. “Yes, apparently, it’s my “destiny”.”

Wren’s smile drops. “Arthur is the Once and Future King?” He couldn’t be. “That…rude, pompous arsehole is supposed to return magic and unite that lands of Albion.”

Merlin furrows his brows and has a slight look of suspicion. “Yes…how do you know about that?”

Wren turns to look behind her to the centre of the town. There’s no-one present, but she still casts a silent privacy spell.

“You remember how I’m a druid?” Merlin rolls his eyes but nods. “We’ve known of a prophesy for a long time, that a person of pure magic would be born, known to us a Emrys, who would guide the Once and Future King to his foretold place as the King of Albion. I’ve known since I could sense your magic that you were Emrys.”

“That’s why you used to call me Emmy?” Merlin then seems to take in the rest of what she had said. “You knew all this and didn’t think to tell me?!”

Wren frown. “No person, no matter how great, should know their destiny. That’s what every child of the Old Religion learns. It was not my place to tell you. I tried once, but my mother warned me against it. Can you imagine if I had told you? How would you have felt, feeling as though your whole life is already set in stone?”

“Is it?” the boy looks dejected at the thought.

“Of course not! But as a child, would you not hear that you have a destiny and feel that you have no control over anything?” Wren places her hands on her brother’s shoulders. “But that’s not how it works. Destiny and Prophesies are just warnings or guiding sent by the Triple Goddess to her people. You always have control over yourself and how things will truly go.”

Merlin seems slightly comforted by my words. He still looks hurt of course, but there’s understanding in his eyes. “I just wished you told me there was a reason for my gifts.”

“I know, Emmy.” Merlin lip twitches at the nickname. “I wish I could have. I tried to make you feel better about your own by showing you mine.”

Merlin smiled. “That did help, quite a bit.” He frowned again, but there’s less heat in it. “I’m still upset at you.”

Wren giggles. “Of course, Em. Now, I came here to fetch some rabbits for dinner. Do you want to grab some herbs for the stew?”

Merlin’s face lights up. “Mum’s making her rabbit stew? Yes!”

Wren laughs full heartedly and Merlin runs off.

It’s very good to see him again.

Chapter Text

The next day presents new challenges. Namely, the apparent ‘Once and Future King’, Prince Arthur.

Wren stares in disbelief as she watches Merlin help the prince into his jacket.

The Lady Morgana voices the same disbelief, “You still not learned how to dress yourself?”

The Lady had dressed herself, without any help. It’s not as though they were dressed in intricate clothing that would require help; surely the prince knew how to change into at least these clothes.

“You don't have a dog and fetch the stick yourself.” The prince answers, “No offence, Merlin.”

“None taken.”

Wren looks on in shock; Merlin truly does not look offended. Wren is probably the most offended out of everyone in the room. The prince had just referred to her little brother as a dog. She didn’t think she’d heard something quite as disrespectful (other than in taverns, though that would nearly always end in a fist fight).

“Prince Arthur, you didn't finish your breakfast.” Hunith says, passing his bowl over to him. It was true, it looked as though he had barely touched it. While Wren could agree that it wasn’t the best, the village was barely scraping by with what they had currently. Hunith had barely been able to scrounge up enough breakfast for them as it was, as many villagers were skipping the meal entirely to save resources.

Wren watches in quite anger as the prince pretends to eat his porridge before shoving it into the hands of Guinevere. The prince spoke before him and Lady Morgana turn to leave the small cottage.

Wren gestures to Guinevere to pass it over before she shoves the food in her mouth. While the food wasn’t good in any sense, it was food, and she would need all the energy she could get. Guinevere herself did not look like she wished to eat more of the food, so she was quite happy when Wren passes back an empty bowl.

“Arthur said it was lovely.” The women lies before she turns to follow the two nobles out.

“He must care for you a great deal.” Hunith says to Merlin.

Wren scoffed. “He called him a dog. I don’t know if there was much care behind that.”

Hunith winces. “Still, he came to help our small village. For you, Merlin.”

“Arthur'd do the same for any village. That's just the way he is.” Merlin shrugs, “I'm just his servant.”

Hunith shakes her head in disagreement. “Give him more credit than that. He likes you.”

“Again, he called Merlin a dog.” Wren says, still thinking of that moment in disgust.

“Well, to be fair, I call him a prat on a daily basis.” Merlin shrugs. “And even if he did like me, it’s only because he doesn't know me. And if he did, I'd probably be dead by now.”

“You don't really believe that do you?” Hunith asks. Clearly the woman thought better of the two boys’ relationship then Wren did. She was starting to worry about this so called “Once and Future King”. Surely whoever, or whatever, had told Merlin that this prat (Wren was going to steal that) was the prophesised one, had to be wrong.

Wren stands and walks to follow the Camelot citizens out to the centre of the village. Time to find out. She thinks.

Wren walks to find the prince (Prince Prat she joked to herself) running the men through a basic drill. Wren recognises it, her father had taught it to her and her siblings when they were first learning to use weapons. Clearly however, his teaching was moving a bit faster than her fathers; they did have less time.

Wren notices that the Lady Morgana and Guinevere are sitting off to the side, sharpening some swords. While she had come out here to use her gift to check if what Merlin claimed was true, she thinks this would be a better use of her time. Wren movers to join them.

Wren gives an exaggerated bow, “Good morning, my fair Ladies. May I join you two?”

Guinevere giggles, “of course! But I am no lady, so there’s no need for that.”

Wren shrugs as she moves to sit next to the women. “Well, you are fair enough to be one.”

The Lady Morgana smiles. “Well, aren’t you the charmer?”

Wren shrugs, “Just comes with the territory, my Lady.” Wren winks at the Lady Morgana. “Barding is all about being charming.” Wren turns to look at Guinevere as she grabs a sword to clean off. “If you are no lady, as you claim, what might you be Guinevere?”

“I am Morgana’s maidservant. Oh, and please call me Gwen, I like it much more.”

“And please call me Morgana,” the Lady Morgana chimes in. “We are not in Camelot, so there’s no need for formalities here.”

Wren smiles. “Of course. Then the both of you can just call me…the Musical Wren.”

The women both chuckle. “Is that your stage name?” Gwen asks.

“Yes, after the bird that gave me my name. My mother always told me that when I was born, I didn’t scream, I sang.”

“Very poetic.” Morgana says. “So…how long have you known Merlin?” The lady says, letting her clear curiosity get the better of her.

“Why, since he was born! My family and I were passing through this area, I was but 2 summers at the time and heard of a woman giving birth without any assistance. My mother would not stand for that, so she went to offer her assistance. My mother was technically the first person to hold Merlin.”

“Oh, so you did not live here?” Gwen asks.

Wren shakes her head. “No, my family moved around a lot. My father is a mercenary, and my mother is a healer, so we went anywhere that had work. We finally settled down a few years before I became a bard. We would come back here quite a bit, especially after I decided that Merlin was my brother. I told my parents that if Merlin couldn’t live with us like my other siblings, then we would just have to visit often so I could check up on him, so we did.”

“You have siblings?” Morgana asks.

Wren nods. “An older brother, a younger sister and two younger brothers. What about the both of you?”

Wren was beginning to tire of all the questions about her. While she could talk for a very long time (another trait of a bard), she was also curious about the two Camelot natives.

“I have an older brother, though I have not seen him in many years.” Gwen looks sad as she says this, looking off into the distances.

“I have none.” Morgana answers.

Wren’s brows furrow. “What of the prince? Are you not siblings by wardship?”

The lady shrugs. “I suppose so, though we never call each other as such.”

Wren frowns slightly. She’s always found that siblings outside of blood were just as important and true as by blood. Which is why she would always refer to Merlin as brother first and friend second.

The group of women turn to look at the village men as they train. They are few in numbers, and the training is moving slower than most would hope.

“There is no way they're going to be able to hold Kanen off.” Morgana sighs.

Wren nods in agreement. “A few slightly trained men are no match for that many well-trained bandits.”

“Men aren't the only ones who can fight.” Gwen says, gesturing to a few women who are watching the training.

Wren had thought that initially. She’d been confused when the prince had said that only men would be trained to fight. While it was uncommon for women to learn to fight, Wren herself got many odd looks when she showed her prowess, this was a bit different. They weren’t training to fight in a war; they were training to defend their home.

Wren watches the men stop for a break; the prince breaks off from the group to grab a drink from the well.

Morgana and Gwen move to walk over to him, and Wren rises to follow.

“Looks like the battle's already fought and lost.” Morgana gestures to the group of men. Wren agrees. The men look absolutely exhausted, red from the heat of the sun, dripping sweat. A few bruises are already showing from mistakes they had made with their ‘training weapons’.

Prince Arthur grunts, “they’ll toughen up.”

“They need to.” Wren says.

“How are we doing for weapons?” The prince asks, quickly changing the topic.

“There isn't much, but we should be able to scrape together what you need.” Morgana answers.

“It's not the weapons that worry us.” Gwen interjects. “It's having enough people to use them. We think the women should be allowed to fight.”

Wren nods. “A few women have spoken to me and said they would like to help fight. Hell, even Hunith said she would!”

“You haven't enough men.” Morgana says in agreement. “If they were trained soldiers, maybe you'd stand a chance, but they're not.”

“And there’s not enough time to train them into soldiers.” Wren continues.

The prince shakes his head vehemently in disagreement. “It's too dangerous.”

The women sigh as the prince walks back towards the group of men and continues the training.

“Well, it was worth a try.” Wren sighs.

Morgana frowns in annoyance. “He’s so goddamn stubborn.” The lady stomps her foot in a very unladylike manner. “Can’t he see that there’s no way these men can defeat them?”

“He can see that. But you know how Prince Arthur feels about women and children joining the fighting.” Gwen says, placing a placating hand on the lady’s shoulder.

Morgana relaxes slightly. “I know. But these women want to help.”

Wren thinks for a second. “I mean, I could train them? Like in secret?”

“That’s kind.” Morgana says with a slight smile. “But Arthur is a trained leader, the Head Knight of Camelot, he knows how to train fighters.”

“My father was once a Head Knight.” Wren gestures to the group of men. “He taught me that same drill when I was but a girl. I know it like the back of my hand.”

“Truly?” Morgana asks. Wren nods.

Morgana hums. “Well, we shall see then.”

The next day begins much as the last, the prince is an arsehole, Hunith talks as though the prince is better than he acts and Morgana, Gwen and Wren sharpen swords. The only difference is the women’s discussion of possibly training the women in some simple drills. After Wren demonstrates that she truly does know the same exercises the prince taught the men, Morgana is in more agreeable to the plan.

However, there peaceful morning is cut short by a loud scream.

Wren is the first of the three women to bolt into action. She arrives in the centre of town, sword in hand, to watch as Matthew, the head of the village, is being lowered from a horse. She gasps in shock as the notices the arrow protruding out of his back.

She watches as Prince Arthur pulls a note off the arrow.

“Make the most of this day, it will be your last.” He reads out loud.

Wren swears slightly under her breath. That is no-where near enough time. While the villagers were doing much better, they were still barely able to do the basics.

“Matthew! No! No! No!” A voice calls. Wren’s face falls when she recognises who it is, Julia, Matthew’s fiancée. Wren feels sorry for the poor women; their wedding day was only a week away, the two had been so excited. When Wren had spoken to the two, all they had talked about was either the bandits or their wedding plans.

“You did this!” Wren hears another voice yell. Will. Of course. Merlin had said this morning that he was still not happy with the prince being here. “Look what you've done! You've killed him!”

“It wasn't his fault.” Merlin says, trying to calm the boy. He places a hand on Will shoulder that he shrugs away instantly.

“If he hadn't been strutting around, treating us like his own personal army, this would never have happened!” Will yells back.

Prince Arthur looks quite upset at this. “These men are brave enough to fight for what they believe in, even if you aren't!”

It was true. Will had not joined any of the training sessions, as far as she knew, the boy was holed up in his house practically the whole time.

“You're sending them to their graves!” Will argues back. “You killed one man. How many more need to die before you realise this a battle that can't be won? When Kanen comes, you haven't got a chance. You're gonna be slaughtered.”

Will runs off at that, Merlin following him. Wren rolls her eyes. It had always been that way with them. Will getting angry and running off, with Merlin following to calm him down.

Wren turns to the prince. He looks sadly at Matthew as he is carried off by a man Wren recognises as his brother, with Julia following afterwards. Her loud sobs can be heard even as they enter a house near the edge of town.

“It’s not your fault, you Highness.” Wren says, walking up to the prince. “You are doing everything you can, and the villagers all know that. Will’s just an outlier.”

Prince Arthur just nods at her words before he walks off. While slightly rude (which is no surprise to Wren anymore), he’s clearly feeling quite emotional, so Wren allows this one to slide.

Wren turns to looks at Morgana and Gwen, who had been quiet during the whole exchange. The two look quite pale after witnessing Matthew’s dead body and are standing still in shock.

“I’ll talk to the women, see who is willing to fight.” Wren says. “I’ll train them as much as I can for the rest of the day. The more fighters we have, the better chances we have at winning.”

Later that same day, the citizens of Ealdor as well as the visitors from Camelot were gathered within the village’s makeshift town hall. The children all sit huddled together in one corner of the room. Wren sits nearby, her fiddle in her lap. The strings of her lute were still broken; she had no spares on her. So, she had decided to bring her fiddle instead in case the children wished for any songs, which was bound to be the case. The children had grown to like her quite quickly after they had found her strumming her lute in town when she had first arrived.

“Is everything going to be, okay?” One of the children, a little girl named Rose asks.

Before Wren can answer, one of the children, a boy named Micheal interjects. “Of course we are! We have a prince and a princess helping us! And Wren!” Mike says, looking quite confident in himself.

“That is true.” Wren nods. “Though the Lady Morgana is not a princess, she’s the ward of the King so she’s a lady. But they have been a great help to us and have been doing their best to keep us protected.”

The children nod, their spirits clearly lifted. “Are you going to sing us a song tonight?” Rose asks Wren.

All the children turn to Wren expectantly. They’d all grown to quite enjoy Wren’s singing.

“I shall sing you a lullaby tonight if you all wish.”

Another child, a boy names Timothy, shakes his head. “No, we need a fun song. Everyone’s so sad, and my mama always said that sad people don’t make good workers.”

Wren tilts her head in agreement. “That is true. Well, then what do you suggest I play for everyone?”

“Tír na nÓg!” One of the children cries out.

Wren winces slightly and looks around. The children had found her singing that song, and many of them had enjoyed it. They weren’t to know that the song references magical creatures that were considered “evil” by the people of Camelot. Nor were they to know that sections of that song were sung in an old magical language.

“Um…I don’t know about that song. The people of Camelot don’t like it.” Wren answers truthfully.

The children look slightly dejected. They continue to think amongst themselves before Rose turns to Wren.

“What about Tier.. Teir A…” She fumbles over her words slightly.

“Téir Abhaile Riú?” Wren guesses. All the children suddenly jump to shout their agreement with Rose.

While that song is better, and is a good upbeat song, the only versions Wren knew were either sung entirely in Gaeilge or at least a section was. The language is deeply linked with the druids, as they are one of the few groups that still speak it in Albion. Wren herself knew the song as being brought over by her ancestors, one of the first druidic people, from across the ocean. No bard or druid would speak the language while in Camelot, or even Essetir.

The children seem to notice Wren’s apprehension.

“Please, please Wren!” The children all plead.

Wren sighs. She supposes she should allow the children to hear this song if they so wish before the battle. “Okay, just this once.”

The children all cheer. Despite their enthusiasm, Wren is slightly worried. The Prince of Camelot and the Ward of the King of Camelot are currently here, who’s to know if they’ll recognise the language.

Just as Wren is beginning to doubt her decision, she hears Prince Arthur address the crowd.

“Tomorrow morning, the women and children should gather what belongings they can carry and go to the woods.”

Wren stands up at that, placing her fiddle on the bench. She watches Gwen step forward as well.

“We're not going anywhere!” Gwen says, standing tall. Wren moves to stand next to her.

“I know you want to help.” Arthur sighs. “The women can't stay here. It's too dangerous.”

“The women have as much right to fight for their lives as the men do!” Gwen argues, refusing to back down. Wren smiles at her, nodding in agreement.

“But none of you know how to fight.”

“None of the men knew how to fight either!” Wren argues. “Besides, I’ve trained them a little today. They may not know a lot, but they will be able to hold their own.”

The prince goes to say something, but Gwen interrupts. “And the more of us there are, the better chance we stand!”

The women within the room all step forwards. Wren smiles with pride; almost all the women had agreed that they wished to fight, only a few with young children had been too worried to.

Arthur nods, clearly relenting to the women’s demands. “This is your home. If you want to fight to defend it, that's your choice. I'd be honoured to stand alongside you. Kanen attacks tomorrow. Kanen's brutal. He fights only to kill, which is why he will never defeat us. Look around. In this circle, we're all equals. You're not fighting because someone's ordering you to, you're fighting for so much more than that. You fight for your homes. You fight for your family. You fight for your friends. You fight for the right to grow crops in peace. And if you fall, you fall fighting for the noblest of causes: fighting for your very right to survive! And when you're old and grey, you'll look back on this day, and you'll know you earned the right to live every day in between! So, you fight! For your family! For your friends! For Ealdor!”

All the villagers stand, those with swords raise them high. “For Ealdor!” They chant, “Ealdor! Ealdor! Ealdor!

Wren smiles, grabs her fiddle off the bench and plucks a string. All the eyes within the room turn to look at her. “Now, the children had a most wonderful idea. They thought it would be best if we had a bit of a song and dance before we all ride out to battle, isn’t that, right?”

“Yes!” The children all cheer, most of them scurrying to stand around Wren.

“Yeah! Wren’s going to play Tier…Teir Abh…” Rose looks upset at herself for stumbling over her words again.

“It’s also called Go Home with You.” Wren says, sparing the poor girl. The bard was also too worried to use the Gaeilge name in front of the citizens of Camelot. “Does anyone know this one?”

The children all raise their hands excitedly, as do Merlin and Hunith though they are a little shyer with it.

“Does someone mind making a small beat to begin?”

Merlin is the first to, tapping quietly on a table near him. As children, Wren would often make Merlin help her practise this song, as it was one of her favourites. As Merlin begins tapping, the children start either clapping along or hitting their legs to follow along.

After a moment, Wren raises her fiddle and slides it’s bow along the strings to play the first few notes. Playing in a room such as this had been slightly hard when she had first become a bard. A tavern full of rowdy, excited people was easy; they were always very happy to see you. But places like this, where a small subsect wishes to hear you, but a large majority did not, were a lot harder. However, Wren was a practiced bard now, so she knew how to lighten the mood in a room, so as she begins the first lines of the song.

“Look how the lights of the town
The lights of the town are shining now
Tonight I'll be dancing around
I'm off on the road to Galway now”

After the first few notes and line, a few adults can be seen swaying a little bit to the music. Wren notices that of the citizens of Camelot, Morgana and Gwen seem the most into the song, smiling with each other and swaying a little. Prince Arthur has moved off to the side of the room and is watching Wren intensely. Wren smiles at him brightly as she goes to continue the song, with the children joining in joyfully.

The children continue to sing along with her, but when she comes to the chorus, they stumble over their words. The only people in the room who know Gaeilge are Merlin and Wren herself. Wren had taught the boy the language as children, finding it very important that her brother know the language of her people.

“Téir abhaile riú, téir abhaile riú
Téir abhaile riú, a Mhéaraí
Téir abhail gus fan sa bhaile
Mar tá do mhargadh déanta”

As Wren begins her fiddle solo, she scans the room. While most people look slightly confused at what she had just sung, there is no real sign of fear or recognition. Morgana and Gwen seemed to have been roped up by some children to skip around in a circle, so they appear to have barely noticed. Prince Arthur, who is still standing in the corner, has his eyebrows wrinkled slightly. Wren tenses a little bit, worried that he might have recognised the Gaeilge and know its connotation. However, Rose boldly grabs the prince’s hands and drags him to dance with her, and he seems to forget.

Wren continues to sing as she dances with some of the children. She decides she made a wise decision deciding to wear a dress, as she’s able to swish around her long green skirt with the lyrics. At this point, almost everyone has joined in with the dancing. Those who aren’t quite dancing, such as Hunith, are still either tapping their feet or clapping their hands to the beat.

When Wren begins the next fiddle solo of the song, Wren once again looks around at all the people dancing. Merlin is spinning around one of the young girls, whose name Wren does not remember. The children never seem to notice how Merlin has been sort of ostracised by the people of Ealdor. None of the people of Ealdor had truly spoken to Merlin since he had come back, baring Will, but the children didn’t seem to notice this and were just happy to have someone to dance with. Morgana and Gwen are laughing joyfully while two young boys dance with them, deep blushes gracing their faces. Arthur is still stuck dancing with Rose, he seems slightly confused as to what to do with the young girl. Still, the prince seems to be enjoying himself despite the lost look on his face.

Wren continues to dance around as she sings, trying to dance with everyone as she goes. Her vibrant red hair has been left wild and loose, so it flows around like her dress as she moves. Merlin twirls her around, a wide grin on her face. It reminds Wren of when they were younger, when they would beg her mother to play a song and would dance around Hunith’s small cottage with each other.

Wren then moves to join in with Gwen and Morgana. In the few days she had known the two, she had grown to like them quite a bit. They had been very kind to the villagers and to Wren herself. The duo had worked hard to gather weapons to be used in the battle, as well as assisting Wren in her short training of the women. She thought that without their help, there’s no way Ealdor would have a chance against the bandits.

Finally, Wren turns to join in with Arthur and Rose’s little dance. With the prince, Wren’s feelings are slightly conflicted. It’s true, that without the prince, the villagers would have been left to fend for themselves. Most likely, they would have relented to the bandits demands and would starve until the next harvest where it would happen again. Arthur was truly the reason that the villagers had even a chance to defeat the bandits. Despite that though, the man was mean to her little brother, and that wouldn’t do. So, her feeling about him would stay a little mixed. The other thing that was annoying: the man was still handsome. Wren had tried to find any reason to change her views on his appearance, but nothing had worked. Thinking to herself and deciding that a little flirting wouldn’t hurt anyone (and besides, when would she have the chance to flirt with a prince again?), Wren turns herself around the prince before blowing him a kiss with a wink.

The prince looks quite shocked at her brazenness, and a slight pink blush graces his cheeks, before he turns away with a slight scowl. Wren laughs to herself as she finishes the song.

“Téir abhaile riú, téir abhaile riú
Téir abhaile riú, a Mhéaraí
Téir abhail gus fan sa bhaile
Mar tá do mhargadh déanta
Do mhargadh de - do mhargadh déanta”

Wren gives an elaborate bow as the room erupts into applause, the children the loudest present. Many of the children, Rose and Timothy the loudest, begin demanding an encore.

“Now, children, it’s time for bed.” Wren heas a women say, most likely one of their parents.

The children all groan in disappointment. Rose walks up to Wren and asks, “can you still sing us a lullaby?”

Wren smiles. “Yes, if you all get ready quickly then I’m sure I’ll have time to.”

The children all cheer and scurry off.

“I believe we should all head to bed.” Prince Arthur says, moving more to the centre of room. “We will need all the rest we can get for tomorrow.”

The villagers all made noises of agreement and begin filing out of the town hall. Merlin comes up to Wren with a toothy grin on his face.

“Enjoy yourself?” Wren asks with a smile to match his.

Merlin nods. “I forgot how fun it was to dance around to music. No matter how bad it is.” He jokes.

Wren fakes being hurt. “You dare insult your dear sister’s music?”

Merlin laughs. “Oh, you know you did great. You don’t need me inflating your ego.”

Wren smiles. “True.”

Wren’s camp was not too far from Hunith’s cottage, so the two decide to walk together. Their chatter was quiet and pointless, mainly bickering about Wren’s singing, before the bard notices the worried look on Merlin’s face.

“Merlin?” Wren askes, stopping to look at the boy. “Emmy, Are you okay? You know we’re going to be fine, right?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I know that.”

“Then why do you look so worried?” Wren looks at Merlins expression as he stays quiet. “You’re not planning on…”

“What choice do I have?” Merlin says, proving her fears to be true. “It’s the only way I can help these people. I can’t just leave them to die if it comes down to it.”

“But using your magic in front of the Prince of Camelot? That’s a death wish!”

“I don’t think he would kill me.” Merlin states strongly.

“You don’t think? Think is not very strong, Merlin. And while I may not believe that Arthur is the Once and Future King, if he is, what of your destiny?” Wren implores.

“If he can’t accept me for who I am, what kind of destiny is it?”

Merlin storms off before Wren can argue some more. The bard sighs and bends down to place her fiddle back in her case. She moved to stand near Marigold. She’d untied the girl that morning, but the blonde horse had returned to her, as she always did.

“What am I going to do with him?” Wren asks, giving Marigold a pat on her face.

Marigold only nickers in response.

Wren sighs, then curses to herself as she realises, she had forgotten to check the princes magic signature. Surely the Once and Future King would have some sort of magic coming off him, how else would Emrys and the people of Albion know who he was? It surely would not be as strong as Merlin’s, but there must be something there, right?

Wren decides that now was likely the wrong time. She would not be in the right mindset to check tomorrow as the fight with the bandits would be far to chaotic and preparations would have to start early. Perhaps she would just have to go to Camelot at some point and find out for herself if what Merlin claims is true.

Chapter Text

The next day is very different from the ones before. Wren awakens just before the dawn to find Arthur (Prince Arthur, she chastises herself) standing watch not too far from her camp. He’s clearly been there most of the night, from his dropping eyes and shoulders. He gives a head nod of acknowledgement as she walks past towards Hunith’s house.

“How long has Prince Arthur been out there?” Wren asks, when she’s been seated at the dining table with a bowl of food in front of her.

“I’m not sure if he came home at all last night.” Hunith answers, flittering about to keep herself busy.

Merlin nods in agreement as he stuffs his face. “Yeah, I didn’t hear him come in at all.”

Hunith sighs. “Merlin, please don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“I think he was worried the bandits would come before we could prepare.” Morgana continues, exercising great manners as she eats.

“Should we bring him some food then? I doubt he’s eaten.” Gwen asks, looking around the table.

Wren nods. “Yeah, I’ve got to go grab my stuff from my camp, so I’ll drop him a bowl as I go.”

Wren quickly finishes her food and grabs the bowl that Hunith had prepared for the prince.

“Hunith, please sit down and eat. Everything will be okay.” Wren says as she guides Hunith to the seat that is now unoccupied before heading out of the hut.

The prince is still standing exactly where he was, his eyes flittering around the forest, looking for any signs of movement. It reminded Wren of her father; whenever they would set up camp somewhere remote, the man would always stand watch, worried that someone would attack them.

“Prince Arthur,” Wren says as she curtsies, though she’s sure the prince can see there’s no true respect in it, “Hunith made you some food.”

“Thanks.” Arthur says as he takes the bowl from the woman.

As Wren turns to leave, she sees his nose wrinkle in disgust and hears him mutter, “I think.”

Wren stops in place and turns, her face red with anger. “You know what? I’ve had enough of your attitude. Hunith is barely getting by as she is, she’s doing her best to stretch the food she has for two out to six people. And sure, the food here is no match to the grand feasts I’m sure you have in Camelot, but it’s all they have here. Even without the bandits, food is scarce here. Do you understand how rude it is to turn your nose up to food these people have made for you?”

The prince looks quite shell-shocked at her outburst. Wren’s anger dissipates and she realises who she just yelled at. While she has no worries yelling at nobles normally, this man was helping this village and was not just any noble, but the prince of a kingdom.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have spoken like that. Forgive me, your highness.”

Wren turns to leave, a wince on her face, but the prince stops her. “Wren!” The girl in question is quite shocked to hear her name. She doesn’t remember properly introducing herself to the prince, and is stunned that even if she did, that he remembered her name.

Wren turns to look at the prince. “Thank you.” He speaks. Wren reels back a little in surprise, she didn’t know the man could be so polite. “You’re right. And you were right to speak up. I should’ve listened to you, Gwen and Morgana.” He sighs and looks off into the distance. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“We’ll be fine.” Wren says truthfully.

“How can you be so sure?” He asks, looking quite dejected.

“Because I have faith in you.” Wren shakes her head. “I mean, we all do.”

“Thank you.” The prince says a small smile on his face. “And thank you for training the women. Where did you learn to fight and train like that?”

Wren shrugs. “My father was once a Head Knight. He taught me and all my siblings a lot of the same drills you taught the men.”

The prince looks a little shocked at the words. “Oh, is your father no longer a knight?”

Wren shakes her head. “No, by no fault of his own though. He was betrayed and lost his title.”

“Of what kingdom was he a knight?”

Wren sighs. “Look, as much as I enjoy all this flirting, I do believe we have to start preparing.”

Arthur sputters in shock. “I—That wasn’t flirting!”

Wren raises an eyebrow with a cheeky grin. “Wasn’t it? You complimented my fighting, asked questions about my family and we are standing here, alone, without an escort. That seems like flirting to me.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Your ridiculous.” He says before storming off, finally eating Hunith’s food.

Wren giggles to herself as she walks over to her camp. She was glad she was able to avoid that topic. How would she explain to the prince that her father was once the Head Knight of Camelot?

Wren stands alongside the villagers in a line, chatting with one of the women, Ella, she had trained. Out of the group, she was the best dressed for battle, bar the Camelotians. While her armour was no match for the Camelot steel, her leather arm bands, shoulder pads and chest piece gave her the mobility she would require. It had been decided that she would try and stay on the fringes of the fight, as she was the only one with a long-ranged weapon. However, she still had her sword in its sheath in case she ran out of arrows, or the bandits got too close. She’d braided her hair into a long plait behind her back; Morgana had tried to help her pin it up, but Wren knew how to use even her hair as a weapon, so she had refused. While it was true someone could grab it, Wren had learnt how to use even that to her advantage.

As Wren was discussing with Ella how best to hold her weapon, Wren began re-counting the arrows within her belt harness. She had less than she’d hoped, only around 20 with no backups. She also only had hunting arrows, which would not work well if any of the bandits wore iron armour. She prays silently to the Triple Goddess that her aim would be true enough to hit unprotected spots.

The two women pause their talking as they notice Arthur (Wren had decided she could drop the title. The man was alright) begin walking down the line of villagers. He shook hands with everyone present, Wren heard him ask one man if he was ready for the battle.

When he stops to shake her hand, he gave her a slight smirk, “are you frightened?”

Wren gave him a bright smile. “Oh, never. They’re the ones that should be scared.”

Arthur chuckles, shakes Ella’s hand and they all file off into their previously discussed positions. Wren, Arthur, Gwen, and Merlin take their respective hiding spots as they watch Kanen, and his group of bandits ride out from the woods and enter the village

Wren winces. They’ve seem to have brought more men than last time and were wearing far more protection than last time.

“Hold.” Arthur says, crouching low. “No one moves until I give the signal.”

The group watch as the bandits look around the village, clearly looking for any hiding townsfolk.

“Hold.” The prince repeats.

One of the men at the head of the pack removes his face covering, revealing himself to be the leader. He snarls, and grins with an evil glint in his eye.

“Come out, come out wherever you are.” Kanen, the head bandit, says in a dark tone.

“Now, pull!” Wren hears Gwen call. She watches her and another villager, Mark, pull up a hidden gate, blocking the exit.

Wren hears Merlin mutter a low “Yes!” from besides her, and she sees a few other villagers slightly celebrate. Kanen and the other bandits seem shocked by the gate, as do their horses which rear back.

Wren looks around for the fire Morgana was supposed to make when the gate went up, but there’s none to be found.

“Now, Morgana. What are you waiting for?” Arthur says, trying to get a look at Morgana, though she is hidden from where they are hiding. “Something’s gone wrong.”

Merlin suddenly stands and starts rushing over to where the lady is stationed.

“Merlin!” Arthur whisper yells as Wren calls, “Be careful.”

Wren watches as the bandits look around the village and Kanen notices Merlin running past.

“There’s one. Get him!” Kanen commands one of his men.

A bandit aims a crossbow at Merlin, which the boy is narrowly able to avoid.

“Kill him!” Kanen commands once more.

Another arrow is released. Wren growls and reaches for her bow on her back, but a hand stops her from grabbing it. She turns to see Arthur with pursed lips give her a tense head shake. “Soon.” He speaks. Wren turns to see Merlin safety arrive to where Morgana is stationed before he disappears from sight.

The villagers, Wren, Arthur and Gwen all wait with bated breath for the fire to start. Suddenly, bright flames crawl out, creating a line of fire that once again startles the horses of the bandits while also blocking off yet another exit.

Wren grabs her bow and nocks an arrow. She pulls it back to release upon Arthur’s command

“Go back! Back the other way!” Kanen calls out to his men, inadvertently falling into their trap. They were now in a much smaller battle ground, where the villagers would have the advantage of knowing their way around.

“Now!” Arthur calls when the bandits are close enough.

Wren releases her arrow. It does not hit Kanen as intended but pierces a man next to him in the chest, most likely killing him instantly. Wren smiles as the people of Ealdor spring from their hiding spots and begins to attack the bandits that have terrorised their village.

From her position, she gets a brilliant view of the battlefield. And by the Goddess, is it going better than she could have expected. The element of surprise had surely helped; the villagers have a clear upper hand. There are 10 or so dead bandits, and only one casualty on their side.

Wren continues to shoot her arrows whenever she finds a good opening. At least two are able to land killing strikes with the rest are enough to injure the men, causing a few to drop their weapons.

When Wren is down to only a handful of arrows, she notices a rider head towards Merlin that the boy doesn’t notice. She moves as fast as she can, placing her bow on her back and grabbing her sword out of its scabbard.

She’s almost made it when Will jumps off the roof, wearing what she recognises as his father’s old armour, knocking the rider from his horse.

“Will!” Wren cries happily as she meets the two boys.

“I didn’t think you were coming.” Merlin says with a big smile.

“Neither did I.” Will answers, meeting his smile as he grabs a sword from a fallen bandit. He turns to Wren, “its’s good to see you. I’m sorry I was so childish and ignored you.”

Wren smiles at the boy as she raises her sword to meet a bandit that goes to attack them. “Ah, don’t sweat it, my friend.” Wren lands a blow to the man attacking her, killing him. “It’s good to see you, too.”

The three fight back-to-back, Wren blocking a few blows that nearly hit the two less-trained boys. Wren smiles brightly. It’s been a very long time since she had fought with people by her side. An even longer time since she’d fought alongside family, this being the first besides Merlin.

Wren’s smile drops as she notices the situation around them. While the villagers began with the upper hand, they are slowly losing it. Their chances of more casualties are increasing, at least a few already look injured. Many of the villagers appear to be losing steam, one or two have been disarmed and have run to find hiding. Even Arthur himself is struggling; it doesn’t matter how good a fighter he his, having three men on you is a losing battle.

“There’s too many of them.” Will says. Wren nods in agreement. The numbers were always weighted against them, but its steadily getting worse.

“Not for me there isn’t.” Merlin returns, raising his hand.

Wren’s eyes widen. “Merlin, no!” She looks around the field, most of the people seem to be distracted, so she can only hope no-one will notice.

“Cume þoden.” Merlin chants, ignoring her warning.

Wren had never heard the boy utter a spell; it seems to roll of his tongue as natural as any other word. She watches in awe as a great whirlwind is summoned, it begins as but a small spinning near where they stand but exponentially grows in size. The wind begins with picking up dirt and sticks but eventually begins knocking a few men from their horses. Wren’s braid whips around behind her, but her feet stay still on the ground even as the bandits begin to lose their footing. Wren finds herself laughing in glee as the battle returns to be in their favour, the villagers once more gaining the upper hand.

Wren grabs her bow and shoots at a few of the bandits as they begin to mount their horses and run off, a few just running on foot. She chuckles when she notices a few of the villagers begin to chase after them, yelling with weapons held high.

The battlefield clears. The villagers cheer in celebration, Wren watches the Lady Morgana and Gwen pull each other into a hug. Wren herself drags both Merlin and Will into a group hug as she continues to laugh in glee.

“Pendragon!” A voice yells out. Wren whips around; it’s Kanen. He appears to be the only one who has remained. He holds his sword tightly as he storms towards Arthur. A few villagers, and Wren, move to assist the prince but he gestures them to stand down.

The two are drawn into a fierce duel, faces hard with concentration. Wren watches the fight with an eager eye. Kanen is brutal with his strikes; he aims not to disarm or injure, only to kill. Despite this, or due to this, Arthur is clearly winning. He is by far the better trained of the two, every blow is met with a parry, his movements allow for no opening for Kanen to easily strike. Kanen is barely able to land a few hits, none which would cause more than a bruise. Wren is once again in awe of the prince; as much as she may hate to admit it, the man was even more handsome when he fought. Wren spots an opening just as Arthur does, and the prince pierces the man through his stomach, causing Kanen to gasp in shock. Wren, along with the villagers, cheer in joy as the lead bandit falls; dead.

However, Wren’s joy is short lived as Arthur turns towards her, Merlin and Will. His face is angrier than when he had faced the bandit, his eyes wild with rage and betrayal.

“Who did that?” Arthur demands, eyes flittering between the trio.

“What?” Merlin asks, voicing the confusion that the three feel.

“Wind like that doesn’t just appear from nowhere.” Arthur states. “I know magic when I see it. One of you made that happen.”

“Arthur...” The worry in Merlin’s voice is evident. Wren straightens her back; she will not let her dear brother take the fall for this.

Just as she is about to take responsibility for the magic, Will interrupts, “Look out!”

Wren looks behind the prince just in time to see Kanen (clearly not quite dead yet) shot a crossbow bolt towards the unaware Arthur. The bard moves to push the prince out the way, but Will moves quicker.

While the prince is now out of the way of the bolt, the same cannot be said for Will.

“Will!” Merlin cries as the boy in question falls to the ground. Arthur catches him and places him gently onto the ground. Wren and Merlin follow, dropping to kneel besides Will.

“You just saved my life.” Arthur says in shock, looking over the boy’s wounds.

“Yeah.” Will murmurs with a strained chuckle. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Come on!” Arthur commands to the crowd of villagers. “Get him inside!”

Merlin, Arthur and a few other village men all gently lift Will off the ground, careful not to move his injury. One man moves to remove the bolt, “Leave it.” Wren grabs the man’s hand before he can pull at it. “He’ll bleed out without that.”

“Where do we take him?” Arthur asks, looking around at where they are situated.

“His house.” Merlin answers, nodding over to where it sits. “It’s just over that way.”

Arthur nods and the group move to carry the injured party over. Wren, Morgana, Gwen and Hunith all follow the group into the cottage.

“Lay him here.” Wren commands as she clears the table sitting in the centre of the small room.

“That’s twice I’ve saved you.” Will says, looking at the prince as he is lowered slowly onto the table.

“Twice?” Arthur asks in confusion.

Will nods slightly, “Yeah, it was me. I’m the one that used the magic.”

Merlin moves closer to the boy, “Will, don’t.”

Wren’s eyes soften as she kneels to look over her friends’ injuries. Of course, this would be the first time she would see the boy be selfless.

Arthur’s eyes flicker towards Merlin before he turns his attention back to Will.

“It’s alright, Merlin.” Will takes in sharp, shallow breaths as he talks. “I won’t be alive long enough for anyone to do anything to me. I did it. I saw how desperate things were becoming and I had to do something.”

Wren sniffles as she realises that Will is right; even with the medical gear she knows she had at her camp, there’s no way the boy will survive this. The arrow had struck him in his heart. While Wren would be able to stop the bleeding, she did not have the tools to fix the internal injuries.

“You’re a sorcerer?” Arthur pulls back a touch. Wren’s eyes flicker to him; was he truly still scared even though the boy had saved his life?

“Yeah. What are you gonna do?” Will laughs weakly. “Kill me?”

“No.” Arthur says, his eyes softening a little bit. “Of course not.” The prince lifts his eyes to look at Merlin. “Do what you can for him.”

Arthur places a hand on Will’s shoulder and gives him a nod of respect. His hand moves to Wren’s in an attempt to guide her out, but she pushes it off and glares at him before looking at Will’s wound again.

She barely notices Arthur and the women who had followed them in leave as Merlin kneels beside her.

“I was right about him. I told you he was going to get me killed.” Will jokes darkly.

“Don’t say that.” Wren chastises, placing a hand next to the injury. “I’m sure there’s some spell I could—”

“Don’t.” Will grabs Wren’s wrist weakly. “We both know it’s too late for that.” Will coughs.

Tears begin to fall gently from Wren’s eyes as Will turns to Merlin. “You’re a good man, Merlin. A great man. And one day, you’re going to be servant to a great king. Now you can still make that happen.”

“Thanks to you.” Merlin says, tears gathering in his eyes as he smiles weakly.

Will then turns to Wren. “I’m sorry about these last few days. I let my ego get the best of me.” Will smiles wetly up at the girl. “I wish I had spent more time with you, my friend. ‘Cause that’s all we are and all we ever needed to be: friends.”

Wren nods her head sharply. “You’re a good man Will; a better friend.”

Will groans and looks up at the ceiling. “This place has been boring without you two. It was good to see you both again.”

Wren nods as Merlin agrees, “yeah, you are too.”

“Merlin. Merlin, I’m scared.” Will’s breaths are getting shallower; his voice is panicked as he looks at his best friend.

Wren looks down at the ground as she begins a prayer to the Triple Goddess. “A Sheanóirí Móra, lig don chorp seo imeacht go gasta agus go réidh. Go raibh turas a anama gasta agus go gcuirfí fáilte chroíúil roimhe ag Geataí Avalon.”

“Don’t be.” Tears are now falling swiftly from Merlin’s eyes. “It’s going to be alright.”

“Merlin…Wren….” Will murmurs as his eyes flutter closed and his breaths cease completely.

“No!” Wren cries, falling into Merlin’s chest to look away from the dreadful sight.

Merlin lets out a loud sob as he wraps an arm around Wren, dropping his head to hide in her hair.

It doesn’t take long for Will’s pyre to be organised. Many more are laid out alongside it. The casualties are small in numbers, and it was decided that all would be given warrior send offs.

Merlin and Wren stand before Will’s pyre. Wren places a few more pieces of kindling down before Merlin uses the torch within his grip to light the fire.

Merlin places a hand on Wren’s shoulder as the fire dances across their eyes.

“I’m sorry.” A voice says, breaking the silence between the two. The duo turns to see that Arthur has approached them. He too turns to look at the pyre. “I know he was a close friend.”

“He still is.” Merlin says, wiping his eye. Wren only sniffles in reply.

“You knew he was a sorcerer, didn’t you?” Arthur surmised, addressing Merlin. “That’s what you were going to tell me?”

Wren turns to look at Merlin, her brow furrowed. Was her brother going to tell the prince of his magic before the battle?

Merlin pauses for a second before he answers, “yes. It was.”

Arthur continues to stare at the pyre. “You know how dangerous magic is. You shouldn’t’ve kept this from me, Merlin.”

Wren clenches her fists and turns to look at the prince. “How dare you be so… so… callous!” She hits one of fists on Arthur’s chest, as the prince rears back in shock. “Our friend just died! I don’t care what the fuck your views are on magic. Will was a good person! How dare you say such awful things!” She hit his chest again. “He saved your life! He used his evil, dangerous magic to save YOU.” She pushes her finger sharply in the prince’s chest as she snarls at him. “I’m beginning to think he should have just let you die.” She finishes by shoving the prince back and storming away towards her camp.

As she reaches it, she notices footsteps behind her, and she turns to see Merlin following close by. She can see in the distance that Arthur has not moved from his spot, merely staring directly at the ground.

“I’m coming with you to Camelot.” Wren declares as she begins to pack up her camp. “I’m going to see for myself if that…brute of a prince is who you say he is.”

“How will you be able to tell?” Merlin inquires.

Wren turns to him. “I have a gift. I’m able to sense people’s magic more strongly than anyone I’ve ever met.” Wren walks over to Marigold to begin loading some of her stuff. “The Once and Future King should have some sort of trace of magic on him. I’ll be able to tell.” Wren turns back to Merlin. “And if he is, then you’re going to need all the help you can get to turn that,” she points to where Arthur is, “into a great king.”

“He’s really not as bad as you think.” Merlin argues, moving closer to Wren. “I mean, he came here, didn’t he?”

Wren shakes her head as she places her hands on Merlin’s shoulders. “From what I’ve seen, he’s nowhere close to the great King of destiny. I can only hope that I will be proven wrong.”

Merlin sighs. “Alright.”

Wren nods. “Now, go say goodbye to your mother. I’ll meet you at the start of the road to Camelot.”

Merlin gives her a quick hug before he jogs off in the direction of his mother’s house.

Wren continues to pack up her small camp. While her possessions are meagre, it includes a few items that are tricky to carry while travelling, including her lute and fiddle. The others, such as her three changes of clothes (her travelling set, which she wore to the battle, an everyday dress as well as a performing outfit), her notebooks, her coin bag (which was nearing empty), her bedroll and the few rations she had left were easy to fit in her saddle bags.

Wren looks around herself to check for anyone watching before she clears some leaves to reveal her magic book. It’s not a true magic book; rather a collection of information that she had deemed necessary to write down. Most of her knowledge she remembered, but some was significant enough to write down, such as potion recipes which are difficult to remember. Beneath it sat her letter box, a small chest that she had enchanted so that all that entered it would arrive at her family’s home. She primarily used it to write letters to her family, as sometimes when she travelled, it would take weeks for the letters to arrive by pigeon.

She whispers a simple concealment spell, one that would make people’s eyes skim over the book rather than hide it completely, before she places it in one of her bags.

Wren turns to look over her camp. All that would be needed was safely packed inside her bags. Wren nods to herself before she turns to her horse.

“Well, Marigold. I guess we’re going to Camelot.”

Chapter Text

Wren is the first to arrive at the meeting point. She leans against a tree near where the horses from Camelot have been tied up to fence posts. She scratches Marigolds neck as the horse sniffs the others in greeting. She stares off at the dirt road ahead of her; the road that leads to the place where many of her people have lost their lives.

As she stares, she feels it. The deep thrumming of the ground that calls her, gently pulling her in the direction of Camelot. She hears it. The voice that calls out to her, Wren finds herself gently humming along before she notices it.

She knows what it is. She’s heard it for almost 5 years. Before then, she’d heard tales of it.

The Call to Density. The Ancient Melody.

She can’t remember the exact moment she first heard it. It had come on slowly, before it called loudly to her one night all those years ago. She’d heard it ever since but ignored it. It was too risky. She’d ignored the Destiny the Triple Goddess had gifted her out of fear of going to Camelot. She was a Druid. She knew of what Uther Pendragon thought of Druids; what had happened to those who had been found within the kingdom’s borders.

She still remembered the first time she had seen it firsthand. By the time she had gotten there, no-one was alive. She could still remember the smell of burning flesh, the lack of magic in the air, the destruction of the camp. Men, women, children. All dead.

But she was following the call now. But it was not by reason of the Melody that she was going. It was Merlin. He had a great destiny, but the boy was still so young. He surely would need help; he couldn’t do it on his own. Perhaps that is what the call was? For her to help him guide the Once and Future King. Perhaps she was to be the protector of Emrys.

Whatever the reason was, she hoped it would all be worth it.

“Wren!” A voice calls out, startling her from her thoughts. The bard lifts her head to see Merlin waving at her as the people of Camelot follow him.

She smiles at him, “all packed?”

Merlin nods with a smile, gesturing to the pack slung over his left shoulder.

“Are you coming to Camelot?” Morgana asks moving to stand near one of the horses, patting its dark mane.

“Yes, thought it was about time I visited the mighty citadel.” Wren says, also giving a nod of greeting to Gwen. “I’m sure there’s a tavern that would welcome me to play.”

She hears Arthur hum in agreement. “I’m sure The Rising Sun will welcome you.”

Wren ignores him and mounts Marigold. “How many days to Camelot?”

“Only a few.” Gwen answers, her eyes flickering to the prince.

Wren nods and watches everyone mount their horses.

“Off to Camelot we go.” Wren whispers to herself, as she gestures for Marigold to move.

Wren smiled at Merlin as he sits down beside her, a collection of herbs cradled within his neckerchief.

“Well, it might not be as good as your mother’s, but it’s still something.” Wren says, stirring the stew within the pot he had brought.

Merlin begins to tear and sprinkle the herbs. “I don’t think anything will ever be. Don’t even think the best stew in the whole of Albion could top my mother’s.”

Wren nods. “Nostalgia’s a crazy thing. I’ve had some pretty good pies, but nothing will ever top my mother’s apple pie.” Merlin lets out a groan at the memory of her pie, causing Wren to chuckle. Merlin agreed with her about the greatness of the pie, similar to her agreement with his mother’s stew.

“Merlin!” A voice calls out from the edge of the clearing they are situated at. Arthur stumbles out of the woods, holding a rabbit in his hand, a grimace on his face. “I’ve got the rabbit, you get started on the stew and—” Arthur stops as he notices the pot full of stew, meat already cooking inside. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“Well, Wren caught the rabbit, Morgana got the water, I collected the herbs, Gwen got the wood and started the fire.” Merlin answers, ticking them off his fingers. “So, we all pitched in. Except for you, of course.” He finishes with a bright smile on his face as he picks up a ladle and begins to stir the soup.

“So, I did all this work for nothing?” Arthur asks, holding the rabbit up with a scowl.

“Nah, I mean, there’s no such thing as too much rabbit, right?” Merlin says with a crooked smile.

Arthur rolls his eyes and hands the rabbit to Merlin who lifts a knife to start to skin it. His eyes than move Wren, a conflicted look in his eyes. “Ah, Wren, I—”

Wren quickly stood up from where she was crouched and marches away, not even gracing the prince with a look. She hears him turn and harshly whisper to Merlin, though she is not able to hear all that he says. Simply “Wren…Angry…talk to…help…”.

Morgana and Gwen look up from their quiet conversation as she approaches the two, sitting next to Gwen with a huff. “I’m assuming you’re still ignoring him?” Morgana asks, leaning forwards to show a lift of an eyebrow.

Wren lets out a puff of air. “Yeah. He’s such an arsehole.”

Gwen lets out a sharp laugh before slapping her hand over her face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. He’s the prince! I just—”

“It’s okay Gwen, he deserves it.” Morgana says a smile on her lips as she looks at her maid servant before turning to Wren. “When do you think you’ll talk to him again? I think he’s trying to apologise, which is rather out of the ordinary for him.”

“I don’t know, when I feel like it. I don’t think I’m ready for that conversation yet.” Wren sighs, resting her chin on her palms as she watches Merlin and Arthur furiously whisper to each other. Though, Arthur is the one who appears angry, Merlin seems more amused.

Morgana hums. “Well, fair enough. Just…try and talk to him before we get to Camelot.”

Wren sighs but nods, standing up to grab a bowl of the soup from Merlin, leaving before Arthur could try and talk to her again.

Wren is mostly able to avoid Arthur for the rest of the trip to Camelot. He continued to approach Merlin and herself when the two were talking and she would continue simply walking away without acknowledging the man. Often afterwards moving to talk with Morgana and Gwen who were quite amused by her avoiding the prince. She knows that if he truly wished, when they arrived in Camelot, there would be consequences for the disrespect she has shown him. But on the trip, Wren realised just how disrespectful Merlin was to the prince and hoped he would show her the same grace.

However, on the last night before they reached the citadel when she was standing guard, he sits beside her, and she decides to stop running away.

“I’m sorry.” Wren turns to look at the prince as he speaks. He is looking at the fire that was set up at the centre of the camp. “You were right, it was wrong of me to say that. Will did save my life, even if he did use…magic.”

Wren sighs, using her sword to push around some dirt in front of her. “I’m sorry too. While what I said was true, it was a bit rude.”

“A bit?” the prince jokes, a smirk on his face.

Wren rolls her eyes. “It’s just…my family lives in Nemeth, near a druid encampment. The views on magic there are very different, so I’m not used to hearing such…vitriol against magic.” The bard turns to look at Arthur, seeing some shock in his eyes. “So, hearing such things, especially about a friend of mine, was a bit…shocking, I guess.”

“I’ve just…never really seen magic used for good.”

“Will used it for good.” She pauses. “Just like the Druids use it for good.”

Wren watches the prince clench one of his fists but is unable to see the expression as he turns his head up to the sky.

Wren sighs. “Well, I guess it’s your turn to take watch. See you in the morning, sire.”

“Arthur.” Wren turns to look at the prince in shock, but he is still looking up at the sky. “You can call me Arthur.”

Wren pauses and then smiles. “Good night…Arthur.”

Goddess, why did the man have to be so goddamn confusing?