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Leora had grown weary of her feet. Constantly aching, covered in blisters that should have turned to rough callouses long ago. Describing her journey to Camelot as difficult was an understatement. The traveler outran bandits, hid from enemy knights, got stuck in mud so deep it leeched the warmth from her limbs, all for an audience with the royal physician. She felt her druid tattoo burning on her calf, a reminder that nowhere was safe when in this territory.
Although the king had been slowly allowing druids to trade and barter in the market, he still hadn’t allowed them to sell any fares, much less allow them into the castle. But alas, Leora was in dire need of a healing potion. Her younger brother fell ill 3 days ago, and she struggled to find the proper medication for him. All the herbs she blended and poultices she produced only seemed to take away his pain for a minute, and then the illness returned even worse. He had been exploring in the abandoned ruins, something she never allowed him to do without her direct supervision, when he stumbled over a stone and scratched his knee. Such an injury shouldn’t have caused a fatal reaction, but he was growing more grey and tiresome by the day. Leora had examined the ruins thoroughly to find the source of the ailment and discovered a series of runes on the ground, right where his blood spilt. A magical illness could only be cured by a magical remedy, something way out of her skill set.
The rest of Leora’s family was gone, killed by the former king and his infamous crusades against the druids. She barely managed to escape with her younger brother in tow. They ran for days and nights to escape the knights and only stopped when they collapsed from exhaustion. An older woman found them passed out on the ground close to starvation. She nursed the siblings back to health with thin broth and gentle hands. She had long passed, but left them her house and meager farm to support them.
Before the massacre, Leora had heard rumors that the royal physician could cure any illness, including those that are of magical reasons. No one ever dared to ask him for help due to his role, or lack of it, in the Great Dying. The period when magic was almost wiped from Albion was a devastating era that haunted her dreams even now. With the new king seeming to be more merciful towards her people, she decided to take the risk for her brother. Keeping him alive came first, she could worry about herself after that.
As she approached Camelot Leora began to mentally prepare. She had little magical ability, except for one skill that she was born with. Everyone is assigned a number 1-10 at birth that floats over their heads, gleaming in the light. At first, she was not sure what this represented but as she grew, she realized that the number was their value as a person. It was a mixture of their power, intelligence, compassion, and their destiny. Rarely it changed, as fate was usually accurate if not temperamental at times. She had rarely seen anyone above a 5 considering her humble upbringing, but every so often there would be an anomaly. The druids were not a powerful people, but what they lacked in physical prowess they made up for in empathy, unity, and peace. The leader of her druid faction was an 8, the highest she’d seen. Her brother was a 4 and she herself was a 5. Most people usually ranked 1-3 with the occasional 4 and 5. The bandits she fled were almost entirely 1’s while the Mercia knights were averaging around 3, and most of the people in her village were in the same range.
Leora had slowly gotten used to the power, but when around too many people her head begins to pound with an intensity that rattles her jaw and fills her ears.
She approached the drawbridge to Camelot and took a deep breath. She gathered her magic into her sternum, as if it could give her the bravery to pass. Her first steps were soft, gaining confidence as she made it to the grand gates.
“State your business.” A knight stopped her at the entrance, holding his spear in a way that was not meant to appear threatening, but caused her heart to palpitate. How could a knight hold a spear in a way that did not frighten her immensely.
She took another deep breath and responded calmly, they had no reason to suspect her heritage.
“My name is Leora, I am looking for a physician to treat my younger brother.”
The knight glanced at his partner, “Where do you come from?”
She swallowed her anxiety, “A small town on the border of Mercia and Camelot. We have no healers of any sort in the village and Mercia isn’t quite known for their intelligence, or kindness for that matter.”
The knight chuckled, “Can’t argue with you there. Good luck Leora, welcome to Camelot.”
Both knights stepped aside and allowed Leora to pass onto the main street. As she viewed the crowd ahead, her mouth dropped to her knees. An amalgamation of numbers mashed in chaos over the stalls, blending together and blinding Leora. A plethora of 1’s, 2’s, and even the occasional 3 or 4 filled the air above the market stalls. Leora collapsed with her back against the city wall, overwhelmed by the sight before her. She closed her eyes and wished that the royal physician would just appear before her.
What was she even thinking coming to Camelot? It was a setting that remained at the forefront of her nightmares from the time she was a young child. Where King Uther roamed the streets with an iron fist, tearing families apart and filling the sky with a putrid smelling smoke.
“Are you alright?”
A young man crouched before her carrying a basket of herbs.
“Do you need a hand up? Or well maybe a foot up since my hands are a bit preoccupied but I can grab someone to-“
“No it’s ok I’m alright give me a second.” Leora slowly got up from the ground and dusted off her trousers. Her head still ached something fierce, but having a singular person to focus on blocked a bit of it out. “A bit too much going on here, it took me by surprise.”
“Ah, first time in Camelot? My name’s Merlin, it’s nice to be the first one to welcome you to this wonderful but slightly overwhelming city.” The raven haired man smiles at her with a sympathetic sort of grin, as if he had once been in her shoes. “I definitely ran into my fair share of trouble my first day here. What brings you to Camelot?”
Still reeling from the massive headache, Leora takes a second to respond, “Well I uh came here looking for a physician,” Leora sighs, “but it seems as though I can barely make it past the front gates.” If only she trained with her ability more, maybe she would be able to compartmentalize better instead of falling victim to the glaring sirens above everyone’s head.
“Well it’s your lucky day miss!! I actually happen to be the assistant to the royal physician, let me lead you there,” Merlin exclaimed, excitedly, happy to help. “I know a much better way to get to the castle, a lot less people and a lot less goat crap too…these people have no shame. Pick up your goat's shit goddamnit.”
Leora took a moment to observe her savior, his easy smile and lackadaisical attitude making her feel at ease. She realized that this was an ally, someone she could trust. She felt a strange connection to him, as if their chests were tethered together by a length of rope. His mind seemed open and unassuming. Looking into his eyes she saw kindness, curiosity, and humor. She looked above his head expecting an above average number but nothing too special due to his seemingly lack of physical strength. What she found made her halt in her tracks.
Merlin carefully sidesteps said feces and looks back at Leora who was frozen, seemingly shell shocked, “Well, come on now. No time to waste!”
Although Leora was definitely not expecting the assistant to the royal physician to appear right in front of her, she was infinitely more aghast at the absence above Merlin’s head.
He had no number.
——————-
Merlin was oblivious to Leora's silence as he chattered happily down the (thankfully emptier) streets of Camelot. She carefully observed this anomaly before her, trying to figure out just who this man was. He had thick black hair that framed high cheekbones, just on the precipice of being a bit shaggy if it were grown out a tad longer. A red neckerchief hung around his throat and a blue button up hung off his shoulders. Every article of clothing was just a tiny bit dirty, as if Merlin had just finished sweeping a fireplace or airing out some sheets.
There were no hints pointing to the blank space above his head.
“Just a bit more now I promise I’m not leading you to a deep dark cave or anything like that, completely trustworthy I am!” Merlin laughed at himself as Leora stared suspiciously. “I’m joking, I’m joking, the castle is lovely and the food is otherworldly, just you wait till I sneak some jam tarts out of the kitchen…”
Her caution was thrown to the wind once she entered the castle square. Beautiful spires reached towards the sky and open balconies allowed those above to survey the people below, mostly just servants running around probably completing certain tasks for the royals. She couldn’t imagine the excess they lived in.
“Merlin! Just the man I wanted to see, Percival here was saying that he doesn’t think I can drink a barrel of beer alone. You don’t believe that, do you??” The man speaking had a bright smile on his face and an arm around a giant, probably the Percival he spoke of.
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should, Gwaine.” Merlin rolls his eyes towards Leora as if communicating his feigned annoyance. “Plus you know Arthur would make you regret that in the morning.”
Leora was speechless for the second time that hour. Glancing above the men she stared at the 7 and 8 above Gwaine and Percival respectively. The Mercian knights never reached numbers so high! Although they were physically impressive, their other qualities were far below the average person, leading them to have incredibly low numbers. But these men…to have such high numbers and be ranked knights must mean that they are not only fearsome in battle, but also good individuals who genuinely fight for those in need. To Leora, that was unheard of.
“Ah and who’s this beauty,” Gwaine teases. “You know the princess won’t be happy with this Merlin, maybe if I mention how close you and your pretty friend seem to be he’ll be too distracted to pay attention to lil old me.”
“Don’t you dare Gwaine! You know how he gets, I can’t deal with the prat this early in the morning. Leave us be, we have things to do.” With that Merlin starts to briskly walk away, Leora hurrying to catch up to him.
“See you later, beautiful! I’ll be at the bar later if you want to see my skills!!”
“See you later Merlin!” calls Percival as he swats Gwaine in the head.
With the reminder that a certain someone will wake soon, Merlin hurries through the halls to get to Gauis’s office.
Leora’s eyes follow the back of his head, sensing something unique about him now that they were more alone. Did he have any connection to her people? She concentrated, reaching out with her magic, a warm feeling coursing through her veins as she made contact with Merlin. She could definitely sense some magic, seemingly stifled. As soon as she felt a smidge, it disappeared, almost like he had quenched it.
“None of that now,” he said. “Let’s get you to the royal physician first, we can talk about that after.”
Her eyes widened at his easy admittance. What was he doing here? Living in Camelot with magic is a death sentence! He must be absolutely insane. And the ability to hide your magic, that’s a skill that only warlocks of the highest level possess. Who is this man?
Curiosity crept through her, but she trusted Merlin, even after only knowing him for such a short amount of time. Something about him eased her nerves, his presence grounded her feet, gave courage to her steps.
Leora nodded at him, Merlin smiling in response. She would find out soon enough.
—————
“Here we are, right this way,” Merlin says as he opens a thick door that has definitely seen better days. “Gaius! We have a visitor! Come out, come out wherever you are.”
“No need to shout Merlin, you know I rarely leave these chambers nowadays.”
An old man appears from behind a large bookcase filled with ancient totems. His shoulder length white hair and crooked brow made him appear eternally judgmental, but his aura had a tender warmth that’s only associated with those who have an abundance of wisdom to share. Above his head is a value of 7, similar to many of the elder druids she met in the past. He spots Leora trailing behind Merlin, an anxious shadow surveying the area before her.
“And who might this young lady be?” Gaius quirks an eyebrow at her before glancing to Merlin, looking for an explanation.
Leora stands tall and remembers her mission.
“My name is Leora sir. My younger brother has fallen ill due to an unknown source. He was playing in some ruins when he scraped his knee and fell on the ground. After observing the area, I found that his scraped knee landed on a symbol on the ground that looks like it belongs to the Old Religion.”
Both men stop and stare at her. Merlin quickly went to shut the door while Gauis took her by the shoulders.
“Keep your voice down child. The king has been acting more lenient lately but we should still be wary at the current time. Who knows what could occur if you were overheard.”
Leora suddenly remembered where she was and gasps in horror. Something about these two men made her feel so at ease she had forgotten to hide herself. Her village back home in Mercia didn’t mind that they were druids, if anything they valued Leora for her knowledge in healing and worried for her brother when they heard of his ailment. She hasn’t had to hide in so long.
“It’s alright,” Gaius calms her, “We will keep this to ourselves and search for a cure. Stay under the radar and don’t mention anything concerning magic while you are here. Camelot is much safer for your kind than it used to be but it’s important to err on the side of caution.”
Leora nods shamefully as Gaius goes to fetch some books. Merlin approaches her from the door before it suddenly bursts open.
“What do you mean by her kind?”
Leora flinches at the sudden voice and sends a panicked look towards Merlin who sighs, seemingly exasperated.
“You have such convenient timing, sire.”
“Shut it Merlin. Gwaine mentioned you picked up some stray, I had to come and make sure you weren’t going to get yourself killed by a pretty face.”
Merlin threw his hands in the air,“So happy to hear you care! I’m fine, now please leave and let us be. Leora’s brother is sick and we need to help him immediately.”
Arthur glanced towards Leora, observing her head to toe, “Her brother’s sick? It looks like she’s about to keel over, are you sure the ill one isn’t her?”
Everyone in the room stared at Leora who was currently swiveling her head between Arthur and Merlin.
Meanwhile Leora’s brain had completely emptied. One glance at Arthur revealed the truth. The only person destined to have a perfect 10, an unheard of quality, was the Once and Future King. Currently standing in front of Leora. Calling her pale and green.
Which meant the warlock standing beside her must be—
“Emrys.”
She looked deep into Merlin’s eyes and saw hidden kingdoms, the gold of Albion, magic itself buried in their blue depths.
The last thing she heard before she promptly passed out was:
“Oh, for fucks sake.”