Ch. 1 – A visitor

"Another tournament?"

"Yes, Merlin, on the last day of the month. Weren't you listening? Tournaments show the power and bravery of knights…and I need to recruit more knights. Gwaine, Percival, Leon and Elyan are trustworthy and courageous beyond measure but I can't rely on four men forever…"

"But another one?"

Arthur glanced back at his manservant, glared actually. Really, for being remarkably brae during, crisis (not that Arthur would ever tell him he was) Merlin could be such a girl when it came to things such as knight training and swords (this Arthur had told Merlin, repeatedly."

"It's not that I don't appreciate getting beat up for the sake of the kingdom," Merlin was continuing, "But so much extra work for a few days and so much time spent beating me to a pulp…" Merlin's voice trailed to a stop as he caught the exasperated look in Arthur's eye.

Merlin sighed and asked, "Do you want me to tell the court scribe to write some announcement?"

"No, Merlin," Arthur replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I much rather hear you gripe about – "

"I'll go do that." Merlin hurried out of Arthur's bedroom before the young king could insult him farther.

"Really," Merlin thought, "It's not that bad of an idea. A tournament of sorts was how both Lancelot and Gwaine met Arthur, but I can't let Arthur's head get any bigger than it already is." Merlin smiled fondly to himself. "I guess after knowing someone – and saving their life a thousand times – you grow to care for them."

Merlin went to the library, had the announcement made, got messengers to post them all over Camelot, sent riders to post them all over Albia, gathered herbs for Gaius, and somehow managed to get to Arthur's room with lunch on time.

Not that Arthur noticed.

"Merlin," he announced as soon as Merlin opened the door, "It's going to last three days."

"What?" Merlin asked, setting down the full lunch tray and momentarily collapsing in an empty chair, panting form his almost-run holding the heavy tray.

"The tournament, it will last three days."

"Why?" Merlin's tone was incredulous.

"Because I…what are you doing in the chair?" Arthur frowned. Merlin sighed and slowly got to his feet and began setting the table.

"It will last three days," Arthur began again in a condescending tone, "So that people from the outlying villages can experience Camelot and learn to love this kingdom. After all, how can we expect people to fight for something they don't love?" Arthur had paced to the window during his speech and now he turned to see Merlin looking at him with his mouth hanging open.

"What?" he demanded.

"That's a brilliant idea," said Merlin.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, "Is that sarcasm?"

"No," Merlin protested, "Can't you tell when I'm being serious by now?"

"But you never like my ideas," Arthur argued.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it. I'm sure it's a fluke," Merlin replied, getting back to setting the table.

"Merlin," said Arthur in his kingliest voice. Merlin glanced at him over his shoulder. Arthur hesitated, and looked down at the floor for a brief second, wondering if he should say what was on his mind. But only for a second did he hesitate. Arthur met Merlin's gaze and said, "Thank you."

Merlin's face broke into a huge, sincere smile, but he did not reply. Arthur began outlining his plan for a huge pavilion in which people could watch the contestants and both men acted as if it hadn't happened. But it had, and they both knew it.

A few days later, a young person wearing brown pants, a white cotton shirt with the stiff leather vest of a hunter over it, and a leather belt with a sheathed dagger stood before an inn. The youth was holding the reigns of a chestnut stallion with a full saddle bag – packed for a long journey. The picture of an avid traveler/hunter was completed by the bow slung on the sadly, a quiver full of arrows on the youth's back. To top it off (and to the great amazement of several village children watching the visitor from afar) a hunting hawk was perched on a reinforced leather pad on the youth's shoulder. One hand was carefully clad in a fingerless leather glove that protected the young hunter from both the hawk's sharp talons and the pull of the bowstring. This was the hand the youth was using to mindlessly stroke the happily preening hawk. Both hawk and owner seemed to be staring at a brightly painted scroll announcing that a three-day tournament would be held in Camelot in about a week. A crowd had surrounded the proclamation all day, but the youth was currently alone. The slight figure was staring at the announcement as if it held the secret of life…or a destiny.

The innkeeper came outside and clapped a beefy hand on the shoulder presently unoccupied by a hawk, "So, young man," the friendly man boomed, "Are you going to compete in the tournament?"

The youth had jumped slightly at the sudden weight of the large hand, and the dagger was momentarily in one small hand, but then the innkeeper was recognized and the young boy – "Yes," the innkeeper was thinking, "It's a boy." – smiled.

"Yes," the boy replied, grinning up at the sky, "I believe I will."

"Hey! Wait up everyone!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, Merlin and Percival laughed, and Leon and Elyan exchanged exasperated looks; Gwaine was jogging after them holding something bright in his hand.

The announcement of the tournament had prompted the organization of a merchant's market in the center of Camelot, and the streets were filled with stalls full of wares from every corner of the kingdom and quite a few neighboring kingdoms too. The king and his trusted knights plus Merlin – affectionately called the "command crew" by Guinevere – had spent the morning following Queen Guinevere and her ladies from stall to stall. They were finally heading back to the castle in order to train and practice with some to the younger knights and newcomers in order to prepare for the beginning of the tournament the next day. Gwen was still shopping but the men were quite happy to return to the simpler world of shield and sword…well, everyone except for Gwaine apparently.

"Look," Gwaine panted, brandishing the thing in his hand as he finally caught up with the others, "What do you think?"

"What is that?" demanded Elyan.

"It's a hat!" Gwaine retorted indignantly.

"Training to be a jester, Gwaine?" Leon asked evenly, a smile tugging up the corners of his lips. Percival and Merlin roared with laughter.

"That's not a hat," said Arthur with disgust, "It's big, it's red, it's floppy and it has a ridiculous long blue feather! It's the most…the most…"

"Oh, I've got it," Merlin gasped out between laughs, "Ostentatious."

This time, everyone laughed.

"You may laugh," Gwaine said, placing the floppy monstrosity squarely on his head, "But this hat will change the tide of fashion and – "

But whatever else Gwaine was going to say was lost in a surprised yelp as a brown and red blur swooped down from the sky and snatched the hat off Gwaine's head. The hawk flew off with the blue feather waving like a flag of surrender from between his talons. By now, everyone was laughing so hard that Percival was leaning against the side of the nearest building in order to keep from falling. Gwaine swore.

"Dragon!" someone shouted, "Dragon, what are you doing!"

This out of place exclamation – that had a few shoppers looking up at the sky in alarm – was followed by a low-pitched and insistent whistle. Merlin looked in the direction of the noise and saw a young man dressed in typical hunting attire, wearing a dagger, and carrying a bow and quiver full of arrows. The hawk dropped the hat at this boy's feet and then settled on his shoulder.

"I swear, thought Merlin, "That hawk looks pleased with itself."

"I'm sorry," the boy apologized, dusting off Gwaine's purchase, "Dragon doesn't usually attack people but I haven't let him hunt for a few days and he must have thought – good God what is this!?" He held the red and blue-feathered fashion statement at an arm's length and gave it a hard look. Everyone except Gwaine started laughing again.

Gwaine snatched it back; "It's a hat! A hat! Its'…oh, damn you," he said, glaring at his friends, "I give up." Her tried to stuff the hat into his money bag, failed, and let it fall to the ground.

"For the King of Camelot," Gwaine growled at Arthur, "You don't treat your knights very respectfully."

"Gwaine," Arthur began, clapping the man on the shoulder, "You know you wouldn't have it any other way."

"King…?" the stranger said slowly, scanning the men in front of him. He took in the royal emblem on their cloaks and the seal on Arthur's ring and his eyes widened. The youth hastily bowed his head and said, in a remarkably steady and formal voice that hinted at an expensive upbringing, "Forgive me, sire, for not greeting you properly. I am Jonathon of Starmount, son of Sir Albert Starmount of the independent city Francia. I am now Lord of Francia since my father's death a few months ago."

At the bow and being called 'sire,' Arthur composed himself. Merlin noticed the familiar change in posture; the high chin, straight back, and a casual hand on Excalibur. "Here we go," thought Merlin, sighing inwardly. He liked Arthur better when he wasn't trying to impress potential allies.

"Francia, as you mentioned, is an independent city that borders Albia, and therefore owes no allegiance to me. However, I appreciate the respect, Lord Jonathon," Arthur replied smoothly.

"Please, call me Jon," the young Lord replied. "And Francia has always been friendly with Albia so I thought, with your permission, I might join the festivities."

"Of course," Arthur replied, a diplomatic smile on his face. "And you are welcome to sleep in the castle as your noble rank…"

"That won't be necessary," Jon interrupted.

"Hey, kid," Gwaine interrupted suddenly, "How old is you?"

"Gwaine," Arthur warned with a frown.

"It's fine, sir," Jon replied still speaking with a proper accent to his words, "I am eighteen, sir knight."

"Really?" asked Gwaine as Percival looked up in surprise. Merlin started slightly; even Leon and Arthur – much better trained than any of the others to remain diplomatic – raised their eyebrows. Jon was much shorter than all the knights, and much slighter to.

Jon narrowed his eyes and dropped the proper tone, sounding once more like the boy that had ridiculed Gwaine's hat; "I may be small for my age but I'm fast and much stronger than I look."

The knights all exchanged looks and Arthur and Merlin glanced at each other.

"I'll prove it during the tournament," Jon huffed.

"How about you prove it now?" Elyan asked, "We're about to practice on the castle's grounds."

"Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" asked Elyan, a bit bewildered by Jon's surprise.

"It's just…you're the famous knights of Camelot and King Arthur…and I'm…"

"An honored guest," Arthur finished for Jon, and easy-going smile was back on the king's face and Merlin breathed a sigh of relief.

"We'd be honored to have you join us for a scrimmage," Arthur continued.

"Yeah, Jonny-boy," Gwaine said, "Let's see how good you are."

"You're on," Jon laughed. The boy fell into step next to the knights, Dragon swaying slightly on his shoulder.