Hi guys. I'm sorry it's been so long. Two whole years. I'll bet you thought I wasn't coming back. (You forgot all about me, didn't you?).

Well, dear readers, you will be relieved to know that in the interim I have actually taken creative writing classes...and English classes...and have been doing other things that have greatly helped my writing. You also may have noticed that this used to be a different chapter. I rewrote it. Deal.

The sun shone brightly over Camelot, and prince Arthur was not pleased. He tried to shield his eyes from the blinding sunlight as he looked out over the courtyard at the new arrivals. Why did the sun have to be shining so brightly now of all times, and why did he have to be standing exactly where he was, facing directly into it. Where were clouds when he needed them?

"Don't squint, Arthur," came a woman's laughing voice, "it does not suit you."

"Lady Maera!" exclaimed Uther, approaching her with his hand extended towards her.

Lady Maera sunk into a graceful curtsy before smiling and allowing Uther to lead her up the steps to the palace. Merlin, standing off to the side, couldn't help but notice the lady Maera's strange appearance. There was no denying that she was incredibly beautiful. Her features were gentle, delicate, and doll-like. Her frame was slender, and she possessed the lean musculature of a runner. She looked about ten years Merlin's senior, but her eyes - her strange yellow-green eyes, which seemed almost to burn with some internal light - shone with an intensity far beyond her years. There was something else, too. Something...sad in her eyes. Merlin just couldn't quite place what exactly it was.

Her skin was smooth and the color of cream; blemishless but for a faint white scar on her left temple, which sliced down her cheek and tapered off at her jaw. But the most mesmerizing thing about Maera was her hair, which flowed loosely down her back in a fall of pure shining white.

Following closely behind Maera was a simply-dressed girl, who couldn't have been anything but her maidservant.

There could not have been a bigger difference between Maera and her handmaid. Where Maera's features gentle, soft, and feminine, her maidservant was hard-edged, stony, and masculine. Her face was long and triangular, her eyes dark and hooded, her lips set in a taut angry line; her cheekbones were low, sloping, and shallow, and her skin, while dusky, held the unhealthy bluish tone of someone who has not seen the sun in some time.

The girl caught Merlin's gaze as he glanced at her, and she shot him an angry, threatening glare. He quickly looked away, disconcerted. He had never seen that kind of blind hatred before, except in Uther's eyes when he looked down upon a magic user. It was unnerving to think that such a young girl could direct so much hatred at a complete stranger, and Merlin couldn't help but think that this girl must know something - something about him, something which burned in her heart and lit the fires of rage in her soul. Merlin shuddered. He would have to be wary around her. Something - he couldn't place what - told him that she was dangerous, that if she wanted to she could make something of her anger.

Merlin made a mental note to keep a watchful eye on Maera's servant, and followed them into the castle.

Meanwhile, a shadow crept through the woods outside of Camelot. It was looking for something - someone. Someone inside Camelot. The shadow slipped between trees and under the watchful eyes of guards, and into the citadel, unnoticed by all.

Face claim for Maera is Jessica Stam. Face claim for Martina is Sara Blomqvist.

You may have noticed I rewrote almost all of this chapter. I've been doing that. Keep an eye out for rewrites in my other stories as well.

Side note: I turn eighteen in six days. Happy birthday to me.