A Warlocks' Disguise {ArthurxFem!Merlin}

UPDATED 1/16

Merilyn lingered quietly at the edge of the tournament grounds, her figure partially obscured by the shadows cast by the midday sun. The arena before her was a vivid tapestry of activity—Camelot's finest knights, clad in polished armor that glinted in the sunlight, stood poised to display their prowess. The stands were brimming with spectators, their voices a symphony of anticipation. From her vantage point, Merilyn could see the expanse of the field, a place of both spectacle and danger, where honor was won and pride was broken. At the heart of it all stood Arthur.

The sun hung high, its golden light spilling over the arena and casting long shadows over the gathered throng. Dust swirled in the air, kicked up by restless horses and the tread of armored boots. Merilyn, momentarily untouched by the clamor, let her thoughts wander. The weight of her duties as Arthur's manservant loomed over her—an increasingly intricate web of responsibility that seemed to pull her deeper into Camelot's high-stakes world. For now, she allowed herself this brief reprieve, standing unnoticed as the chaos unfolded around her.

The distant clang of swords sparring, the murmur of the crowd, and the rhythmic pounding of hooves filled her ears as her gaze settled on the raised platform where Uther Pendragon stood, the king's imposing figure silhouetted against the bright sky. His voice, powerful and authoritative, carried easily over the restless crowd.

"Knights of the realm," Uther began, his tone commanding immediate silence. "It is a great honor to welcome you to this tournament of Camelot. Over the next three days, you will put your courage to the test, your skill as warriors to trial, and—" his words paused dramatically— "you will challenge the reigning champion, my son, Prince Arthur."

A ripple of murmurs and cheers coursed through the crowd as Uther allowed the weight of his proclamation to settle. Merilyn glanced toward Arthur. He stood at the ready, his gaze steady and composed, every inch the noble knight. The subtle tension in his shoulders spoke of focus, but there was an undeniable confidence in his stance—a young man prepared to meet any challenge.

"Only one can have the honor of being crowned champion," Uther continued, his voice carrying over the crowd like rolling thunder, "and he will receive a prize of one thousand gold pieces."

At his signal, a gilded chest was opened, revealing piles of gleaming gold coins that glinted in the sunlight like treasure from a legend. The crowd gasped collectively, their excitement mounting as the prize became tangible. Merilyn couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the ostentatious display, though it seemed to be exactly what the spectators had hoped for.

"It is in combat that we learn a knight's true nature," Uther concluded, his words like a decree. "Whether he is a warrior or a coward. Let the tournament begin!"

The arena erupted into cheers, a wave of sound that crashed over the grounds. The knights, faces set in determination, began to disperse toward their designated stations. As Uther descended from the platform, he paused beside Arthur, leaning close to speak words meant for his son but audible to Merilyn.

"I trust you will make me proud," Uther said, clapping Arthur firmly on the shoulder, his voice a mixture of paternal pride and expectation.

Arthur's expression remained impassive, his nod curt as his father moved on. Guards stepped forward to remove the knights' capes and adjust their helmets, the metallic sound of clasps and buckles adding to the atmosphere of mounting tension. As Arthur stepped toward the arena, his armor catching the sunlight, Merilyn found herself holding her breath without realizing it.

"Yeah! Come on!" she called out, her voice merging with the cheers of the crowd. Despite her earlier resolve to remain neutral, a flicker of pride swelled in her chest as she watched him stride confidently onto the field.