Hi guys! This is my first attempt at a Merlin fanfic and I really don't know whether I should continue with this. So please let me know what you think.

Without further ado, here's the first chapter.

...

It was a patrol like any other. Or at least, it began as such. Sir Leon, Sir Aldan and a few squires were on their way back to Camelot, keeping their horses at a comfortable walk. The weather was pleasant and they were already ahead of time, so they were in no hurry to return to the city.

The knights watched in amusement as the squires told stories, each trying to do one better than their friends. "To be that young again", Aldan mused, drawing a chuckle from Leon. Neither of them were old, in fact Leon only had a few years on the squires while Aldan was 5 years older than him. But they had years of experience that set them apart from the eager, still a bit naive squires.

The light mood suddenly vanished as the trees lightened, offering them an uninhibited view onto the farm behind the meadow.

Or rather what had once been a farm.

"Oh God", somebody whispered as they stared dazedly at the smouldering ruins of houses and stables.

Collecting themselves, the knights and squires dismounted and began to search for survivors and clues about who had committed this horrendous act. Nobody spoke and the eerie silence that hung over the devastation was broken only by sound of their footsteps, the crackle of small fires still burning and their occasional gagging when the smell of death choked them.

Aldan was the first to discover the traces. He pointed them out to Leon. "There could be survivors. Unless whoever did this caught up to them because look", he motioned to a different set of tracks, "their followers were on horseback."

They rounded up the squires, swung themselves back into their saddles and followed the tracks, hands on the hilts of their swords. A tense silence hung over them as they rode back towards the forest. The trail of footsteps left by those who had fled the farm was still fresh, but so where the hoofprints of their chasers.

...

The fleeting hope they had held on to dwindled after only a few minutes when they found the first corpse. A moment later, they found the next three. And after another five minutes, they reached a place where the forest floor dipped slightly. The knights and squires came to a halt, once again stunned into silence at the sight of what looked like two dozen bodies littering the ground, blood soaking the earth beneath them.

"Spread out", Leon instructed the squires, exchanging a grim look with Aldan. "Check if any of them still live. And be on your guard."

Dismounting, the small group carefully picked their way around the bodies, unwilling to disturb the dead. Systematically, they searched for signs of life and yet their hearts grew heavier with each steps for they knew it was futile.

Until Leon heard a weak gasp, followed by an equally weak cough.

He whirled around, turning his head in all directions in an effort to locate the source of the sounds. Straining his ears, he scanned the bodies, hoping to see some sort of movement. In the corner of his eyes, he caught a twitch of a blood-crusted hand. Immediately, he rushed over, reaching the woman just as she coughed again, flecks of crimson staining her teeth. God have mercy, she was so young! Not much older than him, perhaps only a few years.

"Have no fear, we are knights of Camelot. You are safe.", he soothed as he tried to assess her. He was no physician, but he had seen enough to know that she was beyond saving. The gaping wound in her chest was bleeding heavily, and if her staggering, gurgling breaths were any indication, her lungs had not been spared by the blade.

A stunted moan escapes her as her face twisted, the agony in her mien fading against the screaming horror that settled on her pale features. "Finnja", she rasped, too-bright eyes swivelling around as if searching for something, or someone. Her hand grasped Leon's gloved one in a feeble grip, its strength fuelled by pure fear. "My little Finnja."

Leon frowned. "Who is Finnja?", he asked.

The poor woman let out a choked noise and a new splash of blood bubbled over her lips, trickling down the side of her face. "S-she" - her gaze lost its focus as a pain-filled carricature of a smile smoothed her expression - "always was...the quickest." A shudder ran through her.

"Who is Finnja?", he asked once more. "Is she your child?"

She shook her head, or rather, it lolled from one side to the other.

He tried again: "Your sister?"

The smile was softer this time, the pain slowly leaving her eyes. "Run, Finnja...like the...wind", she murmured, the syllables slurring together even though the pauses between the words grew ever longer as the young woman fought for each breath. "Don't...let them c-catch...you."

The knight purposefully ignored Aldan and the squires, who had come to stand by his side, instead keeping his attention on the dying woman before him. "Finnja escaped?", he prompted. "Which way did she go?"

Her nod was barely more than a blink, but it was enough. "The...city", she revealed, glazed orbs wandering aimlessly, but struggling to return to Leon. "Ca-" Her strength was leaving her and a cough forced its way out of her torn chest. Nevertheless, she tried, gaze silently beseeching him to understand when her voice failed her.

"Camelot", Leon supplied gently. Her blood-stained lips twitched and he promised: "We will find her."

The grip on his hand had slackened and the time between one rise of her chest and the next was far too long. Another shudder went through her. There was no more pain on her features. Only a small, red smile and a pair of now dulling eyes.

"Thank you." Those were her last words, nothing but a whisper carried on her last breath.

...

There was no time to bury the dead.

Knowing that a girl was still somewhere in the woods, running for her life while no doubt being hunted by the raiders, the knights couldn't linger. Evan, one of the older squires, had picked up the trace again. Footprints that were half-covered by the tracks of the chasers. Footprints from boots so small that they could only belong to a child.

Mouth set in a grim line, Aldan spurred them all into motion.

"Do not lose sight of the trail", he ordered. He didn't need to tell the squires to keep quiet and be on their guard. They all had one hand resting on the hilt of their swords, their postures tense and alert. They knew that even the fastest runner couldn't have gotten far in the time between the massacre and now. They simply hoped that Lady Luck was smiling down on Finnja.

The trail wound through the trees, weaving around thickets and brambles.

"There was blood on the ground", Mitrian reported quietly as they steered their mounts around some thorn bushes.

In their haste, they did not stop to examine the traces any further. Not that it would have been necessary. All they would have found was a few droplets of blood and a scrap of fabric that had gotten caught in the thorns, torn off when somebody ran past.

More than an hour went by and they were still heading east, the direction in which Camelot lay.

Then, a scream split the air and the knights were kicking their horses into a gallop as enraged yells and curses rang out.

Half a dozen raiders never saw them coming.

...

What the raiders lacked in discipline, training and skill, they made up with brute force, ruthlessness and desperation. Still, the knights were swift to even the numbers. All the while, they also tried to keep an eye out for Finnja, having only caught brief glimpses of the girl.

Leon dodged a clumsy swing from his opponent and slashed his blade across the raider's torso. He heard Aldan shout his name in warning and whirled around just as one of the squires - it sounded like Pendric - hollered: "Look out!"

A raider had snuck up behind him and had his sword raised above his head, ready to strike down the knight while he had his back turned. Confusion shot through the blond as he wondered what had stopped the man. His question was answered a moment later as the raider's knees buckled and he fell forward, hitting the ground with a solid thud. Out of his back stuck a dagger.

Blinking in surprise, Leon looked up to thank whichever of his comrades had saved his life. But instead of chain mail or a red cloak bearing the crest of Camelot, he saw a dirt-smudged grey tunic and an equally dirt-smudged, pale face. The girl's chest was heaving with each hitched breath and she was shaking so badly that Leon could see it from where he stood three feet away. She was staring at the dead man, pupils blown wide in shock and fear.

"Finnja?", he asked, careful to keep his tone gentle. No need to frighten the child any more.

Her breathing hitched again and she swayed a little. Her head slowly lifted, a pair of glassy orbs coming up to meet his gaze. For a moment, it seemed as if the entire forest was holding its breath. Then, the last bit of colour drained from her young features and her eyes rolled back in her head. Without a sound, the little girl collapsed.

...

Leon caught her before she could hit the ground, a few quick strides enough to cross the distance between them. Cradling the unconscious child in his arms, he hurriedly checked her for signs of injury. A curse unwittingly escaped him as he took in the state of her.

The traces of dried tears ran in white lines down Finnja's cheeks. Small scratches littered her face and her lip was split. There were small rips and tears in her shirt and trousers from where she had snagged them in the thorns. Her clothing was crusted with dirt and blood. The palms of her hands were scraped, her right wrist was mottled with angry bruises and a deep, bleeding gash ran across her shoulder and upper arm.

"Cyrill", he called to the nearest squire. "Fetch the bandages from the saddle bags!" As the boy scrambled to comply, the knight pulled off his gloves and felt for the pulse at the side of the girl's throat. He pursed his lips and placed a hand on her brow.

Aldan joined him just in time to see the frown creasing his comrade's forehead. "How is she?", he inquired.

"Her heartbeat is fast, yet weak. She is wounded and her skin is clammy to the touch", Leon replied, showing him the injuries he had detected.

The older knight grimaced and spoke: "She requires a physician. We shall ride for Camelot as soon as her wounds are bound."

Cyrill came hurrying over, arms ladden with the requested saddle bags. Aldan took them off the boy and sent him off to gather the horses and ready them for the ride home. Then, the two knights began to tend to Finnja as best they could, each silently marvelling at how this tiny being had managed to evade her pursuers for so long with these injuries.

Soon after, Finnja was hoisted up and carefully sat in front of Leon, who bundled her up in his cloak, wrapping one arm protectively around her frame to keep her steady.

As the horses loped towards Camelot, their strides long and powerful, the girl's condition started deteriorating. She was burning up, heat radiating off her even though shivers wracked her small frame. Her breaths came out in short, laboured puffs and her soft whimpers had Leon urging his mount to go faster.

...

They burst into the courtyard just as evening began to turn into night. Servants and stable boys bustled over to take care of the foam-covered horses, the squires dismounting and setting about fulfilling the tasks the two knights had assigned them. Aldan jumped off his own steed and quickly moved over to Leon, lifting the still unconscious, fevered and pained Finnja off the horse so his friend could get down as well.

Sliding out of the saddle, Leon didn't even have time to open his mouth before Aldan transfered the girl back to him and said: "I report to the King, you take her to Gaius."

The blond knight gave him a grateful nod and headed towards the physician's quarters as quickly as he dared to without causing Finnja any more pain.

He didn't bother knocking and in hindsight, he realised that it might have been rude, but he couldn't exactly concern himself with such things when the little child in his arms was dyi- suffering.

"Gaius!", he yelled, rather unnecessarily since his abrupt entrance had already alerted the wisened court physician to his presence.

"What happened?", Gaius demanded, taking one look at the bundle in the knight's arm before directing him to lay his charge down on the cot.

Leon complied, carefully setting Finnja down and shifting so he was crouched beside her. One of her tiny hands had curled loosely around a fistful of his chainmail and he didn't have the heart to break her grip, feeble as it may be. He briefly summarised the events leading to the young girl's current state, ending with an account of her injuries. "The fever took hold as we rode back", he explained, watching as Gaius examined her with the sharp gaze of an expert.

...

The door opened to let in Merlin, Prince Arthur's manservant and the court physician's ward. The raven-haired boy gasped when he realised just how young the patient lying on the bed was and he blurted: "What happened?" Then, he shook his head, raising a hand to forestall an answer. "I'll get Gwen", he said, spinning on his heel.

"And water!", Gaius called after him.

"And water!", the boy echoed, already racing out the door again.

Gaius shook his head with a sigh, then turned back to his patient. The child was becoming restless, writhing on the cot with her brows scrunched together in discomfort as low whimpers accompanied her strained breaths. "What did you say her name was?", he asked, reaching for a wet rag to clean her face.

Leon took the cloth off the physician's hands and began to gently wipe away the dirt. "Finnja", he replied.

The older man looked up, seemingly startled before studying the girl anew. Sadness, sympathy and grief coloured his features as he heaved a weary sigh. "Oh my dear child."

"You know her?", the knight questioned.

He nodded as he pried away the bandages to examine the wounds beneath. "Her mother, Maeve, was an old friend of mine. Though the last time I saw her, she was hardly more than a toddler." Fondness tinged his voice and he continued: "Maeve's family have been the finest horse breeders in all five kingdoms for generations."

Finnja let out a soft keening sound when Gaius prodded her wrist, struggling to get away from the pain and unconsciously scooting closer to Leon. On a whim, the knight ran a hand through her tousled mop of chestnut brown hair that barely reached past her ears. He couldn't help but smile in amazement when she calmed under the touch.

Footsteps rang out in the corridor, heralding the return of Merlin. A moment later, he came rushing in, Gwen in tow.

The Lady Morgana's maid gasped in shock at the sight of the small girl on the cot, but quickly regained her composure and jumped in to help. She took over bathing the child's face and neck in cool water while Merlin fetched whatever Gaius called for - cloths to clean the wounds, honey, bandages... Leon could do no more than watch as the two servants aptly assisted the physician in caring for Finnja. He simply remained crouched by the head of the cot, carding his gloveless fingers through the dark strands that seemed to stick up in about seven different directions.

...

Eventually, Merlin traded places with Gwen so the woman could go to find some fresh clothes for their little patient. Meanwhile, Gaius applied a generous coating of honey to the large wound on her shoulder. "Honey will prevent infection", he explained to the mildly puzzled knight. "Merlin, get me one of the fever potions from the table, please. The green one, not the yellow one. And the meadowsweet and arnica salve from the shelf."

Bandaging the gash, which they all agreed stemmed from the glancing blow of a sword, and wrapping the injured wrist after rubbing the salve into the skin, Gaius took the vial from Merlin's hand. It was filled with a watery liquid of a light green colour. "This will help reduce the fever", he said, "I found that it works especially well with children."

Getting Finnja to swallow the concoction was, in Merlin's words, suprisingly simple. Leon frowned at that, not seeing how it could have been difficult. It had been a matter of opening her mouth, pouring the liquid in, then holding her jaw closed and gently massaging her throat until she swallowed.

The look of confusion was not lost on Gaius and he provided the answer to the unspoken question. "Sometimes, the unconscious body fights against any sort of liquid in the mouth because it thinks it is drowning."

The knight nodded in understanding before another thought struck him and he raised his head. "Is this a bad sign, then?", he wanted to know. How severe must the girl's condition be if her body did not offer any resistance?

The wisened court physician shrugged, but gave a small smile. "She is young, Sir Leon", he replied. "Children are very resilient, more so than adults in some cases."

Leon found himself nodding again.

...

"I found some things that should fit", Gwen announced upon returning. "Maybe the tunic will be a bit too big, though." In her arms, she was carrying a bundle of neatly folded clothes.

The knight awkwardly cleared his throat and got to his feet. Even though he had the odd desire to stay and watch over the small girl, his sense of honour and propriety would not allow it. And so, to protect Finnja's modesty, he took his leave, but not before asking Gaius to have somebody tell him should her condition change.

The maid smiled at his request, as did Merlin. The physician gave him a long, scrutinising look and raised an eyebrow, though if it was in surprise, amusement or disapproval, Leon did not know.

Merlin followed him out the door, also not wanting to intrude on the young girl's privacy.

As they walked down the corridor, the manservant chatted amiably about the goings-on in the palace, telling the knight all he had missed while out on patrol. Eventually, after finishing his account of how some of the newest squires had gotten into a fight - "over something very silly, Sir Leon, and right in front of Arthur, too" - Merlin smiled and bid him good night, turning towards the prince's chambers while Leon was headed towards the armoury.

Meanwhile, in Gaius' chambers, Finnja was burning with fever, dark dreams plaguing her mind even in deep unconsciousness.