Hey everyone! Soo, I am still alive and I am terribly sorry for not updating any sooner. Between university (bachelor thesis, all I'm saying), other real life drama and my other stories, I really didn't get around to writing this until last week. But, on the bright side, the chapter turned out a lot longer than I had planned...

I hope you enjoy it and if you have any ideas or suggestions about future chapters or the plot as a whole, do feel free to leave me a review or shoot me a PM. I'd love to hear your ideas and I'll be happy to credit you for them! :)

Arthur had to admit, Merlin and Finnja had been right. He had immediately gotten along with Lancelot and the commoner had indeed all the qualities to be a great knight. The duel had left him drenched in sweat and with a smile on his face and in his heart. Lancelot was truly a worthy opponent, his strength and skill with the blade rivalling his own. But, to test how serious the young man was about becoming a knight, he tasked him with cleaning out the stables.

"I think you did great."

Lancelot smiled, wiping his brow. Finnja had joined him in the stables and since the Stable Master hadn't said anything to her except "Take care of that demon horse of yours while you're here, hardly anyone dares to go near him", he figured that the little girl often helped with the horses.

"Thank you", he replied. "But I don't think it'll do much. Only men of noble blood can become knights."

Finnja shrugged, carefully combing through the mane of a noble stallion she had introduced as Rovan. She stood on a stepping stool, too short to reach the horse's mane otherwise. "It's stupid", she declared simply. "Arthur likes you and you're very good. Much better than the others."

"Even if the Prince decides to speak to the King on my behalf, I fear it won't be enough." Lancelot was determined to be realistic about the situation. He would stay optimistic, but he wouldn't delude himself with false hopes. Still, he found the childlike simplicity and innocence of Finnja's perspective both endearing and encouraging.

xxx

An indignant neigh cut the peaceful atmosphere of the stables, several uncouth curses following. A stable hand hurriedly backed out of one of the stalls, muttering under his breath. Turning around, he looked over to them and barked: "Girl, get that blasted beast under control! It nearly bit my hand off!"

Finnja grimaced sheepishly. "I'm sorry", she said, hopping down from her stool. "He should know better."

"Know better?", the boy repeated angrily. "It's a horse! If it doesn't stop attacking anyone other than you or Merlin, the Horse Master will sell it or have it put down." With a huff, he stormed off to attend to his other duties.

"He wouldn't!", Finnja cried, aghast. She quickly hurried to the stall the stable hand had just left. The snorts and stomping hooves of an upset horse originated from there.

Out of curiosity and slight worry for the girl's safety, Lancelot followed her. He watched as the child entered the stall without fear or hesitation, revealing a beautiful chestnut colt. The animal was prancing nervously, tossing its head and swishing its tail. Finnja approached the colt, tiny hands raised, babbling soothing nonsense in a language Lancelot had never heard before. To his amazement, the horse seemed to calm as soon as he spotted the little girl.

"Hush now, Saban, it's alright", Finnja cooed, reaching out and gently petting the colt's neck. Saban huffed, bobbing his head, eyes fixed on Lancelot hovering in the background. She briefly glanced at the commoner, a smile on her face, before she turned back to the horse. "That's Lancelot", she explained. "He's a friend." She then fell back into the language Lancelot couldn't even begin to understand, syllables pouring from her lips in a seemingly random rhythm and pattern.

Feeling like he was intruding on a private moment and so, reassured that Finnja was perfectly safe, Lancelot retreated and returned to his own work.

It was a while later, after Lancelot had finished cleaning out the stables with Finnja's capable help, that they sat together and talked. Lancelot was sharpening his sword, running a whetting stone methodically down the edge of the blade and Finnja was cleaning tack. They were sat right outside Saban's box, the door left open. "He likes to watch people", Finnja had explained with a simple shrug when Lancelot had wondered.

The chestnut colt was perfectly behaved, contently munching on some hay while his eyes indeed appeared to observe the bustle of the townspeople. Lancelot wagered that Saban was more stubborn and picky than ill-tempered. Because, really, how could a horse be considered an evil beast when it was currently grooming the young girl's hair, gently nibbling and licking at the unruly strands.

Finnja giggled, tiny hand reaching up to rub Saban's soft muzzle. "Stop that", she laughed, tilting her head back to look up at the colt. "It tickles." All she got in response was a puff of hot air blown into her face, which made her laugh again.

Before Lancelot could ask about the strange language, he registered movement out of the corner of his eye and turned only just quick enough to catch the broom stick that was tossed towards him.

xxx

Finnja watched with wide eyes as the two men fought, their only weapons two broom sticks. They struck and parried, ducked and lunged. To her, it looked almost like a dance, a violent, potentially dangerous and painful dance, but a dance nonetheless. She had watched their duel on the training grounds and even though she knew nothing about sword-fighting and all that, she had been awed by the speed, the strength, the fluid motions.

But a part of her was also quite a bit frightened by this fighting business. Of course, broom sticks weren't as sharp and deadly as a sword, but they could still inflict terrible wounds if wielded incorrectly - or correctly, depending on the perspective. Arthur and Lancelot weren't enemies and they weren't fighting as if their life depended on it, but still, the young girl couldn't help but worry and fear for her friends' well-being.

Small fingers tangled in the hem of her tunic, her heart jumping up into her throat when Lancelot was pushed back into a cart filled with hay. But he recovered quickly, dodging Arthur's next strike and retaliating. A light glowed in his eyes, matching the spark in the prince's. She flinched when Arthur managed to strike Lancelot's flank with the butt of his stick, the young man grunting in pain.

Arthur paused, assessing his opponent. He relaxed his stance. "Congratulations, Lancelot", he said, tossing him the broom stick. "You just made basic training."

A breathless smile escaped Lancelot and Finnja rushed over to wrap him into a hug - careful not to jostle his injured side. But there was no time for further celebration. The warning bells started ringing. Finnja, not knowing what the tolling bells meant, looked to Lancelot, then to Arthur.

"To the citadel", the prince told her firmly. "Find Gaius or Merlin and stay with them. Hurry." He motioned for her with his hand, beckoning her to move.

The little girl obeyed, Lancelot following her.

xxx

"Gaius!"

The physician raised his head when he heard Finnja's call. Scanning the crowd, the stream of people entering the citadel, it took him a moment to spot the signature mop of untidy brown hair bobbing in the masses.

"What happened?", she asked, taking in the number of injured people with wide eyes.

Merlin answered for his mentor. "They were attacked by a winged beast."

A frown crinkled her forehead. "Like the one that broke Lancelot's sword?" Behind her back, Gaius' eyebrows rose towards his hairline.

"Sounds like it", the warlock confirmed reluctantly, too preoccupied to be properly amused by his young friend's interesting priorities. After all, he would have rather asked if this beast happened to be akin to the one that attacked them in the forest or nearly killed them, depending on upset he was.

Finnja swallowed thickly, but squared her thin shoulders and set about assisting Gaius with tending the refugees. She handed out blankets, helped clean injuries and later worked with Gwen and several other servants to ensure all those people had some water and food.

Arthur summoned Sir Leon to his chambers the same evening, needing the senior knight's input in devising an effective training regime that would get the new recruits at least somewhat ready for battle. There was a dangerous creature heading for Camelot, they needed to be prepared.

And then there was the matter of Lancelot.

The young man had approached him when things had calmed down after the arrival of the refugees. Had told him right out that he had encountered the creature before, that his blade had broken upon impact against the beast's flank. He had said: "I know that in the event of battle, only knights are permitted to fight. And I am not a knight, nor will I ever be since I am not of noble blood. But Sire, won't you need every man capable of wielding a blade?"

A loaded question.

The prince recognised the sound reasoning behind it, agreed with it even, but there was one catch. His father and the laws of Camelot. The majority of his father's most trusted knights hadn't gained the King's favour by disagreeing with his rule or defying traditions. And they certainly wouldn't be happy about the prince bringing a commoner into their fold, no matter with or without Uther's approval (which Arthur strongly doubted his father would give).

"Sire, what about the King?"

Trust Sir Leon to immediately point out the crux of the matter. Arthur sighed. "Lancelot is a good swordsman", he said. "As good as any knight of Camelot. Perhaps better than a number of them."

The blond knight pursed his lips in thought. "Your father won't take kindly to being deceived, sire. His punishment would be most severe."

"I know and when it comes to that, I will accept the consequences. Nevertheless, I will duel Lancelot tomorrow, on the training grounds. Let the knights and recruits see what talent and true skill are", Arthur replied, raising his chin.

Leon nodded, sensing an ulterior motive but deciding not to press the issue. Instead, he turned his focus to the training regime. It wasn't his place to question the prince and despite his reputation as an arrogant hothead, Arthur was never unaware of the consequences of his actions. So, if he wanted to face the young commoner whose skill Leon had been privileged to witness once already, he must have his reasons.

They efficiently planned the training sessions for the upcoming days and deliberated over potential strategies to combat a 'winged beast'.

"Thank you for your time, Leon", Arthur said as the senior knight turned to leave. "I appreciate your counsel."

"My pleasure, sire."

xxx

A year ago, Arthur himself wouldn't have thought twice about how to answer Lancelot's question. But a few months ago, something had happened that had planted the first seeds of change. He hadn't realised it before, but now, in the introspective quiet of his chamber could he see it.

It had begun when Merlin had arrived in Camelot. The gawky, clumsy boy with the large eyes and big ears and silly grin had come crashing into his life, disrespected him in front of his peers, insulted him even and then saved his life. Ever since that insolent boy with no respect for his superiors had been appointed his manservant, Arthur had found himself beginning to look at certain things in a different light.

Because Merlin wouldn't accept "It's always been like that" as an answer. Or "that's just the way it is".

No, Merlin argued and whined and complained and rambled and constantly challenged Arthur to think for himself, form his own oppinion and hold on to it.

And then Finnja had come to the city, her entrance dramatic enough to keep the court gossips excited for weeks. The tiny girl was so full of wonder and joy and energy. Without trying, she was quickly gaining a place in the hearts of the people around her. Her never-ending curiosity and eagerness to learn about even the most inane things encouraged Arthur to question what he'd simply accepted before, to try and see the world through her eyes.

Finnja didn't know how to properly address nobles and her understanding of behaving according to her station was similarly inexistent to Merlin's (though she was less blatantly disrespectful and impudent than his manservant) and normally, Arthur would be annoyed or even offended. But instead, he relished it.

It was so nice and refreshing that Finnja (quite similarly to Merlin, if he was being completely honest) saw him for himself. She saw him as Arthur first, the young man on the brink of adulthood with all his layers and facets. And only second, or maybe third or even further down the row, she saw him as the prince and heir to the throne of Camelot. That innocent admiration the little girl had for him, the unwaivering faith she seemed to have in him, it made him want to be as good as she thought him to be.

He didn't want to disappoint the owner of those bright, unguarded eyes. He wanted to be the man Finnja saw him as. And if that meant going against his father and interpreting some laws a bit more creatively, then so be it.

To say Lancelot was surprised to be introduced as "expert swordsman" to the knights of Camelot and new recruits would have been a tremendous understatement. But he hid his shock well, catching the meaningful look that Arthur gave him and inclining his head in return. To an outsider, it appeared to be a respectful acknowledgement of the title and an appropriate gesture of thanking the prince.

The duel was equal parts exhausting and exhilarating. Both men were just about evenly matched, though Lancelot went down when Arthur backhanded him with his gauntlet, knocking his helmet off in the process.

On the sidelines, Finnja gasped and buried her face in Gwen's skirts, peeking through her fingers. "It's alright", the maid whispered in an effort to soothe her even though she was gripping Merlin's jacket in worry. "He's alright."

Lancelot lay prone on the ground, eyes closed, body slack.

Arthur took off his helmet, glanced at the hourglass and bent down to retrieve the coloured sash from where it was tucked into his opponent's belt.

Just as he reached for it, Lancelot's eyes flew open and in one fluid motion, the young man tripped the prince and used the momentum to lever himself to his feet. He pointed his sword at Arthur's chainmail-protected chest and asked: "Do you submit, sire?"

Guards pulled him back, disarming and restraining him. Arthur got up from the ground and glared at him.

Lancelot swallowed. Had he blown his chance?

"This is how you win a fight!"

He blinked and stared at Arthur, who had raised his gaze to address the spectating knights and recruits.

"The knights of Camelot will always follow and uphold the code of honour and chivalry, but in a fight for your life, moves like these might just save you." The blue eyes flashed down to dark brown ones. "Even if they are underhanded", he added quietly so only Lancelot could hear him before telling the guards to release him.

xxx

Uther of course refused to knight the commoner, no matter how strongly Arthur argued and advocated for him. But even he had to recognise Lancelot's talent with a blade and that turning away any man willing and capable of fighting for Camelot would be ill-advised. Also, he could see how much his son enjoyed the challenge and that his mood generally improved in the young man's company. So he allowed Lancelot to participate in the knights' training until the impending threat was averted.

Finnja was utterly delighted by the news. At the celebratory feast held in the evening, she couldn't resist throwing her tiny arms around Lancelot in a big hug. "See, I knew you could do it!"

He chuckled and patted the little girl on the head, charmed by her faith in him. "Thank you, Finnja."

She grinned at him before she greeted the prince with a cheerful "Hello, Arthur", which drew a fondly exasperated eyeroll from the blond. Then, she went to join Gwen and Merlin, who were standing off to the side.

"Do you like her?", the prince asked Lancelot, eyes tracking the child's progress across the room.

Lancelot smiled. "She's adorable", was his response. "A lovely girl."

Offering an inarticulate hum, Arthur nodded. "Yes, I suppose she is. Though etiquette and proper behaviour at court continue to elude her." He shook his head. "As of yet, the only people she always addresses appropriately are the King and Sir Leon."

"She is young, sire", Lancelot commented with a shrug, watching Finnja's eyebrows furrow in innocent confusion at whatever Gwen and Merlin seemed to be discussing. "I'm sure she'll learn in time."

Arthur wasn't sure if he really wanted her to.

xxx

Flummoxed by Merlin teasing Gwen about 'her type' and them discussing something about Arthur and Lancelot, Finnja wandered through the crowd, puzzling over what her friends might have been talking about. Merlin had had that cheeky grin on his face and Gwen had blushed. Isa used to blush like that when Edward, the son of Baroness Dallingmoore's head seamstress, smiled at her or said hello.

Her face fell at the thought of her older sister. It still hurt so much. Finnja shook her head. No, tonight should be happy!

"Finnja?"

She startled. Turning around, she came face to face with Morgana, the lady's porcelaine features creased in concern. "Is everything alright?", the young woman asked.

Finnja shrugged, looking at the ground. "I thought of Isa and now I'm sad because I miss her and it hurts a lot right here" - a small finger pokes at her chest - "but I shouldn't be sad because tonight should be happy and-" A delicate, gentle hand on her shoulder stopped the gushing stream of words and she took a big breath, making a valiant effort to push back the tears that were gathering in her eyes.

Morgana guided her over to a seat and had a servant fetch them both something to drink. She offered Finnja a soft smile when the little girl looked up to her, amber eyes glittering with internal conflict and guilt. "You know, that pain is normal if you lose somebody you love. And you loved your sister very much, didn't you?"

Finnja nodded, expression flickering indecisively before settling on a tearful smile. "Yes, I love Isa a lot, just like she loved me." Looking down into her lap, she mumbled: "I miss her."

"I know", Morgana said, accepting the goblets the servant handed her and giving the one filled with water to Finnja. "And that's alright." Explaining the concept of grief to an eleven-year-old was challenging, but not impossible. After all, for all her lack of education, Finnja was a bright child and a quick study.

"Will the pain go away?", the young girl wanted to know.

"It might. Or at least it will grow smaller and smaller."

Contemplating this for a moment, Finnja said: "It doesn't hurt that bad when I think about Mama, and she went away, too. So maybe it will get better."

The lady smiled and carded a hand through unruly brown locks. Finnja's optimism never ceased to amaze her. "It will", she promised. "In time."

Finnja was playing in the courtyard with some of the artisans' and servants' children. Some of them squealed and crowed as they chased each other in a game of tag while others were huddled together in a circle, playing marbles. Lee, the glassblower's son, had proudly showed them off, claiming that he'd helped his father make all of them.

The carefree laughter of the children turned to fearful cries, however, when suddenly a large, winged shadow fell upon the courtyard. A hoarse shriek pierced the air.

"The monster!"

"It's coming to eat us!"

The children scattered, running to their mothers or to find a hiding place. The warning bells rang. Each bell stroke echoed in Finnja's head. Her heart had jumped into her throat and was beating a rapid cadence there. It made breathing hard. Cowering behind a stone pillar at the base of the large stairs, the little girl watched as the guards and knights cleared the courtyard and confronted the beast. Arthur led the charge.

She flinched violently when Arthur's spear snapped in half as soon as it collided with the beast's side. Her chest was oddly tight.

The beast was finally driven away when Arthur brandished a flaming torch. He turned around to take stock of the situation. As far as he could see, none of the commoners had been harmed. His knights also seemed to have escaped with a few bruises and scrapes, but nothing more.

The maids and servants, vendors and artisans came out of their hiding places, mothers keeping a protective hold on their children. The prince scanned the courtyard, blue eyes searching for a flash of untidy brown hair. He had seen Finnja among the children playing together, but now, there was no sign of her.

Next to him, Sir Leon was also looking around, worry in the twist of his brow. "There." He pointed to the pedestal of the lion statue in front of the big staircase. And indeed, there was Finnja, pressed tightly against the marble, an expression of pure terror etched into her little face.

"Go."

xxx

Leon kept his movements slow and deliberate as he walked towards Finnja. She was shaking. "Finnja?", he called, careful to keep his voice gentle. "It's alright now. The danger's passed."

Small whimpers reached his ears, making his heart heavy. She was likely not even aware that she was producing those sounds.

"It's alright, Finnja", he coaxed, reaching out his ungloved hand. "You're safe now."

Worried blue met glassy amber and after a long beat of silence during which neither of them moved, the knight had a trembling eleven-year-old in his arms. She clung to him, breaths coming in shuddering gasps.

Leon held her tightly, rubbing her back and repeating over and over: "You're safe. It's alright, you're safe."

He felt the eyes resting on him, watching him as he soothed the frightened child. He ignored them, focusing on Finnja instead. He carded his fingers through her tousled mop of hair, shushing her softly. Almost immediately, he noticed the change. Her erratic breathing slowed and her shaking eased.

"How is she?"

Leon looked up to meet the prince's gaze. "Frightened, sire. But unharmed", he answered.

Arthur nodded, eyes flickering with indecision for a moment before he cleared his throat and strode off, no doubt to report to the King.

Leon was torn between taking Finnja to Gaius - or alternatively, Merlin or Gwen - and organising his knights, making sure everyone was alright and preparing for the next attack. The decision was soon taken out of his hands when Gwen came hurrying over. The maidservant thanked him for looking after the young girl and assured him that she would be in good hands. "Finnja will be safe with the Lady Morgana", she offered with a brief smile. "I believe she wants to work on her writing today."

The knight returned the smile and was pleased to see Finnja relaxing, spark lighting in her eyes at the mention of lessons with the King's ward. The girl released him from her hold and took Gwen's outstretched hand, waving goodbye to him with her other. Leon gave her a smile before schooling his features and turning to attend to his duties.

Gaius had identified the beast as a Griffin, a creature of magic. Unwilling to acknowledge the possibility of needing magic to defeat the monster, Uther declared: "You are mistaken. It's a creature of flesh and blood like any other." He turned to his son and put a hand on the chainmail-clad shoulder. "Arthur proved that today."

Arthur shook his head, eyebrows drawing together in a small frown. "I'm not so sure, father", he said, throwing a glance to the physician. "I think there may be some truth in what he says."

"What truth?", the King questioned.

He proceeded to explain himself, stating how the creature had seemed unharmed, how their weapons had been useless. He even mentioned what Lancelot had told him of his own first encounter with the beast, that his sword had broken upon impact with the Griffin's flank.

But Uther refused to even consider that, claiming that the creature's next taste of Camelot's steel would be its last. Steely eyes focused on his heir as he demanded: "When will your knights be ready to ride again?"

Arthur bit his lip. "An hour", he responded reluctantly. "Maybe two."

"Good. We finish this tonight."

Considering the discussion closed, the King left the throne room without another word. Arthur turned and exchanged a worried look with Gaius and Merlin, who stood a step behind his mentor and guardian.

xxx

Returning to the physician's chambers as night fell outside the windows, Merlin asked: "Is it true? The Griffin can only be killed by magic?" He knew that Gaius would never lie to the King about such a serious matter, would never risk the ruler's wrath by even mentioning magic without good reason. But he needed to hear him say it.

"Yes, Merlin, I'm certain of it. If Arthur rides out against it, he'll die."

"He must be stopped", Merlin decided. "Uther must see reason."

Gaius sighed, chagrin twisting the corners of his mouth. "Where magic is concerned, our king is blind to reason. And yet" - he folded his hands and stepped up to the boy - "magic is our only hope."

Merlin shook his head, hoping against hope that Gaius wasn't serious about what he thought the man was suggesting. He'd seen the beast. His magic was no match for such a huge creature. Of course he knew that Arthur would surely die if he went up against the Griffin without the help of magic, but this was madness! His magic wasn't powerful enough for this, there had to be another way.

"This is the only way", Gaius replied and Merlin wondered how he could be so calm about this.

"Do you even care what happens to me?", he heard himself wonder before his brain had time to catch up to his mouth. He paced, words coming out in an agitated rush. "'Oh, just do this, Merlin, do that Merlin, go and kill the Griffin, Merlin, I'll just sit here and warm my feet by the fire.'"

"Merlin!"

He froze in his tracks, immediately regretting his words at the sad tenderness in the old physician's voice.

Gaius approached the upset young warlock, brows furrowed as he spoke gently: "Merlin, you and Finnja, you two are the only things I care about in all this world. I would give my life for you without a thought. But for what? I cannot save Arthur, it is not my destiny. You know."

Merlin nodded mutely, a massive lump lodged in his throat.

xxx

The sound of small bare feet against the floor broke the fragile silence. They looked to see Finnja standing at the bottom of the three steps that lead to her and Merlin's shared bedroom. The little girl had obviously been asleep, judging by the way she squinted against the candlelight, a tiny hand rubbing at bleary eyes, her hair sleep-mussed and even more dishevelled than usual. She padded past Gaius and wrapped her arms around Merlin's middle, burying her face in his shirt.

Blinking slowly, Merlin automatically returned the hug, running a hand through the messy brown mop of hair. He looked to Gaius. "I'm sorry", he croaked in a whisper. The look he received told him that all was forgiven.

Finnja tilted her head back to peer up at her friend and brother. "Is Arthur in danger?", she asked.

A glint of grim determination grew in cobalt eyes. "Not if we can help it", Merlin replied, forcing a reassuring smile. "Now let's get you back to bed."

Meanwhile, Arthur breezed into the armoury, frustration still in his stride. Why wouldn't his father listen? Turning the corner, he slowed as he spotted Lancelot sitting on the bench, sharpening a sword with dutiful care.

The young man looked up from his task, dark eyes calm and inquisitive. "Is something wrong, sire?", he inquired, polite as always.

Arthur dropped onto the bench with a huff and a clinking of armour. "When you encountered this creature, this...Griffin, in the woods", he began, deciding not to answer the question for now. "You struck it full on, but it was not harmed."

Lancelot nodded. "Yes, sire. I wondered how it endured."

The prince sighed, shoulders drooping a fraction under the weight of the knowledge Gaius had shared. "There are those that believe that this Griffin, is a creature of magic", he said, watching the man across from him carefully, gauging his reaction. "That only magic can destroy it."

"Do you believe this?", Lancelot questioned.

"Doesn't matter what I believe", Arthur replied, a hint of resignation sneaking into his tone. "The use of magic is not permitted. The knights must prevail with steel and sinew alone."

Lancelot studied the prince. Frustrated and defeated weren't adjectives he'd attribute to the cocky blond. They didn't suit him. He set aside the whetting stone and spoke: "Then that is what must be done. When will we ride?"

For a brief moment, Arthur looked startled before he regained his composure. "You are not a knight", he was quick to point out.

"Maybe not, but the King has granted me a place amongst his knights until the beast is slain", Lancelot countered. "And it was you who introduced me to your men as an 'expert swordsman', sire."

The prince's eyes narrowed. After a long beat, where Lancelot hardly dared breathe because of the scrutiny Arthur was subjecting him to, he nodded. "Your determination honours you", he said.

Lancelot contained a grin and revealed: "I have a plan."

They slayed the beast. Or rather, Lancelot slayed the beast with Merlin's help after all the knights' efforts had been in vain. Arthur, who had been knocked unconscious during the initial fight, came around only moments after the jousting lance - alight with blue magic - speared the Griffin's chest.

"You killed it", he managed after a few seconds of gaping back and forth between the Griffin's carcass and Lancelot, mounted on his horse, lance in hand. "You killed it."

Lancelot smiled, relief surging as the thrill of battle wore off, his pounding heart slowly resuming its regular rhythm. Though at the back of his mind niggled a thought, a suspicion gradually growing into reasonable certainty. But he pushed it back, turning his attention to the prince and his knights, none of whom had escaped the battle without injury.

"We should return to the castle, sire", he said, sliding off his steed and checking on the prone knight closest to him. "The wounded need Gaius' care."

xxx

By some miracle, the Griffin hadn't claimed any lives in its last battle. Sir Carellian's wounds were the most serious, but with a broken leg, a deep gash across his back and a knot on the back of his head, he considered himself incredibly lucky. It could have been so much worse.

Finnja, sleep still colouring the edges of her features, had immediately given Merlin her biggest hug before moving on to wrap her arms first around Lancelot, and then, to his surprise, around Arthur. "You came back", she mumbled, worry in the undercurrent of her beaming smile.

The prince offered her a smile that he hoped was reassuring. "Of course." Releasing her, he caught Lancelot's eye and said: "I must report to the King. You should join me."

Lancelot dipped his head, not quite managing to hide the smile that wanted to escape him. "Yes sire."

Merlin automatically followed his master, Finnja trailing behind him. Gaius watched the curious group exit his chamber and shook his head. A prince starting to make his own way, a commoner with the soul of a knight, a warlock learning to accept his destiny and a little girl with a sunshine coloured heart. Strange times are upon us, he mused as he turned to tend to Sir Warrick's bruised shoulder. Strange times indeed.

xxx

To nobody's surprise, but several people's disappointment, Uther steadfastly refused to knight Lancelot. Arthur protested vehemently, arguing that the young man more than deserved to be knighted after his heroic actions fighting the griffin. The King wasn't swayed, citing the First Code of Camelot.

"The Code bends for no man!", he insisted.

"Well then the Code is wrong!", Arthur exclaimed in vexation, throwing up his hands. Finnja's mumbled words calling the First Code stupid the day she and Merlin had persuaded him to give Lancelot a chance had lodged in a subconscious part of his brain, making him wonder if maybe the little girl had been right. Maybe the Code wasn't as sacrosanct and unbreakable as he had thought it to be.

Uther wasn't best pleased with his son's outburst, but the intensity on Arthur's sweaty, dust-smudged face gave him pause. Arthur could be hot-headed and brash, but he wasn't unreasonable. There had to be more to his ardent defence of the commoner than wanting recognition for an honourable man. Still, hearing his heir declare the First Code of Camelot wrong couldn't be left without consequence.

xxx

Outside the throne room, Merlin was pacing nervously while Lancelot waited quietly. Finnja had quickly started dozing off and was now nestled in the swordsman's arms, head resting against his chainmail- and armour-covered shoulder.

"They have to knight you", Merlin babbled, "they just have to. You killed the Griffin."

Lancelot gave him a significant look. "But I didn't."

Merlin came to a stumbling halt, eyes growing huge. They moved away from the guards, Lancelot careful not to jostle the sleeping girl in his hold too much.

"You did", Lancelot continued quietly.

The raven-headed servant boy breathed a laugh and tried to deny it. His efforts died on his lips when Lancelot quoted his spell back at him.

"I heard you", he said, dark eyes never leaving his. "I saw you."

Merlin's heart sank and he shifted. He should have been more careful. Would Lancelot tell the King? Surely he wouldn't, he was his friend, right? But what if he hated magic as much as everyone else did?

His rising panic was squashed by the young man's next words. "Don't worry, your secret's save with me", he said, a small half-smile curling his lips. It soon flickered out again. "But I cannot take credit for what I didn't do." He carefully transferred Finnja into Merlin's arms and marched into the throne room, paying no heed to the guards that tried to stop him.

Merlin could only watch from the shadows.

Lancelot had chosen to leave Camelot. A decision that had Finnja close to tears the moment he broke the news to her.

"But you're a knight", she sniffed, staring at him with confused and lost amber eyes. "Arthur likes you."

It broke his heart, but Lancelot gently explained why he had to go. He needed to prove to himself that he was worthy of the title Knight of Camelot. He wanted to earn it on his own merit, not take credit for somebody else's achievements. "Maybe one day, fate will grant me another chance and I will return to once more try and prove my worth to the King", he told her, sincere optimism in his voice.

The girl sniffled. A pair of teardrops rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto the ground. "Will you write?", she then asked, hope blossoming on her sorrowful expression.

He smiled and drew her into an embrace. "I'll write to you as much as I can", he promised. "And whenever I am in the area, I promise to come and meet you and Merlin."

"I like that", Finnja mumbled against his chest, head bobbing under his chin. "Then you can teach me more about poh-etry and...chee-val- chivalry."

He promised and told her that with Gaius' permission, she was welcome to accompany him to the city gates.

xxx

"Lancelot?"

"Yes, Finnja?"

"Do you know what a charm is?"

He looked down to her. "In what way?"

She told him about how Merlin had first used it and detailed her quest to understand the phrase. "I think only special people have a charm, because I don't think I have one. Or do I? Having a charm isn't the same thing like being charming, right? Because Lady Violet told Lady Elisea that she thinks Sir Pellinor is charming. But I don't really know what charming means, so I'm not sure."

Lancelot smiled, even as a knot grew in his chest. He would miss the little girl, her bright eyes and clever questions. "Your charm is what makes people like you", he started his explanation. "For example, Lady Violet thinks Sir Pellinor is charming because he is gallant and friendly to her." He figured Finnja was too young to delve into the complexities of romance and attraction. "Now, part of Merlin's charm is, in my opinion, his honesty and kindness."

Finnja nodded eagerly, nearly tripping over her own feet since she was so focused on his words.

"I wouldn't say that only special people have a charm because everyone is special in their own way."

Amber eyes grew wide and sparkled in the sun, along with an excited grin. "Does that mean I'm special, too?"

He chuckled. "But of course."

She looked positively ecstatic at that, giggling in delight. Then her mien grew pensive and she peered up at him once more, wondering: "So, I have a charm, too?"

"I would think so", Lancelot answered honestly. "You are very kind and your happiness and positivity is infectious. It spreads to other people."

Finnja smiled widely, clearly pleased with that judgement. "Then your charm is that you're very nice", she determined, nodding her head solemnly. "And smart. And patient. And..." She trailed off, thought about something before declaring with adorable finality: "You're charming because everything about you is part of your charm."

He had to laugh at that and would remember and cherish those words, that moment for a very long time.