So, I'm finally putting out a little preview of my writing! Sorry if it seems stiff, I've decided to use 2nd person in this story and I'm most comfortable when writing third person. This is from the 3rd page I've written as part of the Merlin route.
Before we get into the meat of things, I'd like to discuss my interpretation of the character of Merlin from my research. From what I've read, he was originally a Welsh figure; a bard, prophet, and madman named Myrddin Wyllt. He was introduced into Arthurian legend under the name Merlin because Myrddin sounded too much like "merde," which used to be a profanity in English and is one in French even today. I'm not sure what religion he was originally, but there was in fact a note of him being converted to Christianity. He originally was said to have given the infant Arthur to his foster father or something and was the one who placed the sword in the stone. He also originally was portrayed as having a fancy for Nyneve, the Lady of the Lake.
For my interpretation, I decided Myrddin was his true name and he willingly changed his name to Merlin, though he kept the surname of Wyllt. I tried to show that he was a somewhat energetic, eccentric man who despite his erratic train of thought is a trustworthy person. I'm hoping I've written him as sort of an unusual "childhood friend" figure whose closeness causes friction in a way. 'It may be necessary to distance yourself before you can truly get close,' or something like that.
"Merlin," you began, only to be greeted by a surprisingly high-pitched yelp of surprise.
A robed figure jumped up from his chair, turning to point.
"Arthur! How many times have I told you not to come in unannounced? I'm very busy reading these books--" And then he trails off, sighing, shrugging, and shaking his head. You try not to think too hard about how stupendously unobservant he can be.
"... So, what is it you wanted, dear King?" He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back to sit on his desk and knocking over several stacks of books, many of which fell to the already cluttered floor around his desk with a series of thumps. He seems to not notice, or not care.
"I came to ask for some advice," you start up once more, and are promptly interrupted by the wizard flapping his sleeve at you aggressively.
"Well I knew that! There's no other reason you come to see me these days! You're always off dealing with some quarrel between your mates or some issue across the channel in France or something. But no, I digress. Just get to the point."
"Well, you see... I've been troubled lately. And I wasn't sure what it was about at first, either."
You close the door behind you, locking it so no one can barge in on a secret conversation like this. You notice Merlin raises a brow before you let down your hair, golden locks falling into your periphery. After that, a brief look of understanding passes over his face and he just nods sagely like it's the simplest thing.
"This whole posing as a man thing... I think it's starting to wear me down," you explain. "I think I should do something about it. Like, try and make it more convincing, or take my mind off of it, or something."
Merlin sighed, shaking his hand out of his sleeve and pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke. "Artoria, Artoria, Artoria." He clicked his tongue thrice, using a scolding and disappointed tone that you really didn't appreciate. "If you didn't like the idea, you shouldn't have accepted it. I mean, really. All it would have taken is a political marriage to get to the throne."
"Merlin!" You were not happy. "My goal was not ever to be King! It just happened! I just wanted to do what was right, Merlin." You exhale exasperatedly at him, shaking your head.
"Well, you could take on a political marriage; no one would really assume you to be a woman if you married one." He shrugged. "Or not do that, and as you said, do something else to take your mind off of it. Like go start trouble overseas again or go fight your sister for her being an evil witch."
"Merlin, I can't just attack my half-sister out of the blue and I'm not the one who started the thing in France, either." You groan. The amount of stupidity an immortal wizard could manage when he wanted to was positively infuriating.