A/N: I don't own Merlin, either the legend or the show. Although that should be fairly obvious.
From the depths of the imagination can come some truly miraculous discoveries. Of course, very few of these tantalising thoughts are ever seriously taken. What a blessing. What a curse.
A bitter maid catches the glimmer of amusement in the eyes of the castle ward as she paces the hallway, returning from her visit with the sickly king. Her tired mind weaves a tale of betrayal and lies; of loyalty slipping and hopes achieved. She shudders to rid herself of the traitorous thoughts, and carries on her way, the beginnings of a story all too true snuffed out by the trials a hard day brings.
The feast is joyful, the goblets overflowing; the lord watches the quiet interaction of his crown prince and the servant boy whispering in his ear. In a drunken fit of inspiration the story builds of its own accord; a bond transcending titles and wealth, a prince who will rise to create a world of wonder, a servant brimming with undreamed power. Liquid splashes across the heavily-laden table and he jerks to the man on his left, laughing uproariously as the story shatters, forgotten.
Cursing, a woman led to the courtyard crowd. Stormy eyes fixed upon the man standing tall and regal, commanding the attention of all. He shares her sentence, her crime of magic as she is pushed to her knees. She glares back defiantly and watches the flicker of wariness flash through his countenance; a tendril of a thought begins to blossom in her wandering soul as her head is bent to the wooden block. A king, broken and stung, strong in his determination to spare others such grief, cautious to stay out of reach of the force that bit him so very deeply. His arm falls and the blossom dies, the threads of a hidden story scattering to the winds.
