This first chapter has been revamped just a little since I last uploaded it.
Disclaimers: Merlin belongs to the BBC
He had quite liked Nimueh. Sure, he had never shared a scene with her before she was put away but he had seen her from afar two or three times. Sitting in the half-dark store room next to her caisse, he mused that it probably didn't matter. If it had been his death, he would have wanted someone to visit him too, no matter that he was a virtual stranger. Anything to keep back the darkness. It got pretty dark sometimes and he wasn't entirely sure, but he got the feeling that it was all going to get a bit darker.
Back in the early days he didn't have a name, he was built to be one of the nameless replaceable knights. Every week a few new ones were produced to fill out the ranks, sometimes to swell out the army in order to look impressive, but more often than not new knights were added to bring the numbers back up to their starting size. He used to stand in the third row middle for scenes when the knights were training or taking orders from Arthur. Sometimes the knights got to yell which he particularly liked, so rarely was his voice heard on set. It was during one of these training sessions, the ones where Arthur got to show off his fighting prowess against three nondescript knights simultaneously, that he had first caught a glimpse of Nimueh. She was walking up the stairs, her dark hair pinned up behind her ears, her rich purple cloak trailing gracefully on the worn steps. Pausing in his attack on Arthur, he saw her glance in his direction as she entered the front doors. She had eyes like ice. He faltered, missing his chance to parry Arthur's thrust and had the air knocked out of him. He lay on the ground feigning unconsciousness as he knew They would want to take advantage of this great opportunity to portray Arthur's vast skill. He didn't begrudge Them making use of this unscripted moment; They only wanted to tell a good story which was something he felt he might be able to relate to. Hell, he didn't even blame Arthur for his blow although he knew that They would put him back after this scene so that he might have a chance to recuperate for a later one. He knew the blow would begin to smart long before They would get an opportunity to tend to him; They had to keep their priorities in order with Arthur and the other permanents. What bothered him most about the whole affair was that Nimueh, although he did not yet know that was her name, had watched his defeat. He was the best of the knights with a quarterstaff too, dammit! Eyes still closed, he recalled the force of her eyes and had to fight back a smile. He hoped to see her again.
He did. They left him in his caisse far longer than he had first estimated. When They finally brought him back, the story had moved forward by three episodes and he had missed on his chance to guard Uther's banquet hall. That scene had had lines and he had practiced them during his free time with the friendly knight who stood diagonal to him in the fourth row of formation; that guy got to fill in for him after the incident in the courtyard. He couldn't help feeling at the time that maybe They were punishing him; people who could not do the jobs they were made for became a liability that They could neither afford nor maintain. Cracking his ribs had cost good money and time. But it had been worth it. Walking out of the store room, he had passed two of Them taking Nimueh back after her argument with Uther. Frozen in indecision, he had simply stared at her nonplused as she flirted with Them. Once They had escorted her past, his feet regained movement and he stupidly began to traipse after their strange looking group.
He knew about Nimueh by then. He had casually mentioned her to the others as the knights waited for the new orders and he lay strapped to a stretcher to be put back without further injury. The others had laughed and Owain, the newest of the knights to receive a name, something he couldn't stop bragging about, he had said, "you should watch out for her. I hear they built her just for sex appeal." The group had collectively shuddered; characters that were created solely for sex appeal were never treated very well by those that worked in the back store room. One heard horror stories. The characters that had the misfortune to be saddled with such a poor job in time gained warped personalities and often had to be put away after very short periods to avoid any "accidents" that might happen. He wasn't sure that Nimueh was one of those poor creatures though. She was built to be fatally beautiful sure, but she was also dangerously clever.
Following Them down the corridors between shelves he wondered what he was doing. The group stopped at a sliding ladder at the end of the row. One of Them climbed up and labored to unlock one of the caisses. He had been surprised to find that Nimueh rested three rows over and six slots up from him; although he later mused that he wouldn't have had cause to know where she was kept because They never brought the two out at the same time. Most persons were brought out one by one to ensure that no discontent spread through the group and also, or at least this was the reason They gave, to make sure that each individual got the individual care that he or she might need. He thought that might have been written on a pamphlet somewhere. They handed her a cup of what looked like coffee, he saw the steam rising from where he had hid. He must have made a noise or something when she brought the cup to her lips because she paused, and staring directly at his hiding spot she toasted him with a wry smile before downing the beverage. He knew it hadn't been coffee. He had turned away then, not wanting to see what he knew would follow next. Shaking off the remnants of his lethargy, he went to the warm-up room with the others who had also been brought out for the next scene. She had smiled at him! Granted, it had been a half smirk but still it was utterly beautiful and hypnotizing.
Knowing then what he did about the beautiful ones he shouldn't have been surprised, but as he was relatively new to the story business it had come as a knife in the dark. She died. As the enemy in a twisted scene that was supposed to bring some relief to the "good" side. He liked Merlin, what little he had seen of him, but he couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that someone with such a sweet personality, the champion of unicorn virtue, could find anything good in killing such a beautiful creature. He supposed that he should have expected it from the beginning. Not all logic worked itself out in the story business.
After They had cleared off the Isle of the Blessed, turned off the rain, and furnished Merlin and Gaius with some dry clothes and hot soup, four of Them gathered up Nimueh's body to bring her to the caisses. She was switched off when They took her back, as she had been for the final scene when They had simulated lightning. He wondered why They even bothered to put her back once she had "died," but he supposed that she was useful to have on hand if They ever decided to retcon the story.
He went to visit her two episodes past her death and who knows how many weeks. They had recognized his talent with the quarterstaff in between shots of the Questing Beast. Apparently, all the practiced duels with the fight coach were observed by some unknown means. He had been trying his hand against two opponents in a draft scene when Nimueh had died. They were impressed enough by his fighting-a talent which They seemed to have disproportionally bestowed upon him in the production process and which momentarily left Them at a loss- that They decided to write him into an actual scene based on his own merit. They also gave him a name. Sir Leon, knight of Camelot.
He brought flowers when he visited. He had heard that flowers were an appropriate way to show respect. Nimueh had died just as he was beginning anew and he felt that he needed to express some form of gratitude. Gods she was beautiful. Thrusting the flowers through the caisse handle, he prayed that They might leave the bouquet at her side for longer than a few hours. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands after that. Should he cross his hands in front respectfully or assume the stance of a soldier, hands behind his back? In the end he compromised and just fiddled with his sword. He wasn't sure what to say to her. Perhaps that he missed her presence around set. And that it felt strange to have to grieve for someone who wasn't really dead.
Taking a seat on the topmost rungs of the ladder he looked out over the gray vista of the store room spread beneath his feet. He should have been training with the knights for his premiere scene as a named character in a few hours but he had felt a need to visit Nimueh and gain a moment's peace. And it was peaceful in there, if you ignored the thought that the room was full of silent unseen characters, an idea he endeavored to avoid. He wondered whether They had already formed new persons for the next series. He tried humming a little to brighten the mood but the sound only bounced off the nearest adjacent shelf and he stopped, hoping to avoid one of Them coming to investigate. He wasn't strictly allowed to be in there unaccompanied. It was, he thought, much like visiting your own graveyard while you were still away on vacation.
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