Whether or not the knights noticed the change between them was unclear, but no matter how hard Merlin tried to act like everything was normal: she couldn't.
She could barely look at Mordred, even though a part of her never wanted to look away.
There was a powerful feeling of regret deep in her gut, making her feel ill. What had she been doing!? All her life her mother had told her to give herself to the man she loved, but Merlin was certain she was not in love with Mordred. Had she let her mother down? Had she let herself down? Had she let Arthur down by sleeping with the man destined to kill him?
But there was another feeling, fluttering higher in her stomach and making her cheeks burn treacherously. She'd given herself to him. She had shamelessly sat on him, rode him, with chest bare and fingers clawing at his hair and across his back. Merlin had never acted like that before: it was as if someone had taken her over, or replaced her with a succubus. What made her face flush more was remembering the looks on Mordred's face. Each one was seared into her memory. His openness; his curiosity; his arousal; his awe; his lust; his pleasure and his vulnerability.
She never thought him capable of being vulnerable, even though she had seen it in him as a child. As a man, he looked so unflappable, powerful, dangerous.
When they returned to Camelot with 'no news' Merlin felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Perhaps with the distraction of being the royal maid she would steadily forget her encounter with Mordred and focus once more on the fact that she had to keep an eye on his actions for any sign of betrayal.
How wrong she was.
As soon as Arthur dismounted, she was there to take his horse to the stalls. He gave her a brief look of bemusement at her uncharacteristic eagerness, but handed the horse rein's over and nodded once. She watched as he pulled off his gloves, walking across the courtyard and was met half-way by Gwen's welcoming arms. It was an incredible sight. The pair seemed to mold together: they joined together in a warm embrace and a sweet kiss, making up for time lost but still respecting their company. She may have stood there too long, as Arthur's horse impatiently nipped at her hair and her own, Llamiri gave a huff and a trot.
"Alright.." She murmured, turning to the horses and stroking their noses affectionately. It always amazed her how similar Arthur and his faithful horse were. With another glance over her shoulder, nodding and smiling to the knights who waved at her with tired smiles, she lead the horses over to the stables: vaguely aware of the squires leading other horses in the same direction.
As usual, she took her time putting the horses away. Her movements were slow and gentle, savoring the momentary peace she felt: away from Arthur's demands, her destiny and the never-ending tremor of impending doom that hummed over her skin. Around her, the knights' squires moved quickly and loudly before scurrying off to serve their masters. Arthur was just going to have to wait, she thought defiantly.
Speaking of something humming over her skin. She needed a wash. She could still smell Mordred and was slightly shocked that Camelot's finest didn't notice the significantly more masculine scent lingering on her: she had gotten close to each of them, even Gwaine hadn't smelt it, and he usually commented jokingly on how she always managed to smell nice even on quests, when they the men stank after a day.
Disturbingly, she realised as she brought her wrist up to her nose, the smell was not unpleasant. It was musky scent. Deep, earthy and slightly spicy. There was a tang of mint and a warmer odor she could not place. Definitely not a feminine smell. Her lips brushed against the fragile skin there, echoing how Mordred had brought it up to his own and mouthed it before kissing up her entire arm...
"M'lady?" A timid voice called and Merlin snapped out of it. She turned away from where she stood stroking Llamiri and saw a little boy of perhaps twelve awkwardly ringing his hands.
He was red haired and brown eyed with skin coated in freckles, but somehow he still managed to remind her of a younger Mordred, when the druid first came to Camelot.
She allowed her face to quirk into a smile. "I'm no lady, just Merlin. What's your name?"
The little boy blushed. "Sorry m'- Merlin. Sorry for calling you mi'lady, it's just you be being so pretty and all that... Erm, ah, my name be Hugh. I be the stable hand. I were just wondering if you be needing any help, mi- Merlin"
Merlin's eyebrows rose at his compliment, but quickly shook it off with a wide smile and a few steps towards him. "No thank you, Hugh. I was just putting away mine and the King's horses, but you can help me brush them down if you like?"
Hugh looked bashful, yet thrilled as he nodded hurriedly and rushed to get two brushes. He scuffed his foot on the wooden pillar, but managed to save himself in time and quickly made it back to her side. He presented her brush to her as though giving her a flower.
"Thank you, Hugh" She said sweetly before turning back to her gray speckled mare. Hugh moved to the other side and began to gently run the brush down Llamiri's stomach. She looked over at him. "So Hugh, do your parents live in Camelot?"
She asked because she was only four years older than him when she came to Camelot as Gaius' apprentice. It was not uncommon for children to leave for the city.
Hugh nodded however. "Yes they do. Mother be serving in the kitchens, and my father be a guard"
Merlin quirked a brow, refraining from making a comment about the state of Camelot's guards. She did however ask the name of his mother, as she knew pretty much all the women in the kitchens.
"Lynnette, mi'l-Merlin" Hugh grinned, blushing madly at his slip up.
Surprise washed over her face, and her smile widened. "Oh I know Lynnette! You have a sister don't you? Works as Lady Florrie's maid?"
Hugh nodded, bouncing on the spot. "Yes! Renna her name be. She and my mother speak so highly of you" His rambles continued.
Merlin's brushing paused. Another waft of Mordred. She swore internally: he was everywhere on her. How had people not noticed?
Or perhaps they had? Perhaps they could smell him and had just decided not to mention it? Oh gods... She flushed with embarrassment.
"Mi'lady?" Hugh asked worriedly, noticing her sudden change. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice him look off to the side, squeak and scuttle away out of the stables. All she knew was that another hand covering her own on the brush brought her back to reality.
She jumped and her eyes darted to the newcomer. She bit back a groan of disbelief.
Mordred stood there, chain mail gone and dressed in casual clothes. No doubt he was invited to Gwaine's traditional 'We're still alive after a road trip!' party in the tavern. Honestly, it was just a patrol, Gwaine liked to find any excuse...
Hello Emrys. He spoke inside her head. He dipped his gaze, almost bashful.
Merlin gaped at him dumbly, wondering how he had gotten there without her noticing. Instead of sending a reply, or doing anything, she simply watched him take the brush from her and begin to swipe it across the fine hairs of Llamiri's back. He didn't meet her stares, but that did not stop her from seeing how his cheeks burned subtly in the dim light of the stables.
"Where's Hugh?" She asked finally. Mordred looked at her confused. "The stable boy"
At her clarification, Mordred nodded to the door, where the red haired boy could be seen hovering. His back was to the stables, his attention flickering at the people passing by: there was no particular point of interest, telling her that the boy was refraining from turning around and watching them. He was giving them privacy.
Privacy she didn't want.
She opened her mouth to call him back in but a hand covered her mouth. She snapped a glare at Mordred, whose eyes were irritatingly wide and earnest again.
"I wanted to speak with you... about last night" He told her timidly. His voice quiet and unsure. He removed his hand and resumed his sweeping, his spare hand stroking down Llamiri's neck as she tilted around to look at the unfamiliar person grooming her.
Merlin reached out and ran the back of her forefinger down Llamiri's snout. No doubt Llamiri could smell her scent on Mordred, and Mordred's on her.
"... I'm not sure that's a good idea" She said slowly, her concentration seemingly dedicated to the trail of her finger over Llamiri's nose. She felt Mordred tense beside her.
The silence was awful. She felt the need to fill it with something, but words failed her.
Wood clattered against wood as Mordred balanced the brush on the stall's edge. She could feel him trying to meet her eyes, but she looked elsewhere determinedly. She heard him sigh.
"I think it would be a good idea" He told her, but his uneven voice implied otherwise. Gods, she marveled, she had never known him to be this uncertain. "Did.. I... Do... We... Just... Can... Ugh"
He stumbled uncharacteristically over his words, growing frustrated with each stutter. With the last utterance, he grabbed her hand, pulled it away from Llamiri and pressed it to his chest. The sharp movement made her turn around and face him: unintentionally she looked up at him. She saw confusion and annoyance on his face.
"Please Emrys, stop that" He pleaded. His teeth briefly worried his bottom lip. "Should... Should I forget last night?"
She tilted her head up, an action she had seen many ladies do, and spoke.
"Yes"
Forget about it. And then maybe I can too.
She watched him deflate before her. He dropped her hand, dipped his head once and turned to leave. Hugh outside perked up as Mordred passed him, his brown eyes watching with undisguised awe as Mordred stepped out into the busy courtyard. Hugh bounced back in.
"That be Sir Mordred!" Hugh chimed, wide eyed with amazement. It then changed to one of exaggerated confusion. "What was Sir Mordred going here?"
Merlin sighed and looked away from the door. "Nothing, Hugh. Who knows what goes on inside the minds of Knights?"
Hugh giggled at her answer, and then began to tell her how he had aspirations of being a squire for one of the knights: maybe even Sir Mordred. After sitting through it for another five minutes, Merlin politely excused herself, saying that King Arthur would want a bath drawn, and left Hugh to finish.
She only just caught Hugh excitedly speak to Llamiri and the other horses.
"Did you see that? I just spoke'ed to a lady! A pretty lady at that! And did you see Sir Mordred, he nodded at me he did. Mother won't believe it, nor will Renna and Father."
After drawing Arthur a bath, and ignoring his rant about her being late and other such follies, Merlin hurried back down to the Physician's chambers and clattered around until she found a large enough bowl. Currently, the bucket she used to wash herself with was being used as a resting place for one of Gaius' potions: it need to be angled upright, and the bucket was just the right size.
Gaius watched her scour the shelves for lavender and other sweet smelling herbs with a high eyebrow.
"Merlin? Is everything alright?"
"Huh?" She grunted distractedly, squinting at the labels and cursing her poor handwriting. Why Gaius made her label these she had no idea, she may as well be as illiterate as she was when she arrived ten years ago. "Oh, ah I just wanted to wash"
Gaius tilted his head. "I take it the patrol went well?"
Merlin shrugged. "I had to save Arthur's sorry arse from a fae colony and got no thanks, so nothing out of the ordinary" Well, one could say I did get 'thanks' from a certain Druid knight...
She turned around with a flush at her treacherous thoughts and just caught the look of alarm on her mentor's face.
"Merlin! Fae are dangerous, what were you thinking?" Gaius demanded, his brewing forgotten as he checked his adoptive daughter for any sign of injury. "How did you even get close? They may not mind women as much as men, but they are not kind creatures when it comes to intruders"
Merlin stopped and leaned on the table, sending Gaius a rueful smile. "Oh I know, Gaius. The prat decided to set up camp on their territory and I had to convince them not to tear the knights to pieces"
"Were you hurt?" Gaius demanded to know. She bit her lip. "Merlin! Show me"
Past caring whether or not Gaius saw, Merlin pushed down one shoulder and pulled it so that the three scars were visible. Gaius leaned over the table to look, but sat back in shock almost instantly. She shrugged the dress back, and then shrugged again dismissively.
"The Fae Queen scratched me"
Gaius's head tilted and he blinked at her, dumbfound. "Merlin, my girl. The Queen's poison is the most potent. When did this happen?"
Merlin blushed despite herself. "Yesterday. Around midday"
The old physician gaped at her. "That's twenty-four hours: You should be dead. You amaze me sometimes, Merlin"
She waved a hand and went over to the large trough where they kept water for medical use. She dunked the bowl in gracelessly and with shaky hands guided it back over to the table. She flicked her hands and dried them on her skirts.
"Someone else healed me" She said without thinking.
Gaius had composed himself and watched her crush up the herbs with an odd expression. "Who?"
Her grinding paused, but immediately sped up again. "Mordred..."
The witch's tone was short and curt, implying that Gaius should leave the topic be. But Gaius had heard her use that tone before, and always knew to pursue the subject when she did.
"Sir Mordred healed you? That was certainly kind of him-"
Merlin jumped back, the bowl clattering in her annoyance. "Can we not talk about it, Gaius?"
The physician was silent, but his brow high. Merlin dumped the herbs into the water, grabbed a cloth and picked the bowl up. Without saying another word she carefully walked around the bench and up to her room. Only a brief second later the door closed by magic.
Gaius sighed when he heard it lock, knowing that there was in fact no lock on that door.
For a moment a frown marred his aged face as he thought about where her injury was. It was on her left breast, over her heart: not unusual for a fae injury as they had a fondness for tearing out the hearts of those that angered them. What struck him was Merlin's reaction, and the fact that for Mordred to have healed her, his hand would have had to cover the entire injury.
Perhaps the girl was embarrassed to have a man touch her that way, if only to heal her? Especially considering her hostility towards the knight in question.
Gaius dismissed it quickly, turning his attention back to his brewing. He wasn't sure if the boy would hear it, but he mentally sent out a thank you to Mordred: thank you for healing her. For saving her life.
He jumped in surprise when a reply came.
You are welcome.
