Chapter 1: The beginning, but of what?
The Lady Morgana stood, elegantly dressed and poised in the Throne Room of Camelot as the heralds announced the arrival of their guests from the distant kingdom of Selice. Yesterday, Morgana had been excited at the thought of the Ladies' arrival in Camelot. Rumour had run ahead of them as they journeyed down from their kingdom in the North, performing their unique musical form in the Courts from Gore and Sorestan to Celidoine.
Although they were performers, Lady Anysthia was the eldest niece of King Hoschelice and it was well known that in the kingdom of Selice women had a greater role in politics than in other kingdoms. Lady Anysthia, it was rumoured, was a powerful landowner in her own right and Morgana had been enthused at meeting such women.
But as she surveyed the Court, her mind kept wandering toward her dream. The terror, the blood, the pain and Merlin, dead. Merlin dead. Merlin cold and dead. She saw Arthur's gangly dark-haired servant standing attentively behind his master in a pose she knew Gwen was emulating behind her. Merlin. Dead.
She couldn't even remember exactly when Merlin had arrived in Camelot. She remembered him saving Arthur's life and then he'd just been there, around, like any other servant. Then he had drunk poison to save Arthur, helped her with Mordred, and risked himself for her when she had run to the Druids. Just a servant but still. Merlin. Dead.
He looked up at her with blue eyes that she remembered could be piercingly observant and gazed at her quizzically. She realised she'd been staring and turned back to the Court. Uther was speaking floridly about the great honour about to be bestowed upon his Kingdom and for once she couldn't disagree.
The heralds finished with a flourish and the doors to the throne room were swung open to reveal three exceedingly beautiful women, as elegantly dressed and poised as the Lady Morgana herself.
"My Lady Anysthia," said King Uther, approaching the slightly older of the three with deep auburn hair and green eyes, "it is an honour to welcome you to Camelot. May I introduce to you my son, Arthur, Crown Prince of Camelot and my ward, the Lady Morgana." Arthur bowed and the Lady Morgana curtsied as her eyes once again wandered behind the Crown Prince to Merlin who was... staring eyes wide and mouth slightly open at one of the Ladies who had just walked in. Feeling a twinge of unexpected emotion, she followed his gaze to the Lady in question who collected herself when she realised Morgana's eyes were up upon her. But she could have sworn that the expression briefly on her face had mirrored Merlin's.
"King Uther of Camelot," the Lady Anysthia was saying, in a voice heavily accented. It was obvious that their language was not her mother tongue. "Words cannot express the honour you do us by allowing us respite in your beautiful Kingdom and by receiving us in your Court. May I introduce my younger sisters: the Lady Sasthia..."
With slightly lighter hair and white, clear skin, the Lady Sasthia was perhaps more beautiful but less attractive than her sophisticated older sister. She curtsied and then blushed slightly at the attention. Morgana mentally noted the interest from the younger Knights around the table but also that the older Lords preferred the more mature sensuality of Lady Anysthia. This was certainly going to be an interesting visit, particularly when the third sister's deep-brown hair and green-brown eyes seemed a blend between the youthful beauty and mature sophistication of the other two.
"And this," said Anysthia, "is the Lady Dealthia".
There were other formalities. She was almost sure of it. She even participated somehow. Small talk and stories of the journey undertaken, trials endured, joys experienced. But all the Lady Morgana could see was the fading light in deep blue eyes. Fear, pain, blood, death. She looked at the dark-haired woman in front of her, as her eyes kept flicking unwittingly to Merlin.
Dealthia.