Two Steps From Hell – Love and Loss

Albree walked slowly through the quiet gardens of Uther Pendragon's castle, the wind blowing loose strands of long hair across her face. With a dress of purple velvet and pearls strung in her hair, she was the perfect fitting for a palace, despite the fact that she possessed the ability to wield magic. If Uther ever discovered her secret (or Merlin's), they would be hanging from the gallows not too long after.

The sun was slinking behind the trees and twilight was almost amongst them. The palace gardens were empty at this time of the day, and she took advantage of the calm and peaceful atmosphere. She came to a halt, her eyes slipping closed and head tilting slightly back. She never wanted to leave this place.

"Albree," came a soft voice from behind her. As usual, her breath caught at the sound of his voice. She slowly turned around to face the prince of Camelot, the man she was so desperately in love with. She so wished for the day she could fight up the courage to touch him; but what her heart desired and what she could do in reality were not one in the same thing, so she admired him from where she stood, her heart longing for the feel of his strong hands.

"Sire," she murmured, inclining her head politely and curtsying briefly.

Arthur smiled, and her heart melted. "You know you don't have to suppress to formalities, Albree. I may be Prince of Camelot, but you are heir to the throne of Cornwall, and it is I who should have to bow to you." And he did; not merely the inclination of his head, but a steep bend, a bow fit for a queen. He always seemed to amaze her; just as he was straightening up, she forced her eyes not to melt. But her heart continued to throb, and she was powerless against it.

"What brings you out so late, Arthur?" Albree asked softly, stilling her hands at her side. She was trembling, and she so hoped he did not notice.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know myself, princess, but I felt a pull and I… Decided to let it entice me." His eyes raised to meet hers, and her breathing stilled once more. This time she could not help herself and her hands raised to rest against her stomach, where the butterflies raged within her.

"Arthur," she began.

"Let me say something," he interrupted, and she noticed his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He was fighting a battle within himself, and she reached a hand out to him, worried.

"Arthur, is everything alright? What is wrong?" she took a step towards him, but he took a step backward. His step away was like a stab to her heart.

"This," he said, arms spread out on either side of him. "Why is that every time you walk into a room, every time you are near me, .time I can do nothing?" Her breathing stopped, and at that moment, his eyes caught hers, and she was frozen. Never had she felt so powerless in front of single man in all her life.

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

"All my life, I have done as my father has told me to." Arthur's words never slowed, and his eyes never left hers. "All my life, I have taken his orders, good or bad, and done as I am supposed to." Although his exterior was calm, she saw the fire raging in his eyes, and it terrified her. "For once in my life, I've wanted to do something on my own, something that wasn't done because I was told to do it." Nausea swept over her with the anticipation of his words. She was going to get sick. "When you came to Camelot, my father fell in love with you and with the idea of having me marry you." These words weren't new to her, for Uther had told her very nonchalantly that he wanted her to marry his son, but hearing them from Arthur was another thing entirely. "And so the past few months, he has pressured me, every day, for me to court you and tie the bonds closer between Camelot and Cornwall." Damn that man! DAMN UTHER! her thoughts screamed. How DARE he! "And every day I fought him. Every day I avoided you to the best of my ability, against my very own will, and every day I hated myself for it." He took a step closer, now only several feet from her. "For once in my life, I was disobeying my father's wishes, because for once, what he wants and what I want are one in the same." He was closer again, she was rooted to the spot, and all she could do was stare helplessly up at him. "I disobeyed him, telling him I felt nothing for you." Her heart stopped, and her hand went to her mouth, the nausea rolling over her. "Because I wanted to prove to myself, my own god damned pride, that I wouldn't do something because he told me to." This was it. "I couldn't do it. He spoke to me as if I could just take you and make you mine. Arrogant fool!" The nausea threatened to take over. The silence was deafening. "For once in my life, I wanted to do something because I wanted to, not because he told me to!" Arthur now towered over her, and her hand dropped from her mouth to her side. "I want you because I want you." His eyes melted into hers. "I can only dream of the day that I could have you. And I would wait to the very day I die."

Albree did not hesitate a second. "You don't have to wait." She couldn't breathe, but the words somehow came out. "Take me, Arthur."

The words were barely out of her mouth; he caught her face in his hands and she had only a moment to gasp before his mouth melted into hers. She threw her arms around his neck just as her back thudded against the wall of the castle and his body collided into hers, his kiss growing more fervent and hands gripping her face tight enough to hurt. The pain was secondary to the passion flowing through her; this was where she was supposed to be. She dreamed for months of this day, and it had finally come.

So that was the day Albree swore she would never leave his side, the day she swore her life to him and every fibre of her being to keeping him safe. Wherever Arthur was, was where she was going to be, and she would die before anything stopped her from doing that.

Albree wasn't sure how long Arthur had kissed her for in the palace gardens the night before; all she really knew was that she still felt as it were a dream. It felt like hours being in his strong arms, and she wondered when the next time would be that she could kiss him again.

She didn't sleep that night. When the sun rose, she still sat at the window seat in her bedroom that overlooked the palace gardens. Every word and every moment of the previous night kept overplaying in her mind, and her breath still caught at the very moment that she overplayed the part where he took her so forcefully, like he needed her. She never felt needed before. Her heart had not slowed down once since then. Maybe she would have a heart attack.

It had never once occurred to her, until now, that someone may have seen. It was not quite twilight out then, and her heart fluttered again at the thought of unseen eyes.

As if to answer her question, a knock came at the door.

"Come in," she said softly, her eyes never leaving the view of the palace gardens.

The door opened and she heard Merlin's voice. "Bree?"

She slowly turned around to face him, and she never doubted that he could see the sleepiness in her eyes. She smiled. "Merlin." Appearances were deceiving; Merlin might not look the part, but he was going to be the greatest warlock that ever lived. And he was her best friend.

"I … Wanted to see how you were." He knows. He saw.

"What do you mean?" she asked calmly, refusing to let him see any trace of embarrassment on her face.

Merlin, the big dolt he was, couldn't keep the serious face on any longer. The corners of his lips twitched and a big grin split across his face. "Oh, you know, how your passionate time with Arthur was last night."

This time she couldn't hide her surprise of Merlin's straightforwardness and her eyes widened. All he did was grin at her.

"You were watching?" she said hoarsely.

He threw his hands up in front of him defensively. "Hey, I was in the gardens before you were even there, and then I saw Arthur approach you, and what did you want me to do? Ruin the moment by scurrying off? I hid behind the fountain; you didn't even know I was there."

Her cheeks burned. "You have quite the knack for being in places you shouldn't be, Merlin." She rose from where she sat. "I have half the mind to hit you right now. But I would have a full mind to tell Arthur and let him kill you."

Merlin's grin disappeared and a look of horror dawned over his face. "You wouldn't."

She folded her arms, eyebrows raised. "Oh, I would."

Merlin's mouth worked but no sound came out. It wasn't possible for him to look any more stunned.

"Oh, settle down Merlin, I won't actually tell him." She grinned. "You're going to tell him."

Merlin's eyes widened. "WHAT?"

"Do I have to explain it to you?" She thoroughly enjoyed taunting him. "You're going to march over to his room right now and tell him that you were in the gardens last night, and failed to announce yourself." Her grin grew wider. She fought the urge to laugh. "Oh, he's going to have your head, Merlin. Might as well go look for another servant to replace yourself."

"That's not funny, Bree," he said seriously. "Stop it."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Would you like me to royally order you to do so, Merlin?"

Merlin, at this point, actually believed her. He stared at her like as if staring at a stranger. Did he really think she was so pompous?

"No," he finally said. "I'll do it." He turned to walk away but she caught his arm.

"You really are a complete dolt sometimes," she laughed. "As funny as it would be to see Arthur royally kick your arse, I wouldn't allow it." She stuck her tongue out.

He rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue back out. "I actually believed you for a moment there. You really can be a stuck-up noble when you want to be."

She raised her eyebrows at him again. "Pardon me?"

He rolled his eyes again and plopped down on her bed. "So, princess, tell me all about your night with the prince of Camelot."

Her cheeks coloured again. "As if you didn't see enough last night," she sniffed, tossing her head.

It was then that Merlin started to laugh. It wasn't that obnoxious chortle of his; she just stared at him as he roared with laughter, barely able to breathe. Why was he LAUGHING? And why was it so damn funny?

She glared at him as his laughter finally died down some moments later, her arms crossed tightly beneath her breasts. Maybe she should have ordered him to tell Arthur.

"Would you like to tell me what is so funny, Merlin?"

"You," he chuckled, still catching his breath. "You think you're so stealth about this, but you're like an open book. I could tell the day you saw him that you were in love with him." Was I really that obvious? "You can't hide anything from me, Bree."

She took in a deep breath and sighed loudly, looking away, and voiced her thoughts. "Was I really that obvious, Merlin?"

Merlin opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. "Well, no," he said carefully. "Maybe to me, since I'm so in tune to you… Maybe it's the magic." He paused. "But Morgana knew too. I think she knew you loved him before you did." His eyes widened. "The magic… Maybe Morgana…?"

"Yes, Merlin," she said quietly. "Yes, she's very powerful. She just doesn't know it yet." She turned back to the window, speaking the words she had dare not speak. "I can feel it in her," she whispered. She turned back to him. "It terrifies me, Merlin."

He looked at her a moment in silence, deep in thought, but then put on his best smile. "Don't worry, Bree, we will guide her when the time comes." She couldn't help but smile either; his smile was infectious. "She will be alright."

She nodded but wasn't so sure that Merlin's positive thoughts were entirely logical. Morgana was clearly fighting the powers inside her and it would eventually do one of two things: kill her or take her over. But Morgana was too stubborn and strong to let the first option happen, so the second option was much more viable. It was that possibility that terrified Albree. As she looked at Merlin, she wondered if he was thinking the same thing; she would never know, for now, because she was too terrified to voice her own thoughts.

8Ball - Underworld

She felt like a child again, sneaking out of her room at late hours of the night to meet up with Arthur. During those late night walks, they had talked so much, and Albree couldn't get enough of him. She drank him in, soaking in every word and touch; it was never enough. She wanted more. Every night he had met up with her, he was the epitome of a gentleman. It was hard for her to remember the man who had let formalities banish and took her so forcefully in the gardens; he was the opposite of this now, courting her to such perfection that he was taught. Every night they met at the belltower, he placed a formal hand on the small of her back and held out his arm, which she gladly took. It was as if he were trying to make up for the informal kiss that he had taken.

This night, they were walking down the path in the forest just in front of the castle. There were guards on duty, but they were sworn to secrecy by Arthur (who were more loyal to Arthur than Uther) and one guard even winked at Arthur as they strolled by. Albree looked to Arthur, who looked down at her with a slight grin. He leaned in toward her, his mouth inches from her ear.

"Do not worry," he said softly. "I will make sure he scrubs the floor for a week for that." Albree giggled and tightened her hand on his forearm.

"I will have none of that," she whispered back, his face just inches from hers. "I don't mind, Arthur. Do not punish him for it." She smiled reassuringly, gazing up into his beautiful blue eyes. "I find it humurous that the guards are so approving. It makes me feel wanted here, and like I never left home."

Arthur nodded, if reluctantly, and leaned closer to place a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Don't you ever worry about that," he whispered into her ear. "You are very much wanted here." He leaned back from her ear to face her again as his hand slid lower down her back. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"You don't approve?" he said slowly, a sultry grin spreading across his face. His lips were so close to hers; if she went on her tip-toes for just a second… She resisted the urge and flicked her eyes from his mouth back up to his eyes. "You did not stop me the other night, princess." Arthur was clearly slipping out of the shell that he had been inside for the past few weeks; he had not once mentioned the night he kissed her. Until now. What did this mean?

"I never said stop, prince," she answered softly, grinning back. He stopped and stepped in front of her, placing his other hand on her lower back as well. She gripped his forearms with both hands, unable to break her eyes away from him. She wished she wasn't such a midget compared to him; he all but towered over her.

"Is this acceptable?" he asked softly, gazing down at her. He was beautiful.

"Yes," she said. "But…" She trailed her fingers up his arm, his chest, neck, and along his jawline, where she came to rest her fingertips on his mouth. "I don't think you're close enough."

He gently pulled her closer so her body was rested up against his. She could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, but hers were racing. He grinned knowingly and brushed her hair back with a gentle hand, leaning down to kiss her ear. Her heart raced faster and she closed her eyes, feeling his mouth move slowly down her neck and her collarbone. Her hands were gripping his forearms again tightly, her breathing quickening.

"Arthur, don't…" she breathed. He raised his head quickly, releasing her hair from his hand.

"I'm sorry Albree, I shouldn't be so forward." He started to pull away from her, but she gripped his arms tighter and pulled him back towards her.

"No," she said quickly. "It's not that, It's just…" Her cheeks burned. "I want you, and it's only a reminder of what I can not have."

He looked down at her silently. "You have me, princess," he said slowly, seemingly confused. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I didn't mean it that way," she said, and immediately, she wished she could take the words back. Arthur's cheeks coloured slightly but he grinned crookedly for a moment.

"It would not be honourable of me to do so," he said softly, his hand coming to rest on her cheek. She nestled her cheek into the palm of his hand, never breaking away from his gaze. "As much as I..." He paused with a far away look in his eyes, but then shook his head. "I can not. Not yet. You do understand?"

"Yes," she whispered sadly. "It is too much for me to wish for the prince of Camelot to marry me one day." Did I Just SAY THAT?

In response, he grabbed her shoulders and kissed her, and thouroughly at that. When he broke away from her, she was left panting and unable to think or see straight.

"Does that answer your question?" he said, a touch breathless.

She nodded slowly, trying to focus her eyes. She held onto his arms tightly for balance, wishing the stars would go away. She still felt as if she were in a dream.

He bent his knees to come down to her level, face in line with hers. He gripped her shoulders tightly, staring into her eyes intently. "You will be mine one day," he promised. When she didn't respond and just stared up at him silently, he sighed and dropped his hands from her shoulders. And then he did the unthinkable; he dropped to one knee in front of her. She gasped as he took her right hand in both of his strong hands tightly.

"I swear upon my father's grave that I will keep you safe," he swore. She stared down at him, her eyes the size of golf balls and about ready to fall out of her head. "Or I will die trying." He paused. "And I also swear that I will marry you one day, Albree Denathor." Her breath caught in her throat and her jaw dropped. "As long as I live to do so, that is," he finished. And just as if swearing an oath was like an every day occurrence, he stood up and straightened his jacket, looking at her curiously as he adjusted his collar. His face cracked and he grinned.

"You don't have to look so horrified, princess," he said, giving her an almost abashed look. "If I knew my words would have sparked such a reaction, I would not have said them."

She stood there gaping like a fish out of water. The prince of Camelot had just sworn not one – but two! – oaths to her. And swore over his father's grave – which was unheard of. When she still didn't say anything, remaining in a complete state of shock, he crossed his arms and gave her a sidelong look.

"Should I call you Bree the the Googley-Eyed Fish?" he murmured. Her mouth couldn't open any wider now; he took one look at her face and bolted down the path as fast as he could, roaring with laughter. She stood there for a moment in shock before she sprinted after him, but he was a good runner, and it took her a few moments to catch up to him.

"The fish can run pretty good!" he yelled, looking back at her. She was closing in on him now, only several feet behind him. "Let's see how good she is in the water, though."

She furrowed her eyebrow in confusion and didn't realize what his words meant until she watched Arthur cannonball into the water. The pond! She was running too fast and she had no time to stop; she plummeted into the water.

When she finally reached the surface of the pond, she was gasping for air, coughing and spluttering like a drowned rat. Arthur came up beside her, shaking his head like a wet dog, and his amused look quickly vanished when he saw the state she was in.

"Are you alright?" he said in alarm, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to shore. All she could do was cough and choke on the water that had tried to go down her lungs. She clung onto his neck, gasping for air.

"Very…funny…Arthur…" she wheezed as he laid her down on the grass. "Trying…to…kill…me?"

He brushed the wet strands of hair from her face and laughed. "I didn't think you would swallow half the pond," he teased. Still coughing out the last bit of water, she glared at him from where she lay. "Do they not teach you how to swim in Cornwall, my Lady?"

She hoisted herself up on her hands, her eyes shooting daggers. "They teach me how to swim, Arthur," she said haughtily, "but they don't prepare me for unexpected oaths of protection and marriage from the Prince of Camelot and then proceed to throw me in the pond immediately afterwards."

Arthur burst out laughing and even she couldn't help but laugh; she must have looked ridiculous with the beads hanging out of her hair and her dress soggy and limp. Arthur, however, somehow looked more beautiful with the water dripping from his hair.

Albree took in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and balancing the practice sword in her hands. She was becoming very impatient; she did not grow up with a sword in her hand and she didn't see the use in Uther's men trying to teach her how to wield one. She felt better with two good short-swords or a quarterstaff. Or some throwing knives. That was when she could do some actual damage.

"I can't do it," she finally said, tossing the sword to the ground. The Knight in charge of training her, who was an older man close to Uther's age, snorted loudly and picked the sword back up, holding it out to her.

"No, Adrian, I will not," she sniffed, turning away from him. "I refuse to pick up that hunk of metal; it is useless to me."

Adrian made a noise much like a squawking bird. "But my Lady-!"

"Don't do it, my Lord!" came Merlin's voice. He was stifling a laugh. "She'll take your head from your shoulders if you push her farther!"

"With what?" Adrian barked. "The sword she refuses to be taught?"

Albree had the quarterstaff in her hands before Adrian could blink, and the quarterstaff millimetres from his throat before he could gasp. Merlin burst out laughing and then there was clapping; Albree swung her head to see her admirer, and there he was, standing beside Morgana.

"Never underestimate the power of a woman," Arthur bellowed to Adrian. "That's where you will fail."

Adrian grimaced, glancing at the quarterstaff at his throat. "Your parents taught you well," he said as she lowered the quarterstaff and resumed a relaxed pose. "Are you sure you are not a boy?"

Merlin laughed even harder at that. Arthur whistled loudly. "You're asking for a death wish, Adrian."

"No, I'm not a boy," she answered, grinning. "But they trained me as if I were one." She leaned on her quarterstaff. "And they trained me with only quarterstaffs and short swords. That is why I refuse to learn the sword now." She winked. "Besides, I can kill more people with two short swords rather than one long sword."

Adrian shook his head. "You have the wrong trainer, it seems." He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. "Wesley!" No answer. "WESLEY!" Still no answer. His face was now turning purple. "WESLEY, YOU GOAT-KISSING SON OF A – !"

"I'm here, I'm HERE!" roared the guy named Wesley, who came hustling out of the bushes, looking badgered and thoroughly irritated. "What is so damn important Adrian?"

"I give up on her," Adrian growled, rounding on Wesley. "So you teach her your blasted, sorry excuse for weapons," he spat, indicating the spears and quarterstaffs. Before Wesley could reply, Adrian stalked away, muttering to himself.

"It'll be my pleasure," Wesley grinned, turning towards Albree.