Plucking Buds off Magnolia Trees
Three
'Light in Your Bright Blue Eyes'
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, but I wouldn't mind paying BBC a large sum of money for Arthur, haha.
Merlin opened the door to Arthur's chambers, slamming it shut harshly behind him. He smirked when he saw the prince startled into consciousness. The young Pendragon deserved it. He'd drank enough the night prior to even drown a small fish. Merlin had been unwillingly volunteered to guide Arthur to bed (courtesy of one Lady Morgana), and his feet had been stepped on more times than he could count. Arthur Pendragon was a terribly clumsy drunk.
The sorcerer sighed when his master's body became limp with sleep again. "Up, up, sire," he ushered, drawing nearer to Arthur's bed. There was something peculiar about him like this. Ruthless with a sword, savvy with the words, and godlike with the women, Arthur Pendragon slept like a caterpillar-esque little boy. He wasn't prepared for a feast, or veiled by the stonily sarcastic mask he wore so often. Arthur was human while he was sleeping. A peasant, Merlin concluded, even though that might be a bit of a stretch. Because even in sleep, the young prince seemed to know his place in the world; it was all in the haughty and royal way he held his nose and chin up.
"Your voice is too bloody loud," Arthur said groaningly, putting his face into his pillow. He felt as if he'd been head butted by a horse. Numerous, painful, times. The night before was hazy in all regards, but maybe it was better that way…
"Is it? I hadn't noticed," Merlin replied, raising his voice up a notch. Toying with a delirious Arthur was simply too tempting to pass up.
"You're practically screaming," the prince's unmoving form whined. Merlin rolled his eyes. He hadn't been loud enough to even wake the little mouse that had made its home in Arthur's chambers. Speaking of which, Merlin had still failed to mention the little fellow's presence to his prince.
"Is this better?" His tone was a whisper now. It was partly as a joke—Merlin was ready to burst into bellowing song at any moment—but it was also out of mercy. He didn't know why, but he craved Arthur's approval; his attention.
"Shh, no. Silence. Silence would be ideal." Arthur shifted under his covers though, possibly about to attempt getting up. There was a moment of hesitation when the prince considered it, but he then allowed his body to fall completely into the bed again.
"Sire," Merlin began slowly, "how much did you actually drink last night?" The question came out awkwardly, but it was as good a time as any to bring it up. Before Arthur became- well, Arthur again. He leaned against one of the bedposts. The perk to having a confused and hung-over master, was the he was much more lax with his rules. Granted, the poor prince didn't exactly know if he was in reality or some alternate universe where unicorns did ballet, but Merlin still decided to take advantage of the situation.
Arthur lied on his cheek, facing Merlin with a glare. "Enough to make the sun burn my eyes," he grumbled, keeping his eyes from the window.
"The sun's not up yet," was Merlin's matter-of-fact reply. Bitter almost, it sounded. The prince had given him very specific orders: 'wake me up at four-thirty sharp, or your new job will be tending to the horses' stables when you're not in the stocks.' So, here Merlin was, four-thirty in the morning, attempting to drag his threatening master out of bed.
"Precisely," Arthur returned, scrunching his eyes closed yet again. Merlin was beginning to panic. He had no desire to be Stable Boy by day, Fruit Target by night.
"Arthur, you're going to be late for training," he replied almost pleadingly. He was standing over the blonde haired boy now, unwilling to give up.
"I don't want to go," he moaned, face-planting his head into the massive white pillow. What Merlin would give to try out a pillow like that…
"No, no, sire, you have to get up!" Merlin's eyes darted around the room for a moment or two. He had to stand his ground. Sucking in air sharply, he built up his boldness. "You're getting out of this bed one way or another."
"You're an intolerable little squirrel." Arthur's eyelids were barely open, a majority of the skin covering his splendid sapphire eyes. Merlin almost felt bad for the guy. So much pressure, too many duties, and a level of maturity needed, that no twenty year old could ever hope to reach. But the memories of all the rotten fruit chucked at him while in the stocks kept the young sorcerer from pitying Arthur entirely.
Sighing stridently, Merlin drew back a hand, and whacked it in the direction of Arthur's head. It smacked the middle of his skull with a thud.
Arthur looked up furiously towards the manservant, almost lunging himself off of the bed, and at Merlin's throat. "Ow!" Damn, the boy actually wasn't half bad with a swing.
"I told you, sire," Merlin said holding back a snicker, "you'd get up one way or another." Arthur was now sitting upright in bed, placing a hand on his anguished head. The prince the world was used to seeing was slowly making his comeback.
"You've been demoted to a chipmunk, Merlin," he growled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, with intent to nail Merlin right in the shin. Success.
He seethed momentarily, before replying weakly. "Well, as long as you're up." Merlin grimaced, trying his best not to reach down and baby the black and blue mark he was sure was forming.
Arthur's posture slumped even further. "Who would arrange a training session for this early in the morning?" He gazed dumbly around the room. "Is it even morning yet?" The prince was literally out of his mind.
"Technically, no," Merlin returned, scratching the back of his head, "and um, you did, sire." He'd get put in the stocks; he just knew it. And the townspeople were sure to have plenty of fruit and vegetables to throw at him—despite the coming winter.
"Compromise, shall we? I'll get up and go to… training, if you swear not to talk anymore." His hand was still lingering over his forehead, as he looked up to Merlin, bleary eyed.
"Sire—"
Arthur shook his head slowly, careful not to rattle his brain any further. "A nod of the head will suffice." Merlin's lips became a closed thin and straight line for a moment, before he finally gave the prince a nod. And with that, Arthur slowly eased himself off of the bed, his head beginning to feel like even more of a bolder.
Surprisingly enough, the effects of the alcohol were wearing off. By no stretch of the imagination was Arthur prepared for a full out training session, but he'd be able to get by. He hoped. Uther was sure to keep tabs on him, with such a close and old friend in court, so he knew there was no room for failure. Not that there was ever much leeway for making mistakes—being human. Suppressing a little groan, he continued down the hallway. There were window-like openings in the wall that gave hint to the weather right outdoors. All signs pointed to a crisp morning: a chilly fog holding tightly to grass with a firm fleetingness, and a sun that was probably to be hidden behind heavy gray clouds for a majority of the day.
The first indicators of winter.
December was swiftly creeping up on Camelot. As everyone cowered with worried paranoia, Arthur waited anxiously. He'd missed the snow, while the scorching summer and warm autumn months were in season. Rolling up one of his red sleeves, he ran a hand over his goose-bumped forearm. The skin was dotted with the pure intentions of lulling the cold inside of Arthur's body; yet he felt not a single gust of ice. In fact, he was overheated. He lifted a cold hand to his forehead, and wiped his bangs off his forehead; he was almost breaking a sweat. In the last week of November, Arthur was in his own personal July.
His eyes were locked to the ground, his eyelids beginning to beg him once more to go back to bed. His conscience wouldn't allow him though. He had a duty to his king; his knights; himself. Damn duty.
"I don't believe you'll find your sobriety lying on the floor, Arthur."
The prince stopped, straightening his posture as best he could, and lifted his eyes to the speaker. "Morgana," he replied tiredly. It was somewhere between a lagging warning and worried consideration. Morgana felt her body still tingling from the abruptness of her awakening. "What are you doing up at such an hour?"
"I was going to ask you the same question. Knowing you, I would have suspected you to sleep until dusk." The unspoken commentary concerning Arthur's bouts of infatuation with alcohol was not lost to the prince.
"In a perfect world, perhaps, but here, training does not cease on account of me." He wrapped his right hand around his left wrist, pulling both to his hip. Morgana eyed her friend carefully. Arthur was never one to be shy—not in stance, not in character. Looking at him now though, the green eyed girl couldn't help but find him tragically withdrawn.
"I find that very hard to believe," she returned dryly, taking a step closer to him. If it wasn't for her pride, she would hug him. Suggest a wonderful remedy for a hangover (introduced to her by the lovely Gaius. Although she rarely drank, the times that she did caused for desperate measures.). Alas, Arthur had been a royal jackass at the feast, and she couldn't allow herself to forgive him so easily.
"I don't care if you find me narcissistic, or whatever your word of the day is for me, just as long as I make something in your day difficult." He gave her a lazy smirk. As much as Arthur enjoyed the banter, he had to admit the times they were in harmony were his favorite. Both so strong willed and stubborn, the periods of peace reminded him that there could be a good and simple side to magic.
"I'm glad to see your snarky remarks remain intact despite your whirlwind of a night," Morgana drawled, crossing her arms over her purple trimmed dress. The rest was a sort of ivory-gray, accentuating the darkness of her perfectly curled hair. Arthur wondered if she always looked this magnificent when she first woke up. He was sure she did. One day maybe, he'd be able to see if his imaginations were true.
"Some things never die," he replied blandly. He knew very well that he should be getting to his knights. But something about Morgana compelled him to stay. He didn't mind in the slightest. He paused before continuing. "You never did tell me why you awoke at this ungodly hour." Arthur's blue eyes looked at her curiously. Despite the fogginess that still lingered faintly in the irises, Morgana had never seen them clearer. They always looked most brilliant in the winter.
"It was too cold to sleep," she admitted, turning her face slightly from Arthur. He noticed the rosy flush that had blushed onto her cheeks. It gave her high cheekbones even more emphasis. Morgana had the true face of a queen. He could only imagine how breathtaking her head would look in a crown of gold.
"Too cold?" Arthur echoed, strategically holding back a laugh. "If I remember correctly, you have at least six fur blankets to keep you warm." An amused look cantered onto Arthur's face when Morgana looked up to him awkwardly.
"Only four," she muttered, a small smile growing involuntarily on her face.
"Only four. Yes, that is completely reasonable." Arthur rolled his eyes.
"You think I am spoiled? Try asking the peasants' opinion of your excessiveness."
Arthur only smiled mischievously. "Ha! So you do admit you're spoiled!"
"I said nothing of the sort, Arthur," she bit out quickly.
"Admit it, Morgana. You are just as bratty as you claim me to be." The shy stance was gone entirely, along with his headache. He raised an eyebrow at Morgana.
"Don't you have somewhere to be," she growled. The king's ward was in no mood for Arthur's antics. Not this early, anyway.
"We were just beginning to have fun," the prince whined jokingly. She wanted nothing more than to hate him; resist him; be angered with him. Anything, other than the butterflies she felt every time she looked at him. He embodied autumn: his hair as brilliantly yellow as the leaves; skin as pale as the gray sky against red tops of trees; glowing with the marvels only October could supply. Yet he was a man of December. It didn't connect. Harmonious discord.
"Go," Morgana said sharply, and Arthur didn't retaliate. With a dramatic sigh he walked by her, the scent of damp wood and pine needles catching her attention.
Merlin closed the door to Gaius' quarters with his back. Arthur was tiring him out. Both physically and mentally, the Pendragon prince was draining. Tapping heavy fingers on the wooden object he still leaned against, he saw Gaius coming down the stairs. Merlin was mildly surprised to see Gaius up this prematurely.
"Ah, Merlin," Gaius said, "I didn't expect you to be back so… early." The old man raised an eyebrow. It was goodhearted of course, though.
"Arthur got out of bed a lot sooner than I thought he would," Merlin returned with a shrug. He smiled weakly at his caretaker. Exhausted beyond sanity, all the young sorcerer wanted to do was sleep. With Arthur's shenanigans at the feast and this morning, Merlin had had little time to do anything but anticipate his master's next move. The prince was so needy.
"You have a bit of free time then, yes?" Gaius said it almost soothingly. Merlin nodded in relief. Finally, he could sleep. "Good. I need some herbs from the market, if you wouldn't mind running to get them."
His face fell. No, Gaius, no. But he knew he couldn't say no. Merlin was a complaint person; not one to cause a scene based on something so petty. He'd get the herbs, make Gaius happy, and then be able to sleep peacefully. Yes, that would be the plan. Unless Arthur suddenly called upon him. God, Arthur, Merlin groaned in his head. Somehow it always came down to him. No matter what, it was all tied to Arthur Pendragon.
"No I don't mind at all, Gaius," he replied gratefully. Merlin owed so much to the physician. So what were a few herbs and hours of less sleep among friends, right? Right? Rubbing the back of his head, he enclosed his fingers around the money Gaius had placed in his palm. "Which do you need?"
"Well," returned the physician in great thought, "there are many that I am out of, actually." That was never a good way to start out a shopping list…
"Oh," Merlin choked out, trying to hide his disappointment as best as possible.
"Coriander,Chervil, Anise, Arnica, Burnet Saxifrage, and Centaury ought to do it," Gaius returned with a satisfied nod. Merlin morphed his grimace into a polite nod.
"What is Coriander for?" Merlin asked. He'd never heard of that herb; and he had gone on many a trip for Gaius and his supplies.
"The Lady Morgana," the old physician returned simply, slightly peeved at the fact Merlin was still standing there. He had a lot of work to do today. "It is to ease her sleeplessness."
"And it works?" Merlin raised an eyebrow. He hadn't been getting as much sleep as he hoped for. If the Coriander really was affective, he might take some for himself.
"Of course it works, Merlin, I have been using it for years." Gaius looked to his friend, and gave him a withering stare. It wasn't completely obvious, but Merlin could pinpoint it in the far corner of the man's eye. "Now, will you please go? Camelot does not have all day to wait for my remedies."
"Right, sorry," he mumbled in return, walking promptly to the door, and out of the small living space. Walking through the few hallways before the exit, Merlin was somewhat worried about his confidant. Gaius was rarely frazzled or urgently pressuring, unless there was something the matter. Merlin racked his brain for something that could cause his friend to become so un-Gaius-like, but nothing sparked to mind. Winter was slowly approaching (well, more like quickly, seeing as November was almost at its end), so understandably citizens were stocking up on their potions and medicines. But enough to make even Gaius mad out of his mind? It was possible Merlin supposed, yet the probability of that being the case was still very low.
Merlin continued on down the massive set of stairs that led into the town. People were bustling about; wheeling carts full of food, clothing, armor… it was a crazed mess of everything in the definition of 'civilization'. The sorcerer was utterly overwhelmed. Preparations for winter were always stressful times in Eldeor, but Camelot was some sort of nightmare. The fear people harbored for the coldest months were shocking to put it mildly. Whatever happened to make the citizens so apprehensive had to have been a real catastrophe.
Reaching the small kiosk that sold the herbs, Merlin smiled at the vendor. The scruffy man had at least two layers of dirt coating his face (God, Merlin hoped it was dirt…), his hair more akin to dreadlocks. Yet Tor had been a helpful man to Gaius for years—there was no need for Merlin to scrutinize him. Placing the money on the table, the sorcerer watched as the silver flashed momentarily, blocking out the Pendragon family crest.
"What will it be today?" Tor asked, beginning to ease a finger towards the money. Merlin just widened his smile at the man's actions.
"Coriander, uh, Anise, Burnet Saxifrage, and err, Arnica." Merlin knew he was forgetting something; but his mind was too tired to conjure the list. Tor nodded, and grabbed two of the herbs from a hanging rack, and then stuck his head under the kiosk, grabbing the other two requests. Wrapping the materials in a brown little weaved bag, he slid it over to Merlin. The younger man responded by handing over the money.
"Thank you, Tor," he said brightly, beginning to walk away.
"Your change?" Tor asked confused.
"Keep it," Merlin said. Turning back around, he continued to walk away with his herbs.
It was when he reached the open court outside of the castle that he saw them.
Pleading with one of the many guards stationed at the entrances, the tall redhead looked about ready to fall to his knees. The younger boy that stood close to him was overwhelmed by the dark coat he wore: it was almost as black as his hair. Merlin walked up to the three of them, not entirely sure what he was doing.
"As I've said," the guard bit out in irritation, "no commoners are permitted inside the castle." He spun the spear he held, allowing the sun to catch the shine of the metal.
"Please, I must speak with the king." The redhead's grassy green eyes shimmered with tiredness and pain.
"What seems to be the problem?" Merlin asked innocently. All three parties turned to look at him. No one seemed to enjoy his presence. Well, as long as they agreed on something.
"Piss off, Merlin," the guard grumbled. Arthur had told Merlin on many occasions how he was astonished that his father had ever knighted Nudd. Yet here the guard stood, not allowing the two boys to pass.
The red and black haired boys gave Merlin pleading stares. The sorcerer knew he couldn't leave them. "Prince Arthur has requested an audience with these two men, Nudd. Let them pass. Or shall I tell Arthur that you are the reason they didn't show up?"
Nudd sighed grudgingly, moving his spear away from the entrance, and allowing the three of them through.
Once a far enough distance from the guard, the older boy looked to Merlin. "Thank you, sir. I am eternally grateful." His smile was genuine. Merlin still kicked himself for being so trustworthy, but the man seemed to have nothing. Something about the redhead told Merlin his presence was more of a blessing than an omen.
"Not a problem," he replied quietly. "My name's Merlin, by the way." He held out his hand.
"Gawain, and this is my brother Bran." Gawain shook Merlin's hand, and Bran gave a small wave.
"Nice to meet both of you," Merlin said, still uneasy about the whole situation. "So what business do you have with the king?" He raised a curious eyebrow.
"Our town was destroyed," Gawain said in a devastated voice, "we came to ask the king to enhance his security in the far regions of the kingdom."
Merlin stared numbly at them. He had never heard of a group actually succeeding in taking down any town, city, or countryside during Uther's rule. A sickening feeling creeped into his stomach.
School has been sucking the time and life out of me, so I'm sorry this update is a little late. Though not much happened in this chapter, it's a slow build up—I promise it will get more exciting. Haha. (Also, if the whole Gawain thing happened too abruptly, it was sort of meant to be that way). I hope everyone's weekend is going well, and that you enjoyed the chapter!
Reviews are love