Hey, I'm back! I know you guys have been waiting for the whole Merlin/Nimueh interaction, so I forced myself to sit down at my computer and finally write this.
Chapter Four
Oblivion encompassed his being. A preferable alternative to what he imagined awaited him, so he contently lied in the everlasting tunnel of blackness simply not caring about anything; his mind as empty as this obscure void where he resided. Nothingness happened to be a paradise. No obligations, responsibilities, no more of the duties that sewed him permanently into Camelot's very roots. Rest, relief from the inner turmoil that constantly slithered in and out of the crevices of his mind. However, oblivion soon found him not a suitable resident, as it did with all, and thrust him back into the light of his cruel reality.
Merlin's eyelids fluttered open, much to his displeasure, and he awoke to a blazing golden hue blurring his vision. He blinked several times to clear his eyes of its blinding glow. Sunlight. It was nothing more than sunlight. He had grown so accustomed to the dark in his state of unconsciousness that the rays of the sun appeared unfamiliar to him at first. Though sunlight could only enter a room through an opening, or through transparent material. Which meant, most likely, there was a window.
The warlock then recognized a chaffing sort of feeling, the sort of feeling one would only receive from manacles, and unsurprisingly he discovered metal chains encircling his wrists. Wasn't that to be expected? What wasn't to be expected was the plush fabric he sensed right beneath his back. Was he lying on a…bed? Surely enough, as he lifted his neck to gaze beyond the sight of his boots, the young man spotted a quilt just ahead of his toes. The whole room itself, while dreary with multiple, aged cobwebs coating some walls, oddly enough resembled a bedroom suite unattended to for years, modestly furnished. A wooden chair was tucked back in the corner collecting dust, a small writing desk off to the side, and for the glass pane windows the curtains had been pulled aside permitting the sun access, also covered with grime. He had been abducted by an acrimonious enemy of his, three to be exact, so Merlin had fully anticipated based on the scenario to be locked up in a tight prison cell, shackled. Or to already be dead. In other words, he had been thrown off guard. And that unnerved him. More than he cared to admit.
He was about to swing his legs over the mattress, intent on accessing the room in its entirety in order to find any possible weaknesses, until the door opened of its own accord in stepping the sorceress the servant despised. She remained the same in appearance as the last time he saw of her. Brunette, intricate braids rested on her shoulders, a devious smirk played on her ruby lips, and her bright sapphire irises bored into his own. Confidently, the High Priestess strode across the room and sat herself down at his bedside.
"I was wondering how long it would take for you to wake up. You've been out for at least a day," Nimueh started up casually as if she had the audacity to speak as though they were friends. "Enjoying your stay? I reserved the best room for you. I want you to know you should consider yourself a guest here."
Merlin scoffed and spat, "And these? What would you consider these as?" while he jangled the chains slightly.
Her smirk dimmed considerably as she answered, "A precaution. I know you."
"I can't say the same of you. What is this? Why haven't you killed me yet? I thought you would have struck at the opportune moment when I was caught unawares. Or I suppose, you want to ensure I suffer the most agonizing retribution."
"Not necessarily," she responded.
Choosing to ignore her puzzling reply he interrogated snidely, "How did you come back? I have a general idea, but enlighten me."
His thoughts wandered back to the vivid dream he just experienced a few nights ago; Morgana, the young unknown man, the knife that pierced his heart, his sickeningly crimson-stained tunic, the lake, the enigmatic medallion, and that smug smile directed at him still etched in his mind. The wizard noticed that Nimueh wore the latter two items he remembered from the nightmare of his that turned into reality.
"A human sacrifice. You know the laws of the Old Religion," the Priestess replied.
"Far too well for my liking," he muttered darkly and added in a louder more imposing voice, "Did you even know his name?"
Her brow scrunched up in confusion. "How is his name of any consequence to me?"
"Maybe because he's the man that saved you from eternal damnation, although I can't fathom why he did."
"He is insignificant in the matter," she stated calmly.
Merlin attempted in vain not to repulse at her callousness. "You're working with Morgana. There's only one reason she'd ever put up with someone else, she's too proud. What did you promise her? My death, unlimited power, Camelot? Or let me guess: all of the above."
"I only promised her what she deserves. Her title as Queen of Camelot," Nimueh confessed.
"Oh, of course. So the rest are left up to you, but—she doesn't know that, does she?"
Her smile reappeared at this. "She may be a High Priestess, but she is naïve and too eager for power than for her own good. Persuading her was as simple as incenting a child with the promise of sweets," she remarked.
He countered, "I wouldn't be so arrogant about her if I were you. She'll figure you out eventually, if she hasn't already. She's been betrayed far too many times to be deceived again."
"And I heard you were one of the many who did so to her," the sorceress retorted curtly.
The servant heaved a sigh heavily laced with an air of defeat. "Well, you can cross off one thing on your list. You have me here, at your mercy. You want me dead, you have for a while now, why don't you just do it already?"
She raised an eyebrow in interest, and lifted her hand slightly. He acknowledged the fact that just by conversing the way he did with her, he had probably brought about his doom earlier than it would have come in the first place. So Merlin closed his eyes, bracing himself for the insurmountable surge of pain undoubtedly awaiting him. Would a knife plunge through his heart? Would she shatter his skull in two? Or would she send him crashing through the glass pane window, and upon impact of the fall snap his neck? And afterwards Gaius would gaze at his still, lifeless form just as Merlin had with his years ago.
A more disturbing thought struck him. Would anyone even find him, or attempt to? Of course they would, he reassured himself. After all, Arthur needed someone to put up with his abhorring attitude, along with his often tornado-wrecked looking chambers. He was only man in Camelot, he believed, that fit those qualifications set by Prince Prat.
However no lethal blow was delivered; or at least, it didn't feel like it had been. The warlock cracked an eyelid open, surveying the room to find that the scene had not altered at all. He still lay on the bed, and Nimueh eyed him with an amused grin.
"You're afraid of my every move. Normally I would revel in knowing that, but I have no more time for games. We have important business to discuss."
"Business? What business could I possibly have to discuss with you?" he asked with a tone of disgust.
Hand still hovering in the air, she hissed to the wind, "Refoveo mei sapor. Adducer mihi occasus bibere ab occasus filiolus."
Two goblets appeared on the small beside table to his right along with a wine bottle. With a flick of her wrist, the bottle uncorked itself and poured wine into both chalices, and set itself back down.
"Are you thirsty?" the Priestess inquired while grasping her own goblet.
He spoke nothing to her, but his answer was indicated by the involuntary smacking of his lips; an act of desperation to relieve his dry throat. She'd claimed that he hadn't been up for at least a day since his abduction, at least being the key word in the sentence, and therefore drinking water hadn't been a priority of his at the time.
"Would you care for some wine then?" she questioned.
"No," was his brisk reply.
"You puzzle me Merlin, in more ways than one. You are thirsty, yet you deny drink. You offered your life up as a sacrifice, and protested against another being taken in your place."
"That was not up to you to decide," he snapped.
"Onto business then, I suppose. I have a proposition of sorts for you, Merlin. The same proposition I proposed to you five years ago, changed slightly. You help me put Morgana on the throne, and then the world is ours to control."
The servant stared at her unblinking for a few moments, and the next thing he knew he was reeling his head back; his throat emitting an airy, coarse, bitter-filled chuckle. The idea in itself was comical! He helping Morgana to the title of Queen, when he had dethroned her three months ago!
Merlin declared, "You think I would ever help you? And you thought that I would agree to betray Arthur? Maybe you've forgotten why I went to the Isle of the Blessed and made that deal with you, but I have not. You should know I would never betray Arthur, not for anyone. Especially not for you or Morgana. I'd rather die."
Her sneer grew. "I know you would."
His proud smile faltered.
"You see Merlin, I've figured you out. You do not fear death. An admirable trait, it may get you far if you were a knight on a battlefield. But you are not. You have other fears, unique fears that do not plague the minds of common mortals, fears only known to those who have cared to witness life—and death. Fear of rejection. Fear of loss. Fear of persecution. Fear of the deaths of others.
But most of all Merlin, what I think is your deepest fear that you won't admit, is your fear of not knowing. Ever since you arrived in Camelot, ever since you discovered your supposed destiny, your life has been written out for you. If it were ever to become slightly unhinged, your world would crumble around you. If you hadn't been told you were meant to protect Arthur, do you think you would have saved his life from that knife? You're squandering your magic over some supercilious prince that will become king and die eventually, just as they all do, and where will you be?
And that fear of yours, of that unknowing, doesn't it itch at your very being every day when you save that Pendragon's life, not knowing whether when he does ascend to the throne that he will return magic to the lands? Ensure magic returns to the kingdom; if that is you truly wish. Choose your own destiny."
Her words hit him. Hard. Because she was right about his fears, how they burdened him so, and yet he had not a clue about hers. This meant she obtained leverage over him. Although despite that speech of hers, one aspect about it remained untrue. He would have saved Arthur from the knife, even if he hadn't known about what they were destined to create.
In fact, when Kilgharrah had spoken to him about Arthur in that first meeting, the young sorcerer found himself more determined not to follow the dragon's instructions, just to do it in spite. Frankly, he would have saved any man from that knife. And gradually, as time progressed, both servant and master understood each other more and more; realization dawning upon the pair that the other's outer shell was a mere façade to their true selves. These thoughts provided him the courage to detest Nimueh once more.
"How can I ensure magic returns to the kingdom while you're still alive? Who sparked Uther's hate for magic? Who set off a chain reaction that resulted in a vile discrimination that's lasted a generation, on both sides? Whose actions sentenced hundreds of innocent sorcerers to an undeserved, cruel damnation? It all leads back to you, everything. Every magical siege brought about by animosity for Uther, everyone's worries about the purge for some that drove them mad, every beheading and execution—it's all on you. And I bet that's something else Morgana doesn't know about you. You are the cause of a civil war that's nearly been the death of Camelot countless times!"
"And I am cause of Arthur's birth!"
A chilling silence settled over the room.
The sorceress rose from her seat, setting her wine glass down, and wandered over towards the door.
"I'll give you some time to reconsider your decision," she spoke quietly.
He proclaimed, "You underestimate Arthur…and me. Arthur will become a great king, far greater than you could possibly imagine, and as long as that stays true I will never betray him to be toyed with the likes of you."
"Perhaps that is true," she responded thoughtfully, "but perhaps that is what you have been taught."
The High Priestess slipped out the door and from his sight, but her words were never forgotten.
OoO
A groan escaped his mouth as a small, unfamiliar hand violently shook his shoulder; snapping him out of his rather restless sleep. Arthur blinked a couple of times to spot a young boy, no older than ten, standing before him impatiently holding a breakfast tray in one hand and an apple in another.
"Who are you?" he asked incredulously.
"Your new manservant, Sire," the boy responded dully and added, "Breakfast, Sire?"
"Yes I suppose so," the prince answered dismissively and the tray was dropped unceremoniously onto the blanket covering his lap. "Hold on a second. Is that my apple you're holding in your hand?"
"Yeah. You got a problem with that?"
The rude serving boy then proceeded to bite into the fruit, a resounding crunch echoing throughout the room. Arthur shook his head, used to ill-mannered people all too well, and started on what breakfast was still left on the tray.
The royal inquired, "Do you have a name?"
"Of course I have a name, who doesn't? It's Marvin."
He was pretty sure for a second he choked on one of his sausages. A day had passed since that cursed hunting trip, and no one had yet dared to mention Mer—that idiot's name after his talk with Gaius. Of course on the inside, Arthur's mind had been raging through hysterics, and he had almost convinced himself that his manservant had driven him to the depths of insanity. He had drawn up numerous plans, recovered maps, plotted rescue missions…all which he eventually tore up and started anew on a fresh sheet of parchment.
Where could he even begin? For a start, he wasn't even bloody conscious for when this Nimueh kidnapped his servant, so he knew nothing of her appearance! Nor did he have a clue of where to start the search. Where would a sorceress dwell anyway? To be honest, it seemed as if they all came to him.
So one question popped up immediately in his head at the announcement of this servant boy's name. Who had the gall to assign this boy, with this name so very similar to his friend's who could be very well be dea—injured… mildly injured, to be his servant?
"Marvin, is it?"
"Yeah," he replied boringly.
"You're dismissed from your duties. Permanently. Now get out," the prince ordered.
Before exiting the room however Marvin muttered, "Huh. Suppose that Merlin bloke was right about him being a prat."
"Out!"
The door quickly slammed shut, but even so Arthur chucked a plate at it for good measure.
It was bad enough Merlin persisted in haunting his dreams.
He didn't need him to haunt his life.
That's where I'm going to stop! Merlin and Nimueh; they didn't exactly hit it off, did they? There's a bit of unsettled tension between the two of them, but soon it won't just be back and forth bitter banter between the two of them.
By the way, I have the translation for the spell Nimueh used to conquer the wine. It means "Refresh my tastes. Bring me the drink of the gods."
Funny enough, I got this idea when I was thinking about the original Arthurian legends and the actual show Merlin and I was pondering over Nimueh's character. In the legends (or at least most of the tales anyway) she seduces Merlin and sometimes even ends up killing him, or more often he gets trapped in a cave or something. I know that they sort of did that in the Poisoned Chalice, but we got like five to ten minutes of that kind of interaction between them.
A lot of you want me to do a love triangle with Merlin, Nimueh, and Morgana and upon looking at the idea I'm seriously considering it. Except Nimueh and Morgana will not be madly in love with each other. XD
Poor, poor Arthur. I'm going to explain the whole 'Merlin haunting his dreams' thing next chapter. Am I a sadistic person for loving to psychologically torment my characters? Maybe…
Hope you guys liked Marvin! I was going to do George until I realized that he doesn't show up until season four, so I made my own OC servant who was like the complete opposite of George in every way.
Wow, this is getting to be an extremely long author's note. Sorry, I tend to digress. But I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please review!