Author's Note
Hello everyone! You are all going to kick me now, right? I can never apologize enough, okay? I am sorry for late updates and sucky updates at that, I really hope you all like this chapter because yay! New characters! And we get to see a bit more of Youth and Diarmuid's mind... I actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter and there was a part of it that took me a while and I legit fell asleep :$ Haha, hopefully it's not that boring for you guys :) Please enjoy and I would just like to thank everyone for all the great reviews and support :)
Sincerely,
Ms. AtomicBomb
It was the ringing in his ear that had awoken him. He groaned, his head feeling heavy and the sleepy notion continued to cling to his mind. He felt sick, his stomach a little uneasy and it only made him feel worse. He sat up slowly and immediately felt a sharp stinging sensation emitting from his back. Diarmuid could not hold back the cry of pain that left his lips.
The pain in his back was unbearable and he began to wonder what on earth was causing him so much harm. His surroundings were unknown to him and he was having trouble understanding what had occurred for him to end up sitting in a strange place with his back aching greatly. He felt cold and slightly afraid of what he did not know.
He recalled hunting a deer and nearing a small creek, but there was nothing else that made him piece any happenings together. His head ached to the point that there was even pain in his eyes and then he began to think if he had been drugged. Groaning a little softly, he let his feet touch the wooden floor and he stood rather unsteadily. Pain quickly emitting to his brain and then he concluded that he had probably hit the floor too hard whilst he fainted—a concussion. Using the bed he had been sleeping on as a fall back net, he took a step and immediately he heard a tick.
The room he was in was not large, but there was enough light leaking in that it made him conclude that he was not being held hostage. Plus, the bed had been rather comfortable. The room was not extravagant and it was evident that who ever was helping him—a rather delicate word—was a poor fellow. Only a nightstand was below the small window, a seat next to it and the bed. The floor was all wooden, but there was a brown carpet that almost matched the wood in the center of the room.
The sound of the floor boards scared him and he fell back onto the bed. In an instant, a woman came through the door, that also made a weird sound. Red hair fell into ringlets reminding him of fire and bright green eyes blinking; worry evident in the irises. "Thank goodness that you are awake!" The beautiful woman clapped her hands together. The freckles on her cheeks and nose were very visible due to her pale skin—she was beautiful. Even her voice was as soothing as a melody.
Blinking a couple of times, he held his aching head, "He...llo?" He greeted, quite unsure of who the woman was. He was trying to match her features to someone he knew before, but he could not remember who she resembled. Her beauty was beyond him and he knew that he would be able to match a face like hers with a name, but the headache was causing him confusion. He knew her, he swore it.
"Good afternoon," she smiled—her pink lips moving so sweetly, "How are you feeling now?" Her eyebrows were knitted together in a worrying expression. There was something that did not sit well with him, but he overlooked it as he kept his eyes locked with her grass green gaze. Her features were so mesmerising for some reason, and it made him a little pensive.
"My head aches, but it might not be anything bad," he found himself answering a complete stranger, his mind slightly scolding him for it, but there was a part of it that did not mind. He did not even flinch when she approached him to check his temperature. Her hand was soft, delicate and little bit cold; she would probably think he had a fever—but that did not even matter. His eyes were trained on every move of hers. The way her hips swung when she walked towards the night table, the steady way she breathed and the smell of lavender that surrounded her; they were all floating around his head.
"Well," she spoke once more, her voice lulling him back to slumber, "I will go and make you some soup, and I will get a potato for your fever, alright?" She turned back to him from the nightstand, her eyes blinking only a few times.
"Thank you..." He did not know her name and thus looked at her a little dumbfounded and confused. How did she even find him in the forest? Let alone drag him all the way to her cabin without any trouble.
"Oh!" She gasped, "Forgive me, dear Knight, I am Sileas, daughter of John the store clerk." She introduced before leaving to get him what he was in need of. She seemed like a lovely young lady full of spirit and kindness, but there was still something that Diarmuid found strange deep inside.
"Alright," she spoke as she entered the room once more, "You have to make sure to rest well. I am sure that you are not feeling one hundred percent well—what with that brand on your back and all."
"Brand?" He was quick to catch something so odd, "What do you mean?"
Sileas took a deep breath and turned towards him after setting the food down on the nightstand. "I am sorry to say, my dear knight, but you have been branded. It is some sort of Celtic pattern with strange words on it. I haven't any idea of what it might be, but it is certainly not humanly manufactured," she spoke as her voice remained sweet, "I found you in the forest, your back was bleeding and I found it branded."
"The forest? You found me in the forest? Was I near a river?" He asked as he remembered the beautiful scenery, the deer in front of him; the weight change of when he launched his yellow lance across the clearing.
Nodding, she stood straight and then proceeded to sitting on the seat near the window, "Did someone attack you? An animal maybe?"
Shaking his head in disapproval, he tried to think back. "What is the time of day?" He asked as he noticed that the light was too weak and the angle of the sun was a little irritating.
"It is almost evening," she replied with a simple smile.
"Sunday?"
"Monday."
Diarmuid's orange hue gaze grew within seconds and he stood from the bed a little too quickly that it had made his head ache. "I must return to Camelot," he had figured that the King and Gawain had returned to the castle to explain how he had gone missing.
"Camelot?" Sileas questioned, delight evident in her green eyes and small amazement on her features, "You are from Camelot?"
"Yes," there was no real answer for the question because technically he did come from Camelot, even if he was an Irishman.
She tilted her head a little bit, "Are you going to leave today?"
He nodded in a short reply and shut his eyes tightly as he rubbed his temples to calm his pain down. "Indeed," he assured, "Thank you for your hospitality, Milady Sileas." He gathered his belongings and he blinked at her as he stood by the door.
"But you are hurt," she protested against his leave.
"I am sorry," he apologised, "but I must return to Camelot."
"You are in no condition to ride a horse,"
Diarmuid sighed and gave her a serious look, "I have only been branded—God only knows by who—but I have not been seriously injured," he held his voice in monotone, "I will be leaving now."
Sileas was unable to stop him when he had quickly placed his tunic on (with much trouble), and walked out the room's door. She followed after him as he stood by the front door and bowed in her direction. Diarmuid had thanked her for the hospitality and then he had turned around. Opening the door slowly, he heard her sweet voice, "The deer you hunted is near your horse, and so are your lances."
He shot his head to face her once more, confusion flooding his features. The deer? He swore on his honour that he had missed it. There was no possible way that his loance had hit it in such a way when he witnessed the yellow weapon skim it lightly. Turning back towards the exit, he left the small cabin and saw his horse—the familiarity making him comfortable once more. As she had said, the deer was right next to it, still as a rock and bleeding from it's side.
"I wish you the best of luck, Diarmuid," she waved from the doorstep as he had readied his horse, the deer behind himself and lances strapped to the saddle.
After giving her a nod of acknowledgement, he turned his horse towards the forest with the reins and headed towards the castle's city. It took him a long while for the sudden realization to hit him; she knew his name. He was much too far now to question her, and that thought lingered in his mind for the entirety of the ride; how did she know his name?
His arrival in the city had been long awaited; he had been missing for two days now, and the King had thought that he had had enough of his knightly training and so he had left. But upon his arrival, with a deer on his horse, it had sparked the King's interest. Even if it had taken Diarmuid two days to catch the deer, he had done as he had promised.
"Diarmuid," the king had a small smile of satisfaction on his lips, "I thank you for the deer, how were you able to catch it? Tell us," he beckoned. It was evident that the King was super excited to hear the long and action packed story.
Diarmuid frowned, and then he looked away from the King, as so not to face him when he was embarrassed, "My King," he took a deep breath, "I...I do not quite recall." Once the words had left his mouth, the entire room started chattering and his headache returned.
"Whatever do you mean?" The King furrowed his brows, rather bewildered by the answer.
He blinked. "I remember throwing my lance towards the animal, but I could have sworn that I did not quite injure it."
Arthur frowned, "But the deer is here, you had to kill it."
"I awoke in a Cabin," Diarmuid breathed, "a little close to the creek that I had cornered the deer at. Apparently, I had passed out," now he was even more embarrassed, "and somehow I had caught the deer."
Once again the King had become even more confused as he looked on to the male, "Well then, you still brought the deer with you; that is all that counts." He could see the genuine embarrassment and truthfulness in the other male's orange eyes.
Copper eyes were widened. "Thank you, My King." Diarmuid bowed because he had nothing else to say, he was even taken aback by the King's words.
"Arthur!" The doors of his chambers burst open, causing him to jump in sudden fear and a line of ink crossed the very important document. "Get that man out of here!" The feminine voice demanded, pale green eyes mixing with a tint of blue stared the King down.
"Morgana," the King sighed and then turned to his sister, "Yes?" He was leaving behind his papers and let his feather pen drop next to them.
"I want him out!" She hissed between clenched teeth, "He is but a splotch of dirt on this clean castle!"
"Morgana, please settle down and take a deep breath because I know not what you speak of," he blinked in patience.
The woman balled her hands into fists and grunted loudly. How was he so stupid? She continued to repeat over and over in her mind. Taking deep breaths—which were full of rage—she tried to look calm, "One of your recruits needs to go. I can feel it and it is so very annoying." She was still mad because he could hear it in her voice, but she was trying to please him.
"What are you blabbering on about?"
The door opened again, this time in a more gentle manner, and the King's trusted friend entered, "What the Lady Morgana is trying to say, is that... well... A recruit of yours has been marked."
"Marked?" Arthur looked at Merlin, "What?"
"There is a bloody brand on them! Warning others not to touch such a prized possession," Morgana rolled her beautiful eyes in annoyance. She was beginning to get irritated at the King's obliviousness that it was driving her insane.
Arthur furrowed his brows, "Which one of my recruits would have something like that?"
"The Irish one!" She retorted.
"Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, sire," Merlin calmly replied after Morgana's burst of anger.