Thanks so much for all the love you've shown this story! Thanks a million for all your amazing reviews, I've literally read them like five times :3
DISCLAIMER: If I owned Merlin, I would make a Season 6, and it would go something like this… :P
Chapter 11
People who knew Merlin in general perceived that the young warlock had an uncommonly large store of patience, and as such was hard to anger. But if he ever got irked past his fraying point, Merlin took a long time to vent off steam, and more often than not it involved him being moody and brooding throughout the day – or sometimes extending to a whole week given certain scenarios. Take for example, the Cedric incident.
This time, however, Merlin's 'brooding moment' was cut short pretty quickly. He had sulked all morning and uprooted Gaius' herbs with uncalled viciousness, but his mood didn't last long. Quite on the contrary, by around midday, Merlin was already grinning, widely: and the reason behind it was the two silver goblets nestled into a blue velvet-lined box.
It was ironic, Merlin decided, and perhaps due to much masochism on his part, that his previous annoyance had vanished completely at the prospect of a new murder attempt heading their way.
Bayard's gifts were exactly as he remembered: ornately decorated chalices with intricate patterns carved around the rim. Merlin recalled there was something about a Morteus flower involved, but he wasn't sure how to deactivate the poison. Just to be certain he scrutinized at them closely and quickly discovered a petal stuck on the inside of the smaller goblet.
"Aha," he muttered to himself. So that was the vessel of Nimueh's magic. He still couldn't be certain how a single petal stuck in a goblet would manage to do anything, but he had a fairly good idea about its nefarious purpose.
Still, it was hard not to feel buoyant at the prospect of more action in his new dreary, repetitive life. He could hardly remember the last time he'd used magic to achieve a deed of absolute greatness, unless saving the porridge Gaius had cooked for breakfast counted. Seeing as it only tasted remarkably like barley, Merlin thought it didn't.
Humming under his breath, Merlin placed the chalices back in their original position and proceeded to pace up and down beside the table. The gifts wouldn't be missed until the dinner banquet, where they would be presented to Uther as a gift, so he had plenty of time to act beforehand. His only concern was Nimueh whom he had yet to spot, but seeing as he couldn't sense any magical presence nearby, he supposed he was safe for the time being.
Merlin tapped a finger against his chin as he thought. If drinking poison for Arthur would be the key to winning Arthur's trust, he would gladly do it over in a heartbeat, but… things would go perfectly awry if Arthur didn't bother to go after the Morteus flower. After all, Merlin had barely met Arthur in this universe, and while he was slightly certain that the Prince did know his name, he wouldn't go as far as to say Arthur would sacrifice so much for him. They hadn't had many dangerous situations to 'bond over', save the dagger of course in which Arthur had taken care of himself.
Then Merlin would die, and this whole time traveling business would be the stupidest waste of time in all history of heroic acts.
Another voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Arthur had always been good and noble at heart, and the Prince would try to save Merlin irrelevant of who he was. But still… if Merlin stood back and watched things unfold just the way it went the first time round, wouldn't he be consciously playing right into the Nimueh's hands?
The thought tasted bitter on his tongue and burned angrily at the back of his mind. Why should he allow her the satisfaction of outsmarting him when he was already armed with the knowledge of future?
Merlin sniffed disdainfully before coming to an abrupt decision. Nimueh only had a day in Camelot to play her cards; Merlin had almost the rest of his life. He was pretty certain he would come to more chances soon enough.
Whistling nonchalantly under his breath, Merlin looked around the chamber and let a hand hover across the chalice…
…
-X-
If Arthur ever got nervous, because considering his training since childhood to become a knight and knights simply didn't get nervous – Arthur had a tendency to fidget to pace rapidly, with his speed varying on different degrees of antsy feelings.
As such, Arthur was striding up and down the length of the hall rapidly making loud, accelerated 'click-clack' noises with his boots, his cape billowing behind him like a red mushroom with each step. He was already dressed for the banquet tonight, when Camelot and Mercia would officially sign the treaty in front of the knights from both lands. Bayard and his men had arrived hours ago, and it wasn't until Bayard mentioned the word 'gifts' that had led to the key point of Arthur's distressed-like symptoms: because it meant the poisoned chalice was already somewhere in the castle and he had no idea whatsoever how to prevent the oncoming tragedy.
Merlin had no reason to be informed of the poisoned chalice this time, and in the off chance his current manservant was given the same tip-off, Arthur couldn't imagine the boy jumping at the opportunity to drink toxins for him. Neither did Arthur want the boy to. If Merlin the supposedly 'mighty and most powerful magical warlock to ever walk the earth' (he could practically hear the Lady of the Lake's voice in his ear) had barely lasted the ordeal, Arthur had no doubt in mind that the boy wouldn't survive past midnight, and certainly not long enough for Arthur to return from his quest.
So. Arthur would be doomed to die by knowingly swallowing poison.
It seemed a much more painful death than he'd expected.
Arthur could have slapped himself. He'd known all the while what was going to happen, had all those weeks to plan the outcome, but no – he'd been entirely focused on Merlin and finding more excuses to get Merlin as his manservant and trying to find chances to approach Merlin, and had all in all done nothing productive. He just couldn't accept the fact that they were destined to build Albion together as uncommunicating allies or something equally stupid rather than what they had been before.
Now, Arthur was regretting not riding off to the Forest of Balor to get the flower beforehand. He could have simply kept it in a jar or something and present it offhandedly to Gaius when the need arose. He was certain he could pull off the 'Oh, I think I do happen to have a Morteus flower in my chambers' very well. Arthur would have been celebrated as a life-saver, or at the very least have saved his own life – because it was either him or someone else who would need to down the poison.
But of course, in an act of pure wisdom the great Once and Future King had sat like a sodding duck as the threat headed in his way for a grand total of two weeks, only to panic like a headless chicken at the very last minute.
He couldn't well refuse drinking from the goblet; it was a rude and not to mention offensive gesture, and Arthur knew he couldn't quite risk it when Camelot and Mercia's relationship still stood on shaky ground. If it really came down to it, he supposed he could pretend to drink, and hope the servant collecting his goblet wouldn't comment on it being full. After all it was worth a try. Or better yet, he could find an excuse to dispose the goblet -
Wait. Hadn't there been a loud commotion when Merlin had burst into the dining hall, declaring that the chalice had been poisoned?
A slow smile spread across his lips. That might actually work!
"Acting, acting," Arthur murmured to himself as he resumed his pace. "It's all about the acting."
He inhaled deeply and nodded to himself, but suddenly he stopped. Footsteps were clicking down the hallway in a purposeful manner Arthur could only associate with Morgana, and an idea burst out like a light bulb in the back of his mind.
Arthur allowed his trained gaze to sweep across the long table. And there it was – a pitcher of water and a convenient cup sitting on the tray. They were both metal goblets: and to Arthur's eye, similar to any chalice Bayard cared to present. Immediately, Arthur rushed towards it and filled the cup to the brim with clear water. He speedily replaced the jug, leaned back against the table and started nursing his water in a picture of absolute calm.
The footsteps were getting louder now, and Arthur could make out words being exchanged. The clear, lilting tone was clearly Morgana's; the other probably belonged to a servant or a passing guard. Arthur's heart gave a solid 'thump' in his chest. He fixed his eyes resolutely on the high chandelier above the entrance. He was deep in thought. He couldn't hear anything happening around him. He didn't see the figures approaching round the bend, he didn't see the guards parting way for Morgana to enter. He was so deep in thought that the slightest motion would startle him –
Morgana walked through the double doors.
Action!
"MORGANA!" Arthur yelped loudly, and very convincingly so if he might say himself, and he dramatically flung the cup away in a gesture of shock. Water spewed everywhere, including in Morgana's direction, and she gave a slight shriek in shock at the unexpected welcome. The cup which would have connected with the floor accidentally clonked against the servant which had followed her in, earning another yell, and Arthur had to blink in surprise at the loud reactions he received from his little acting practice.
Note to oneself: fling the cup with less force next time. And towards the side. He didn't want to hit Bayard in the process.
"Arthur!" Morgana sputtered in a scandalized tone. Her velvet dress held some splotches of water stains from her sleeve to a small smattering of droplets dotting her skirt. Arthur hastened over to her side in an apologetic manner.
"I'm – sorry, I was deep in thought at the moment," Arthur said, coming to stand before her. He tried to convey a little meekness in his tone – he needed to look genuinely contrite when it came to Mercia's ruler – but he looked more like he was trying hard to be sorry. "Your entrance… startled me."
Morgana levelled a not-so-foreign cold, deadly glare in his direction, and for a moment Arthur's hand sub-consciously twitched towards his sword before he told himself to fall still. There was no cause to worry yet. Morgana didn't know she had magic, Morgana didn't know she had magic…
"I'm sure that's the case, Arthur," Morgana spoke through gritted teeth, her tone icy. Her words were an almost accurate imitation of a growl; Arthur could practically feel the accusing vibes radiating off her like sharp, stabbing daggers.
"Well, you see, it's like… Gaius - said!" Arthur said by way of defensive explanation. His hands automatically started to move in a wheeling motion before him as he tried to coax the words out of his brain. He forced himself to maintain a semi-confident voice. "The… plague… made my nerves a little – frayed – and I tend to you know, sometimes, react a little explosively to certain, situations." He ended by offering a slight amending smile, to which was met with stony faces.
"I've never heard Gaius say anything of that sort," a very unhelpful voice piped up.
Arthur raised his eyes. The servant who'd followed Morgana in, got doused with water and consecutively whacked by the goblet, had been none other than Merlin. Ah.
The boy's stubborn, sulking expression was back in place, and Arthur could make out a stark purple bruise from this morning blooming on the other's chin. Arthur pursed his lips. He knew by experience there was no reasoning with Merlin when he was wearing his hostile face. Well then.
"Of course you wouldn't," Arthur said in a falsely pleasant tone that hinted at biting acidity to come, "I highly doubt you would be privy to anything regarding my health condition. It's called royal confidentiality, Merlin."
At this, Merlin visibly flared with indignation, and Arthur had to fight the pleased grin from breaking out across his face at the effect of his words. To Arthur's mild disappointment however Merlin was given no chance to retort.
"I came to tell you that the final negotiations are to be made," Morgana cut in their argument coldly. "Uther asks for you to be present."
She wasn't pressing the issue anymore, but Arthur recognized the wary and assessing look in Morgana's eyes, and her gaze prickled uncomfortably at his skin. Arthur cleared his throat and forced a brighter smile.
"Of course. I shall see him at once."
He nodded briefly in Morgana's direction before leaving. But at the last minute Arthur decided it would be appropriate to show more concern towards Morgana seeing as he had partially ruined her dress by 'accident', so he stopped and added, a tad eloquently: "Sorry, about all of that. Your dress still looks, good, on you."
Morgana's eyes sharpened in their intensity. Arthur fumbled for something to say, but quickly gave up and shrugged.
"Well, there's hardly time to change anyway."
…
"People of Camelot!" Bayard began, his hands outstretched as if to embrace the hall. "For a great many years we have been mortal enemies. But today, the treaty that we sign will mark the start of a new beginning for both of our lands."
Arthur joined in the smattering of applause that rose up in the hall. He faced the front rigidly, though a few times he allowed his gaze to drift to the side, where his current manservant was donned out in the royal servant attire – a golden dragon emblazoned across a red vest. The hideous feathery hat was missing though, privately because Arthur thought the hat only looked good on Merlin.
Up front Bayard resumed his long-winded speech.
"Throughout these decades, the noble blood of our men has been spilt, staining the grounds from the great walls of Camelot to the gates of Mercia…"
Basically, many died. Arthur withheld the sigh aborning from deep within and allowed his attention to wander.
" – and although we must remember the fallen, we cannot allow more to join them."
Morgana was still wearing a frigid expression even though Arthur could hardly make out any splotches of water over her dress. He doubted she'd managed to change in such a short amount of time, but still the damage repair Gwen must have done was quite impressive, because apparently the rich fabric Morgana had been wearing could be spoilt if directly exposed to water. Arthur didn't bother to hide his disdain at the fact: if that was true clearly the very point of cloth had been lost on that dress.
Merlin on the other hand, was standing beside Gwen at the sides, exchanging words and smiles. He was wearing his one of his better normal attires that looked less worn out and ragged. Arthur felt a jolt of jealousy shoot through him when Gwen laughed at something Merlin muttered under his breath and averted his gaze. Why did it always seem as though he was the only miserable one?
"As a symbol of our goodwill, and newfound friendship," Bayard paused, before slowly turning around to hold up something wrapped under fine silk, "I present to you these gifts."
It worked like a magic word.
Immediately Arthur's attention snapped over to Bayard with sudden intensity, and his pulse quickened. Bayard didn't seem to notice; he began moving forwards while clutching a beautiful wooden box in his hands.
"I give to you these ceremonial goblets," Bayard continued as he advanced, "To you Uther and your son, Arthur, in the hope that our friendship may last."
Mutely Arthur received the goblet, and allowed his servant to fill it to the brim. His countenance gave nothing away, but secretly he was already weighing the goblet in his hands. His keen gaze scrutinized the chalice. Its body was long and of equal width from top to the base of the cup. It would be more of a challenge to spill all of it, but Arthur's confidence was not shaken. Seeing as it was tradition to empty their drinks, he just had to make sure the goblet was emptied properly when it fell. It couldn't be that hard.
Now, he only had to wait for Merlin to crash in yelling, and he could play his part.
And so he waited.
"Tonight we begin this toast to our people, to look towards a brighter future – "
Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur's gaze followed a servant girl heading purposefully towards Merlin. Good.
"A future that is free from the hardships and toils of war…"
Anytime now.
"And peace for all our people."
It was then when, in a flash of chilling understanding, something occurred to Arthur.
Why on earth would she want to approach Merlin? Shouldn't she be telling his current manservant instead?
-X-
Merlin followed Nimueh out of the banquet hall. All the while he held a puzzled air of wonderment as if he couldn't relate to the urgency in her tone at all. He even paused beside Gwen to flash her a smile, and signaled to Gaius discreetly that he would be back soon. At his third gesture Nimueh promptly snagged his arm and practically dragged him out of the hall. Privately a small gleam of triumph bubbled up in his heart.
The moment they were in a dimly lit passageway outside, Nimueh rounded on Merlin. Her hands were shaking as she clutched his in her own.
"The goblet it's been poisoned, I saw it myself, it's Bayard's plan!" she garbled in a rush the moment they were out of sight, fear clouding her eyes. There was a very noticeable tremor in her voice.
Much like the first time round, only with abundant patience on his part, Merlin paused her by holding up a hand gently. "Wow – wow – wow," he said with impeccable calm. "Slow – down. Begin from the very, very start, okay?" he offered her a benign smile.
A flash of irritation appeared in the slight narrowing of her eyes before Nimueh hurriedly composed herself.
"Two days ago, I was bringing Bayard his evening meal," she began again, "I was supposed to knock – "
"Hold on, hold on!" Merlin interrupted with a slight laugh. It might have sounded a little gleeful. "Speak slowly, alright? There's no need to rush."
"There is no time!" Nimueh hissed at him angrily. Her patience was waning thin. "Look, I saw it with my own eyes. I saw Bayard, he didn't expect me to walk in there at that time." She paused slightly for effect, but it was clearly lost on Merlin when he looked back at her with a completely gormless expression. Gritting her teeth she continued, "Bayard is no friend of Camelot. He craves the throne for himself! He believes if he kills Arthur, Uther's spirit will be broken and Camelot will fall!"
Inside, Bayard was reaching the end of his speech. "And may the differences of our past remain there. To your health, Uther – "
There was a scraping of chairs as the knights stood up. Nimueh was visibly panicking by now, she seized Merlin by the hand and spoke fearfully, dramatically, "I saw him putting something in the goblets."
She stopped again, afraid, expecting Merlin to say something, but he didn't. He just simply stood there, staring at her, clueless.
" – Arthur – " Bayard's voice echoed through the hallway.
"If I tell you this, he'll kill me!" Nimueh continued in a terrified whisper, her eyes darting around the corridor. Tears were welling up in her blue orbs by now.
" – the Lady Morgana – "
Merlin said nothing. He didn't react at all.
"It's poison!" Nimueh half-shrieked in his face. Her nails dug into his arms so hard Merlin fought the urge to wince.
" – the people of Camelot – " Bayard said.
Merlin blinked owlishly at her and shifted slightly, apologetically. "You know," he began in a hesitant voice, "it must be because you're all the way from Mercia – "
"And to the fallen warriors of your side," Uther finished, solemnly.
" - your accent is very different, and I couldn't understand a thing you were saying," Merlin said in a rush.
There was a heartbeat's pause as Nimueh simply looked at him, stricken, as if she couldn't believe all her planning had ended up with this.
"I'm sorry," Merlin offered sheepishly.
The silence in the hall was deafening, as the rulers of Camelot and Mercia raised their goblets for the toast. Nimueh looked at Merlin with a fierce sort of desperation and clutched his shoulders for one last ditch attempt.
"Bayard – poisoned – Arthur's – goblet," she enunciated each word clearly to get her point across. "If he drinks, he will die!" And she held her breath, watching Merlin with her penetrating gaze, gauging him for a reaction.
As if in slow motion, Merlin's mouth fell wide open to reveal an 'O'. He began to panic.
"Then we must do something!" Merlin looked around in a wild frenzy. His eyes darted around the dimly lit passageway before landing on her once more. Nimueh barely had a second's relief at Merlin's understanding before he suddenly seized her hand in his tightly. "We must inform them together!" he declared.
And he began to drag her towards the hall. Nimueh's eyes widened in horror.
"No, no, no!" she half-screeched, but it fell deaf on Merlin's ears. "He'll kill me!"
"Don't worry! I won't let him do anything to you!" he cried gleefully.
And before she could extract herself from his grip, Merlin had managed to drag them back into the hall. He pushed past servants quietly, muttering apologies with practiced calm until they reached the middle. To make things worse for the sorceress, Arthur himself had yet to drink from the goblet, and was currently staring at the pair of them with a mixture of surprise and regret as if he'd just missed his cue.
All eyes in the hall were on them now, in a mixture of curiousity and bewilderment as two servants seemed to materialize right into the centre of the banquet. Merlin drew himself to his fullest height.
"I am very sorry to interrupt, but this brave serving girl from Mercia brings us shocking news," Merlin said gravely. He raised Nimueh's hand which was still trapped in his. "She has just accused Bayard of poisoning Prince Arthur's goblet!"
A/N: *evil cackles* I had so much fun writing this one! On the other hand fanfiction net has had a few login problems these days, so I thought I should post it up when I still have the chance. School is reopening soon, so my writing time is going to get limited. Hope you enjoyed! =D Review please?
