Chapter 11:
Merlin's eyes were wide, "Murdered? Why, he was just a servant."
Sir Leon looked over at him, his eyes resting just below his chin before they rose to meet his.
"He wasn't just a servant, he was the servant to the Prince."
The air seemed t grow heavier at these words, and the slave tried to understand what the knight hadn't said. Why kill a servant, a Prince can always get another one? What does that accomplished? A chill settled over the boy as a revelation hit him like the hilt of a sword. If the servant, Oliver hadn't gone missing...murdered, I would have not been assigned to be Arthur's temporary replacement. Had that not happened I would not be able to help him. Is this part of that destiny righting itself or is someone interfering?
"…Gaius."
The slave shook himself, his hand still covering his nose with his neckerchief. He turned in time to see one of the guards leave back the way they came. Sir Leon stood up and walked the perimeter of the room. Thick layers of dust covered all the items, nothing looked to be disturbed. As the knight came back to where Merlin stood he frowned. With a flick of his wrist he gathered his Camelot red cape in one hand and carefully backed up a step, with his eyes focused on the ground.
The knight bent to one knee and used his free hand to touch the ground. The slave squinted, angling his head so he could try to see what Sir Leon saw; all he saw was dust on the ground, thick except in small patches, which had less. Footprints. There are footprints.
"He walked in here voluntarily?" The slave mumbled to himself.
A sharp glance from the knight let him know that he had heard him. Heat flashed up his neck, and Merlin looked away. A yawn caught the slave by surprise; it's not even mid-afternoon. Merlin shook his head in an effort to shake off the wave of exhaustion that crashed over him. Blinking rapidly, he had to fight to keep his eyes open over the next several long minutes as they waited for the guard to return.
The blond knight studied the floor from several different angles; he put his own boot next to one footprint and then another. Crouching down, he then studied his boot in comparison to the dead servant. Merlin just stood silently, concentrating on breathing without letting too much of the rotting smell of death in as little as possible.
Two sets of footprints echoed, one quick and even while the other was more of a shuffle. The stiffness in the slaves shoulders eased slightly Sir Leon noted. The boy quickly left his position hurrying to meet the newcomers. When the boy appeared next he was in possession of the old physician's round pack and two long poles, which he carried awkwardly.
Nodding to the wizen man, Sir Leon stepped back from the body so as to allow him easy access. Gaius observed the body in its original position for a moment before he knelt down beside his splayed out arms.
"No obvious signs of trauma, " the physician sighed as he rolled the boy over and checked for dried blood or abnormal bruising. Finding none, he turned to the two guards, "I'll know move once I can examine him in my chambers."
Taking his cue, Merlin set the pair of long poles down and apart so that the body could be laud on the fabric that connected the two poles together. The two guards then stepped forward, transferring the body to the stretcher before picking it up. The quartet left the vault, and made their way towards the Court Physician's rooms.
"Your book! Gaius, I forgot your book!" The boy's brows raised while the corner of his mouth dropped in consternation. He turned back towards the underground chambers only to be pulled to a stop by Gaius' hand on his sleeve.
"Merlin, it is alright. The book can wait, first we need to find the cause of Oliver's death."
Understanding the urgency, the slave continued behind Gaius until they reached his chambers. Scurrying up the stairs, Merlin opened the door to allow Gaius, the guards and Sir Leon through. Closing it behind him, the slave turned around to find the guards already deposited the body on a table and were leaning the poles up against the wall. They looked to the knight who nodded their dismissal. Merlin hastily open the door for them before closing it again.
Gaius tipped the head from side to side, lifted one eyelid and peered into the bloodshot eyes. Hpmh. Lifting the left hand, the older man studied the servant's fingertips. Merlin watched with interest as Gaius mumbled his observations to himself.
"Gaius?"
The old man looked up at the knight, "It looks like he was suffocated, but I'll need to confirm that once I finish."
Nodding his understanding, Sir Leon left with a, "I shall inform the King and Prince Arthur."
"Arthur!" Merlin exclaimed, looking at Gaius.
"I am alright, you are free to return to Prince Arthur."
"Thanks Gaius!" The slave called over his shoulder as he dashed out the door. Pounding down the steps, he had to throw out his arms to catch himself as he stumbled down the last step. Once he was stable, he hurried down the corridor towards the Prince's chambers. Sprinting around the corner the distinctive yellow dress of Gwen's flashed at the end of the hallways. Another familiar set of clothing registered in his brain, that of a servant of Ulbein. Dressed in the gray-blue robes, the blonde haired servant bent his neck forward and Gwen moved a step closer.
Hearing him approaching the servant looked over Gwen's shoulder and motioned slightly for her to turn. As she did, the servant's face twisted into a smirk; it stretched his scar, marring his face. Merlin slowed down as he saw Gwen's eyes widen, quickly she turn around to a concerned blonde and nodded before fleeing from the slave's presence.
The slave stopped several feet from the servant, his face lined with confusion. Gazing down the path Gwen had taken he felt something cold seize his heart and squeeze. Why would she run away…from me? What did he tell her?
The sound of the servant's boots coming to a stop beside him caused Merlin's shoulders to tense.
"I felt it only fair to warn her of what happened to the last girl you got close to," the servant explained, his breath hot against the slave's neck.
"I wish someone had warned me," he hissed.
A second boulder took residence in the slave's belly. His shoulders drooped in response to the servant's dark chuckles, as he left the slave standing alone in the hallway. The slave shivered at a non-existent breeze; his eyes focused on the last place he had seen Gwen. Taking a deep breath, Merlin clenched his left hand in a fist; so tight that his knuckles were bone white, small beads of red appeared on his palm. Letting out his captured breath, he slowly uncurled his fist and wiped his hand on his neckerchief.
Merlin continued on his path to Arthur's heedless of the influx of chatter as more servants used the hallways to get to their various destinations. Head bent slightly, he let his eyes study the ground without attention to those coming at him. He didn't flinch when his shoulder collided with another's, he didn't raise his hand in greeting to the handmaid Sara; he didn't react when his name was called.
He entered the Prince's room to find it empty of Arthur. Spying on the table Merlin sat down and picked up the first boot. As he scrubbed at the leather, he allowed his mind to wander over the events of the past. Was it really just this morning that Gaius and I had gone to pick herbs and he helped me to learn about all those plants? Then we were attacked and that guy saved us! I never thanked him for that. I wonder if he is awake yet? I should check on him, Gaius would be pretty busy with Oliver's body.
Oliver was Arthur's personal manservant, what if they killed him to get him out of the way so that they can get to Arthur? Surely a servant wouldn't have been much of a challenge. Why the need to kill him? Merlin sighed, as he examined the boot in hand. Satisfied, he placed it down on the ground and moved to the next one. Protect Arthur. How am I supposed to protect him? I can barely keep myself alive. I don't understand, why me? I am a slave. I can't do anything. He's got the wrong person. He was mistaken, that's it, he has mistaken me for someone else. The slave set the matching boot next to the other. He grabbed the ceremonial boots and looked them over carefully.
Quirking an eyebrow, Merlin rolled his eyes; these shoes are practically new, why do I need to polish these? Shrugging, he set about finishing the boots; he was just setting them down when the door opened and Prince Arthur walked through. Glancing up, the slave watched as the Prince paused as he took note of him in the room. When he continued to stare Merlin felt the need to inquire, "Sire?"
"The first day of your arrival, where were you?"
"With Gaius, the Court Physician, Sire."
"And after that?"
"I had to spend the night as I fell down the stairs on my way, my lord." Red stained his cheeks, and he had to look away.
"I will have Gaius confirm this, of course," Prince Arthur informed distractedly.
"I'm sorry about Oliver, Sire."
The Prince looked confused for a moment before he nodded.
"Carry on, then."
The Prince walked over to his desk and sat down.
Merlin glanced at him briefly, as he reached over and plucked up his breastplate. Blue eyes met blue eyes, the first looked away, concentrating on the task at hand. Sounds of a quill scratching on parchment mixed with the soft rubbing of cloth on metal.
Kick keech kisssh kich skriiick
Eeeii Eee eeeee
Merlin set the final piece down, and leaned back in the chair, arching his back until he felt several satisfying cracks break the silence. He froze. The slave realized he didn't hear the scratching of the Prince's quill nib; turning he met Arthur's eyes. They stared at each other unblinkingly; the Prince's eyes were hard so Merlin looked away quickly.
Why is he staring at me? Did Gwen say something? Did he? Merlin's hands twitched, he clenched his right hand and released it several times. The feeling of his eyes boring into his side caused an unconscious response. The slave hunched his shoulders and ducked his head before he reached for the gold circlet. Carefully he cleaned every surface of it.
Slowly, Merlin relaxed his shoulders as he heard the scratching on parchment once more. Holding the circlet up close, he turned it over and around scrutinizing every facet.
"What will your new crown look like once you are Crown Prince?"
"That is it."
"Oh."
With reverence, the slave set the circlet on a velvet pillow, his hand caressing the edge of the tasseled pillow.
"The King's crown is even more ornate and large."
"I did see it the night I served you, before I got thrown into the dungeons."
He chanced a glance over at the Prince who was smirking at the memory. Thinking back on that night the slave frowned.
"What about the Queen? She wasn't there that night."
Arthur didn't answer; his eyes were locked on the quill in his hands. He turned it over and over, his fingers playing with the feather. Merlin studied the Prince, eyes searching his face before dripping to Arthur's hands. Realization slapped him in the face; he felt the blood drain from his face.
"Oh-uh, I-I didn't-"
"My Mother died soon after I was born."
"Sorr. I-um-don't-uh—"
"I have only seen her crown a few times, but there is a painting of my Mother down in the vaults."
"The vaults…?" Why would the only painting of the King's wife, Arthur's Mother be in the underground vaults?
"Would you like to see her?"
Merlin's eyes snapped up, disbelief and surprise written on his face. Arthur's fingers ran over the feather as he waited for the boy's answer. When the slave didn't immediately reply, the Prince stood and motioned for the boy to follow him. Merlin pushed the pillow back from the edge before he hurried after him.
The trip was a short one, not nearly as far down as the cavern with the dragon but to Merlin it might as well have been. He threw his hands up to cover his mouth as a yawn took him by surprise. Peeking over at the Prince, he was glad to see that he hadn't caught the yawn.
They came to a stop before a locked gate where Arthur pulled a set of keys from his belt and unlocked it. Hinges squeaked as the Prince pushed it open. Merlin squinted into the darken vault, he skipped back to the nearest lit torch and brought it with him. He came to stop where Arthur stood gazing up at a large painting, easily the size of Merlin and then some. The slave watched the Prince as his eyes drunk in the strokes that made up the only image he had of his Mother. He watched as those blue eyes moving back and forth, as his lower lip trembled ever so slightly.
The slave turned his attention to the painting with its ornate gold frame. A deep dark background helped to pop out the soft tones of the fair skinned blonde hair woman. Dressed in flowing white robes with intricate stitching and beadwork. Her delicate hands were resting lighting on her stomach. Her head was adorned with a gold bejeweled crown, which rested on her curls.
Concentration creased the slave's brow as he took a step closer while he angled the torch away from the painting. He gasped slightly, wonder in his eyes. Arthur turned to him, "What is it?"
"You are in this painting, Sire."
"What are you talking about? Are you blind? I never knew my Mother, she died just after I was born, I told you that. There is only one person there: my Mother."
"No. You're wrong."
The slave shook his head, his eyes shifted from the painting to Arthur. The Prince's eyebrow raised in derision, he opened his mouth to ridicule the slave's obvious mistake but Merlin continued over him.
"Look, she's pregnant; with you."
Merlin pointed to where the Queen's hands rested on her stomach, which as the Prince looked more closely, was shadowed with child.
"You had nine months with her, and I am sure she cherished every day of it," the slave whispered.
After several more moments of the Prince studying his Mother with new perspective, he turned to the slave whose eyes were fixated on the plaque at the bottom of the frame. In neat script were the words Queen Ygraine.
"Let's go Merlin, it's time for supper."
The slave tore his eyes from the words, following the Prince out of the vault. He barely remembered to put the torch back where he had found it as they passed by on their way up.
Ygraine…where have I heard that name before? Both were silent as their minds were occupied from their experience in the vault. The hallways were bustling with servants as they hurried to finish their tasks by supper. Merlin almost didn't stop in time when Arthur paused to speak with Gwen, who he didn't see, so preoccupied was he. The boy dropped his eyes as he heard them converse easily; he studied the slightly uneven flooring. It was only a moment later that he listened to the Prince bid her well as she continued on her way.
Arthur's brow creased, his eyes darted from the slave's bowed head to Gwen's retreating back. Turning back around he led them to the hall where he is to dine with his Father, Morgana and the visiting King. They came to the door just after King Severus and his manservant entered; Merlin avoided everyone's eyes.
Taking his place behind the Prince, he stared resolutely at Arthurs cup, which had been filled prior to his arrival. The soft sounds of silverware chinking against plates filled the air as the royals conversed over supper. Leaning back against a wall for support, the slave locked his knees in place, one hand covering his mouth; another yawn attacked him. His eyes flickered around the room, Prince Arthur had King Severus' attention with his Father occasionally inserting. The slave's hand dropped to his neck, his index finger tugged at his neckerchief when his eyes caught the Lady Morgana's. Her head tilted in his direction, her green eyes clouded with concern. Flushing, Merlin dropped his gaze once more, his hand still fiddling with his neck.
The scraping of a cup on the table brought his eyes to the table, a quick glance confirmed his suspicion. Approaching her side, the slave tipped his pitcher to refill the Lady's cup when her hand darted to the sleeve of his shirt, a quick tug and her hand was gone once more. Turning to move back to his spot, he gave her a tiny shake of his head and resumed his spot. She sat back against her chair, her mind elsewhere.
Protect Arthur…Blinking, the slave glanced toward the Prince who was nodding at something his Master was saying. The shift of shadows next to the slave took his attention away from the table over to the Ulbein servant, the one who was currently serving his Master. Draco. The sudden need to swallow a lump in his throat caused the slave to clear his throat as quietly as he could.
Ahem….Ughh. Furrowed brow, merlin put a fist to his mouth, coughing. His breath wheezed from his lungs, the tightness of his throat elicited a deep, loud cough. It echoed in the room causing conversations to cease. The slave used his fist to pound his chest, as his face grew red from the lack of air. Grey spots pulsated in his vision as his lungs screamed for relief. His fingers lost their strength; the pitcher fell. Knees collapsed beneath him as he lost control, he slid down the wall; coming to curl in on himself. He didn't hear the scrapping of a chair as a delicate hand rested on his arm; he didn't register the lack of clanging as the other servant caught the pitcher as it fell. He didn't see the servant stumble as Arthur pushed him out of the way in order to reach Merlin. A heavy hand crashed against his back.
Thump thump thud.
The slave gasped as his airway cleared on the third hit. Coughing, he waved the Prince and Lady Morgana away, his face burned red. Weaving, he used his hands to brace himself as he staggered to regain his original place.
"Sorry. I-uh-choked," he rasped.
Arthur didn't respond, he merely raised an eyebrow, which merlin took as a question.
"Erm, on air. I apologize, my lords and lady."
He bowed long enough to show deepest apologies, while clearing his throat discreetly. Straightening, he nodded to Prince Arthur who paused for only a moment longer before resuming his seat. Picking up his goblet he took a drink and set it back down as his Father engaged him in conversation.
The slave gratefully took back the pitcher from Draco with a dip of thanks; he glowered back. The meal continued with a distinct lack of contribution from the Lady Morgana, leaving it to Arthur to exchange words with the King.
"If you will excuse me, my lords; I shall retire early."
The Lady Morgana's eyes were on neither as she stood up, the men rose with her, whose brow creased in worry, nonetheless King Uther bade her goodnight. Her eyes darted to Arthur, who nodded politely, then over the shoulder of their visitor before she left the tag. Pausing beside the slave, she requested a tonic be delivered to her.
"Of course, my Lady."
The soft rustle of fabric followed her out the door as she retreated, aware of the sets of eyes at her back. A dull click announced her complete departure. Arthur regarded the door over his shoulder, he sat looking at it a moment before he bid the slave forward with a crook of his index finger. Stepping forward, Merlin bent to hear him, "Be sure to have Gaius giver her both a headache and sleep tonic. Be off with you, the other servant can serve us."
Nodding, he left the pitcher with Draco, who sneered at him as he gave it to a kitchen aide and grabbed a newly refilled one in time to attend Uther. Merlin quietly closed the door behind him, turning he yelped as he crashed on his bum. Scrambling to his knees, he bowed down, apologies spilling out of him like water from a waterfall.
"Ah, this must be the slave sent to help us."
Merlin glanced up at the unfamiliar voice to see two men arrayed in the armor of knights, blue and orange identified them by their families' crest on their chests'. The one in blue had dark hair and about a weeks growth of a beard white the while the other had sandy colored hair and a clean-shaven face.
"So it would seem, Sir Ethan."
"Well, hurry up boy."
"I-uh-" Merlin glanced back at the door, which led to the dining hall; he swallowed and rose to his feet.
"We require our meals in our rooms, see to it boy."
"Yes, Sir." Did Prince Arthur set this up earlier? Separating, the slave was quick to grab two plates, filling them generously while grabbing an apple and bread for himself. He stuffed the bread in his mouth, and armed himself with the two plates, hurrying out the kitchens with a nod to Maryanna. He stopped just outside the door; I don't know which rooms they are using. Biting his lip he starts off in the same direction as King Severus' chambers are. Ah, the task manager would know, as rooms would have been prepared for them. Backtracking, he stopped the nearest servant and asked for directions.
Approaching the appointed door of Sir Oswald, the slave balanced one plate in his left hand, and shifted the other plate to rest on his forearm. Breathing out, he allowed a small tingle of magic to escape causing steam to rise from both plates.
Knock knock
"Enter."
Merlin entered the room as bidden, careful to keep the plates balanced in both hands. Lounging on the chair was Sir Ethan, who barely spared him a thought. Standing a short distance off was the grinning face of Sir Oswald. Swallowing at the less than friendly atmosphere, Merlin set the plates down with a faint tap on the table.
"Is there anything else you require, Sirs?"
"Ah, that chest over there was brought while we were away and as such is not placed properly," Sir Oswald complained.
"Where would you like it?" The slave inquired.
"Over here, by the bed."
Bending down, Merlin wrapped his arms around the chest to the metal rungs on either end and pulled. His thighs trembled with the effort; Oooof! Shakily, he was able to stumble up and waddle over to the side of the bed. He set the large chest down with a loud thud, groaning as part of it hit his foot.
"No, that won't do, it's in the way there," Sir Ethan protested. "The other side then."
Once more the slave took it up in his arms and moved it to the other side, his face turning red as he leaned it over to set it down.
"I must protest, now it's in my way."
The slave leaned his forehead on the edge with his hand on either side, listening to the two knights as they discussed the optimal placement. Why did they bring so much stuff? The tournament is only a two-day event!
"Yes, I agree. Put it on the dresser, boy."
The slave nodded, gulping, he braced his legs and back for one final move. Back muscles trembled in protest as he used his knee to get it higher and a better grip. He struggled to lift it over his head, even resorting to using his head to push it up the last little way. A final push and it was almost there when the clasp failed and the top opened right above him. His magic flared before he could even call it up. Just as his eyes glowed, he flinched in anticipation. The clanking of swords together was his only warning, two newly sharpened swords tumbled through the air, impaling into the stone in between the slave's feet.
Merlin swallowed reflexively, he had felt the sword fall in front of him, a whisper from his chest. A little bit closer and they would have hit me.
Snapping out of his daze, he quickly picked the fallen items up and shoved them back into the chest; securing it with a makeshift clasp until the original could be repaired. The knight dismissed him after shoving the plates into his hands. Bowing, he exited their chambers and made his way through the halls into the kitchens.
Gaius will have eaten by this time. I wonder if his patient has woken up already? I should bring something back for him just in case. Efficiently, he cleaned the plates after tossing the remnants away and tried dried them. Keeping one of the plates, he filled it with plenty of food, and left without anyone paying attention to him. The hallways were lit with flickering torches, which cast dancing shadows across his path. He met very few other servants along the way as most had finished their jobs already and gone home.
Icy fingers caressed his neck, causing the hairs to stand on end. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw no reason for his reaction. Shrugging, he rounded a corner and climbed the stairs to his temporary quarters. Toeing the door open, he smiled softly at the older physician who was bent over his table and his bubbling brew.
"Is our patient awake, Gaius?"
Gaius turned, a smile on his lips at the boy's use of our.
"I believe he is still awake."
Relieved, Merlin raised his hands, displaying the plate of food he had procured for him. Nodding, the older man turned back to his table one hand shuffling papers over a scroll as the boy passed. The few words the slave saw were familiar with the exception of one. H.u.n.i.t.h. Is that a plant we haven't covered yet? I wonder what its uses are?
He tapped on the door to the room at the short stairs and waited for a response. Hearing none after a brief pause, Merlin debated on whether or not he should enter. Lifting the hatch, he peeked around the door to see the man partially propped up; his eyes flickering open as if he had heard the boy's quiet approached.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you but I brought you some food in case you were hungry."
"I'm always hungry and thirsty; definitely thirsty. Brought any ale have you?"
"No, I didn't. Sorry. Shall I go get some?"
"Ah, well, best not. I am not so sure it would have reacted well to the things the old man gave me."
"Gaius. His name is Gaius, the Court Physician."
"Court Physician? To the royal house?"
"Yes. Don't worry, he is the best in Camelot," the slave was quick to reassure him.
"I am Gwaine, and you are…?"
The slave blinked at the man, a small smile on his lips, "Merlin. I am Merlin."
He approached Gwaine, handing over the plate of food before moving back to shuffle from foot to foot, under the man's scrutiny.
"What's your relation to the Court Physician, do you know a noble or something?"
"Oh, no, not at all. I am a slave of King Severus who is visiting for trade negotiations with King Uther. I am helping him out while the negotiations continue."
"Not related to the nobles, that's for sure. I knew I liked you."
"Thanks…Prince Arthur seems to be a good person. Noble, and not just by birth, yet still can be a bit of a prat."
"Must be in the blood," Gwaine smirked irreverently.
Merlin chuckled for a moment, before he caught himself. He dropped his eyes in self-reproach. Oh!
"Sorry, I forgot I have something to do!" The slave fled out the door to the main room.
"Gaius, the Lady Morgana requested a sleeping tonic as well as something for a headache."
With practiced ease, the old man plucked two vials from a shelf and handed them to the slave, identifying each for the boy's benefit. Nodding in understanding, he made to dash out when a bright red garment caught his eye. In the corner laid over the changing screen lined up, cleaned and mended were the Prince's clothes. Gwen must have finished these early. On a bench adjacent to the screen was the Prince's sword, sharp and gleaming. Something warm rushed through his body and he momentarily felt his throat tighten but differently than from before. Bending down he carefully slipped a vial into each sock and made sure that his boots held them in place securely. He then grabbed the hangers in one hand, carefully slipped the sword into his belt and grabbed the chainmail in the other hand. Hefting the load slightly, he left the chambers and made his way to Arthur's.
With his arms full, he kicked the door lightly before backing in to find the Prince reading at the table. He looked up briefly at his entrance before going back to his papers. Merlin laid the chainmail out be the armor and then removed the sword. He hung up the clothing finally before turning to the Prince.
"Is there anything else you require, Sire?"
"No, that will be all Merlin."
As he bowed, he saw the Prince's eyes shift from him to the table with all the pieces for tomorrow laid out with the exception of his lance.
"Oh, and one last thing, Merlin. Tomorrow I will be using my Father's old sword from his coronation tournament."
"If you are using his sword, why did you have your polish and sharpened?"
"One because it needed it, two my Father's sword has been dulled, per tournament rules."
"Dull? Tournament rules?"
"Of course, it would be unwise to use sharpened blades in the tournament where I am officially the crowned Prince. Should I lose, which I won't, it wouldn't do well to die; now would it?"
"So the knights will be using dull blades?"
"Yes, of course."
Dull blades? But, why did Sir Oswald and Ethan have sharpened swords?
"You are free to go."
Slowly, the slave backed away and let himself out. Arthur watched amused as a strip of black got caught in the door.
"Ow."
A sharp tug and the piece of the slave's neckerchief disappeared from view. The Prince rolled his eyes as he looked down at the scroll in hand, a smile on his lips as he muttered under his breath, "Idiot.."
-0-0-0-0-
Noting the lateness of the hour, Merlin quickened his step on his way to the Lady Morgana's room. He ducked into the hallway that led to behind the tapestry opposite her chambers. He could barely hear footsteps behind him as he ducked out form behind. Pausing, he lifted the edge enough so he could peer out. In the distance he could make out the colors of an Ulbein servant as they passed by. Letting the tapestry fall back into place, he thought briefly on the servant. It's pretty late for them to be out. I wonder what he is doing in this part of the castle.
He stood facing the door to Morgana's chambers, his hand poised to knock. Wait, I shouldn't be delivering this; a handmaiden is supposed to attend a Lady, but I don't know where Gwen is. Maybe she is still with the Lady morgana. His hand struck the wood three times. He stood completely still as he waited to be bade enter, or the door opened. The silence stretched over several minutes and Merlin had to force himself not to shift from one foot to another.
Chewing on his bottom lip, he leaned to knock once more when heard a woman's voice inside. He put his ear to the door and strained to hear the words. Still unable to decipher the sounds, he dared to crack the door open and call out into the darkened room.
"I have the potions you requested, my Lady."
The rustling of sheets answered his call and he moved to shut the door, berating himself for daring to open a woman's door, at night and alone.
"No..no..Please! Run! Arthur!" Her panicked cried stopped and further whimpers had him moving forward without thought. The door clicked shut behind him. A breeze of magic had the candles nearest her flare to life, allowing him to see her trembling and twitching form. Sweat beaded her forehead, causing the long wavy hair to become matted to her face.
"My Lady!"
The slave tried to call softly, so as not to startle her too badly from the throws of her nightmare. She didn't respond to his soft voice. He took another few steps closer, and raised his voice some.
"My Lady, are you alright?"
Her head turned in his direction, her forehead creased in distress. Trembling lips mouthed words he could understand. Her hand twitched on her pillow, before falling to her side, convulsing grabbing at the blankets twisted around her writhing form.
Unable to bear her whimpers, the slave sat partially on the bed, one hand coming in contact with her now limp hand. The room dissolved around him. Voices melded together. He saw Arthur blinking slowly, he saw King Severus leaning in; harsh words seemed to drip from his tightened lips. He saw colors and the flash of silver in the light. A dagger! He saw knights frozen in place. He felt pain. It exploded from his middle; he felt his hands coming up reflexively. He could feel warmth seeping out of him. He looked down, the hilt of a blade stuck out of him.
"Oh,"
The soft exclamation was almost drowned out by screaming. A woman's scream. Morgana? He felt himself falling backwards. His back hit the ground with a dull thud and Morgana's room came back into focus but the pain lingered.
Oww….
AN:
HDS
12-15-2012
EDIT: I change Neville to Oliver, caused I used too many names from one of the only British books I've read. :-P
