SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1
Another long chapter ahead… Too much to tell, so little time to say it in ;-)
Things are developing quickly, doom looms in the horizon, and the story is taking its final turn…
I have done some research and came up with my own version of Merlin's heritage. I hope you like it and I would love to hear what you think of it.
Also, remember that the story took off right after Season 2, in case you are wondering.
To my loyal reviewers: thank you SO MUCH for taking the time to let me know what you think.
It's very rewarding and encouraging. I appreciate it very, very much.
Chapter 35: Realizations
Ruther narrowed his eyes even further. It wasn't that he had expected to receive confirmation from Gurgeneu yet. They had agreed that after the deed was done, some prudential time should pass before contacting each other again—namely after he was definitely crowned King of Leoness—as to not raise suspicion. However, something in his guts was making him edgy.
Ever since Arthur Pendragon showed up unannounced in the Citadel, things had gotten more and more complicated. Once his envisioned passage to the throne of Leoness, the young Prince had quickly become a major obstacle instead, and had set in motion events that could not be stopped anymore… In spite of his natural aversion to take unnecessary risks, Ruther had been forced to burn all bridges…
His second-in-command entering the room interrupted his inner deliberation.
"The Camelot knights had left, Sir. Just as you expected."
"Have they spoken with anyone else?"
The guard shook his head.
"Only Sir Lescaut when he came back, and recently with Sir Alric, as you are aware. No one else Sir."
The fact that Sir Lescaut had visited the Knights had not called up his attention. After all, the captain had left the Citadel with their Prince but returned alone. If anything, the only strange aspect of it was that they had waited until now to leave. Which brought up the question about their conversation with Alric…
What would they have talked about that prompted the visiting soldiers to leave in such haste after meeting with the Commander? More importantly, why would the Commander speak with them before debriefing him on the Princess' situation and his own mission to the coast?
As if conjured, Sir Alric made his appearance in the throne room.
"Oh, Alric… I was wondering where were you…" The sarcastic remark did not go unnoticed by the old commander. He knew perfectly well that Ruther followed everyone's movements and so he was most likely aware of his meeting with Leon and Lescaut, even if he did not know what had been discussed.
"My son informed me of the developments with our Princess as soon as I got back, Sir."
It was plausible. Lescaut was the Princess' guard and Alric's son after all… And yet, the Steward couldn't shake the feeling that something was not right. Even though the face of the knight was blank as usual, for the first time in many years Ruther noticed something brewing underneath the surface that left him wondering… and uneasy.
Thinking that some drama was in order to divert the attention, Ruther roared in pretended denial. "Nothing has happened to my niece!" And then his voice cracked. "Gwynn is well… She has to be. And whomever did this will pay dearly… I have sent search parties left and right, Alric… She must be found…"
Alric had to make a tremendous effort not to laugh at the absurd scene while throttling the life out of the bastard and be done with it… Nevertheless—and no matter how justified the execution—these were not times for rash actions, but for carefully conceived and flawlessly executed plans. Thus, he just showed the same concern as the 'distraught' uncle.
"I am sure your niece is fine, Sir. We will find her and bring her back safe and sound."
After a moment of silence during which Ruther pretended to try and control his distress, he nodded and spoke again.
"What news from the coast?"
The commander proceeded with the customary military debriefing of his mission, cautiously avoiding mentioning the futility of it. In light of the recent developments, it was obvious to the seasoned knight that the Steward had sent him—along with the entire military branch still loyal to the Princess—on a wild-goose chase on purpose. In any case, the less Ruther thought he knew, the better.
A brief pause followed his recount before the Steward pointedly asked. "And what of the Camelot Knights? Are you aware that they have left the Citadel without speaking to me?"
Smiling inwardly and disclosing nothing, Sir Alric assented. "Indeed, Sir. I spoke with them when I learned from my son that Prince Arthur and his servant where doing a search on their own..."
Patience was not one of Ruther's fortes by a long shot and he roared again.
"And?"
"When returning from the coast, we crossed paths with some barbarians from the north that had ventured towards our borders. As soon as I learned that Prince Arthur was riding through the northern plains without a military escort, I feared for his safety and immediately dispatched his Knights to protect him. I sent my son and two guards with them since they know the area far better."
The explanation made sense, and in some rational level the Steward knew it. However, the nagging feeling that Alric was hiding something had been in a constant crescendo in his mind, and his guilty conscience got the best of him.
Everything was happening too fast and not exactly according to plan. Despite the fact that Gurgeneu had successfully abducted the Princess, he had not expected for the kidnapping to be discovered so soon, nor for the Camelot Prince to act so quickly—or recklessly for that matter—and go on a search on his own.
For a minute, he wished the young Pendragon had been intercepted by Gurgeneu or the barbarians and was already dead. One less problem for him... Although he would regret it a second later, he couldn't control his words and they came out drenched in disdain.
"I see… Your concern for the Prince is noted, Alric. After all, you have been waiting for this marriage for quite some time."
Already prepared for that, the commander ignored the cynicism and straightened his shoulders. "I did not do it out of concern for the Prince, Sir Ruther, but out of fear for Leoness."
The Steward was taken aback and when the commander continued talking slowly and apprehensively, he instantly changed his mind and prayed for a safe return of the royal,.
"If something happens to the Prince while he's visiting us, King Uther will not hesitate to claim revenge… and even the kingdom while he's at it, Sir." Alric paused to let his words sink in. "We are a small country and Camelot forces outnumber us four to one. We stand no chance at all. Our best hope is to find Prince Arthur safe and sound. I did not have time to check with you Sir, but I thought the situation demanded for a swift action. I hope you'd agree."
Ruther found his mouth becoming dry with anxiety. Alric was right on target. After all, he had chosen Camelot to seal his niece's fate based solely in Uther's despotic and cruel reputation. If something happened to the obnoxious young heir, he certainly should not expect any mercy from the mighty King.
Although totally deviated from the original plan, the bottom line was that so far his niece was out of the picture, which was the ultimate goal nonetheless. He just needed to reign on his fury for a while longer and he'd have his prize… His crown. He'd waited far too long for that moment, and it was within his reach. The image of Alric swearing loyalty to him… or hanging because refusing to do so, pleased him momentarily.
"You are right, of course, Sir Alric. We must hope that our young royals return soon and unharmed to the Castle. And I should thank you for sending Sir Lescaut with them… I know he had been injured."
The commander only nodded. His pretext had worked, as he knew it would. For all his deviousness, Ruther was not an extremely smart person. And even if he were, his greediness would always get in the way of reason. The Steward's weaknesses had been his advantage throughout all the years that followed the assassination of the royal family… and they would continue to be so until the usurper was removed from the throne and hanged for treason.
"Is there anything else, Sir…"
The Steward took a moment to answer, still reeling from his impatience, his anger and his now added worries.
"No Alric. You may leave for now."
As soon as the royal commander left, Ruther turned to his second-in-command.
"Take a party and go after the Camelot knights. Make sure to outnumber them two to one at least. Be extra cautions and follow from the distance. You shall not be seen."
The soldier nodded, but the Steward wasn't done.
"Mark my words, Gallmau: if the Prince is in trouble, then save him and bring them all back. If there is no need to intervene, remain hidden and out of sight. Is that clear?"
Again, the soldier only nodded and prepared to leave when his master walked towards him, standing only inches from his face.
"But…" he hissed. "If for any reason my niece is with them… you will kill them all. Am I understood?"
The guard swallowed. He knew well Ruther's intentions… However, he had also heard Alric… If King Uther were to attack Leoness to avenge his son, they would all be doomed.
"Sir…" he tried to find the words that would not upset the spiteful Steward any further. "But what about what Sir Alric said… What if King Uther decides to attack…"
Ruther viciously grabbed the guard's throat and seethed through clenched teeth.
"If Gurgeneu had failed me… I will take my chances with Camelot. But my niece must die." He let go of the man, who coughed gasping for air. With deadly calm the Steward finished. "It is either her head… or yours. You choose."
Remorse was something that Arthur had not experienced very often in his live. As a warrior, he had never looked back on his actions. And as the Heir of the most powerful king in these lands, the Prince had been taught to always take full responsibility for his deeds, but never to dwell on them.
Then again, ever since this strange and fascinating woman had entered his life, he had found himself in the most unusual and unexpected behaviors he could have ever imagined. Remorse, in this case, was another inexplicable feeling that should be added to the list.
Moving uncomfortably in his bed, the Prince struggled to remove these unsettling thoughts from his brain. But they lingered there.
The most inexplicable thing had occurred to him. After a lifetime worth of royal training… he had lost every vestige of restraint in one instant.
He was neither a saint, nor a monk by any account, and he had had his fair share of bed partners. But he had never, for the life of his, surrendered his control as he had with Gwynn. Worst of all, and unlike the uninhibited courtiers he had usually been intimate with, Gwynn was the crown Princess of Leoness and its future Queen. He owed her respect.
It did not comfort him a bit the fact that she had been more than receptive to his ministrations… He should have known better. It was his responsibility to end her infatuation without taking advantage of it.
And even more puzzling was that he could not find any reasonable explanation of why his stern self-control had failed him. No woman had ever held that power over him. And she had done it, whether purposely or innocently; the truth was that this enigmatic Princess had achieved in one minute—and with one kiss he should add—what no one had in all his life.
Changing positions, he laid on his back with his arms crossed behind his neck and tried at least to get some rest, since sleep had definitely escaped him.
Images of what happened in the rocky alcove flooded his mind against his wishes. Gwynn's aloofness when it came to their potential union had gotten once again under his skin with no logical reason.
Wasn't he the one who did not want to be married yet anyway? Then why did her silence have felt so… aggravating?
No matter how much he tried, he could scarcely remember what he had been thinking when he dragged the Princess under his body. He clearly remembered being angry… At first.
"I am just pathetic!" he sneered in disgust. The silence of the night was almost deafening and his thoughts were just too loud to withstand.
He sighed in exasperation. He was not going to be able to rid himself of this feeling, it seemed.
All these irrational emotions whenever Finnabair was concerned were completely new to him and he had to admit he had not clue how to handle them. Perhaps that had gotten his guard down and her enthusiastic responses to his caresses had concocted a very volatile mixture.
When all was said and done, it had been a big mistake and he needed to find the way to deal with it. He was absolutely clueless as to what her reaction would be in the morning. Nothing within the ordinary, that was for sure.
In any case, the unavoidable conclusion was that he should be extra careful around her and maintain his distance. He should not let what happened in the cliff to occur ever again; he might not be able to stop next time…
It was well past dawn when Merlin finally saw Bryn Myrddin through the faint light of the morning sun covered by the outcast weather. As per Ennyny instructions, he had traveled inland following a nearby river. The river had narrowed the farther he had moved from the ocean, to become not more than a stream with rapid waters as the terrain turned mountainous.
Bryn Myrddin was a quite peculiar hill just before a further closing of the stream. According to Ennyny, the entrance should be there, hidden behind the rocky formation of the left margin. He left his horse and began climbing. The boulders were slippery with the moss and the rain and he almost fell at least twice. He wasn't even sure what he would find since the seer had been more than cryptic in her directions and had only mentioned one name: Myrddin Wyllt.
The sense of magic had been steadily growing the closer he had gotten to the place, but by now the wizard had identified it as a good feeling. Strange, for certain, but good nonetheless.
Finally reaching a small recess on the rocky wall, Merlin looked around disoriented. There was no entrance in sight. Had he missed the place? He glanced down to the water, disheartened. The descent on the slippery walls was surely going to be far more difficult than it was to climb up.
It was then than a voice sounded clear in his head, startling him.
"Welcome Emrys… I have waited for a long, long time to meet you… "
Not recognizing the voice, he automatically attributed it to the mysterious Myrddin Wyllt. It was not Kilgharrah's for sure.
"Use your powers, Emrys, and you will find your way…"
Shrugging his shoulders, Merlin stretched his hand and repeated the enchantment he had used in Leoness to discover the hidden door on the wall.
"Dangos kasyra skryte"
Nothing happened. Before he could try again, the voice in his head taunted him.
"Emrys… Those silly magical tricks are not enough to uncover what you are about to find… This is a sacred place… Try harder and REALLY use your powers."
Blushing profusely and looking around as if someone was watching, the warlock tried again. This time he focused conscientiously and finding his magical source deep within himself, he roared.
"Yn gorchymyn duris otvorene"
The boulders disappeared and were replaced by an entrance that reminded him of a temple's portico. He stepped inside and, as soon as he did so, the rocks closed up again behind him; to his further amazement: noiselessly.
The narrow passage soon opened into a wide-open space, so high he couldn't see the top. There was, however, something resembling a faint ray of light coming for the seemingly endless height and the warlock figured that perhaps the hilltop might have been hollow… Maybe…
The place was bizarre enough to warrant any kind of speculation. For instance, where the light was coming from since although no candles or torches were in sight, the cave was fully illuminated with an extraordinary radiance.
"Hello?" His surprises continued when no echo of his call resounded inside, in spite of the size and emptiness of the cavern.
It was certainly the most incredible, mystical… Most fantastic place he had ever imagined…
"Hello there… Please, please…come over here."
The voice was soothing and welcoming and it came from a niche on the right side. Walking a couple of steps, Marlin could finally see his owner. An elder man with a white tunic and white hair was comfortably sitting on a fairly ornate chaise, which looked completely out of place in the rustiness of the grotto.
There were so many questions buzzing in the young warlock's mind he wasn't sure which one to utter first. His mouth decided for him.
"What is this place?"
The old man chuckled, obviously aware of the youngster's confusion.
"Ah… this is a very special place, Merlin. This is where everything started."
Though the emphasis on the word seemingly indicated its meaning, according to Merlin it was still quite an ambiguous term.
"Everything?"
"This is where Magic was born." The man signaled him to come closer and sit. "Dragons lived here long, long ago… Ever since Bahamut visited these lands and entrusted the realm to the first Great Wyrm."
"Dragons?" But it suddenly occurred to Merlin that another matter was even important, and he quickly rephrased his inquiry. "Bahamut?"
The evident mix of confusion and curiosity of the wizard seemed to entertain the man in white, who kept smiling placidly and a bit amused.
"Bahamut was the God of the dragons. He came to these lands at the beginning of times."
That was certainly a 'long, long' time ago, as far as Merlin was concerned, and his mind desperately tried to wrap around the information it was receiving. Nevertheless, and not having forgotten his previously overridden question, the wizard pressed on.
"So dragons were the keepers of the magic?" That would certainly explain some things…
"Oh, yes… Long before wizards and sorceress, magic was wielded only by dragons. They were the keepers of its secrets and through the knowledge they gathered along their long lives from Nature and from the Earth from whence they came, they perfected it to what it is today."
Merlin was silent for a short second, digesting the new facts, when another query popped in his mind.
"And who was the Great Wyrm?"
The old man openly laughed shaking his head.
"It seems, my dear boy, that your knowledge of dragons is quite rustic. We'll have to work on that…" He chuckled again before explaining. "The Great Wyrms were the Elders of the dragon community, greatly regarded for their knowledge, magical powers and wisdom. Dragons are highly evolved social creatures Merlin. "
The warlock couldn't help to make a face. Somehow that was hard to believe. His experience with dragons—admittedly limited to only one—was not so civil. For all the spoken concerns about Camelot, Arthur's destiny and the future of Albion, Kilgharrah had showed no mercy and had almost leveled Camelot to the ground on its own.
His silent reluctance was written all over his face and so the old man explained in a conciliatory tone.
"Merlin… As with all creatures of Nature, dragons are not impervious to love, anger and other powerful emotions… They feel and act just like humans do. There is goodness and evil in them just like in humans." He paused and sighed. "I do not condone Kilgharrah's actions my boy. But I think I understand them… He suffered a great deal at the hands of Uther. Not only his imprisonment, but witnessing the annihilation of his entire kin."
The last part struck a chord in Merlin's heart and he nodded in silence. He hadn't thought of that…. Apparently, the imposing image of the mighty beast had overpowered his mind and he hadn't contemplated the fact that Kilgharrah might have had feelings after all.
Suddenly he felt ashamed and blushed. Just yesterday—while speaking with Ennyny—he had acknowledged the fact that most people either hated or feared that which they could not understand. He knew it by experience and had suffered it for being… different.
And yet, he had showed Kilgharrah the same discourtesy.
His own ignorance of dragons had made him first dread the creature, and later despised it for what it had done. He wished he could take back some of the words he had spoken to the dragon amidst his anger and apprehension.
It was then when, as if invoked by magic—which was actually the most likely explanation given the place and the company—the great dragon made its appearance flying out of nowhere, and perching on a rock nearby.
"I told you we would meet again, young warlock." The greeting was reserved, as usual.
Trying to compose from his recent guilt, Merlin was once again reminded of the shear size and power of the mystical creature and couldn't help but to hesitate.
"You are here too…"
"But of course. Where else would I go? This is… home."
Despite the cold arrogance in the voice of the dragon, it was the way in which Kilgharrah said 'home' that confirmed—to Merlin—what the elder had said moments ago. Mighty or not, the fantastic winged creature had a heart, just like everyone… Who would have thought?
The old man spoke again.
"I believe it is only appropriate that the last dragon and you, Emrys, are now connected through the bond of the dragon-lords."
Another question waiting to be asked if there was ever one, and Merlin—still reeling from the overwhelming presence of the dragon—did not waste any time to do so.
"Speaking of it… If dragons are such evolved and sophisticated social creatures…" There was hint of irony in the wizard's voice. "Then, how come dragon-lords exist?"
Kilgharrah straightened at those words, visibly annoyed, but the old man did not seem to be bothered by it.
"Oh… That is a good question my boy. Many, many years ago, like in any society, there were some upheavals within the dragon clans. Some dragons rebelled against the order pre-established by Behemut and began raising havoc amongst the humans." He made a gesture with his hand. "I am sure you have heard stories of dragons burning cities and crops, and kidnapping princesses for ransom. Human folklore is full of those tales. Some are truth, some mere exaggerations of the storyteller…"
Perplexed, Merlin spoke almost unintentionally, now completely immerse in the story.
"Why did they do that?"
Smiling between sadly and knowledgably, the old man responded with another question.
"Why does anyone do senseless deeds indeed Merlin?"
The implications of the answer dawned on the wizard and he nodded in silence.
"As I've said, Emrys, the similarities between humans and dragons are more startling that you may think…"
After a short moment of earnest silence, the elder continued his account.
"Back then, the Great Wyrm worried about the abuse of power of the younger dragons, and so he entrusted a man with the secret of the dragon-lords. Myrddin Wyllt was the first dragon-lord… A direct ancestor, if not by blood certainly by heritage, of your father, Merlin, and you…."
Myrddin Wyllt was the first dragon-lord! Could it be…?
Things quickly began to add up to the wizard and with a mixture of marvel and incredulity he whispered while feeling his heart beating faster than ever.
"Is it… you?"
An open and fatherly smile graced the old features of Myrddin.
"Yes, my boy. I am the first dragon-lord. I knew everyone in your family… Your grandfather, your father… I taught them, I trained them… and I will do so with you too…"
Something akin to elation—though much more profound than that—flooded the young warlock's chest. No wonder he had felt at home in Caerfyrddin… Much more at home that he had ever felt in Ealdor…
These magical lands were indeed his father's… And this incredible wizard in front of him was part of his heritage, his own history… There were so many things he wanted to know… so many questions he needed answered…
Unfortunately, his hopes were cut short when Myrddin spoke again.
"However, I am afraid that this is not a social call, nor the time to entertain your curiosity Emrys. There are more urgent matters that we need to discuss. The future of Albion balances over the edge of a blade… One false movement, even the smallest, and everything will be lost."
"But there are so many things I wanted… I need to know…"
The vehement protest was silenced by the dragon.
"I believe I have mentioned the young warlock's unyielding stubbornness…"
The unveiled sarcasm earned Kilgharrah a nasty scowl from the younger wizard who opened his mouth to rebut, but was interrupted by Myrddin.
"Do not mind Kilgharrah… He is still young by dragon's standards and, just like you, he has also much to learn… " And continuing with his previous statement, he insisted. "We have a very serious situation in our hands, Merlin. As I said, never before has Albion's future been more uncertain than it is now…"
Somehow disappointed, Merlin nodded in defeat. "I know… Ennyny said that the prophecy might have even spoken of other royals…"
"Oh… yes. Ennyny…" The face of the elder lighted up. "Sweet, wise Ennyny. She has been holding on the last hope for the prophecy, having been such close friend of Feldem. But I'm afraid even she does not know the risks we are facing right now…"
"Risks?"
"That's right." Myrddin sighed tiredly. "You see… Sometimes things happen that alter the course of history… It does not have to be a large event like a war… Sometimes may be as simple and meaningless as a human action... In this case, the greed of a lesser man had put everything in jeopardy…"
"The greed of a lesser man?" Merlin's eyebrows had been steadily rising with the latest disclosures, partly in surprise, partly in further confusion.
"The avarice of Ruther indeed… He killed Queen Binne before Finnabair was of age to become a true descent of the Morrigan… and that has never occurred from the beginning of times…" the elder stressed. "The Princess, though a blood descendant, has not been awarded the full powers that her dynasty grants. No one knows if she would ever become a true Morrigan's heiress…"
Having already surmised that far, the young warlock failed to see the calamity in those facts.
"Yes, so…?"
"The line might be broken… Even though Finnabair is the last descendant of the Silurian line… if she does not become also a true Morrigan's heir, she would never bear daughters that could fulfill the prophecy in the future… Do you understand?"
Reality came crashing down on Merlin with full force. He was even afraid to utter his next question, dreading the answer with all his being.
"You mean that… this is the last chance for Albion?"
"Indeed Merlin. The destiny of Albion now fully depends on Arthur and Finnabair… Both of them will have to rise to the occasion and fulfill Feldem's prophecy… Otherwise, the Morrigan's dynasty might very well come to an end, and Albion will never be born."
"Well… Maybe we shouldn't worry much about it," the warlock tried a small reassuring smile. "As far as I can tell, they do love each other and…"
Lifting his hands, Myrddin shook his head.
"It is not that simple Merlin… Both Arthur and Finnabair are royals, and both share a deep sense of duty. Whether they love each other or not is not the point… Each one will be bent on doing what they think it's best for their people… And while Uther is alive, Finnabair will not relinquish her kingdom to him…"
"Unless forced." Kilgharrah piped out.
Turning on his heels, Merlin faced the dragon, incredulous.
"You mean that all along the plan was to allow Ruther to marry her to Arthur by force?"
"That was indeed a possibility." Myrddin assented making Merlin to turn once again towards him.
"But that boat has sailed long ago and…"
The voice of the dragon sounded morosely once again… and downright accusatory.
"Yes… and you helped with the sailing by convincing the Prince to come to Leoness…"
Merlin looked angrily at the dragon.
"I did what Gaius and I thought it would be best."
"Gaius…" The dragon laughed bitterly. "That traitor does not know anything!"
"He's not a traitor!" Merlin voice rose in fury. "He did what he could… and…"
"Enough, both of you!" The elder commanded in a forceful tone and warlock and dragon immediately shut up. "Whatever Gaius has done in the past, it is water under the bridge now. He might have turned a blind eye to Kilgharrah's capture… but he did save Balinor's life. Your father's life… It is only because of that we are here now…"
Unable to stop himself, Merlin shot a self-satisfied smirk to the dragon and Kilgharrah scoffed scornfully, prompting Myrddin to admonish once more.
"You both will learn to get along with each other. You are both young and inexperienced… and whether you like it or not, your lives are intertwined now and forever…"
A respectful silence followed his sentence, as dragon and dragon-lord understood its implications. The wizard spoke again, seriously worried of the potential consequences of what had been said.
"I just do not understand how things could have been different… The Princess never wanted to marry Arthur, and whatever she had told him had cornered him into breaking the treaty. Even if Ruther stills wants to marry her, Arthur would never accept!"
"You are correct, Emrys. And that's what you need to solve…"
By then, the previous sentiment of euphoria had all but vanished and Merlin once again felt trapped by his so-called 'destiny'. The question came out involuntarily, almost to himself.
"Why me?"
It was Kilgharrah who answered; his voice calmed and almost compassionate this time.
"Because if you don't, Merlin … Albion will be lost."
Gwynn was observing Arthur from the window of the parlor. The rainy weather hadn't stopped the Prince and he had been training for most of the day.
Remembering the afternoon in Eleara when he had done the same after having their first argument, she also recalled her initial fascination with his fighting form. Arthur was simply magnificent while wielding a sword, and Gwynn had to conclude that she would never tire of watching him do so.
It was awe-inspiring and exhilarating all the same...
After an extraneous exercise with his sword, which had virtually rendered the 'opposing' pole to a pile of wooden splints, he was now shooting with a long bow.
She was supposed to be reading, as 'suggested' by Ennyny, but couldn't get her eyes off the Prince. He was soaking wet and the fabric of his shirt, adhered to his skin, clearly marked the stretching and flexing of the muscles of his back and arm every time he drew the bow.
Her mouth went dried at the sight, and when goose bumps covered her skin from head to toe, she knew she was thoroughly blushing. Such power, such beauty was too much for her inexperienced sensuality.
The memory of his eyes and the way he had touched her and kissed her the previous sunset was bringing a soft heat through her body. It was a totally alien and extremely pleasant feeling. A… yearning for something she had never tasted but knew without a doubt she wanted…
Although still a maid, Gwynn was familiar with the physical aspect of human mating… At least in what the instructional books had to say about it… Yet Arthur's passion had showed her a glimpse of the reality and had let her peak into a whole new world of emotions and sensations that she was more than eager to explore… With him…
Caught up in the chaos of the only just discovered feelings, it dawned on the Princess she had not considered what it would be like to see Arthur again. The previous night, and as soon as they stepped back in the manor, Wledyr had hauled her to her room for a warm bath while scolding her for being so reckless with the cold. And she hadn't seen the Prince ever since.
Should she act like nothing had happened and wait for him to take the lead?
That did not seem like a good idea… Going by his regretful eyes—and his borderline annoying sense of duty in these situations—he would most likely apologize like yesterday, and promise not to let it happen again.
And that was not what she wanted.
Or perchance would be best to deal with the entire issue up front and ask him to be her lover? How would one ask about it? Should she hint it or say it directly?
An upsetting thought crossed her mind… What if he denied her? If nothing else, out of propriety… She definitely wouldn't put it past Arthur to follow his honor rather than his wishes.
The Princess sighed in defeat... Admittedly, she had no clue how to deal with this. She wished Helene were there. Perhaps her friend would have some useful advice on the matter.
On second thought, Helene might very well side with the Prince on the 'honorable ways' of the royals and be appalled by the idea.
But… Would it be so wrong to give herself to the man she loved even if outside the wedlock?
She would never love anyone else. She knew that much…
Then, why should she deprive herself of experiencing 'true' love making just because destiny was not on her side?
Two big tears she did not know had pooled in her eyes rolled down her cheeks. He was so handsome… So tender and powerful at the same time… It had been inebriating to realize that those mighty hands that could destroy and kill so easily were also capable of caresses as delicate as the flight of a butterfly.
The sole recollection of the contradiction made her heart beat at an incredible pace, her stomach to go into a knot, and her hands to shake uncontrollably.
Just at that moment, as if knowing he was being observed, Arthur turned his eyes towards the window, wiping the watery drops from his brow with his sleeve. The Princess gasped startled and retreated immediately out of sight.
Her hands went to her neck and then to her cheeks… Her skin was flushed, hot and tingling…
A bitter chuckle that sounded more like a sob escaped her lips… How could she be so childish? Her involuntary reaction was too obvious to ignore: the mere possibility of being seen by him while only thinking of it, had made her anxious and embarrassed…
Wishing she were 'worldlier' did not make her so. And the sad truth was that she would never gather the courage to say anything to Arthur… And, just her luck, there was a high likelihood he would never take the first steps either.
These were all only wishful thoughts… Silly romantic dreams of the newly awaken sensuality of an otherwise inexperienced woman. Dreams that would never crystallize anyway…
It was better to stop this and come back to reality. She sat on the chaise and opened her book.
The reading again failed to catch her attention, and in top of that, her eyes kept watering for no apparent reason. She closed them to stop the tears and reclined on the chaise… The sensory memory of what she had experienced the day before in Arthur's arms flooded her body with wonderful warmth and managed to soften the knot that her hopelessness had tied in her throat.
Deciding to indulge a bit more in those intoxicating reminiscences, Gwynn smiled at last. She'd go back to her reading later…
After avoiding the Princess the entire day, Arthur had to face the fact that they would meet sooner or later. It was an entirely new experience rather than to pursue Gwynn's company—as it had always been—childishly trying to keep away from her. Not a very royal behavior, he admitted, but given the circumstances, it had seemed like the best interim alternative.
Wledyr's intervention the night before had saved him from having to face the Princess—and Ennyny—at supper. He had used the diversion to retire to his room and ate alone.
Fortunately, for some reason Merlin had chosen to make himself scarce too. The Prince really had wanted to be alone… and he had his wish.
The training under the rain had helped, and had managed to lift his mood, which had been leaning towards the dark side in the morning after a night of very poor sleep.
Changed and dried, invigorated and in good disposition, he decided to look for the Princess at last, and headed towards the parlor.
When he reached his destination, Arthur stood at the door and drank in the beautiful image that was unexpectedly offered to him.
Finnabair was placidly sleeping on a chaise by the window. The rain had finally stopped and the last rays of the sunset showed timidly under a still cloudy sky. A golden aura surrounded her, making her look almost unreal.
Not wanting to disturb such magnificent picture, the Prince walked softly, wishing for the moment to last forever. She looked so peaceful…
Totally captivated, he kneeled next to the chaise and his eyes were caught in the book that lay on her lap. He did not recognize the language and wondered what that was, or if it could be even… magic?
Perhaps sensing his presence, she slowly awoke to find the Prince kneeling in front of her, looking pensively at her book.
All her previous turmoil magically disappeared in his presence and she was simply grateful to be with him. She had promised herself to take what she was given, no questions asked… And he was there; nothing else mattered… Her hand softly touched his cheek in a caress so light that Arthur did not know whether he felt it or just imagined it.
"Hello" she greeted quietly.
Coming back from his reverie, the Prince lifted his eyes and got lost in hers just like every time he looked into them… Everything he had pondered and decided during his sleepless night flew out the window.
Self-control was overrated and protocol just stupid. He smiled in return but did not answer. Instead, he reached behind her neck to bring her face leveled with his.
This time the electrifying sweetness of the kiss did not drift into the frenzy passion that their desire for each other always ignited. It lingered between their lips, unhurried and dawdling, reaching for their souls and accurately striking their hearts.
When they finally separated, each of them could clearly see their own confusion mirrored in the other's eyes. Something had been said without words during that kiss but no one was yet ready to understand it… or admit it.
Arthur found his voice first, wondering about what had happened to him right then... He had always found difficult to control his body when Gwynn was concerned… but this was even more puzzling… He was finding disconcertingly strenuous to control his feelings around her…
With no desire to dwell on such thorny subject matter, he dismissed his reflections and finally answered with a boyishly smile.
"Hello…"
Blushing from head to toe at the stirring of emotions his kiss had set free, Gwynn swallowed hard and said nothing.
The cerulean eyes that she loved so much roamed through her face, silently studying her. The nasty bump on her forehead was all but gone. Frowning slightly, Arthur gently took her arms, lifting the sleeves to better inspect them. The bruises and cuts had also disappeared.
"Your wounds are healed…" He said after a moment in evident surprise.
" Wledyr" She smiled. "She is a healer…"
"Is that so?" An unmistakable hint of admiration sounded in the Prince's deep voice. "It seems that the family is quite… accomplished… Ennyny is a seer, Wledyr a healer…"
He stopped when Finnabair smile died on her face and she looked away, somehow serious. Had he said something inappropriate?
"Wledyr is not really Ennyny's granddaughter." Gwynn turned her big green eyes to him. "Wledyr's mother was a healer... in Camelot. She was accused of using magic and had to escape."
There was no reproach; no judgment in her voice; but the Prince became rigid nonetheless. Ever since Ennyny's disclosure, he had tried to make peace with so much wretchedness, but it seemed that no matter where he turned, his father's misdeeds would always haunt him.
The worst part was to reckon that Wledyr had not shown to hold any grudge against him whatsoever… She was being a friendly and good-natured hostess despite everything.
"I am sorry…" The words choked on his throat. Anger had slowly faded throughout the previous day giving place to an incipient sense of hope, which was once again washed away by the discovery of yet another one of his father's victims.
How many more like her…
Her cool, silky hands grabbed his reassuringly.
"It is not your fault, my lord… And one day you will right all that wrong… I know you will."She pulled on his hands forcing him to look at her. "You are you father's son, Arthur… But you are not your father."
Such conviction humbled him, and tightening his hold on her hands in retribution, he pressed them closer to him and kissed them reverently. Her faith was all the balm he needed.
Amazing…
Knowing that his mood was quickly growing dim, Gwynn decided to distract him and asked with a devilish smile.
"Now then, did you finally teach a lesson to that big, bad pole, my lord?"
The Prince's eyebrows shot up in amusement… Was she making fun of him now?
In any case, the change in subject was much welcomed and he mutely thanked her for it. Donning his best arrogant smirk, he played along.
"I did. It was… difficult, but it finally understood not to cross paths with Prince Arthur…"
"I see… and what did the siding of the stables did to you my lord?"
The mischief shining in her eyes was priceless, and once again the Prince thought of throwing caution to the wind… only to thankfully overrule himself a second later and continue with the banter.
"It too dared to defy my royal command… I had to fill it with holes…"
"Well… Only one, if I recall correctly… I believe you kept hitting bull's eye from anywhere you shot." She tilted her head to the side. "Very impressive my lord."
Oh, now you are complimenting me…
But two other notions occupied his mind. The first, that she had been watching him and the thought alone exhilarated him… The second, that the warrior in her appreciated what she had seen… That was an added flattering remark.
In any case, exhilaration, compliments and her mischievous eyes were a very bad combination as far as Arthur was concerned. It had been too easy to decide to remain unaffected by her charms while he had been alone last night.
Putting in practice that resolution, however, was a whole different deal… He needed to find a diversion, and soon, lest his resolve would crumble into pieces and he'd yield to his increasing urgency of kissing her again.
"What are you reading?"
The sudden change in topics seemed to work as she directed her attention back to her book, showing him the pages.
"I am refreshing my Goidelic…"
Arthur moved next to her on the chaise and sat. "And Goidelic is…"
"The language of my foremothers…" And to answer the other unspoken question in his eyes, she explained. "Ennyny's request…"
"Oh…" He kept looking at the strange inscriptions. "Any particular reason for that request?"
The Princess sighed, absentmindedly turning some pages. "I am sure there is, but she didn't give me any, and..."
Knowing what she would say next, he chuckled and finished for her. "And of course you did not ask …"
Her laugh sounded open and content and washed over him like a clear stream over dried out soil. Soothing and refreshing.
Breathtaking…
It might have been his fascination, or perhaps some subconscious need to divert his attention from her lips. Whatever it was, the words came impulsively.
"Would you teach me some?"
The genuine surprise and uninhibited delight of her smile made him glad he had asked.
"Would you really like to learn, my lord?"
Whatever it takes to distract me, my lady, so I can enjoy sharing time with you… without worry of compromising your virtue…
Shutting down his devilish thoughts, he nodded, as serious as he could pretend to be. But once again, she chose to say the unexpected.
"On one condition, Prince…"
"Really, my lady? Are you bargaining with me now?"
"It is only fair…" Her impish grin was mercilessly killing his resolve. Not that he cared much at that moment.
"All right… what's your condition?"
By then, Arthur was silently praying for the 'requirement' to involve passionate kisses and perhaps even some private meeting, preferably in a seclude alcove… If she were to ask for it, then he certainly could not deny her and his conscience would be appeased…
"That you teach me how to shot with a long bow…"
Quite farther from his speculations it seemed… Arthur laughed genuinely amused and shook his head.
Would she ever stop surprising him?
Nevertheless, the idea of teaching her to wield a weapon became extremely appealing all of the sudden, and once again his senses—all of them—ignited. Her clear eyes, however, spoke of the innocence of her request, and so he tried with all his might to steer clear of his treacherous machinations.
"You have a deal, Princess. We will find a long bow that you can draw, and I will be happy to be your personal instructor."
"Perfect then!" Here… Let us start with this poem…" She opened the book and sat comfortably next to him.
The language was intriguing and—dared he say it—absolutely bewitching in her lips. Arthur cursed his luck and had to make a tremendous effort to focus on her explanation rather than in her voice, her perfume, and her nearness…
After a couple of failed attempts, he was able to finally direct his concentration to the task at hand and felt… well, just happy…
Time seemed to stand still as Prince and Princess embarked in an afternoon of reading, dialogues and laughs… Having completely lost track of the hours, Wledyr's arrival announcing supper abruptly brought them out of the small world they had unknowingly created.
"We will be there shortly, Wledyr. Thank you." Gwynn smiled.
Fully back on Earth, Arthur remembered and stood up promptly, moving towards Wledyr's before she could turn to leave.
"My lady…" He stopped her and grabbed her hand with a reverential gesture. "I just want to thank you for healing the Princess' wounds. I am forever in your debt, Wledyr."
The plump blonde blushed profusely, and taken aback by such gallant demonstration of gratitude, was unable to utter any word. Giggling nervously, she curtsied clumsily and left in a hurry.
When the Prince turned to offer Gwynn his arm, she was looking at him with unreserved admiration and approval. A loving smile curving her beautiful lips…
Arthur swallowed hard and froze. Something in his chest was fighting to break free… Right then, realization hit him like a tidal wave and he finally understood…
He was in love with Gwynn…
With the manor already in sight, Merlin spurred his horse to go faster. His brain felt mushy for too much thinking and the impeding sense of doom in his chest needed to be appeased. He knew that Ennyny could do that and he couldn't wait to speak with her. Myrddin's words were engraved in his memory.
"Arthur needs to prove he truly is Camelot's best son… He has just been made aware of all his father's misdeeds but his heart must remain true. The only way to know for sure is for him to retrieve Fragarach. Ennyny will help you with that. The Prince must do the task alone… You cannot, must not, intervene…"
Would Arthur have indeed been able to see past his father's lies and cruelty? Merlin wished he knew the answer. The Prince had been unusually reserved ever since the conversation with Ennyny. Even last night, he could have sworn his master had been avoiding him… At least, enough to not have required his services, not even at super…
Whatever it was that was occupying the Prince's mind was obviously something not only serious but very private; something Arthur had not desire to share with him at all…
"The cradle of Albion is said to be the union of the raven and the dragon…"
Gaius' interpretation of the old Goidelic manuscripts had been right on target. Leoness and Camelot together were the first steppingstone of the route to the future great kingdom of Albion. The only remaining issue was how to ensure that union.
Right now, his main preoccupation was to convince Arthur—in the most inconspicuous possible fashion—to retrieve the mystical sword Fragarach… Which, by the way, he had no idea where it was. But that was likely where Ennyny's help would come handy…
Hopefully.
The other issue—far more worrisome—was the disclosure that had thrown him off… Uther had a bastard daughter… and a sorceress no less. In any other circumstance, Merlin would have found the irony frankly amusing. However, going by what Myrddin had said, the situation was extremely serious.
"Grave times are afoot, Merlin. Morgause has not given up on her claim of Camelot's throne. She is Arthur's half sister and Uther's bastard daughter… She will try once again and this time she might succeed…"
In spite of his questions of the 'hows' and 'whens', neither Myrddin nor Kilgharrah had been able to provide more details. They were not seers, both had excused. The battle for the throne of Camelot had been foretold as part of Albion's prophecy… But no particulars of what it entitled had been given.
In the warlock's view, that meant that he had to keep an eye on anything suspicious while trying to convince the royals to marry and unite the land.
There were still so many things he wanted to ask… Trying once again to rearrange his qualms in order of urgency, Merlin decided that once he had made sure Arthur would endeavor in the retrieval of the mystical sword, he would visit Myrddin again.
Perchance after dinner—and most importantly after conversing with Ennyny—he should make a list of his questions and worries, lest he forgot some…
Supper started as a strange affair in many aspects. Gwynn was particularly talkative, trying to exorcise her exuberant happiness by chatting incessantly with Wledyr. The time spent with the Prince had been a delicious event that had sent her tender heart soaring, but she figured that bursting into a song—as she felt actually inclined to—would have been embarrassing and prompted too many questions.
Wledyr, in turn, could not look at Arthur without blushing. She was a simple maid, brought up in the middle of nowhere by her adoptive grandmother, and her contact with adult males—specially sophisticated and charming ones—had been virtually non-existent. Therefore, having been singled out by this magnificent Prince—and to thank her no less!—had shaken her to the core; and as much as she tried to act normal, her shyness got the best of her every time.
Ennyny was delicious as usual, interjecting some wise remarks here and there, all the time smiling knowingly. For all the pretenses going on at the table, no one could fool her… and everyone knew it.
Particularly Arthur, who hadn't spoken much—if any at all—and had remained completely immersed in his thoughts. The realization of his love for the Princess had literally rendered him speechless, and this time it did not matter to him the keen awareness that the old lady knew what was in his mind.
How could he have been so blind?
It had been always there, in plain sight, at yet he had chosen to ignore all the signs… He had chosen to think that it had been his wounded male pride that had prompted him to come to Leoness in search for answers…
Then, he had chosen to believe he had stayed in the Citadel to make sure she was safe… But at the end of the day, all those had been just pitiful excuses to escape the truth.
He was utterly, madly… desperately in love with her. And now he truly had no idea how to go about his feelings.
Would she love him in return? Most likely… He had seen it in her eyes, even if he had chosen to ignore that too.
The future he had tried so hard not to think about came crashing down on him. He had even convinced himself that he could eventually marry her only out of duty and for her sake…
Confessedly, for once he had not dreaded his duty… The prospect of marrying this Princess—as soon as he had gotten to know her—had been… tempting to say the least. But he had always kept love out of the equation. Or so he had thought.
Whether it had been for fear to open his heart again or just plain obtuseness, it was irrelevant now… For all his worldliness, he had fell prisoner of this woman like an inexperienced adolescent. The best—or worst—part of all… She did not even know she had done so…
Surreptitiously, he glanced at Gwynn and found her eyes fixed on him. His throat contracted and he had to force his swallowing. Gods… if only…
Just when his mood began to turn dark at the thought of her reluctance to marry him, Merlin came into the dinning room, excusing his lateness.
"Merlin! My boy… I am glad you were able to join us. Come, dear, sit and eat. You must be tired of your journey. Did you have a pleasant trip? How is my good friend Myrddin faring?"
The wizard sat a bit confused at the avalanche of questions from Ennyny and smiled meekly to everyone at the table, trying to remember the inquiries to answer them in order.
"Not that much … And yes, thank you. He's well and send his regards…"
The Prince looked at him between annoyed and amused.
"Your eloquence always amazes me Merlin…"
Before the warlock could rebut the pun, a full plate of food was placed in front of him and he immediately forgot everything else. He was starving!
Meanwhile, Ennyny decided to take charge of the conversation.
"Finnabair, dear, have you been practicing Goidelic today?"
The Princess smiled. "You know I have, Nynny…" And looking at Arthur, she continued lightheartedly. "What you may not know, however, is that Prince Arthur was learning it too…"
Merlin almost choked on his food—Arthur learning languages was certainly something worth seeing—while Ennyny smiled meaningfully.
"Is that so? Did you enjoy what you have learned, your highness?"
The use of his title and the cadence of her voice made Arthur think that she was not talking about Goidelic at all. All right then, no reason to deny it. She surely knew it anyway. However, he couldn't resist the temptation to answer ambiguously, attuned with her style.
"Very much so, my dear lady. I would say that I find the discovery… startling…"
The eyebrows of the seer went up in candid admiration, her smile widening further.
"I was right about you, Arthur. You will find that this… knowledge you have acquired today may prove of much importance in the future…"
The rest of the diners were watching in silence the cryptic exchange between Ennyny and the Prince. Gwynn reacted first. Whatever was that they were talking, it was obviously not about the language and she did not appreciate being left out in the dark. However, she knew that it was useless to ask her adoptive grandmother… and she wouldn't dare to query Arthur about it. That left her with only one possible course of action: change topics.
"The Prince will teach me how to shoot with a long bow in return." She announced, and Arthur had the inkling that she was annoyed; immediately surmising the reason, he bit his inner cheek not to smile.
The seer nodded, obviously amused.
"And an excellent instructor you will have, my dear." Speaking to the Prince again, she commented loosely. "I understand that you master that old bow, your highness… And very impressively for what I've heard…"
The Prince chuckled, slightly embarrassed at the compliment… Another 'new', if someone asked Merlin, who was silently following the conversation while stuffing his mouth with the delicious dinner.
"I should have probably requested your permission to search your weaponry, my lady. I hope you can forgive me?"
"Oh… do not mention it, Arthur. You are most welcome." And continuing in the same casual tone, she added. "Since you are so fond of weapons, I wonder if you'd be interested in retrieving a special sword …"
At those words, Merlin effectively choked on his food, finally corroborating his theory that eating in the presence of Ennyny was positively a dangerous affair.
"Certainly…"
Arthur's response was interrupted when the seer's attention switched to his coughing servant.
"Merlin, my boy… Are you all right, my dear?"
The genuine concern of the old lady made the Prince laughed out loud and the wizard to turn red. He drank avidly from his goblet trying to stop, and he had almost succeeded when the voice of Ennyny sounded in his head.
"I know what you need to ask of me Merlin… I am simply facilitating things because we do not have much time… And we need to talk about your eating habits…"
Red turned to crimson, and the embarrassed warlock shot an apologetic glance to Arthur, who was still chuckling and shaking his head in disbelief.
"I am fine, thank you." He finally mumbled.
Sobering up, the Prince glared at his servant, clearly warning about further interruptions and resumed his agreement.
"Certainly, my lady. What is this sword you'd like me to retrieve?"
Making a dismissive gesture with her hand, Ennyny continued speaking nonchalantly.
"Oh, it's a sword that's supposed to be fit for a great King. It is said that after the final revolt against the invaders, many people claimed their right to rule the conquered land and internal battles ensued. Then, a great foreign warrior who had fought alongside the Silures, and whose blood had helped free the land, left his sword in a cave and dared the aspirants to the throne to recover it. Legend has it that the one who can wield it would be the rightful ruler of these lands…"
Everyone at the table had been following the story with utmost attention, completely absorbed by the tale. Arthur spoke next.
"And this… legend… Is it true or just folk tale?"
Ennyny drank slowly from her goblet, her smile widening at the unreserved curiosity in the young man's voice.
"The legend, I do not know…" She put her goblet down. "But the sword is real. I thought that perhaps you'd be interested…"
Arthur narrowed his eyes. There was something else to this lady's story that she was not disclosing. Nevertheless, the little he had learned from her during these past days had taught him that she would only reveal what she wanted; besides—and whatever her ulterior motive—it was going to be for the best anyway. He grinned and took the bait.
"And you know where the sword is…"
The smile of Ennyny turned downright mystifying.
"Oh, yes… I know where the sword is…"
A/N: Did it live up to your expectations? :-)