Content warning: Poisoning, Intentional poisoning
In comparison to the bustling castle Oriana had tread through that morning, by stark contrast, when she entered the library after breakfast, it was eerily quiet. Upon further inspection, she discovered that other than herself, it seemed one other occupied the room, that she could see from the threshold of the entrance to it.
The man in question stood with a sharp glare behind the large desk opposite of the door she had walked through moments before, his arms crossed, waiting for her to descend fully into what appeared to be his domain. Though he cut a small figure, his unwelcoming presence was large. From where she stood, she could discern that much, at least.
"Welcome to Camelot's library. I am George, the librarian. Should you need anything while you are here, I should be the first person that you ask."
His words were stiff and did nothing to endear him to her further, but she still said, "Thank you."
A moment of silence elapsed between them, before she spoke up again.
"Where might I find books regarding magic?"
George did little more than purse his lips, then said, "Follow me, please."
Oriana did as he asked, whilst looking around at the scrolls and tomes stuffed in the shelves, wondering what they all contained. Unlike their scant collection back in Ealdor, what she had encountered thus far in Camelot's library was infinitely larger.
In reality though, the picturesque beauty of it all meant more to her than the actual contents of each of the works. Books and such were a means to an end, for her. Were Oriana to know what they contained, without having to sit for hours to learn, that would be her ideal situation. However, unless by way of certain more difficult types of magic, that was impossible. Given that her father had imparted that using magic for everything did indeed have drawbacks, she had given up on utilizing those short cuts some time ago, as she had been begrudgingly forced to admit he was right.
The abrupt stop that George made a bit later, nearly caused her to collide with him. By the grace of her quick reflexes alone, she caught herself before that could happen, though.
Seconds later, he fixed her with an unaffected look and gestured to an ornate door in front of them, which by appearance alone, seemed out of place in comparison to the older walls and shelving around it. The swirls and designs that were carved into its freshly painted wooden surface were mesmerizing. It was only when a cough sounded beside her, did Oriana notice she had diverted her attention wholly from the librarian to survey it, instead.
"As I was saying, this room contains all texts in reference to magic. No sustenance nor beverage of any kind is permitted in the library, but especially in this room. Experiments regarding what you have read, are expressly prohibited here within these walls. Should you wish to take notes, I have scraps of parchment, ink, and unused quills at my desk for your use. I do request though that you place the ink as far from the materials as possible, should you need to do this. Do you have any questions?"
"No, thank you."
He gave her a curt nod, then said, "I shall be checking back here periodically, should you need something."
Oriana nodded absentmindedly, whilst thinking it sounded more like a threat than a friendly reminder, especially in that droll voice of his.
"Okay."
George disappeared without so much as another word, seconds later.
Once left to her own devices, she walked forward and turned the handle. It, too, was engraved, and set with an ostentatious bright blue jewel. Not a moment later, Oriana found herself gazing at a large space beyond it.
The chamber itself held walls of text on the ground floor, but also above on what looked to be a second level. Comfortable lounging spaces, as well as plush armchairs, were scattered throughout the chamber from what she could see. The floor was made of stone, of course, as the rest of the castle was. At the center though of the central area, there was a statue of a dragon, holding a book. It dominated the space, and Oriana felt a bit smaller in its expansive presence, as it gazed down at her, rather than the text it was holding.
It was only when a book was shut, did she notice that she was not alone.
Oriana's eyes snapped over to her right to be met with a face she somewhat vaguely recognized.
The man stood a bit taller than her, and had brown hair cropped so short, it hardly had any length to it at all. His skin was pale, similar to hers, as it was.
She looked directly into his eyes for a moment, then turned away, because unlike Brenna's own warm brown ones, his hazel eyes felt unfriendly the second she met his gaze.
"Hello," he said.
She stepped forward to enter the room in earnest, then only after she shut the door, did she say, "Hello."
Silence expanded between them, so she opted to walk further into the room, poring over the possibilities before her in that moment, as she did. It was almost overwhelming to her, the idea that she could lose herself for hours or even days in that room, and still not learn all there was to know, contained within one place.
The voice behind her cut through the calm again to ask, "So, you're a dual wielder?"
Oriana glanced behind her, seeing him grasping another book from the shelf in front of him, as she did. Directly after, she thought back to the day before, and then remembered who he was; the man who had noticed her while she was surveying the other people standing around her. That meant at some point, she could face him at the pitch. Unlike Brenna, she would need to keep this man at an arm's length at least.
"Yes, I am."
Attempting to feign interest in the conversation, she then asked, "Have you fought in any tourneys before?"
Truly, she had no inclination to speak with him, given the first round of magic users were set to begin soon. Whether she could be seated with Mordred, or amongst the crowd elsewhere, she still had a desire to attend. However, given her match was tomorrow, she did wish to study up some, and potentially learn a thing or two before stepping into the ring. Were he to continue bothering her though, that might not be possible before she left to see the second day of the tournament.
"This would be one in a number of them that I have entered, and won."
Oriana got the feeling he was not simply stating a fact to her.
Still, her curiosity got the better of her, so she asked, "Do you travel to compete?"
He shrugged.
"Sometimes, but I've lived in Camelot my whole life, and we tend to have a tournament of some sort a few times of year, at least. The King is quite fond of them."
Oriana did her best to conceal her thoughts at the mention of Arthur. If this man beside her had won several tournaments in a bracket like theirs, potentially, he would be able to hear her thoughts, as Mordred could. It would not do to take any chances, regardless.
With that thought in mind, she replied rather dismissively.
"Oh, that sounds lovely."
After, she walked away, hoping if she put some more physical distance between them, that he might leave her be, and take the hints she had left like breadcrumbs for him to see in her wake. Instead, he followed her, and the itch to give him a few choice words broiled up within her as he stopped not far from her a few moments later.
Still, she tamped the urge down, then said, "As nice as it is to meet you, I'd like to peruse what's here before I have to find a seat for today's bracket. So, if you wouldn't mind," she trailed off, hoping that would be enough then.
There was very little space between them, as he peered down at her, and it made her quite uncomfortable.
Rather than vocalize that though, she made the impulsive decision after that quick revelation to step away, and made for the door.
"Done so soon?"
"I'm going to look for a good seat in the stands."
She had almost left the chamber, when he shot back, "Won't be able to tag along with your knight of Camelot, today?"
If Oriana hadn't liked the stranger before, she definitely did not care for his presence then.
"I can manage on my own, thank you. Not that it's any of your business."
He made a faux face of surprise, then said, "Can you? Is that why I witnessed you lose spectacularly yesterday to someone without a drop of magic in her veins?"
Oriana had meant to step away, truly. After all, she had taken figurative and literal strides to remove herself from the situation. Regardless, she was not the pinnacle of perfection, after all.
So, she whirled around, and said, "Everyone has an off day. Given I haven't had a decent sparring session in a while, I was bound to have one, you pompous arse."
He moved forward, crossing the distance between them again, waving his hands and talking as he did.
"If that's the case, then why on earth would you bother with entering the class which requires proficiency in both swordsmanship and magic? If you can't even fight with that subpar blade, how do you expect to fare when you'll have to use it and your magic?"
Oriana knew she should step away, because he was a fellow competitor, most likely only seeking to rile her up. It shouldn't have meant anything, but somehow, he had managed to hit multiple mental pressure points, and her irritation had gone from dormant to raging in a matter of a few heart beats.
"I'll show you subpar -"
Before she could attempt to do whatever came to mind first, be that hurling a ball of raw magic at him, or tossing a book in his direction, she noted a smirk on his face as she advanced towards him, then, another voice shouted behind her, "Young lady, threats and acts of violence are strictly prohibited in the sanctity of this wing of the castle."
Oriana stopped.
The smugness radiating from the man in front of her, whose name she hadn't even bothered to learn, soured the expression on her face further.
Inhaling, she turned on her heel and met the steely gaze coming from George, who was stood in the doorway. She had been so angry, she hadn't even heard it open.
He stepped further into the room, then gestured with one of his hands towards the door to his right, whilst saying, "You may leave, now."
Before she could though, Oriana had to ask, "May I come back, again?"
"Not today," he stated, firmly.
She threw a glare behind her, then swiftly exited, lest she exhaust what little good will she might have with either the gods or the librarian himself.
Once her angry strides had carried her far from the library, Oriana realized she was in no state to be amongst people, whether she was seated with the knights or not. So, she walked to her quarters, with the hope that putting space between her and anyone else who might ask her for attention, might help.
After splashing her face with fresh water from the bowl near her mirror, and toweling it off, she laid down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling.
She cursed herself internally for having let that inconsequential man get to her, because as a result, she would not be able to watch the magic users or prepare for the tournament the next day in the way she knew how. While in the moment, it had felt like the right thing, she knew that even if she had landed a punch, the only person she had truly hurt was herself.
Oriana slapped the bed in frustration with both hands, whilst letting out a loud groan to compliment the motions. She might have continued doing so, but a knock at her door stopped her. Quickly, she was on her feet again, not keen to keep whoever it was waiting.
The door opened a few moments later to reveal a servant who was holding packages.
"Delivery for Oriana of Escetir."
Oriana moved aside to allow the man through, so he would not harm himself with the boxes that were stacked tall in his arms.
Once he had set them down, she looked at him with confusion, and asked, "Do you know who sent these?"
"They arrived at the castle steps this morning, with your name on them, but no other. Each box has been inspected, and determined to be no threat to you or anyone else within our walls."
Though she could not think of anyone who would do such a thing, she said, "Thank you for bringing them to me."
"Of course. Is there anything else you require?"
That would take some getting used to, she had to admit.
"No, thank you."
Once the door was shut behind him as he left, she went towards the packages, wondering what could possibly be in them.
She lifted the lid of the first one to find a set of tunics; one red, one blue, and one purple. Picking up the top tunic, which happened to be the purple one, her eyes cut to the full length mirror, which was in the corner to the left of the door from her vantage point. Then, she stood up to walk over and hold it up in front of her body to look at it, properly.
The quality was something that she had never had in clothing before. Her everyday garments she wore in Ealdor were never that well made, nor were her traveling clothes that Merlin had brought from his own journeys, either. It was the softest tunic she had ever had the privilege to hold.
After fawning over it some more, she placed the tunic back into the box with the other two, only to find a few pairs of black breeches below them in the second box, which were clearly meant to be paired with the tunics. Again, they were better quality than anything Oriana had ever owned. She would do well to wear them when she fought in the tournament.
Though she was a fighter and healer, first and foremost, where practicality took precedence, it had not escaped her notice how plain she had looked yesterday, amongst the rest of the competitors. Whether they were a commoner or not, every single one of them seemed to have scrounged up some sort of way to purchase at least one article of clothing that made their appearance less drab, and more tournament worthy. Given that she had shown up with no money, she had thought it impossible for her to do the same.
In the third box, she discovered a dress, which was easily even more beautiful than the clothes she had found in the other two packages. It was golden and bright as she imagined the sun to be, with intricate beading and lacing. When she held it up to the mirror, her blue eyes went wide.
"Where on earth will I use something like this?"
Regardless of whether it was practical, she loved it.
After twirling around with it in the mirror, she carefully placed it back in its box, as well.
Then, she looked into the fourth and final box, which was a great deal smaller than the others containing the clothing, only to discover where a pair of shoes to match her dress were held. She plucked them out, tossed off her boots, and tried them on, only to find that they fit her perfectly.
This, more than anything, gave her pause.
Oriana knew few people in Camelot, but she doubted that either Brenna, Mordred, or even Sir Gwaine had sent her the gifts in question. Brigit was aware of her escapade, as was her grandmother Hunith, but neither had much money to spare for such finery. For it to make it to her room in Camelot, and all fit her, it would need to be someone present, she believed. Likewise, the dyes alone that had created the vibrant colors must have cost someone a decent sum.
Who on earth had been close enough to her during her short stint in Camelot thus far who could have guessed her foot wear size, and from what it seemed, her garment sizes, as well?
However they had made their way to her though, she was grateful for them, all the same, even if the appearance of such timely garments did unsettle her a little. Had the servant not said they were addressed to her, she might have thought the delivery was made to her by mistake.
Once she was finished examining the exquisite shoes, she replaced them in their box.
Oriana then took the time to fill her wardrobe with what had been delivered, so that they were less likely to be ruined. Given that their appearance was nothing short of a miracle, she wished to preserve their condition, even if she could hardly guess where they had come from, which did bother her still.
After she had completed that task, the realization came that there was too much pent up energy within her still to remain in her quarters, so she left. Once out in the corridor, she found herself wishing she could hit something, and hard. Given that the magic rounds were still happening, the likelihood of the practice field being full was relatively low, so she left the indoors with the intent to go find a practice dummy to use.
On her way out of the castle, she never made it that far though, for she spied Mordred.
At the sight of her, he walked over, and smiled.
"I didn't even hear you coming. You've done well."
"Were you waiting for me?"
Mordred nodded, then looked away, as he replied, "Yes, I thought you might like to sit with us again, today."
The kindness it took for him to sit out multiple rounds already, was great, but she stood firm.
"Unfortunately, I cannot."
Mordred's eyes found hers again.
"Is everything alright?"
She hesitated, then said, "I might have managed to have myself thrown out of the library earlier this morning."
Mordred raised an eyebrow at her.
"Might have?"
She glanced away and said, whilst crossing her arms in front of her, "Some arse was having a go at me, and I took the bait. He's in my bracket, I should have known better."
Given that she had only known him for a few days, Oriana couldn't guess how Mordred would react. When she found his eyes on her again, she saw a mischievous look appear.
Then he asked, "Were you as quick to consider drawing your sword on him, as you were with me a few nights ago?"
Oriana shook her head, then said, "No, but I might have, if the thought had occurred to me before the librarian barged in."
Mordred shook his head.
"I can't imagine that George was too pleased with you."
"He was not."
A familiar voice broke through their conversation, before either could take it further.
Oriana turned to see Brenna stride up to them.
"There you are. I saw you at breakfast. I would have sat with you, but-"
Before Oriana could stop her words, she cut Brenna off.
"It's alright. After your fight yesterday, I imagine that will happen quite a lot."
There was no malice in what Oriana said, but surety. Brenna had been no person short of admirers and those seeking a chance to sit with her earlier that morning, which was why Oriana had elected to seek out the library instead of conversing with the woman over breakfast.
"You fought well yesterday," Mordred said from Oriana's left side.
"That's a high compliment from a Knight of Camelot," Brenna said, raising her eyebrows toward him.
"One that is well deserved.."
"How's your back?" Oriana asked, unable to wait for Brenna's reply to Mordred.
"It's healing. The court physician did his best yesterday, after I sought him out."
Oriana made a mental note to pay the man a visit, later.
If she were to stay in Camelot, eventually she would need some sort of job. Perhaps, the Court Physician might need an apprentice? It was a bit far-fetched, but she had no desire to leave Camelot after the tournament, especially with the knowledge that she would most likely not speak to Arthur of her own volition for some time. That was a problem for another day, though.
"Would you like me to look at it? I excel at healing magic."
Brenna smiled.
"If you're up to the task, then yeah. Should my next opponent be anything like the one I faced yesterday, I'd rather not be favoring any injuries."
"Let's go then. I can take a look at it in one of our chambers."
Oriana glanced back at Mordred, before she began to stride away, and said, "It was good seeing you again."
"You as well."
Brenna gave him a nod, then turned to Oriana.
The two women walked together back to the castle, matching each other stride for stride, though their height difference was large.
When they were well out of earshot of Mordred, Brenna looked to her again and asked, "Who was that man?"
Oriana glanced over at her, and said, "Sir Mordred."
"Do you know him well?"
How did she explain being from a small village in a neighboring kingdom, but spending time with a Knight of one of the most powerful kingdoms in all of Albion?
"Not really. He knew my father, when he was younger."
Brenna cocked her head to the side.
"Is your father from Camelot?"
Oriana shook her head.
"Not exactly. He lived here for a time, before I was born."
"Oh. Well, that knight of yours is a handsome fellow."
Oriana's eyes widened.
Brenna laughed, once she caught sight of the expression.
"You can't tell me you haven't thought that. Have you seen him?"
Honestly, the thought had yet to cross her mind. She had been worried about more important things in her opinion, such as trying not to embarrass herself in front of the majority of the kingdom, or concealing her thoughts from those who might use them for ill intent. If Mordred was attractive, well, she would leave that to others to determine. She was simply grateful for his help, and tentative friendship, too.
When she hadn't replied, Brenna laughed, again.
"Well, now, since I've put that thought in your head, you might end up in his knightly bed."
Brenna waggled her eyebrows to compliment what she had said, which made Oriana infinitely more uncomfortable.
"Please, stop. It's not like that, and I have no plans for that to change, ever."
Oriana was not a child, but speaking of someone she hardly knew in such a manner made her ill at ease.
The two women stepped into the castle, and began walking towards the competitors' lodgings.
"Alright, no need to fret. I was only ribbing you."
Oriana was grateful that they had not been around anyone who might have heard Brenna. The last thing Oriana needed was for court gossip to catch wind of what Brenna had insinuated, after all.
The two finally made it to Brenna's chamber, which was further within the castle than Oriana's, not long after. How that happened, when Oriana had arrived later in the week than Brenna, she did not know. However, when they stepped in, she was grateful to be away from the crowds, and noise.
One thing about growing up in Ealdor that she had taken for granted, was the silence. Camelot was by far the opposite of that. She had yet to see, but imagined that it was the same whether there was a tournament or not.
Once they were inside, with the door firmly shut behind them, Brenna removed her upper layers entirely, to reveal a deep and nasty gash. It seemed to have begun to close at the outer edges, but still looked gruesome enough that Oriana knew it would take a little while to heal at least, as it started from where the mace had grazed Brenna's upper back, then continued down to just above her hips. From afar, the wound had not seemed to be as terrible, while being rendered, as it looked to Oriana then as she first saw it up close.
"Would you rather sit up or lie down?"
"What would make it easier?"
"I can heal it whichever way, but this will take some time, and it might be a bit painful, so if you would rather rest as I do it, that might be preferable."
Contrary to popular public opinions, the art of healing magic was more complex than some liked to admit. The ability to harness or use it, did not mean that all pain would disappear immediately, but that it would with precision and the proper care.
Oriana could heal Brenna's wound, but in the process, she might feel some pain, as Oriana cleaned it and closed it up, with her magic. This sort of work required patience, which she was in short supply of in other areas, but here, that was an exception.
It had been a while since Oriana had needed this sort of magic, but she revelled in using it, as she felt the happiest when she was mending others. Fighting was all well and good; it protected her and those she cared about from harm. Likewise, she enjoyed that she had always been above average at it, which she credited no small part to Lancelot's tutelage. However, healing was where she could cause someone to feel better, and she would rather know she was helping someone, than hurting them. Always, she felt like her interests were a delicate balance of opposites. However, she was both a fighter and a healer, and refused to compromise for others who only wished to see one side of her.
"I'll lie down."
Oriana pushed the sleeves of her worn lilac tunic up, and waited for Brenna to settle herself. Once she had, with a whispered spell, Oriana directed the first portion of her endeavor towards cleaning the wound.
Brenna grunted, and shifted a little. She remained silent after though, as she became accustomed to the feel of Oriana's magic.
The magic itself appeared from Oriana's right hand in the form of a translucent gel that surrounded it, and allowed for what she needed to cling to it. The powers in question were seeking out any foreign matter, and then removing it, along with the dried salve that was still there from the day before. When she could confirm that all which did not belong had been taken out, she held up her hand and disintegrated what was attached with a simple spell. Then, she allowed the remnants of what she had conjured to recede.
Once the first part was complete, Oriana said, "This might hurt a bit more, but I promise it will help you once I'm finished."
"Okay, go ahead."
Oriana held out her right hand again, just above the wound, and began chanting the necessary spell.
The words escaped her mouth in soft, lilting sounds that she sustained as skin began to form a scar where there had previously been a salve and a deep, open cut on Brenna's left shoulder, moving down that side. Brenna shifted slightly under her work, making a few noises that denoted her discomfort, but otherwise remained an excellent charge.
After what felt like many candle marks, Oriana completed her work. An exhaustion she had not previously felt beforehand was making itself known to her. She ignored it though, then pulled her sleeves back down, whilst saying, "All done. Feel free to take a look in the mirror."
Brenna hopped up in a few quick movements, and Oriana stepped aside so she could do just that
"Wow, you're brilliant. The scarring is hardly visible."
Oriana beamed.
"As I said, I do excel at the healing arts."
Brenna marveled at what Oriana had done for a moment more, then slipped on the rest of her clothes again. As she did, Oriana had looked at the floor, waiting for her to finish.
Unlike her newly acquired skill that she was still working on, Oriana had been healing people for a good while. Merlin did so because it had been necessary, but of all that she had ever learned, Oriana loved the art of healing the most. Her father was passable and had taught her what he could, but most of it she had learnt in the moment, as she applied what she had read over in books when a situation required that. Of course, there was no substitute for practical application, after all.
At one time, she had thought that perhaps the only reason some villagers tolerated her was because she was the one who they knew could cure them of a sickness, or mend a child's broken bone, without any residual pain. In any case, it brought her more joy than anything, to use her magic as a force of good in that manner.
Once Brenna was fully clothed, she came to stand in front of Oriana, and said, "Thank you, for healing me."
Oriana glanced up and met Brenna's gaze.
"Of course. Should you need that again, let me know."
Brenna pursed her lips.
"Do you realize that having a good healer at my side could be the difference in how I fare in the tournament? These fights are not for the faint of heart, and many incur wounds far worse than mine from a single round."
Oriana shrugged.
"Everyone has access to the Court Physician."
Brenna grimaced, slightly.
"Which is all well and good, but his methods are slower, verging out outdated, even. If you had not used your magic, I would have entered my next match still in pain. That could have harmed my chances at winning."
"I'm glad I could help, then."
"Unless you go around healing everyone in this tournament, it's hardly fair."
Oriana hadn't thought of it that way.
"I could, but -"
"No, no it's alright. I wasn't suggesting you had to, or that you should. What you did was nothing short of amazing, though. Thank you."
"You're welcome, of course."
Brenna looked at her for a moment, before she said, "I'll be going out soon to the temporary druid encampment for food, drinks, and dancing. Do you want to come?"
The Druids; all of whom were magic users in some capacity, that Oriana knew of. If she drank, her guard would be down, and given her tenuous relationship with what she was able to do within her mind, it was best to avoid situations such as that. Perhaps, she could just go for a bit of food and dancing? After all, it would be a great way to let off some steam, even if she did not know how to properly dance. Ealdor wasn't exactly known for balls, or festivals.
"When?"
"Tonight."
Though Oriana was hesitant to say yes, she was grateful for the invitation all the same. So much of her thoughts had revolved around particular subjects, up to that moment, and the need to let her hair down, so to speak, made itself known once given an opportunity to do so.
She ached inside, for what seemed to be a shred of normalcy. Though she had not done it often in Ealdor, if she were in Camelot for the fighting alone, she would have said yes without hesitation. That drove the point home that perhaps, at least for a night, she needed to act as if she were just another entrant to the tournament.
"Okay."
"Great. Let's meet outside of the Great Hall at the start of the evening meal, then walk down there."
"I'll be there."
Oriana spotted Brenna immediately, outside of the Great Hall. Unlike when Oriana had left her chamber, she was not alone, though. Someone had an arm wrapped around her waist, and was whispering something in her ear when Oriana walked up to them.
When Brenna saw her, Oriana raised an eyebrow.
Brenna smiled, then gestured to the person beside her. Oriana was unsure whether to consider the person a man or a woman, so she did not, until she knew for sure which one was an apt descriptor.
"Oriana, this is my partner, Naro. Naro, this is my new friend, Oriana."
Naro had dark skin, like Brenna, but unlike her, had a bald head. Their eyes were brown, too, from what Oriana could see. While she had easily read Brenna as more of a friendly, open sort, Naro in contrast seemed to be reserved.
Briefly, she considered the word partner, before she smiled in response to the introduction, because even in her confusion, she had noticed Brenna referring to her as a friend.
"It's nice to meet you," Oriana said.
She had heard nothing about this Naro, but still, gave nothing away.
Naro quietly said, "You as well."
Brenna looked between them then.
"Are we ready to leave now? My stomach is begging for something other than what we've been served here."
Naro nodded, and Oriana said, "Let's go then."
At that, Naro broke away from Brenna and began walking ahead, leaving Oriana and Brenna to talk. Once Naro was well out of ear shot, Oriana turned to Brenna as they went down the stairs of the castle entrance, and asked, "Should I consider your partner a woman or a man?"
"Neither."
Oriana was momentarily stunned, then asked, "If I wish to discuss Naro without that name?"
"Should you need to discuss them, or refer to them, this is the way. Neither he nor she is applicable, in regards to Naro."
"I see, thank you."
Then, "Why did Naro walk off?"
"They probably wished to scout the area, to see what's there. In Nemeth, they are a Knight in Queen Mithian's own retinue."
This information took Oriana by surprise.
"How did you both meet?"
Brenna grimaced.
"Their parents, who held seats of great import during Queen Mithian's father's reign, died when they were a child. They came to us for a time in their later adolescence, because my parents had been their parents' dearest friends. We grew close and then fell in love over time."
Though Oriana was saddened to hear about the deaths of Naro's parents, she warmed at the thought of the rest of the story.
"So, that talk about arranged marriage, is that why you were so keen to agree to it? Because if you were paired off, Naro could be first in line?"
"In my case, yes. Naro would be the obvious choice, for me. Their parents had amassed a decent foothold of power in the region we lived in, and left them enough for a proper dowry. If it came to that, they would be the one I would wish to marry. If that were not the case though, out of respect for my family, I would still wed whoever they might choose."
The thought of an arranged marriage not based upon mutual love still irked Oriana, but she remained closed lipped about that, and asked instead, "Has Naro been here in Camelot the whole time you have?"
"Yes, but they are also competing, so we have had little time to be together."
Given Oriana hadn't known them before being introduced, likewise compounded by the fact that she had missed the magic bracket entirely, that explained a lot.
"How did their first day go?"
Brenna shrugged, and said, "They swept the match. Did you not see?"
"No, I was waylaid, unfortunately."
"By Sir Mordred?"
Oriana shook her head.
"No, some arse in the library."
The mention of him still made Oriana's blood boil a bit, so she was grateful when they were at the start of the encampment at the city's edge, where Naro had stopped to wait for them.
The sun had been setting when they had begun their walk. However, the night sky was now dark, except for the stars and pockets of light that were illuminating areas closer to the ground, thanks to the Druids.
Naro glanced at both of them, then placed an arm around Brenna's waist.
"A fire was built to the center of the right side, and the musicians have already begun to play."
Their voice was deep, and melodic.
"Are you hungry?"
She realized Brenna was talking to her, and then shook her head.
Oriana was grateful she had fed herself before leaving. Otherwise, the scents around her would be much more enticing.
"No, thank you. I ate in the Great Hall, before we left."
"Why would you-"
Brenna began, but then Naro's deep voice was whispering something unintelligible in Brenna's ear, and she sobered up just a bit, after.
"Right, well, Naro and I will seek out sustenance, if you wish to meet us at the campfire."
Oriana agreed, then began walking around on her own.
Most of the booths were still open, as the night was in full swing. She passed stalls that held intricately created jewelry, the likes that she had never seen. There were also some which held other specialty items, such as wood and stone carvings. Others were dedicated to food, and she passed those as quickly as she could, hoping to not let the hunger in her eyes become evident to those waiting for passersby to stop and purchase their wares.
Soon, she was on the outskirts of a large fire, where musicians were indeed set up, and the sounds of their instruments filtered through the air. Logs were placed around the massive fire, which were it not for what appeared to be magic, would have ravaged the area outside of it, were it set free. However, there were a few Druids she could see containing it, keeping it's steady flames to only the size of a small dwelling, and nothing more. It spanned a large area though, so the heat would reach many.
While it was autumn, and the days were steadily dropping in temperature, the nights were even worse. Oriana could only imagine how it was for the Druids who slept outside, while she had remained warm so far from the thick blankets and the fireplace she could light in her own room.
There were people dancing closer to the fire, who were not tending to it. Others, it seemed, held goblets of what she assumed to be alcohol. Though she had sipped small amounts while in Camelot, Oriana had never been one to seek it out. That much, at least, had not changed.
She walked around, wending her way through the people, enjoying the lively tunes and dancing she was surrounded by. The energy of it all brought out a sense of glee in her, one she had rarely felt since arriving in Camelot. Soon, she was attempting to dance, and failing miserably, but didn't care. It was a breath of fresh air from the stress she had felt as of late.
The music continued, transitioning from one upbeat song to another, and she continued on, amongst the rest. She found herself learning a couples' dance, and being twirled around by a woman smaller than herself, then a man much larger than she. Eventually, she removed herself from the fray when she spied Brenna and Naro again.
"Having fun, are you?" Brenna asked.
Oriana nodded, as she caught her breath beside them.
"Yes, thank you for inviting me."
"Of course. You looked like you could use a bit of fun."
Oriana glanced at her friend, who then held out some food to her.
"I purchased more than either Naro or I could stomach. Would you like some?"
It was a bowl, holding some sort of pungent soup, no doubt containing many herbs in the broth alone that Oriana had never used or consumed before.
She accepted it readily, unable to contain her hunger anymore after the dancing.
"Thank you!"
Brenna nodded, as Oriana tucked into it. Then, she grabbed Naro's hand, and led them into the dancing, where Oriana lost the pair from her eyesight as she finished off what she had been given. Unsure of what to do with the bowl, she set it down beside a log, hoping to discard it when they were leaving.
When she stood up again, she found an elder man looking at her with a strange look, but ignored him, as he was a bit unnerving. Instead, she set her eyes on a young woman, who was garbed in peasant clothes, but most likely was a Druid, beside her.
"Would you like to dance?"
The woman had fiery red hair, which was made even brighter against her ivory skin by the light of the fire. She was shorter than Oriana by a good bit, too.
Oriana looked into her green eyes, then responded with, "Sure."
She took the woman's left hand in her right and led her out to where everyone else was moving their bodies in various styles. The pair began to dance in an unsynchronized sort of way, and the music became background to Oriana's thoughts, which revolved around her trying not to make a fool of herself with her new companion. Earlier it hadn't mattered to her all that much, but now someone had gone out of their way to ask, and she didn't wish to make that person regret doing so.
At one point though, she inevitably stepped on the other woman's toes, while attempting a spin that had seemed easier beforehand. Soon, they were laughing because once that occurred, her abilities decreased even further, while she tried to remedy what she had done.
Clutching her sides, Oriana said, "I'm so sorry. I've never been taught how to properly dance."
The woman smiled back at her indulgently.
"Neither have I."
Oriana laughed again in spite of herself, then said, "Could have fooled me."
The woman, whoever she was, was much more graceful than Oriana herself.
Once they had moved away from everyone else again, after receiving some irritated glares, the woman asked, "Would you like to share a drink with me?"
Oriana would have declined, were she the one solely meant to drink it, but agreed given that her companion would be drinking too.
"Why not?"
The woman, who seemed rather shy now, reached down and grabbed Oriana's left hand, then kissed the top off it.
"I'll be right back."
Oriana smiled, feeling the butterflies in her stomach, then said, "Okay, -"
She trailed off, hoping she might at least receive a name.
"Ryia. You?"
"Oriana."
"Well, let me go grab our drink."
As Ryia walked away, Oriana wrapped her arms around her stomach, as she tried to quell the excitement within her. She knew nothing could or would come of whatever was happening, but in the moment, she was still having a grand old time.
Looking around, she found a log to be seated on.
Soon, Ryia had returned, a cup in hand.
"I already took a sip on the way here. Would you like one now?"
Oriana took it readily, as she was thoroughly parched from the food and the dancing after.
After she gulped down a significant portion, she held it back at Ryia, who took it from her.
"Thank you. I hadn't had a thing to drink since before I left the castle."
"So, you live here, or -"
Ryia trailed off, as if she were waiting for Oriana to correct her.
"I'm here for the tournament."
"That explains the sword at your hip."
Oriana smiled.
"It never leaves my side."
Not wishing to discuss that any further though, Oriana turned to meet Ryia's eyes, and asked, "What about you?"
"Well, I'm a Druid, so I traveled here for the tournament to help sell our wares."
"Can you do magic?" Oriana asked.
"Yes, but my abilities are minimal compared to most."
Oriana smiled.
"That's a shame."
"What about you?"
"I have an affinity for both magic and swordsmanship," Oriana said.
Then, she took the cup from Ryia's hands, and drank a bit more, before handing it back, with only a few drops to spare.
Oriana turned away, her cheeks burning at the nervous energy she felt.
When she glanced back, it was because Ryia had reached down and taken her hand again.
"Would you like to take a walk?"
Before Oriana could respond, Brenna's voice was behind her, and she turned to see both her friend and Naro, standing there. Brenna was smiling, clearly happy after a few rounds around the fire. Likewise, Naro was gazing at Brenna with a look that Oriana took to mean deep affection for her.
"You alright?"
"Yeah, Ryia here just asked me to go for a walk so -"
Brenna's eyes lit up at the statement.
Oriana watched her friend's gaze flick to the woman on her right, appraising the newcomer. Somehow, she felt that Brenna would have further questions later. But, the woman withheld them, thankfully, and said a few moments later, "I see. Well, find us when you're ready to walk back up to the castle, yeah?"
"Okay. Have fun!"
"You, too!
After rising to their feet, both Ryia and Oriana slipped away from the heat of the fire, and those enjoying it, to mill about amongst others who were walking the unmarked paths within the encampment. It was much less crowded the further they strode away from the revelry. Soon, a hush had descended around them, as their feet brought them to the edge of it all, the one furthest from Camelot's entrance gate.
Oriana felt less sure of herself then, but still, she pretended as if she knew what she was doing. That was her habit, after all.
Her eyes found Ryia's, who blushed when Oriana looked at her again. It painted her cheeks a bright rouge color, which endeared Oriana to her further.
"So, here we are."
Ryia reached out her left hand and slipped it within Oriana's right, then glanced up at the stars, rather than reply to her statement. So, Oriana followed Ryia's lead, enjoying the sight of them on the clear night above.
While looking up, Oriana felt a slight head rush, then found herself needing to sit down, a bit later. After guiding Ryia away from where horses or people might need to pass through, they did just that. Her hand slipped out of Ryia's soon, but she found that her head had fallen into Ryia's lap. It was strangely intimate, but given that she felt worse by the second, Oriana allowed it.
Soon, there were thin, nimble fingers stroking her hair, brushing it out of her eyes, and pressing into her forehead. The pounding of her ears that had minutes before been a dull ache, became a roar. Oriana clutched her head on either side in response, and began to shout, because it hurt.
Above it all, she thought she heard Ryia speak, and perhaps another voice too eventually, but it was all too much at once. It hurt, more than anything she had ever physically endured before, and it took everything in her not to let her magic lash out, which she could feel bubbling to the surface within her.
The cacophony continued, as she writhed on the ground.
Whether Ryia was still around, Oriana was unsure. What she knew though, was that she could hear new voices which lent themselves to masculine timbres. A cry rent the night at some point near her after that, but she was puking by then, as what she experienced was all too much for her alone.
Eventually, she heard a voice familiar to her; Brenna's. Then, her body was being lifted up. Everything was blurring together, but somehow, after what felt like forever, the ground beneath her became more firm, and she discerned they were close to the castle itself.
Oriana forced her eyes to crack open a sliver right as Brenna paused at the steps at the front entrance. She turned her head to see that Naro was on the other side of her, and they did as well. That was all she could handle, before she closed her eyes again.
New voices spoke around her after, and one that Oriana vaguely wondered why it was distantly familiar, appeared. Then, another tore through the haze her mind was in.
"What happened?"
She was slow to reply, but managed to say, "Mordred?"
"Will you be okay?"
"No, please help me. My mind, something's wrong, and Brenna won't understand. Please."
Before she could receive a response, she felt herself lose more of whatever was still in her stomach.
A shout sounded out in front of her, and she clutched her head again.
"Dammit."
Soon, there were new arms holding her, ones much larger around than Brenna's. She leaned into the touch, as she felt her energy depleting further.
"It's alright, Sire. I'll take care of her."
Oriana recognized Mordred's voice. Pressed against him as he spoke, she felt the vibrations of his chest, as he did.
"See to it that you do."
She shivered at the demanding tone, then felt tears spring to her eyes before she could help it.
"Oriana, is that okay? Do you wish to go with him?"
That was Brenna's voice.
She searched for the energy to reply aloud.
So much was happening in her brain, more than usual, and Oriana was vaguely aware that she may or may not have just hurled onto the King of Camelot, if the anger and shouting was anything to go by. She couldn't be bothered to think about that, though, right then.
Fighting through it all, she managed to respond aloud.
"Yes, it's okay."
That was all she had the ability to say at that time, as everything hurt in some capacity.
"May I carry you into the castle?"
"Please."
Soon, she was lifted into Mordred's arms, and carried through the corridors.
Eventually, she felt herself being placed onto a bed.
When she opened her eyes again, she could see Mordred's blue ones scrutinizing her.
"May I use my magic to help heal you?"
"Yes."
Oriana closed her eyes when she felt Mordred's left hand slip under her head carefully, lifting it so that he could do whatever it was he meant to. A small part of her knew she was taking a great leap of faith, allowing him to aid her in that way, but she hurt so much that she felt it could only get better from there. She could only hope at that time that he knew what he was doing.
A warmth spread through her, and she heard him using spells that she herself could not understand. It was magic unknown to her, but it did not feel unsafe, as he continued to speak. After a while, he stopped, and she did feel better, though not nearly well enough to do much more than remain as she was.
A few moments later there was a towel being wiped across her face, and she was given sips of cold water, too.
Not long after, she was vomiting again, but this time into a bucket that appeared below her before anything she expelled hit the floor. Once that was done, she laid back, slowly.
"May I remove your sword?"
"Yes, but leave it in my reach."
"Of course."
There was much silence after, as he tried to help her regain at least a small modicum of her strength. The knight tended to her every time she cracked her eyes open; holding her hair back when she lost more of the contents of her stomach, wiping her face to remove sweat and cool her off, helping her with necessary tasks like drinking, amongst other things. It was more than she could have asked for, and a distant part of her was embarrassed that a near virtual stranger was tending to her in such a manner. Still, she was grateful, all the same.
At some point later in the night, she heard another voice speaking to Mordred, after a door had opened, somewhere.
Not long after, Mordred said, "I've been given some medicine that might help you, by the Court Physician. Would you like to take it?"
"Okay."
For a brief moment, she opened her eyes, and forced herself to grasp onto the bottle he held out to her. Mordred allowed her to take it from his hand, once he had unstopped it.
A vague sort of irritation filled Oriana at that, but was quickly forgotten when her hand shook so much that she was unable to drink it on her own.
Soon, a hand larger than hers enclosed hers, then helped guide the bottle to her lips. She gulped the bitter tasting liquid down, then allowed Mordred to take the container from her before she could lose her grip on it enough that it could fall and shatter on the floor.
After, she let her head fall back onto the pillow beneath it, and again, she fell into a restless sleep.
When Oriana woke next, she could only imagine it was hours later, as she felt decent enough to open her eyes and even attempt to speak out loud.
"Where am I?" she croaked out.
Mordred looked up from the chair he was seated in by a fire. From what Oriana could determine, he must have been dosing moments before, because he wiped his face over with his hand once or twice, before responding with, "My quarters."
Her eyes briefly scanned the room, noting the bareness of it all, then returned to Mordred, again.
"Oh."
"Do you have the strength to tell me what happened?"
Oriana moved to push herself into a seated position, even waving him away as Mordred had leapt to his feet, no doubt intent on helping her.
Once she had done so, she said, "Maybe."
Oriana then inhaled and exhaled in an attempt to steady her thoughts.
Her mind was still everywhere, and she knew that her defences were down. That alone was why a small, but more shrewd, part of her had subconsciously permitted herself to all but beg that Mordred be the one to care for her. He would know if she was allowing pertinent information to escape, after all. Given whatever had happened, she had no doubt that at some point, she had. What had been let loose though, she could only guess, as she had yet to ask.
After ladling some water into her mouth from the pitcher on the nightstand beside her, she said, "I went down to the temporary Druid encampment with Brenna and her partner. They were off dancing, and a woman about my age came up to me, asking me to dance. After, we shared a drink, then we took a walk. Not long after we had made it to the edge of the encampment, I was on the ground, clutching my head, and everything hurt."
Mordred grimaced, then asked, "Was the drink the only thing you accepted from someone else while you were there?"
Oriana thought, then remembered the soup.
"Brenna gave me some soup, which I ate. Why?"
Mordred shifted in his chair. As he was, Oriana could see the blatant sincerity and concern in his eyes and facial features when he said, "I believe you were poisoned."