A/N: I recognize that I have a tendency for wordiness.
It feels like these chapters grow exponentially longer with each new installment. It's a sign. I need to stop.
This is the last chapter.
Be well!
Chapter 3
Arthur hated the fact that he had to make his report in front of a roomful of his father's men. Regardless of the fact that they'd accomplished their mission to kill or capture all the thieves, he knew he was bound to experience humiliation. Uther was going to be difficult as soon as the word magic was uttered. As expected, the king's eyes sharpened and he leaned forward focusing intently on Arthur.
"A magical creature, you say? What sort?"
"It claimed to be a dryad, a tree spirit."
"Did you kill it?"
"No. We were busy fighting for our lives. It actually seemed to be aiding us; it only shot and trapped the thieves. We were not harmed by it."
"There must have been an opportunity to kill it. Why didn't you take it?"
"Sire, it didn't seem prudent at the time to anger it, or risk turning it against us."
"Not prudent? Risk turning it against you? Do you hear yourself, Arthur!"
"We were far outnumbered and it was aiding us!"
"I thought I'd taught you better!" Uther railed. "Magic is always against us! If you make the mistake of believing it to be an ally and give it even a moment's reprieve, you'll soon find yourself choking on your own blood. The creature must be destroyed. We cannot have this evil lurking in our forests." He motioned Gaius forward. "Gaius, what do you know of this creature?"
"Not much is known about dryads, I'm afraid, my Lord. They seem to be extremely shy and are usually considered quite harmless." Uther snorted in disgusted disbelief at such naivete. Gaius continued evenly, "They are nonviolent creatures who prefer to hide except in the most extreme cases when they feel their tree is threatened. According to legend, the only time they willingly initiate contact is when they find a man attractive. They may charm him to never leave the forest and those men are never seen again. However, the danger exists only in close proximity to the dryad's tree. They cannot travel more than a few yards away from it unless they are the rare hamadryads such as the one the prince encountered. This one must be an extremely powerful entity and her tree must be wonderfully old."
"How exactly do we destroy it, Gaius?" demanded the king.
"The dryad dies when its tree dies."
"Good. Then it should be simple to destroy. All we need do is cut down the tree."
The knights and councilors in the room shot uneasy glances at each other and Arthur felt compelled to voice the general concern.
"Father! We can't go chopping down every old tree in the forest hoping it's the right one!"
"Do you care nothing for the protection of our people? An entity that has the power to charm men and make them disappear is not something I'm content to leave alive within our borders."
"Gaius said that's only legend and it only really attacks those who threaten its tree. We will be needlessly provoking an attack if we seek it out."
"Nonsense. Gaius is mistaken. According to your account it became warlike even though it was not personally threatened. Clearly, it is a greater danger than was realized."
Arthur swallowed, remembering the thing's terrifying transformation from timid girl to fearsome warrior. And yet..
"Sire, it truly didn't seek to harm us. I believe that Gaius is right."
"Then how do you explain what you witnessed?"
The prince hesitated as a dozen thoughts raced through his head. He finally gritted out, "I can't."
And he couldn't. Not only because he had no explanation that wouldn't lead to the execution of a certain idiot but also because he would never be allowed to finish the thought aloud that a magical being had actually wanted to come to their aid with pure intent. Such a thing flew in the face of all his father had ever taught him about the evils of magic. In fact, the whole encounter had given Arthur much to consider. Inside his whirling mind was a very uncomfortable place to be right now.
In a voice as cold as steel the king commanded, "You will take an expedition of thirty woodsmen and knights and do what it takes to seek out and destroy this threat."
"Yes, father."
Arthur turned to leave and saw his own roiling consternation, frustration, and anger reflected in full glory on Merlin's flushed face. He grabbed the boy's sleeve and pulled him along out the door.
"You arrange for wagons and supplies with the steward. I will gather the men. Winter is fast approaching and our window of opportunity grows short. Tell him to have them ready to leave by tomorrow at noon."
"Arthur this is wrong."
The prince roughly shoved him up against the wall with all the force of emotion he was straining to contain.
"It is not wrong to obey the command of my king. Now shut up and get on with it!" he seethed, angry at the stricken look in Merlin's eyes, and strode away.
—
The expedition never made it out of Camelot.
An axle broke on the most heavily laden supply wagon as it rolled through the barbican, completely blocking the passage. That night the weather turned foul. A prolonged downpour made conditions miserable for two days and turned the roads to mud. When the roads were finally dry enough to be deemed passable, the supplies were discovered to have been rotted by the damp. Directly after that, a miserable stomach ailment swept through the castle. Merlin seemed strangely depressed by this turn of events and looked constantly on the verge of tears. Arthur attributed it to him being overtired and overworked as Gaius' assistant, seeing to the ailing knights and nobility as well as performing his regular duties. It was incredibly annoying, though, when Merlin apologized heartily every time Arthur got sick into a bowl until Arthur yelled at him to shut up unless he had purposely sickened him himself. Merlin bit his lip and handed the prince another refreshing cup of water to rinse his mouth.
By the time all was well again, the window of opportunity had closed.
—
Though the outing had been short, they couldn't get home fast enough to suit Arthur. November was an awful time to travel. This pointless rescue mission had been an utter waste of time and resources. Word had come from outlying villages of several attacks on farmers by a rampaging animal. The culprit had been a grand old boar that was fiercely running amok during the rutting season. Locals had banded together and hunted the beast down before the prince and his knights ever arrived. Normally, he would have taken it all in stride, glad to have a chance to ride out with no dangerous encounters ensuing, but he was increasingly worried about his idiot manservant who'd ridden out with him and that put him in a sour mood.
Merlin was a man of very little brain, according to Arthur, and even less meat on his bones. The idiot should have stayed warmly tucked away at home in the physician's chambers, grinding up dried dandelions or flowers or weeds in front of a toasty fire where Gaius could keep a close eye on him. Ever since the weather had grown earnestly wintery a couple of weeks ago, the prince had noticed that his friend had already been ill and seemed perpetually cold and slow. He shouldn't have come along.
The knights turned in while Arthur took first watch. Merlin lay curled up by the pathetic fire, shivering. An icy rain had fallen earlier and it had taken everyone's efforts to scavenge enough dry-ish wood for a cook fire. Thankfully, his servant had at least one talent: coaxing fire from damp wood in any weather. But that fire was beginning to die as was apparent from the increasing violence of Merlin's shivers and there was no dry wood to rebuild it. He pulled a blanket from his bedroll and spread it over the tattered one currently wrapped around Merlin's form. He returned to his watch, suddenly uneasy. His skin prickled as a layer of thick quiet dampened the already hushed sounds of nighttime around him.
"Prince Arthur."
Arthur twisted around at the carrying whisper. A maiden stood between the trees behind him, her arms laden with wood. Her grey dress was simple, her hair frosty white.
"An offering. Dry wood for your fire."
He scrambled to his feet as she approached.
"I was awakened by Merlin's presence. He is ill. His body requires more warmth."
"Who are you? How do you know my servant!" he demanded.
"We have met before. I am Chryseis."
The dryad!
"You look different," he observed cautiously.
"It is the way of the seasons."
Arthur drew back, reminded of the magical nature of this "maiden".
"Please, don't be afraid. I bear you no ill will. I promise you, I do not seek your blood. You have no cause to be frightened of me even though you are the son of the mad king."
She entreated him so gently and earnestly that it was almost an insult to his courage. Then her last few words registered above the rest.
"Hang on! My father isn't mad!"
Her look became less gentle.
"Is he not? He seeks to destroy that which has done him no harm but good. Is not this madness?"
"Magic has done him great harm!" Arthur argued.
"Truly? All magic? What wrong have I done him?" she asked.
The prince squirmed inwardly. "None," he admitted.
"No, none," she agreed. "I saved his son and protected his men and yet he sought to destroy me the moment he learned of my existence."
"How do you know that?" Arthur snapped.
"Merlin. He came to warn me, to protect me."
Of course he did. The fool. Arthur narrowed his eyes at his sleeping manservant. Broken wagon? Trouble with supplies? Could his soft hearted idiot have been behind all the troubles that prevented their expedition's departure? No, he was just being paranoid. Merlin had nothing to do with the weather or the flu.
The dryad looked as though she suddenly realized that Merlin would probably have preferred her to keep that information to herself. "Do not be angry with him. He only desires peace."
Arthur sighed, "So do I." He wasn't angry, not really. He hadn't agreed with his father either. He beckoned her forward.
She laid the dry wood by the fire. He hefted a few pieces and carefully positioned them to feed the flames.
"Where did you find dry wood?" It seemed a ridiculous question to ask a dryad, but it felt churlish to take the wood and immediately demand the creature's departure.
"It is my own. It is a small sacrifice." She blinked slowly. "I would not see Merlin suffer."
Had Merlin been awake to hear it, he would have been insulted by the unflattering disbelief coloring the prince's next statement.
"You seem very fond of him."
She smiled. "I love him." Her answer was artless, simple and innocent. Arthur watched as she bent over his servant and stroked his hair. "So beautiful," she murmured.
Gaius' words about dryads enchanting men sounded in his ears and fear of losing his friend almost choked him in its sudden rush.
"Leave him alone! You can't have him!" He fumbled for his sword.
"Of course not. He has already given his love to another and his life to you." After stroking Merlin's hair a moment longer, she looked up at Arthur. "His body is weakening. Illness grows within him. You must take him home when the morning comes. He requires warmth and care."
Wait. The creature claimed to love Merlin but wanted him to go home? "I-I don't understand. Isn't it your way to enchant men so that they never leave your forest?"
She shook her head. "Only to protect my tree."
"So, you won't enchant him, then?" he asked.
"Prince Arthur, no enchantment of mine is more powerful than the strength of his devotion to you. I could not imprison him even if I wished to. And I would never wish to imprison one such as him to whom every drop of freedom is so very precious."
They both turned their attention to Merlin who, Arthur noted gratefully, seemed to be benefitting quickly from the warmth.
"Thank you for this." He gestured toward the wood.
"You're welcome." She replied softly. "It should be enough to last the night."
He noticed her weariness and gray paleness. "You seem unwell. Did sacrificing your wood weaken you? I'm sure there are some extra rations if you're hungry."
She seemed surprised but shook her head. "No, thank you. My tree sustains me. It is simply time for a long sleep." She considered him openly for a moment. "Merlin is right to put his faith in you. Although you are a mighty warrior, you are kind. May I ask a favor of your kindness?"
He was instantly on guard again. "What is that?"
"I would ask that you look to his protection as he looks to yours."
"I do!" he responded, somewhat stung.
She knit her brow in annoyed disbelief. "His covering is insufficient for the season. He is undernourished. Surely you can remedy this."
Shame immediately colored Arthur's cheeks. He'd worried over Merlin's health, yes, but what real steps had he taken to better his servant's condition? And here a supposedly evil magical creature had literally given of herself to help him.
"You're right. I can. I will," he promised humbly.
Merlin coughed and she reached down to comfort him. He quieted under her touch. "Dream, Merlin. Dream beautifully. Soon I will be dreaming as well." She delicately covered a yawn then melted away. The muffling layer of quiet lifted.
Arthur fetched another, thicker, wool blanket from his bedroll and tucked it around Merlin. He looked around at his sleeping men, grateful for the chance to be alone with his thoughts. Things he'd been taught about the evils of magic weren't tallying with his experience. Perhaps.. perhaps not all magic was evil? Or maybe the dryad was benign because it was more a spirit of nature? But then what about the unicorn he'd once slain? It had been no spirit and it had shown no aggression as Merlin had approached it. But on the other hand, the magic accompanying its death had almost destroyed his people. And what of all his other terrible encounters with magic? It was all so contradictory. He shook his head. His father would never forgive him if he knew Arthur had even momentarily entertained such questions.
Merlin coughed again, drawing the prince's gaze and changing the direction of his thoughts.
The dryad had made several comments revealing to Arthur just how little he knew about his young servant. Merlin was in love? And why the comment about freedom? The happy-go-lucky boy was as free as the bird he was named for. Apparently, his chatty manservant had shared things with the dryad he hadn't shared with Arthur. Which was fine, of course! Arthur had absolutely zero interest in conversing like a gossipy maid about Merlin's feelings and love life. He watched Merlin relax further as the heat warmed him through and reluctantly admitted to himself that he was glad the dryad was fond of his friend. He guiltily hoped that she'd be watching over him when he went out alone to gather herbs. He pictured a prattling Merlin tripping through a sunlit clearing in his haste to pick flowers in the company of a beautiful girl who was fully capable of skewering any foe.
He poked at the fire and pouted silently, Why is it Merlin attracts pretty magical creatures like dryads and unicorns while I get the nasty ones like afancs, griffins, trolls and such.