After a long day of running around after her prince, Marilyn collapses exhausted on her bed. She sighs deeply and extends her arm to open the drawer in her bedside table and digs out her dagger. With no room left on her arms or legs, Marilyn tugs off her dress and underdress to access her concave stomach. Gritting her teeth, she digs the dagger into her skin over and over until she can no longer stand the pain. Once she is satisfied, she wraps bandages around her torso and pulls on her nightgown, settling into an uneasy sleep.
When she arrives in Arthur's room the next morning, he is already up and dressed, sitting at his desk and staring out the window "Arthur?" she calls so not to startle him. He turns his attention to the serving girl and smiles.
"Ah, Marilyn, please, come sit," he motions to the windowsill across from him. Hesitantly, Marilyn makes her way across the room to the sill, sitting as gracefully as she can manage with her wounds "there is something I wish to discuss with you, and it is of great importance. I need you to swear that no matter what, you will be truthful," her prince stares into her eyes. Marilyn nods.
"I swear I shall tell only the truth."
"Good; thank you. I have known you for quite some time now, Marilyn, and I have had my suspicions, but I need direct answers. Before I ask, I need you to know first and foremost that anything you say stays between us, you are safe, and my opinion of you will not be negatively changed," he pauses, letting his words sink in. Marilyn squirms, feeling fear claw up her spine "do you practice magic?" Marilyn's eyes go as wide as the full moon "remember, you swore honesty to me."
"That is complicated, sire, unlike most, I did not choose magic. I was born with it."
"Fascinating. How is that possible?"
"I could move things with my mind before I was even able to speak. My mother was frightened; the villagers would hurt me, so she sent me here. I was born with magic because of my destiny. My name among my people is Emrys; I am the most powerful witch that has ever and will ever live; and it is my destiny to keep you alive, to help make you the greatest king history will know, and to bring magic back to the land."
"That's quite a job," Arthur states, still amazed.
"Yes, well, it has its moments. I admit, there have been more times than I would have thought that I've needed to save your royal arse," Marilyn giggles, feeling all tension leave her as she takes in her prince's interested and kind gaze.
"I imagine it has been lonely," he muses.
"It has, but there are a few who know. It brings me great comfort to confide in them."
"I should like to become one of these people, Marilyn," Arthur looks at her shyly "you need not worry. I would never turn you in to my father, and I think it'll ease both of our burdens if you can share any and all concerns with me openly."
"I-I would like that, Arthur," she stumbles over her words as he rises from his chair and closes the distance between them, placing his hands on the sill, trapping her there. He moves one of his hands to rest on her cheek, slowly guiding her lips to his. The kiss is short, but sweet and loving, so full of unchecked emotion and years of adoration. When they part, Marilyn sets about doing her chores as quickly as she can manage through her dizzy haze. Meanwhile, Arthur rounds up his knights in the armory. They look curiously at each other before turning to their prince questioningly.
"What's going on, princess?" Gwaine asks stands in the middle of the room and sighs.
"Well, Gwaine, it's about Marilyn,-"
"Is she alright?"
"Yes, she's fine. I, umm, well I-"
"Spit it out, princess."
"I kissed her," Arthur rushes out. He stares as Lancelot, Mordred, and Elyan hand a gold coin each to Gwaine, Leon, and Percival "what is going on?"
"We placed a bet on which one of you would make the first move," Gwaine says smugly, grinning at Lancelot. The prince stares in disbelief at his knights.
"You placed bets on my love life?" Arthur chokes out, trying not to laugh at their antics. They all nod, snickering at the shocked face of Arthur. He shakes his head and dismisses them. Gwaine and Lancelot hang back for a moment "I take it you know?" Arthur takes a shot, seeing how they're Marilyn's closest friends.
"We do, and we're glad you know now too. Marilyn has come close to telling you many times, but she was always afraid. She has constant nightmares about being burned at the stake, and I'm hoping with you knowing they will lessen," Lancelot admits. Arthur nods in understanding, wondering why Marilyn would choose to come here of all places with the threat of death hanging over her head every day. The three make their way back to Arthur's room where they find Marilyn humming a haunting, but beautiful tune as she turns down the prince's bed. They watch silently from the door as she mindlessly floats around the room, her curls bouncing behind her as she goes. The warm candlelight illuminates her snowy skin, and as she turns so her face is revealed, the trio outside can see how hollow it has become. Dark circles linger under her tired eyes, her face seems ghostly, and it is clear that her clothes hang more loosely on her frame. If the men look close enough, they can see the look of defeat on the young maid's features. Gwaine and Lancelot leave for their rooms as Arthur enters his own.
Marilyn turns to greet Arthur with a smile. He crosses the room and pulls her into a warm embrace, feeling her body relax against him. Arthur pulls back slightly to look at the girl in his arms. Her eyes meet his and he can see her fading in and out of awareness. Just as he's about to call to her, her eyes roll back and her body sags against him. Arthur lifts Marilyn with ease and places her gently on the bed, holds one of her hands, and smooths her hair away from her face. He debates yelling for someone, but decides to try caring for her on his own first. He grabs his water pitcher and a cloth, dampening it and placing it on her forehead. She whimpers at the contact, but otherwise remains unchanged. After a few minutes of Arthur fretting over the girl, Marilyn begins to stir "what happened?" she whispers, still feeling weak.
"You fainted. Are you feeling alright?" Arthur's voice is soft and full of worry.
"Yes, yes I'm alright. Thank you, Arthur," Marilyn goes to stand, but is pushed back down gently.
"Rest, Marilyn, you're still weak," Arthur insists.
"I must get back to Gaius. I'm alright really."
"You just collapsed, Marilyn!"
"Yes, and now I'm fine. It happens from time to time," Marilyn admits. Arthur instantly goes on high alert.
"What? Why? Are you ill?" he bombards her with questions.
"No I'm not ill. I just haven't been sleeping very well," she partly lies. This seems to satisfy the price for now, and he lets her up. He follows as she heads for the door "what are you doing?"
"Walking you to Gaius," he states like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"I can walk myself, Arthur."
"I'm sure you can, but just this once don't fight against me and just let me do this. Please," the desperation in his voice makes Marilyn sigh and give in, allowing him to accompany her to her chambers. They walk in a comfortable silence, parting ways with Arthur giving Marilyn's forehead a soft kiss. Gaius is already sound asleep, so Marilyn quietly goes into her room and removes her clothes from the day. She stares at her reflection in disgust before yanking on her nightgown and grabbing her silver savior, making a mess of her already shredded arms.
Marilyn is awake before the sun rises, dressing quietly so not to wake her uncle. She slips down the stairs and grabs some bread to nibble on so she doesn't faint again. Arthur isn't in bed when she opens the door, so she glances over to find him at his table "You're awake, and you're dressed!" she observes.
"Nothing gets past you, does it Marilyn?" Arthur smiles in amusement. Marilyn giggles.
"What's got you up so early?"
"Well, if I'm being honest, I didn't sleep much. I was too worried about you," he says, moving so he stands in front of her and pulls her into his arms, placing a soft kiss on her lips. They break away and smile at each other "are you feeling better? You can take the day off if you need-"
"I'm alright, Arthur, really. I was just exhausted."
"Alright, but I'm giving you less and simpler tasks today. We're training with the knights, but I just want you to observe and rest," Arthur tells her. Knowing there's no point in arguing, Marilyn nods. She follows behind him to the training field, where he pairs Percival and Mordred, Lancelot and Gwaine, Elyan and Leon. Arthur oversees what they're doing, pointing out good techniques to use, mistakes, and how to minimize vulnerabilities. Marilyn sits off to the side in the sun, trying to warm her always cold body. As the sun shifts in the sky, Marilyn follows it to stay out of the shade. She leans back on her hands, wincing as her torn arms split open again in multiple places. Silently, she casts a spell to keep the stains off her sleeves and prays to the Goddess that the blood doesn't run down to her hands and become visible.
Once training is through, the knights head to the armory while Arthur goes back to his chambers to get ready for dinner, and Marilyn goes to the kitchen to fetch his tray. Guests will be arriving tomorrow, so Arthur wants to make sure they're both well rested, meaning and earlier night. Marilyn, as per usual, doesn't knock before entering, pushing the door open with her foot and setting the tray down at the table in front of Arthur. He dismisses her, instructing her to get a good night's sleep. She bids him good night and returns to her chambers, breezing past Gais and locking her door. She changes into a nightgown, examining her reopened wounds. Once she is satisfied, she curls up in her small bed, places a silencing charm around her room, and sobs. Broken sobs filled with such sorrow they would break even the coldest of hearts. As time passes, her sobs die down to whimpers and she eventually falls into an uneasy sleep, hoping tomorrow will be better, but knowing there's no point in hoping; it just breaks your heart.