"Bought Blood" (Rose)
"What even is this?" Gwaine picks up a sprig of mint and waves it in the air with a look of disapproval. I laugh heartily and instruct him to smell it, which he does. "That tells me nothing besides the fact it releases a pungent odor," he crinkles his face once more, dropping the leaflets back onto the merchant's cart.
I swiftly grab them up again and hand the merchant his payment. "Here," I give the mint back to Gwaine. "Put one of the leaves in your mouth."
"You are really stubborn, you know that?" Gwaine quizzes.
"Oh, yes," I smile, tearing off one of the leaves for myself. We both pop them into our mouths at the same time. "Chew it and then see if you can guess," I suggest.
He does so, and his expression fades from one of jest to one of concentration. "This taste is familiar … It's something you put in the tea you made me the morning after the- uh, tavern incident."
"Yes! It's mint," I nod. "It helps calm the stomach and wakens the mind and body. It's very refreshing and useful in the world of medicine. It was also the last thing we needed from the market."
"How did you know?" he turns, eyeing me carefully.
"How did I know what, pray tell?"
"You knew I wasn't feeling well," he derives. "But how?"
"You were drinking last night, before you returned from repaying your debt to Arthur," I say plainly, trying to make light of it.
"But how did you know that? I was hardly tipsy," he baffles.
"You were far too relaxed than you ought to have been. Merlin told me how irritated you were. I could see it in your eyes. They weren't gleaming anymore," I admit, suddenly feeling rather down at the thought.
"What do you mean?" he asks softly as we continue our way back home.
"You typically possess a devilish spark in your eyes. It aids in your humor," I reply, my smile finding its own way back.
"And that goes away when I drink?" he puzzles.
"I haven't known you long enough to confirm, but you seem to give yourself over to the ale instead of feeling the things you need to feel. You don't wish to process them, so you gloss them over and become a different person. It isn't you that is handling the issue, it's the alcohol … It must be a reflex you've developed. But, for the record, I enjoy the real Gwaine far more than the recreated one," I shove him gently.
"And you are far too observant for my liking. You see right through things … Merlin can have you," he teases, bursting into laughter as I smack my basket of herbs into his stomach.
Within a small while, we have made it back to the castle. As we round the corner of the stairs near Gaius's chambers, Merlin appears coming from the opposite direction. He is clutching his hand.
"Merlin!" I call to him, running to his side. "What's happened to you?"
"Oh, you know- Cut my hand on a mystical blade. Fairly common injury," he jokes.
I set the basket on the ground and lightly grasp his injured hand as I cautiously inspect his wound. "Must have been extremely mystifying … This is very deep." I yank the cloth out from underneath the herbs and use it to apply pressure to the cut.
"Thank you," Merlin says as I feel his eyes surveying my worry.
I respond with a smile and lead them both inside. "Gaius, Merlin is wounded," I begin addressing. "It's only a cut, but it's fairly deep."
"Let me see," he holds out his weathered hands to do just about the same thing I did before. "How did this happen?"
The three of us listen intently as Merlin recounts the morning's events.
"To the eye, the sword appeared blunt, but when I touched it …" he trails off, watching Gaius's healing hands, but his mind clearly focused on the implications of his discovery.
"You were lucky," Gwaine suggests. "I've seen those blades in action. They're forged using sorcery."
Quickly changing the focus from Gwaine's last comment, Gaius interjects, "What would they want with such a blade?"
"I think they mean to kill Arthur in the melee," Merlin says with conviction.
"But in front of all those people?" Gaius inquires, seeming utterly perplexed.
"It's the perfect cover," Gwaine explains. "If they succeed, nobody will suspect it was intentional."
"I need to warn Arthur," Merlin begins rising out of his seat, but Gaius keeps ahold of his fingers.
"Merlin, Sir Oswald is a knight. He comes from a well-respected family. You can't accuse him without proof," Gaius warns.
"Then we need that blade," Merlin counters.
"I'll get it," Gwaine volunteers.
"What?" I ask, half-shocked. It is not that I don't think Gwaine capable of bravery, I just do not see why he would risk himself to help us.
As always, Merlin is thinking along the same lines as I am."What if they catch you?" he asks with concern. "What reason would you have to be in Sir Oswald's chamber? No, it's safer if I do it."
"It's not exactly safe for anyone to attempt," I interject quietly. 'Not alone.' I implement this last bit into our only private form of communication available at the moment.
Merlin shoots me a weary glance and responds, 'Not a chance. I will not have you anywhere near those blades.'
'Merlin,' I begin a mental protest.
'Rose,' he locks eyes with me and slowly shakes his head. "Don't worry," he continues aloud. "You'd be surprised how normal this feels to me now."
"You are a strange bird," Gwaine now shakes his head rapidly in wonder.
"But at least I'm not a chicken!" Merlin raises his arms triumphantly with a boyish laugh.
"What is it you are going to do?" Gaius inquires.
"Same as usual," Merlin shrugs. "I'll wait until everyone is asleep and sneak into Oswald's room to acquire one of the swords. Once we have it, I can present it to Arthur and warn him about their plan … This sort of business really does happen far too often."
I can only silently agree, but the creeping feeling that something horrible is going to happen gnawing away at me only grows with each passing second.
"Well, in the meantime, I ought to tend to Arthur until it is time to turn down for the night. It won't seem as odd if I was caught. I could say I was merely finishing up my duties, and it wouldn't be a lie. I really hate lying," Merlin babbles for a sweet moment. Every time he opens his mouth and speaks, I learn a bit more about him … and for that reason, I could listen to him talk forever.
"I'll be watching your back from here," Gwaine remarks as Merlin heads for the door. "If you've not returned in what I believe to be a decent amount of time, I'm coming to find you. Just a forewarning."
"Fair enough," Merlin nods with a small smile. "Thanks."
"Take care, Merlin," Gaius more instructs than wishes.
I step over to the door and open it for him. "I'm only opening this door for you to leave because I know you will be walking through it again." My eyes bore into his, and I am hoping that my confidence in him translates through their hazel filter.
He grabs me into a hug, taking me by surprise only because men typically shy away from affection in front of other men. "That I will," he says softly. "I promise."
With that, he releases me with one last look, and disappears through the doorway. Finding it meaningless to stand and stare at the door until he comes home, (though I would love nothing more if it could make the time go faster) I retreat to our shared quarters.
I hear a solid set of footfalls behind me. "You wanted to follow him," Gwaine says, matter-of-factly.
"The Keeper of Secrets strikes again," I tease him weakly. "Really, Gwaine. Your perception is quite astounding."
"I think that's why I drink so much," he admits, his voice softening more with each word.
I turn about and take a moment to scale his face. "To escape seeing things you would rather not?"
"I see I'm not the only perceptive one here," he smirks sadly.
"You have many gifts, Gwaine. I would challenge you not to squander them."
"Eh, I'm not so skilled in that bit," he laughs.
"I don't think you give yourself a fair chance," I contest.
"Perhaps," he falls silent.
"I have a bad feeling … I think that unfortunately is one of my gifts that often does not seem like much of a gift at all," I sit myself upon Merlin's bed.
"What do you think it is? This feeling of yours," Gwaine quizzes gently.
"If anyone knows that Merlin does this sort of thing far too often, it's me, but … I cannot escape this instinct nagging at me, telling me that something is going to go horribly wrong," I admit.
"Would it relieve you if I went after him?" he offers.
"Yes and no," I half-smile. "I wouldn't just yet. Give it some time …"
"But not much?" he smirks knowingly.
I smile gratefully. "Thank you, Gwaine. I am so glad we have a friend like you."
"Aye," he gives a singular nod. "And I am privileged to be called a friend of two people so true."
"And for now, we wait," I say with a huff of anticipation as I feel each second pass with a stronger twinge of concern than the last.
"Far From Perfect" (Merlin)
I'm strangely thankful to be walking into a potentially dangerous situation - anything to get my mind off the track it's on. You know, the one where I'm thinking, in a perfect world, I would have been able to gently cup Rose's beautiful face in my hands and kissed her to my heart's content before I left. But this world is certainly far from perfect, seeing as that will probably only happen when Arthur can fly.
I shake my head at the thought as I approach the guest chambers and cautiously open the door.
I peer around the room, thankful to see Sir Oswald deep in slumber, and softly creep to the trunk set near the bed against the wall. I cautiously lift its lid, praying that no sound be made, and checking over my shoulder to make sure he doesn't stir.
Sure enough, one of the swords is lying on the very top. A sense of relief washes over me, but is too quickly replaced with feelings of panic as I reach for its hilt and grasp it gently. I turn it to be certain it is the same blade from earlier when Oswald groans and turns about in his bed. Suddenly, a strange, high-pitched ringing fills my ears and something atop his chest begins to glow.
I slowly shut the trunk and take a few steps closer, until I feel as if I am practically standing over him, staring at what looks to be a crystal necklace. Hunched over, I take the jewel in hand and bring is nearer to my eyes. The glowing resides but a little, and I see a bald man's sleeping face. As what I am truly seeing dawns on me, his eyes snap open. I freeze in fear as Sir Oswald forcefully grabs my wrist.
"I see I'm going to have to teach you more than manners, boy," he growls, springing from the bedsheets. In one swift movement, he shoves me to the floor. Before I can even gather any composure, he yanks me from the ground, a solid grip on my neck, and twists my right arm behind my back. "If you so much as breathe too loudly, I will kill you without stopping to blink." Naturally, the threatening statement is followed by a particularly rough and uncomfortable trip to Sir Ethan's guest chambers.
Once he is roused, they both "escort" me back to Sir Oswald's chambers, and I quickly find myself back on the unforgivingly cold floor. "This is all a misunderstanding!" I protest.
"A misunderstanding, Sir Ethan," Oswald glowers. "How ought we handle this supposed misunderstanding?"
"I would say nothing less than punishment. After all, we are guests," Sir Ethan smiles cruelly.
"I have just the thing to settle this matter," Oswald declares as he crosses to his belongings. He rummages through a pack, only to reveal a set of throwing knives.
"Definitely far from perfect," I mutter to myself with a grunt of pain as they crack my head against Oswald's borrowed wardrobe.