The Fair One
The silence between prince and servant was terse the next morning, though the tournament began without a hitch. Arthur defeated his opponent with ease and William left the tent to acknowledge the crowds.
"I do all the work, someone else gets all the praise," Arthur groused as he began shedding his armour.
"Know the feeling," she muttered, head bowed as she collected his vambraces from the floor; wouldn't do for him to see her scowl.
"When I win this tournament, I'll reveal my true identity, get the credit I deserve," he continued arrogantly, and she glowered in disbelief at his back.
"Of course you will," she said and something in her tone must have alerted him to her irritation, for he turned and glared.
"Well don't just stand there. Help me off with my armour. And remember to polish it before tomorrow. The horse needs grooming. And don't forget to collect more lances."
She bit her lip to stop any retorts that wanted to escape, knowing that Arthur was goading her. She pasted on her sweetest smile and said, "You'd better collect some water to heat before it grows too late. We commoners don't have fancy things like waterboys and bathtubs. I mean, there is the public bathhouse but you cannot go there since you are so recognisable." She sighed, put upon, as she headed for the door. "Shame you're not, I don't know, a prince or something…"
"Merlyn!" Arthur growled but, with a snort, she spun out the tent flap, rushing away before he could give chase. Silly, spoilt man. Perhaps this tournament might teach him some humility.
She snorted again, shaking her head. If only.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
When she headed back towards their little hovel toting a covered tray of dinner, she was stopped by Gaius' familiar voice calling her name. A judder of trepidation zapped down her spine and she spun with a grin she knew looked forced. She had been hoping to avoid the physician until the tournament had finished since the old man was sure to disapprove of Arthur's strategy and she was a terrible liar.
"Gaius!" she exclaimed, wincing internally at her false cheer. "How are you?"
Her mentor drew near, his eyebrow raised as he took in her nervous posture and covered platter. "Merlyn," he said lightly but with an undertone of suspicion. "I expected to be bombarded with your presence while the prince was away. Care to tell me where you've been disappearing to?"
"Er," she said. "Well. The thing is –"
"Do not lie, Merlyn," he cut in, pre-empting her bid. "You embarrass both of us with your attempts."
She blushed and glanced around but the few people venturing the area paid them no attention. She said lowly to the old man, "Arthur still remains in Camelot, in disguise, to compete in the tournament."
Gaius was taken aback, both eyebrows creeping up his forehead. "Why would he do such a thing?" he demanded, and Merlyn scoffed.
"He wants to see what it's like to be a peasant since we live such easy lives," she criticised then sighed and corrected herself; "He believes people treat him differently and wants to prove to himself that he can still triumph without preferential treatment." she shook her head. "I merely hope it will teach him some understanding for his people."
"Well," said Gaius, visibly pulling himself together against the odd revelation. "I thought it odd when you didn't take off after him as you usually do. Now I know why."
"Please tell no one," she pleaded. "Only you and I – and William, of course – know that he remains."
"What do you take me for, Merlyn," he said, affront on his face. "I, more than most, know how to keep a secret."
She winced. "Right, of course," she amended. "Sorry."
He pursed his lips, eyeing her in his usual perceptive way before sighing and saying, "You'd better return. I know Arthur dislikes you wandering far at the moment."
A humourless smile twitched at her lips as she said, "Understatement, Gaius, if ever I heard one."
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
The next day, Arthur unhorsed Leon in a vicious display of skill, winning the poor knight's steed in champion, as per the rules of the game. He strutted back into the tent proudly, thrusting his helm at William.
"Go on then. Your people await you." William walked out and Arthur snatched the cup of water from Merlyn's hand despite it already being offered. "No one can say Sir Leon let me win this time," he crowed.
The crowd outside roared in approval of William's appearance and Merlyn commented, "Sounds like the crowd have really taken to William." She kept silent on her disapproval of how merciless he was to his own friend and second in command, knowing how futile admonishments from her were now.
"That will change when I reveal my identity," Arthur said, handing the cup out to be refilled. Merlyn huffed a resigned laugh.
"You really miss getting all the attention, don't you?" she said, amusement hiding the irritation she held.
Arthur still caught her judgement and shot a glare her way. "Just go and water the horse, will you?" he ordered and she bowed.
"As you wish, My Lord," she crooned mockingly, turning on her heel and marching from the tent. The guard horse, Galardy, was standing patiently by the tent and she gave the sturdy gelding a pat before untying and leading him to the trough. He dipped his head gladly to the cool water, the spring day warm despite the early season.
A bald man with rich, dark skin came up and praised the horse and her master for their jousting talents. He was nice and they talked until Galardy had drunk his fill and dribbled slobbery water onto her dress. She gave the beast a rueful sigh.
"Well," the man said, his neatly bearded face stretching as he smiled pleasantly. "I wish your master luck in the final."
"Thank you," she said, smiling back and the man turned, walking away.
She thought nothing on it until later.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
That night, while they were eating dinner, Merlyn's magical senses pinged a faint alarm and her head automatically turned towards the window by the front door. A shadowed figure was peering through the shutters, a small crossbow raised threateningly.
"No!" she cried as the weapon released with a quiet thwintak!
She launched herself at Arthur, shoving him down as a sharp sting scraped across her lower back. The arrow thudded into the far wall as Merlyn fell atop the confused prince. Their foreheads knocked together and Arthur's head cracked against the floor off the rebound.
"Ah!" he grunted and a distant shout went up from outside their hovel. There was a rustle of clothing as the cloaked figure ran away and heavy thuds as booted sentries raced after him. Both Arthur and Merlyn turned to stare at the window, seeing the gap between damaged panels that would allow for unwanted observation. Once the guards had passed and the alley was silent once more, prince and servant glanced at each other before their heads turned simultaneously to stare at the back wall where the arrow stuck out of the wood. It was small and crude, appearing more for a child's arrow than an assassin's weapon, but the implications of its presence was clear.
"Someone tried to kill you," she breathed, rolling off his chest and clambering to her feet. The small of her back stung as the shallow cut was disturbed with her movements but she ignored it, knowing Gaius could treat it later. It only served to highlight how close the stranger had been to scoring a hit on Arthur. "Someone knows you are here and they want you dead."
"Don't be ridiculous," he said, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head. A red mark was showing on his forehead from where they had bonked together and she was sure there was a similar mark on her own; it throbbed enough.
"Don't be – are you jesting?" she demanded, gesturing to the deadly shaft. "You were almost impaled by an arrow! You think that happens normally for commoners? Well, it doesn't. We're not nearly important enough to be assassinated."
Arthur climbed upright and brushed off his clothes, though she knew the floor was clean, having scrubbed it until her hands were raw. "Perhaps the previous owner abandoned this hovel because of such threats and the cutthroat believed them to have returned."
"The previous owner of this place was killed by me on the night I became your servant," she snapped, and the prince blinked at her in surprise. She rolled her eyes and added, "Mary Collins, who swore to end your life after your father killed her son."
Realisation lit his features and he looked at the wasted surroundings with new eyes. She continued, "No one would seek vengeance on her because her death was very public. This was meant for you, Arthur; this place is no longer safe. You should return to the castle and inform your father."
"No!" Arthur exclaimed, throwing out his hands. "My father cannot know of my disguise. William would be flogged, at the very least, and I would never live it down."
She stared at him, utterly gobsmacked. "So one man that you hired would be thrashed, and you worry because your pride would be wounded?"
"That is not what I meant," Arthur defended. "Of course I would not place one's life below my own ego. But it does not change the fact that we cannot tell my father."
"Well, we cannot stay here unless you wish to invite death," she said, mind turning over possible locations. "Perhaps, Gaius?" she suggested tentatively, not really wanting to encourage trouble into the old man's home.
"Gaius cannot be trusted not to inform the King. He is more my father's man than my own, and I have no wish to provoke conflict between them."
"Very true," she whispered, trying not to think on how she had done just that by practicing magic under Gaius' roof. It would help no one at that moment and only provoke guilt and self-pity.
"What about Gwen and Lancelot," she proposed, already mentally apologising to them. They were both newlyweds and trying to start a family; Arthur may be a man-sized child, but he wasn't their problem to deal with.
But oh, how she wished he wasn't hers either.
"Hmm," mused Arthur. "Not a bad idea. Lancelot can be my aid in hunting down this – this assailant. And perhaps I can sleep somewhere better than this dump."
She glowered at his back as he moved to collect his things from beside the bed, annoyed at how ungrateful he was. He demanded so many impossible things and when she delivered, he did nothing but criticise. Find me an empty house within a prosperous city, Merlyn. Treat me as a servant but not really, Merlyn. Make the sky rain sweet pasties and boiled lollies, Merlyn.
Arthur wrenched open the door, glanced out saying back to the black-haired girl before he strode out, "Come along, Merlyn. I don't have all night."
"Pfft," she scoffed as he disappeared into the night. "What else do you have on?"
She picked up her blanket, pillow and change of clothes then hurried after the irritating prince, blowing out the candles as she went. She'd come back for the dinner plates and paraphernalia once everything was concluded. Goodness knew the prince wouldn't think to perform such lowly tasks.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
Gwen was cautious when she opened her door upon Arthur's firm knocking, his long hood obscuring his features. Merlyn shook her head behind his back, exasperated at the complete obliviousness he exuded. Normal people didn't knock like they were announcing themselves to the King.
The maid glanced out through the crack of the door to see Arthur's hooded figure and Merlyn quickly shoved him to the side to ease the panic splashed across her friend's soft features.
"Gwen," she said, and relief overtook the woman's body. "It's just us."
"Merlyn," she breathed, though she glanced nervously at Arthur. "Is everything alright?"
"May we come in?" she asked, not wanting to linger where someone could see. "I'm sorry to impose, but we have nowhere else to go."
Gwen immediately stepped aside. "Of course," she said, gesturing them in and shutting the door behind them. "What's happened?" she turned and jumped in fright as Arthur threw off his hood. "My Lord!" she cried, hand on her chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't recognise you."
The expression on the prince's face was amused. "That's the idea," he said but Merlyn's attention was on the empty room.
"Where is Lancelot?" she asked with concern. "It's late, should he not be home?"
"The King has put the knights on alternate shifts alongside the castle guards. He is being careful while the tournament is on. Lancelot is on patrol until midnight."
"Perhaps the King knows that there is an assassin skulking these streets," Arthur said to Merlyn, moving off to inspect the house. Gwen looked after him anxiously but Merlyn caught her attention once more, explaining recent events – including Arthur's bid to be a silent competitor in the jousting.
"That's…" Gwen whispered, clearly unable to find the words and Merlyn nodded along, the silence enough to speak for itself. She wiped sweat from her brow, absently wondering why Gwen was keeping the house so warm.
"I know," she murmured, keeping her voice low so the prince didn't overhear. "He is deluded on the idea of peasantry. You know, he still makes me fetch him meals from the kitchens, and he has me cleaning his armour and waiting on him hand and foot."
"Hmm," Gwen said and Merlyn quickly moved to the prince's side to stop him sitting on the only bed in the house.
"Ah – that is not yours," she said hastily, tugging on his arm. "And we have not yet asked if we can stay," she added and Arthur peered at her like she was crazy.
"I am the Prince," he stated, as if she didn't already know. She rolled her eyes.
"Yes, you are," she confirmed condescendingly. "But as this is not your castle and you are not acting as prince tonight, manners are still required."
Arthur glared at her but was stopped from retorting by Gwen giving a gasp and hurrying closer.
"Merlyn!" she exclaimed, grabbing the back of Merlyn's dress and parting the tear in the back where the scratch from the arrow was burning. "You've been hurt!"
"What?" said Arthur but Merlyn turned and tried to wave Gwen away.
"It's fine; only a scratch, don't worry about it."
"Don't worry – Merlyn!" Gwen cried, aghast. "You're still bleeding!"
"Am I?" she asked, surprised. She touched the small of her back beneath the tear of fabric and felt the warm wetness. She pulled her hand out and saw fresh bright red on her fingers. "Huh," she mused, feeling slightly dizzy now it was on her mind. "I didn't feel a thing."
"How did you – whoa!" Merlyn knees folded beneath her and both Arthur and Gwen jumped forward to catch her before she hit the floor.
"Whoops," she said, fixing her slump, though her legs felt very weak as she locked her knees. She leant against Gwen just in case. "Didn't mean that to happen."
"Clearly not," snipped Arthur but he was gentle as he helped Gwen move her to the table, ordering her to sit then gesturing for Gwen to fetch a candle for light. "Why did you not tell me you had been hit?" he demanded, crouching down and parting the tear to gaze at the shallow wound. Merlyn leant forward to give him an easier sightline as Gwen returned with a candle. Arthur scoffed when the flame illuminated her back. "It's barely a cut," he ridiculed. "Not enough to swoon over like a startled maiden." He pushed himself upright and shook his head. "I thought you were better than that, Merlyn."
"My Lord!" Gwen said, a little aghast, though it was clear she was trying to temper herself. "Surely it is a little worrying. For such a small cut, the bleeding has yet to stop. Is that not concerning?"
Arthur looked over at her then moved his gaze to Merlyn, but she tucked her chin, embarrassed at such fuss over such a tiny injury. "It's fine, Gwen," she mumbled. "Sometimes wounds bleed a lot for no reason. I'll just go to see Gaius for some bandages in the morning."
The maid shot her an incredulous look, but she smiled reassuringly and said quietly, "I'll be alright, Gwen."
The older woman clenched her jaw, but her expression was resigned. Merlyn breathed in relief. Prince or not, respectful or not, Gwen had limits to how much she would tolerate. The black-haired girl was not of a mind to deal with Arthur's sulking if the woman let loose.
The blonde knight sat on Gwen and Lancelot's bed, picking up the pillow and squishing it. "It's been a long day; I think I'll turn in. Is this my bed?"
"Oh, er, of course," Gwen said, manners overtaking her honesty from surprise. Merlyn frowned.
"Arthur," she said reproachfully. "There is only one bed and it is Gwen's."
"Surely not," scoffed Arthur. "They are noble now. What noble has only one bed in their home?"
"We do," said Gwen frostily and the prince blinked, realising his gaffe. "We have no need for what we do not use."
"Oh. Of course not," he placated, glancing around the upper lower-class building. "There isn't much room to expand anyway."
Merlyn closed her eyes in incredulity of how ignorantly rude he was being. Honestly, she thought she had taught him better than that. She wiped her sweaty face wearily and pushed herself upright, glad that there were no more dizzy spells. "Come on, sire, there are some sacks of flour at the back of the house. I'm sure it'll not be too much for your royal delicacies?"
The jab at his pride was intentional and hardly subtle, but he fell for it as she knew he would, too easily offended by such slights.
He drew himself up and scowled at her. "I've slept in worse places than the floor of a house, Merlyn," he sniped. "Or has your simple mind forgotten that I go on border patrols?"
"How could I?" she retorted. "All the grumbling and moaning you do as you try to sleep on the forest floor sticks in my mind like a particularly annoying tune."
"I apologise that not all of us are barbarians content to live out of a hovel," he snapped.
"Some of us only have a hovel!" she exclaimed, bristling at his second insult to her mother's struggles. As if the woman wouldn't have given Merlyn more if she could, as if she hadn't tried her hardest in a harsh kingdom. "Unlike you, not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth!"
Arthur opened his mouth to retort, clearly incensed, but the front door opened, and Lancelot stepped inside, brown eyes scanning the house warily before he recognised the people present.
"My Lord," he greeted with a short bow then moved to Gwen's side to drop a kiss on her temple. "I thought I heard voices, but I thought for sure I was imagining it. How are you here, sire? I was led to believe you were slaying a beast in the northern villages."
Gwen wrapped her arm around Lancelot's back, obviously relieved at his appearance. Merlyn felt awful for arguing so rudely in front of her, invading her home and making her uncomfortable when she had been so courteous.
Arthur answered Lancelot; "That is what the kingdom believes and will continue to do so." The order was obvious, but Merlyn thought he could have been a little more gracious about it.
"There's an assassin after Arthur," she explained, believing that the knight deserved to know the dangers of having them under his roof. "We've already had a near miss, so we cannot stay where we were before. I could think of no one else I trust more than you two, which is why we are here. I'm sorry to intrude but until at least tomorrow, we'll need a safe place to hide." She stared at him pleadingly, but he was already nodding at the prince.
"Unquestionably," he agreed. "I'd be honoured to guard you until this fiend can be brought to justice. You are welcome for as long as you need."
"Thank you, Lancelot," intoned Arthur, bowing his head. "That relieves me greatly. Now," he glanced around. "I wish to be rested for the finals tomorrow, so I bid you all goodnight." He moved into the back room, closing the billowy curtains that separated it with finality.
"Well," said Merlyn. "It seems I'm sleeping in this room."
"Come," said Gwen, taking her hand. "Let me treat your wound so you can at least rest without bleeding everywhere."
The tone of her voice displayed her displeasure, but Merlyn knew it was aimed at the prince and not herself. She squeezed her friend's fingers to reassure her and Gwen let out a resigned sigh before situating her back at the table, ordering Lancelot to set some water to boil to clean the injury. Merlyn let her head rest on her folded arms and closed her tired eyes. A headache was gnawing at her temples from the blood loss or stress or whatever, and she longed for a sip of water to cool her parched throat.
She settled for letting out a long sigh and trusted her friends to care for her.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
The next morning, Merlyn awoke feeling terrible. Her head was pounding, her back was burning and her arms were cold. She was dizzy as she climbed gingerly to her feet, muffling her groans in an effort not to wake Gwen and Lancelot, who slept peaceably on their bed. Dawn was barely lightening the sky through the shutters, so she knew Arthur would also still be asleep, but she was feeling too ill to contemplate dozing off again. Perhaps her wound was infected; it certainly felt like she was feverish.
Gaius. She needed to see Gaius.
She wavered on leaving some sort of message to tell the others where she was but sensibility won out. They would know where she had gone if they awoke before she returned, and parchment was too expensive to waste on such superfluous messages. So she gulped down some water and staggered out the door, surprised at how shaky her legs were.
"Come on, Merlyn, suck it up," she muttered to herself, holding her hands out to steady herself as she slogged up the hill to the citadel and her mentor. Only a couple of patrons were out so early; a stableboy and a baker, but they were half asleep as they trudged passed, too lost in their own minds to notice her drunken behaviour, of which she was thankful.
She reached the staircase to the physician's chambers and had to take a breather, sweating and shaking and a little alarmed. Goodness, she hadn't contemplated it before but perhaps the arrow had been poisoned. If the assassin was a good one, it made sense; for even if it wasn't a fatal shot it was a fatal wound.
Gaius seemed to agree when she finally made it up the staircase to disturb his slumber. "Foolish girl," he scolded as he examined the wound, the flesh having swelled and the poison stained a pasty yellow in reaction to her body's defences. "You should have come to me immediately no matter the time of night!"
"I know," she said, contrite and mortified at such a stupid slip-up. "I wasn't thinking straight. I only wanted to find Arthur a safe place and then he didn't seem to think the wound very bad, so I thought it would be fine. I was an idiot." She turned her head, though she couldn't see the old man as he was directly behind her scraping off some of the poison to examine. "Will you be able to find a cure?"
"For your sake," Gaius said gruffly. "I had better. If it is not treated quickly, I fear it will cause sepsis of the blood. There are already poisoned veins running under your flesh."
She gulped then squealed as the physician poured something over the wound that burned like a brand. "Gods and goddesses Gaius! A little warning please!"
"Humph!" he scoffed but touched her shoulder gently in apology.
As her breathing steadied as the intensity of the burn eased, she laid her own hand over his. "I trust you, Gaius," she whispered. "And there is always magic if there is no cure. I'll not die until I'm good and ready."
"Do not jest of such things, Merlyn," he scolded softly. "And magic is not a be-all-end-all solution. What will Arthur think when you return with no wound to speak of? Perhaps that will finally push his patience too far. He already eyes me with suspicion when I give him updates. And I have misgivings that he has taken to reading through some books himself. It will not be long until he forces action."
"There is still time to persuade him," Merlyn assured him, trying to believe it herself. "All hope is not lost."
The old man sighed lowly. "If you ever lost hope, Merlyn, then I fear the end would be nigh."
"Then fear not, Uncle. That day will never come." She smiled in assurance, for even with poison rushing through her veins and a prince spitting his own brand of venom, she indeed had hope for the future. If she did not then all she had left was the present, and that was not a place she wanted to dwell longer than she had to.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
Merlyn returned to the house with breakfast, wearing a blue cloak and using surreptitious routes to hide from possible prying eyes. All three tenants were already awake and drinking tea when she returned and she was thankful Gwen had not yet prepared a meal.
"About time," criticized Arthur when she threw back her hood and closed the door. She ignored him as she set the serving tray upon the table, dishing out the plates to each person. Gwen stood and moved to her side, instead of accepting her food, she placed a hand on Merlyn's back, between her shoulder blades.
"What did Gaius say?" she asked and the black-haired girl gave a pinched smile, knowing her lies were terrible without preparation and some element of truth sprinkled through.
"The assassin was sent by King Odin," she said, looking to Arthur, who abruptly stopped chewing, discomfit flitting across his suddenly tense features.
"Why would King Odin want you dead?" asked Gwen, expression worried.
The prince swallowed hard and placed his fork back on his plate. Lancelot watched him with equal concern.
"Because I killed his son," Arthur admitted, the confession steeped in regret. "Odin's son challenged me to a fight. I had no quarrel with him; asked him to withdraw – perhaps her felt he had to prove himself." He shook his head sadly. "I can still see his face. He looked so scared…"
Merlyn leant on the table, catching his eyes with her own. "You cannot blame yourself. He was young and foolish but his decisions were his own, just as much as anyone's are. You gave him an out and he refused. No more than that can be done."
"It doesn't negate the fact that I left his father childless and aggrieved. And it seems he is finally returning for vengeance, though why now, I cannot fathom."
"Was there not a notification several months ago of the Queen's passing by illness?" Merlyn queried, trying to remember the details of the missive she'd overheard.
"That is true," Arthur mused.
Merlyn waved a hand in lieu of a shrug. "Perhaps, it ignited his need to act; he couldn't avenge his wife since her passing was the will of the gods, but he could hunt down the one who took his son."
The prince eyed her with an inscrutable expression. "Awfully perceptive," he commented, and she frowned, glancing at Gwen and Lancelot.
"It was only an idea," she defended. "I know not the ways of monarchs and nobility; sometimes it seems they act contrary to common sense."
It was a pointed jab and he scowled as it hit home. "Well, it would seem that way to one as simple-minded as yourself," he snapped back and she glared.
Lancelot cleared his throat and asked Merlyn, "What did Gaius say about your wound?"
"Oh, er, it's-it's fine," she stuttered and mentally cursed her fluster. She spun away. "I will prepare the horse and fetch William. There is only a couple of hours before the final proceeds. You should eat up."
She hurried out the door before anymore could be said and breathed in relief at dodging the explanation. Once the tournament was history, then she would share; no sense in raising everyone's worry when there was probably no need for it. Everything would be fine.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
Merlyn watched through throbbing eyes as Arthur and his opponent, Sir Alynor, charged at each other on their steeds. She stealthily leant against the stands and tried to disguise her trembling hands and sweaty face. Her tongue was swollen, and saliva was pooling in her mouth but she had no time to be sick, needing to tend to the horse and replace Arthur's broken lances. But goodness, if she could just lay down…
There was the loud snapping and crunching of connecting lances and Merlyn jolted, looking up to see Sir Alynor's lance spear Arthur's chest, glancing off his armour but clearly inflicting damage as it did. The prince was unsteady in his seat, his steed slowing as he reached the far side. She rushed across the list to tend to him, squinting at the other knight warily as she passed him by. His hit had been high and aimed at Arthur's heart – not illegal, per say, but not very charitable in a neighbourly competition such as this one.
Arthur staggered as he dismounted, and she swooped under his arm to support him as they headed towards his tent. As she was a little unsteady herself, they lurched drunkenly into the canvas structure.
"His lance pierced my armour," the blonde groaned as he collapsed on the bench seat. Blood was welling from a hole in his chainmail, the links shattered from the impact – something that should not happen to armour as strong as his.
Merlyn grabbed a linen cloth and wiped around the wound, pulling a wicked-looking wood shard from his flesh. She tried to shift the armour to see if anymore splinters were present, but Arthur pushed her back, pressing the rag against the wound tightly himself. "I have to be back on the course within five minutes or I forfeit the match," he ground out, panting. "Do what you can."
She shook her head, William hovering worriedly in the background. "You're losing too much blood and there may be foreign matter still present. Sire," she beseeched. "You risk your life going back out there. Is pride really that important?"
"I have never withdrawn from a match," he wheezed. "I do not intend to start now."
"Please," she whispered, eyes locked on his. "You have nothing to prove."
"I have everything to prove," he denied, staring at her intently. "To myself."
She bowed her head, hands shaking as she bound his shoulder. "I… I could…" she gulped, already knowing he would refuse, but unable to remain silent about the option. "I know healing," she said with emphasis. "I can…"
"No," Arthur refused, grabbing her hand from where it hovered above his injury and dragging it away. "Even good intentions can start one down the path of darkness. This is my battle and I will fight it as a man of honour."
She retreated, eyes on the floor and mumbled, "There is no shame in accepting help. It is the mark of wisdom to know one's limits."
"Not that way," he said, pushing himself tiredly to his feet. "Never that way."
Behind them, William watched in confusion, feeling like he was intruding on a private matter but unable to grasp how.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
Lancelot strode over as Merlyn handed Arthur his lance, helping him brace it under his armpit to give his damaged shoulder some relief. He rode off without a word and Lancelot bent to hiss in Merlyn's ear, "Sir Alynor is dead. The assassin has taken his place in the joust."
"What!" Merlyn exclaimed, jerking back to see Lancelot's kind face pinched in worry. "How do you know?"
"I know Alynor," he said. "He was not one to strike so aggressively unless there was a threat. He had no quarrel with the Prince, so his actions were unjustified. I peered into his tent and found him dead, already cold and stiff. The man the Prince rides against is the assassin. He must be warned."
She rushed forward to grab Arthur's attention but the flag dropped and both steeds leapt forward, riders tilting their lances for action. Merlyn narrowed her eyes and saw a spiked barb protrude from the tip of the assassin's lance.
"Not today," she hissed and felt her eyes flash with heat a moment before the assassin's girth snapped. Usually, a skilled rider could maintain some sort of control if a girth was damaged, their balance aiding in their steadiness, but with a lance in hand, such a disruption in equilibrium sent him sliding to the side. Arthur's lance struck his arm and both rider and saddle went soaring into the air, landing hard with a loud, ominous snap. The assassin didn't rise.
She rushed over the arena to Arthur's side, his body hunched over the pommel and his lance dropped to the dirt. The jar of impacting another body would have sent agony rippling through his damaged shoulder. Serves him right, a nasty part of her mind whispered and she stumbled at the bitterness evident in her own thoughts.
She helped him from his horse and they lurched into his tent, Lancelot taking charge of the steed to her relief. Gwen was already there, waiting for them with some medical supplies, which Merlyn took from her with a word of thanks, wishing there was a second pain draught for her pounding headache. As it was, she settled for pouring the one down Arthur's throat. He grimaced and shuddered.
"Your bedside manners leave a lot to be desired," he groused, reaching for a cup of water to wash down the bitter concoction.
She would have rolled her eyes but they ached too much. "Blame that on Gaius. His touch is as delicate as my own."
Arthur bobbed his head, unable to argue with that truth and Lancelot entered carefully, making sure no prying eyes could peer within. He bowed lightly and said to the prince, "You were jousting against the assassin, sire. He killed Sir Alynor and took his place."
"Huh," said the blonde knight then he smiled. "Then it is good I was able to defeat him."
Merlyn didn't look up to know Lancelot had glanced at her. She busied herself with unwrapping Arthur's binding as she said lightly, "The people will be waiting for their champion. It is time to reveal yourself."
There was a moment of silence and she glanced up to see the prince staring hard at the middle distance. Then he said decisively to William, "You must go and collect the trophy."
Merlyn was taken aback and a glance over her shoulder showed that everyone else was also. "I thought this was going to be your moment of glory."
Arthur met her gaze, indecipherable emotions rolling through them like a storm. He murmured, "Perhaps this is a time for humility. I have proven to myself that I am good enough. I need no other gratification."
A slow smile spread across her face, proud of his decision. "My, Arthur," she said. "How very mature of you."
He rolled his eyes and pushed her hands away from his shoulder, moving to stand. "I will have myself tended to by Gaius. You can go settle the horse back into the guard stables and explain to Gaius why there is not one, but two bodies to be recovered. Sir Alynor deserves recognition for his death."
A little disappointed at his brisk tone, she dipped her head and retreated, smiling in passing at Lancelot. William had already left, the cheers of the crowd erupting loudly at his appearance. All was well that ended well, she guessed.
At least William had fun.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
Merlyn made it through the rest of the day before she collapsed into unconsciousness. Gaius had been intent on his research to find a cure, but all evidence pointed to it being incurable. He believed the only reason she had lasted so long was her magic battling the effects until it, too, faltered. Now, she was lost to fever dreams and unresponsive to the outside world.
Gwen was the first to find out, having been sent by Arthur to fetch her for supper. Gaius explained the situation and the young wife cursed her stubborn friend for feeling the need to hide her ails. "Merlyn, you foolish girl," she whispered as she dabbed a cool cloth across her burning forehead. "Why do you let him tear you down so much?"
The unconscious servant didn't reply and Gwen was left with a cesspool of anxiety and anger bubbling in her gut. She was angry at the prince for belittling Merlyn's injury until the poor girl ignored her own medical knowledge to appease him. Now she was unconscious on the medical cot, her very organs shutting down while Gaius worked himself into exhaustion for a cure that may not exist. With someone present to tend to Merlyn, the old man had disappeared to the library archives to gain the aid of the Keeper of Records, Geoffrey of Monmouth. She didn't expect to see him until the next day.
When Gwen did not return home, both Lancelot and Arthur entered the physician's chambers to see what had delayed them. Gwen made no secret of where her blame lay.
"The barb was poisoned?" the prince repeated, expression stunned. The heat of Gwen's ire eased in the face of his lost expression but it was still present and justified.
"She should have received treatment as soon as the wound was inflicted. Gaius may have found something before it reached this point." The accusation in her tone was clear and Arthur, predictably, bristled.
"How was I supposed to know the arrow was poisoned?" he demanded.
"Perhaps when she almost collapsed last night," she snapped. "You know Merlyn is not weak-willed or soft-sensed; you accusing her thus only caused her to withdraw. We might have been able to stop her from pushing herself today – given Gaius longer to find a cure."
"Guinevere," murmured Lancelot, coming to his wife's side and touching her shoulder but Arthur waved of his attempt to calm her.
"No," he said to his friend, face stern. "I'd like to hear more. If there's something you want to say to me, don't hold back."
Gwen bristled. "You have no idea, do you?" she demanded, and the prince raised an expectant eyebrow.
"About what?" he prompted, and she stood up, facing him head on, despite the possibility of being flogged, or banished or something equally horrible for such nerve.
"About how rude and arrogant you can be! Merlyn slaves after you, day after day, asking for no recognition except your acceptance and you treat her like rubbish! She has risked her life more times than I can count – more times than you know – because she believes in you, in who you can be. You claim titles don't matter to you, but you behave like a prince and expect her to break her back if you asked. Saying it means nothing if your actions betray you!"
Arthur jabbed a finger at her. "You do not know Merlyn half as well as you think," he snarled. "If you knew her truth, you would know she is nothing but a liar and a charlatan!"
"You mean her magic?" Gwen challenged, and Lancelot let out a hiss of air. Immediately, she realised her error and ducked her head, though nothing could have her take back her slip up.
Expectedly, Arthur was dumbfounded, eyes wide and mouth agape. "You… you know?" he demanded, glare flicking between husband and wife. Though Lancelot was annoyed that Gwen had revealed their secret, he stood by her as he met the Prince's judgement. "How long have you known?"
The couple glanced at each other and the brown-haired knight admitted, "Since we met, My Lord. Merlyn saved my life, healed my wound to nary a scar."
"I found out when my father was wrongly put up for execution," added Gwen, deciding not to reveal that he had also been saved by the black-haired girl. One revelation at a time was enough. "I admit… I was wary at first. I am Camelot born, so I have seen the wickedness that sorcery can bring. But Merlyn…" she let out a soft laugh. "Merlyn is… pure. Her heart is uncorrupted, and her magic is as much a part of her as her breath. I could not accept that the kind, generous girl I had known was not real. So it brought into question my belief that magic was evil, and I realised for one to be true, the other had to be false. And I have not doubted since."
Lancelot added, "The griffin that attacked when I was new to the city? It was being controlled by Nimueh; it's actions not its own. Merlyn risked her own sanity to free the beast instead of listening to all those who condemned it as a lost cause. She succeeded, even though the beast was too far gone, but it showed me that her selflessness knew no bounds. She does not care for gender, species or hierarchy; if she believes in something, she does not give up. How could I give up on her?"
Arthur looked back and forth between them then dropped his eyes to his maidservant; to her ghostly pallor, flushed cheeks, chapped lips, bruised eyes. His expression wavered for a moment before it reaffirmed its stubbornness. "What you believe is a lie," he murmured, turning away from them all. "Does Gaius believe there is a cure?"
Gwen's breath hitched, and she struggled to maintain her composure. "No," she said softly. "He's heard of the poison but never of any survivors. The toxin is rare and expensive, so no one has studied it to find an antidote."
The prince sucked in a deep breath and turned to the door. "Keep me updated," he ordered then swept from the room. Gwen stared at his exit for a long moment before turning to her husband.
"Lancelot," she whispered, voice choked, and he enveloped her in his arms. She buried her nose in his neck and breathed in his comforting scent. "Merlyn is dying."
"She is strong," he murmured into her hair, hands stroking soothingly up and down her spine. "I trust that she will hold on until a solution is found."
"But what if she doesn't," she argued. "We should send a missive to her mother – tell her to come."
"… No," croaked Merlyn and Gwen spun out of Lancelot arms to see the black-haired girl's lovely blue eyes peering blearily in her direction. They were glassy with fever and her breath was raspy, but Gwen gave a cheer and cradled the girl's burning cheeks.
"Merlyn," she whispered. "You're very ill. Gaius is trying to find a cure, but you need to hold on."
"Magic…" she wheezed, breath quickening as she tried to vocalise her needs despite her lungs feeling sluggish and tight. "Magic… Fornimest… Fornimest átor fram… Emrys!" she gasped and her eyes flared gold. A white mist rose from her body like a pale spectre of her frame before it evaporated into the ether with a soft hiss. Merlyn took a deep, unhindered breath before exhaustion pulled her back under and she passed out. Gwen and Lancelot stared in astonishment.
"She just…" Gwen murmured, and Lancelot nodded, though his wife wasn't looking in his direction.
"She did," he confirmed then added wryly, "Even on her death bed, Merlyn loves to be the hero."
Gwen snorted then chuckled, her laugh a little hysterical. She bowed over Merlyn's head, the girl's pallor returning to normal and her skin not so hot to touch. "You," she murmured to the girl, brushing the dark hair off Merlyn's forehead, the strands quite long now. "You enjoy stressing our hearts, don't you? Throwing yourself into dangerous situations without regard for your life…"
"But somehow, she always finds her way free," Lancelot stated, leaning down to squeeze the prone girl's hand. "And manages to save the day as she does."
Gwen wiped her eyes and straightened up, fortifying her raw emotions. "Gaius and the Prince must be informed. You take His Highness and I take Gaius?"
"Certainly, my love," he said and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips before turning away. "I know just where he will be."
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
Lancelot stepped up beside the prince as he leant against the balustrade overlooking the courtyard and lower town. His thinking place.
"Merlyn is healed, My Lord," he said in lieu of a greeting.
The blonde's head whipped around, and he stared at his close friend in shock.
"How?" he managed after a long moment.
Lancelot swallowed and looked out at the city spread before them, so full of life. "Magic," he said.
He felt the prince tense and saw his fists clenched atop the stone wall. "Gaius?" he asked.
"Nay," he denied. "Merlyn."
"What?" he demanded again, his whole body turning to face Lancelot with intrigue. Respectfully, the brown-haired knight did the same, meeting his tumultuous blue eyes without hesitation. "But she was unconscious."
"She was, sire," he agreed. "But she awoke not long after you left and healed herself with a spell. I do not know that she was even truly conscious, for she faded not a moment later."
The prince looked away, scowling. "It seems she has become so steeped in sorcery, she does not even need to be awake."
Lancelot licked his lips nervously, knowing he was about to tread on dangerously thin ice, but he couldn't stand aside while his closest friends tore each other apart. "My Lord," he began tentatively. "I do not know much of sorcery or of the darkness it seeded in this kingdom, for I was not born or raised in Camelot. But Merlyn's skills are not something I have ever seen before. She did not learn sorcery as one would study a book. She has abilities that I am not sure there are spells for; it is as instinctive to her as walking is to us."
Arthur let out an annoyed breath, taking several steps away before turning and saying sharply, "Not that it is within your purview to question the King's laws, but my decision to separate Merlyn from sorcery is for her own good. I have heard many times over the past few weeks that her magic is intrinsic to who she is," his tone turned a little mocking, "That it is as natural to her as breathing, as important to her as lifeblood." He shook his head in disgust. "Breath and blood do not stain our souls or corrupt our hearts. You are right in saying you know little about magic. My father was forced to kill his own brother to conquer this kingdom because he was cursed by sorcery. All throughout my childhood, all I saw of magic was men, women, children, perverted by its power, their very souls changed irrevocably by the dark whisper of its possibilities. Merlyn… Merlyn is my friend. How could I stand by and allow who she is be twisted by that darkness? How can you?"
Lancelot sighed, wondering how Merlyn could handle such wilful blindness with patience. He was already growing frustrated. "Merlyn was born this way, My Lord. If magic is by its very nature corruptive, do you not think that perhaps Merlyn would have grown into a different person than who she is? Could there be a chance – if you do not believe that magic does not corrupt – that if anyone can handle that power and not be tainted by it, it would be Merlyn?"
The prince appeared to have no a reply, staring out over the courtyard with his jaw clenched. Lancelot bowed his head in concession. "I'll leave you in peace, sire," he said and retreated, hoping that, finally, his royal friend might truly reconsider his beliefs.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
Gwen is the bomb! I love her to bits! In Canon Seasons Two and Three, she just has so much fire and shrewdness. I definitely want to keep that part of her alive in this. Anyway, so sorry I took so long getting this out. It was a struggle to put time aside to proof read it while I'm neck-deep in writing the rest. I'm trying so hard to finish this story in a timely manner so I can send out the chapters more often, because these next few chapters are definitely not feel-good, and I always hate waiting for updates when its during such a desperate situation. As it is, hope you enjoyed this piece, and look forward to more coming soon!
Also, riding is so great! I love it. It is ten times harder than I thought it would be, even with my expectations quite high. I'm only riding about three horses every couple of days (which should soon increase) while the others are riding ten plus a morning, but I am so tired at the end lol. Track work is a completely different world to any other form of riding. The style, positions, training, everything is just so unique to this industry, but it's great. I look forward to my 3.40am wake ups now haha.
Hope all your 2018 goals are going just as well as mine finally is! Lots of Love!