A/N: Hello people! I have no excuse for how long it took me to get back to this. Let's get on with the poisoning of our favorite warlock, shall we?
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any of its characters, obviously. If I did, Camelot would have been on a tropical island.
"Gwen, really you don't have to!"
"But I want to! As a thank you, for helping me escape the pyre."
In the face of that argument, Drusilla gave up. With a sigh, she sat down at her vanity and let Gwen approach her, hairbrush in hand.
Lord Bayard of Mercia and his retinue were due to arrive today. The signing of the peace treaty had been the talk of the city for weeks. It was one of the accomplishments King Uther would be most proud of, and all of his Court were expected to attend the welcome feast tonight. Drusilla, busy with her uncle's many requests to locate countless border maps and precedent treaties throughout the archives, had not given much thought to her apparel for the banquet. Therefore, part of her was grateful for Gwen's determination to help the young lady with her outfit and hair.
"Have you thought about a dress?"
Drusilla looked up to Gwen's reflection in the mirror, pensive.
"Yes, a dress would be nice."
The lady's maid impatiently rapped the brush against her friend's skull. The blow rang into her brain painfully.
"Well if you haven't got any favorite in mind, I guess I'll just have to pick one for you ..."
Drusilla's eyes bulged out in panic. She knew what Gwen's tastes were like, she would end up in a tightly laced dress of gauzy, sheer material that would show off far too much of her own skin for comfort!
"No, no! I've chosen one. It's the - umm ..."
Gwen laughed at her friend's expense.
"Too late, milady. You've forfeited your right to choose, and I'll pick your dress tonight!"
Drusilla turned back towards the mirror, a defeated sigh escaping her.
"Just ... nothing too sheer, please?"
Gwen's tight-lipped smile was not reassuring, far from it.
"No promises."
Lady Drusilla, as a noble lady of the Court, had been summoned at the king's table. For the duration of the Mercian visit, she would have to sit prettily at Lady Morgana's side, making idle chitchat with the nobles and knights of Bayard's delegation. The foreign king was known for his bombastic and never-ending speeches, and Drusilla was certainly not eager to suffer through it. The only upside to this was that she could mutter inanities to Morgana and try to break the lady's composure.
"Isn't this a momentous occasion, milady? Here we are, sat at the sides of history being made!"
Morgana stifled a chuckle in her handkerchief while King Bayard and King Uther were apparently trying to one-up each other with their toasts. If that was what she had to look forward to until the end of the visit, Drusilla would make sure to be horrendously sick in the coming days. At least, she was not as miserable as Merlin - and his hat.
When she had walked into the banquet hall, as regal as any princess of her acquaintance in a midnight blue velvet gown with bell sleeves - which she had no idea she owned until Gwen pulled it out of the depths of her wardrobe - and with her hair artfully laid on her right shoulder, Lady Drusilla had barely acknowledged her name being announced before trying to dissolve into the walls of the room. The dress may have been beautiful, but it still clung to her form and bared her shoulders, making the girl extremely self-conscious. As she slunk into the shadows, Drusilla's eyes fell on her new friend Merlin, himself trying to blend in with the tapestries it seemed. One look at his outfit was enough for her to perfectly understand his predicament, and she came to stand at his side with a pitying smile.
"I see I'm not the only who had no choice over what to wear tonight. Arthur must be quite proud of himself."
Really, what in the name of the five kingdoms was he wearing?! There was a short cape, and an emblazoned tabard, and the hat - oh, what a hat! You could practically see Arthur's signature on this monstrosity, and the young lady had all the trouble in the world to keep from laughing out loud as the feathers bobbed up and down when Merlin turned his head towards her.
Merlin rolled his eyes up before they fell onto Drusilla. And bulged. The dark haired boy stuttered a reply.
"Well he can... um, I-I I mean umm ... You look..."
Drusilla crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders self-consciously.
"I look bloody ridiculous, I know! Feel bloody ridiculous, too."
Seeing her suddenly darkening expression, Merlin hurriedly amended himself.
"You look beautiful, milady. But if you want to cover up a bit, I'm sure I can lend you my hat for the evening ..."
That pulled a smirk out of her.
"No, it would ruin Gwen's hard work, plus it's not my color! But ... really Merlin, just how many fowls had to die to gather all those feathers?"
Merlin only huffed a breath out of his nose and fidgeted with his high collar, his eyes searching the room anxiously, as the dignitaries began taking place around the tables for the official proceedings to begin. With a short wave and a resigned smile, Drusilla left the manservant to his own devices and headed for the table of honor, her place at Merlin's side soon filled by Gwen.
"People of Camelot, for a great many years we have been mortal enemies. The blood of our men stains the ground from the walls of Camelot, to the gates of Mercia. And though we remember those who have died, we must not allow any more to join them. As a symbol of our goodwill, and of our newfound friendship, I present these ceremonial goblets to you, Uther, and to your son Arthur, in the hope that our friendship may last ..."
Drusilla, standing next to Morgana, feigning attentiveness, was holding in a long-suffering sigh. Bayard really was a dreadful orator.
Who could have known Uncle Geoffrey was not the most pompous windbag in the world! Well, he'd found his match in Mercia for certain!
The foreign lord droned on and on, and Drusilla's wandering eyes crossed paths with Arthur's stoic-in-the-face-of-inane-protocol look. Both had to immediately avert their eyes to avoid a loss of their regal façade. Having the prince of Camelot grinning like a fool in the middle of a very - VERY - formal speech was simply not done.
"... Tonight we toast a new beginning for our peoples. We look towards a future free from the toils of war ..."
Really, how long could the man go on? Drusilla's legs were beginning to tire and she could not keep herself from fidgeting in place, earning herself a quick jab from Morgana's elbow. She hoped they would limit the grand discourses to this evening - seeing as Bayard was already discoursing enough for a full year anyway - and that the rest of the visit would be mostly speech-free.
"... and may the differences from our past remain there. To your health, Uther ..."
With an almost relieved sag of his shoulders, the king of Camelot raised his shiny new goblet. The rest of the room followed suit at once and toasting along while Bayard carried on, choosing to apparently name everyone present one by one.
"... Arthur ..."
Bayard was still not done, however, much to the aforementioned prince's chagrin, as he was more than ready to drink the whole goblet in one go.
"... the Lady Morgana ..."
As Drusilla bit her lip to keep a chuckle inside, Bayard turned to encompass all the room in his pompous toast.
"... the people of Camelot."
Not one to be silenced in his own banquet hall, King Uther added his own little toast - just to prove that he should always have the last word.
"And to fallen warriors, on both sides."
Drusilla kept her own goblet halfway to her mouth, half expecting Bayard to go on in a bid to out-do Uther, but both kings mercifully stayed quiet. Thank goodness for the end of that interminable speech! Drusilla was interrupted in her first sip - as was the rest of the banquet hall - by a sudden shout.
"STOP!"
What now?
Merlin was rushing into the banquet hall - without the dreadful floppy hat, thank goodness! - and heading straight for the royal table. He grabbed Arthur's goblet out of the prince's hands
"It's poisoned, don't drink it!"
What? Poisoned?
"What?"
"Merlin, what are you doing?"
Uther and Arthur both exclaimed as everyone in the hall was now staring at the - possibly insane - manservant. Yes Merlin, what in the world are you doing?
"Bayard laced Arthur's goblet with poison."
"This is an outrage!"
Lord Bayard - how had Drusilla even forgotten he was there? - roared, pulling his sword out of its scabbard. His men followed suit immediately, but so did the knights of Camelot all around the hall. Even Lady Morgana suddenly grabbed a knife among the cutlery on the table. Drusilla caught her movement from the side of her eye and suddenly she was hard pressed not to laugh. Lady Morgana, always ready for battle!
Uther, still standing on the ladies' right, was glaring at Bayard, livid, as the doors opened again to let the citadel's guards in. The room was now surrounded in red capes with the Pendragon crest.
"Order your men to put down their sword. You are outnumbered."
"I will not allow this insult to go unchallenged!"
Uther turned to Merlin, who immediately tried to fold in on himself under the glare of the king.
"On what grounds do you base this accusation?"
"I'll handle this."
Arthur all but ran around the table to reach his manservant. He grabbed the other's collar then roughly pulled the goblet out of Merlin's hands.
"Merlin you idiot! Have we been at the sloe gin again?"
Uther was not going to let this go easily, however.
"Unless you want to be strung up, you will tell me why you think it is poisoned, now."
Merlin, who looked remarkably unafraid for someone under King Uther's glare, answered confidently.
"He was seen lacing it."
King Uther pressed on with the questions, the whole room listening attentively. The cheerful ambiance of the hall had been replaced with a high tension. Drusilla could feel her whole body tensed, waiting for an answer.
"By whom?"
Right then, Merlin hesitated. Drusilla saw it, and she was sure most everyone else saw it too.
"I can't say."
Bayard made his presence known again with another bout of outrage.
"I won't listen to this anymore!"
Uther then motioned for his son.
"Pass me the goblet."
Arthur complied. Really the only wise thing to do at the moment. Uther turned back towards Bayard and extended his arm to him, offering the cup.
"If you're telling the truth ..."
The foreign king puffed his chest proudly.
"I am."
"Then you have nothing to fear, do you?"
Ohhh goodness! This banquet was turning into a terrible battle of wills between both kings. Drusilla and Morgana shared a nervous look between themselves before turning back to the scene unraveling in the middle of the hall.
Bayard sheathed his sword and went for the goblet. This could not end well.
Uther quickly retracted his arm.
"No. If this proves to be poisoned, I want the pleasure of killing you myself."
The king of Camelot then handed the possibly poisoned goblet to Merlin, who had not had the good sense of running away yet, for some unknown reason. Drusilla's mind quickly flashed to that morning in the marketplace, when Merlin had not run away either. Maybe it was a matter of character, then? Or a fatal flaw in his survival instinct, more like!
"He'll drink it."
The young lady felt a chill running up her spine at those words. She and Morgana both tensed at the table, and they both heard Gwen's soft gasp, not far behind their backs. Was King Uther really going to poison the boy? Arthur seemed to have the same qualms about this course of action.
"But if it is poisoned, he'll die!"
Uther, logical and unemotional, went on.
"Then we'll know he was telling the truth."
Bayard seemed to be on board with the king's idea.
"And what if he lives?"
"Then you have my apologies, and you can do with him as you will."
Master Gaius, who had been watching from the side of the room, could not stay silent anymore. It was his ward they were planning to kill publicly, after all.
"Uther, please! He's just a boy. He doesn't know what he's saying!"
The king barely spared his most trusted adviser a look.
"Then you should have schooled him better."
Arthur protested again, a hint of panic in his voice.
"Merlin, apologize! This is a mistake. I'll drink it!"
Before Arthur's hand could grasp the twice damned goblet, however, Merlin had taken it out of the prince's reach.
"No no no no no. It's - it's alright."
Under the eyes of all the nobles of Camelot, the Mercian delegation, Gaius and Gwen, poor Merlin toasted to the kings and drank the whole thing in one go. No one dared to breathe, waiting for the poison to take its effect, or for the Mercian king to murder a young manservant in front of them all. After a few of the most high-strung seconds in Drusilla's short life, Merlin looked up and spoke.
"It's fine."
There was a collective sigh in the room as Uther motioned to Bayard.
"He's all yours."
But then ...
Drusilla saw Merlin's hand going to his throat. In a moment he was very obviously choking and he collapsed to the stone floor in front of everyone. The goblet's metallic clanging against the floor brought the king's attention back to the manservant.
"It's poisoned! Guards, seize him!"
In an instant the whole Mercian delegation was surrounded by armed guards, swords unsheathed. Arthur was the first to reach Merlin's prone form, quickly followed by Gaius, Drusilla and Gwen not far behind.
"Merlin, can you hear me?"
In the cacophony of the banquet hall, even Drusilla had trouble hearing old Gaius, and she was practically hunched over him!
"We have to get him back to my chambers. Bring the goblet. I need to identify the poison."
Without a word, Arthur picked up his manservant and headed out of the room with Gaius. Gwen picked up the goblet and both girls worriedly followed.
"Lay him on the bed, quickly! He's struggling to breathe. Gwen, fetch me some water and a towel."
As soon as Arthur dropped his charge on the small cot in the middle of the room, Gaius checked the gangly boy's temperature. Drusilla could not keep her eyes away from his pale face.
"Is he going to be alright?"
"He's burning up."
"But you can cure him, can't you Gaius?"
The old man shared a worried look with Gwen.
"I won't know until I can identify the poison. Pass me the goblet."
He pulled his glasses out of a pocket of his wide robes - for a second Drusilla wondered how many pockets there were in those robes - and examined the thing.
"Ah! There's something stuck on the inside."
Arthur was hovering next to the healer, not bothering to conceal his panic anymore.
"What is it?"
"It looks like a flower petal of some kind. Drusilla, fetch my botany book."
The young lady wasted no time climbing up to the small, rickety balcony. She breathed a sigh of relief. Drusilla knew where the books were, here almost as well as in the archives. Feeling the old leather of the bindings calmed her still racing heart. How the evening had changed, from a somewhat boring banquet to murder accusations to a matter of life or death! The heavy volume in hand, the young archivist came down two steps at a time.
"His brow is burning up."
Gwen was worriedly putting a hand on Merlin's sweaty brow. Poor boy was looking more and more ill by the minute.
"Keep him cool. It'll help control his fever."
Gaius picked the book from Drusilla's hands and sent her again to fetch a book on poisons - Potent Poisons and their Cures - from the shelves. As soon as she came back with it, he began to flip the pages feverishly.
"Ah! The petal comes from the Mortaeus flower. It says here that someone poisoned by the Mortaeus can only be saved by a potion made from the leaf of the very same flower."
He switched to the first book and quickly pointed out the plant in the botany book.
"It can only be found in the caves deep beneath the Forest of Balor. The flower grows on the roots of the Mortaeus tree."
Only Arthur and Drusilla were huddled next to Gaius, Gwen applying cold water compresses to Merlin's head. The prince pointed at the image on the page next to the Mortaeus paragraph. It showed a strange creature, with wings and the head of a fearsome bird. From her angle, Drusilla thought it looked like a giant, mutated chicken, escaped from some strange magical realm. It looked absolutely and positively ugly.
"That's not particularly friendly."
That's one way to put it!
"A cockatrice. It guards the forest."
Gaius went back to the other book, flipping pages upon pages of poisons and their - usually impossible to find - cures.
"Its venom is potent. A single drop would mean certain death. Few who have crossed the mountains of Isgaard in search of the Mortaeus flower have made it back alive."
Arthur nodded decisively next to Drusilla.
"Sounds like fun."
Gaius protested immediately.
"Arthur, it's too dangerous."
"If I don't get the antidote, what happens to Merlin?"
All eyes in the room now turned to the poor, twitching figure on the cot. He was pale - well, paler than usual - and his skin was clammy. His eyes were tight shut, the erratic movement behind them and the incoherent whispers tugging at Drusilla's heartstrings. He was dying. Dying. Gaius's next words sounded like a particularly cruel sentence.
"The Mortaeus induces a slow and painful death. He may hold out for four, maybe five days, but not for much longer. Eventually, he will die."
Drusilla could not sleep. Now only the events of the evening were fully catching up with her, and she was nervously chewing on her thumb as she paced the length of her chambers.
After she'd left the physician's chambers Drusilla had gone to see Morgana. Speaking with the king's ward usually calmed her and more often than not yielded a solution to whatever problem she had. This time was different. It was only as she rambled on and on to Morgana that the reality of it truly hit her. Someone had tried to poison Arthur, and as a result one of her friends was likely to die in the coming days. Bayard and the rest of his people were imprisoned in the dungeons, and there would most likely be a new war with Mercia. Arthur was going to search for an antidote in a remote forest guarded by a deadly monster, and he might not come back in time to save Merlin, or he might also not return at all. She'd broken out in sobs over her friend's shoulder, apologizing profusely since Morgana also had to deal with Gwen's absence. Both girls knew the lady's maid could not be kept away from the dying boy's side. It would have been cruel.
Now, in the late hours of the night, Lady Drusilla stood in her room, staring intently at the fire in the hearth. She had heard from servants and nobles alike that Arthur, the king's only heir, had left the city tonight, almost running over a sentinel on the way out. Thinking about it now, running away felt quite tempting. She felt caged, powerless, useless right now. She wished she could go somewhere, do something! Anything to help. But what could she do?
Moments later the young lady was walking briskly down the hallway that led to the archives. It might be the middle of the night, but the scratching of quill against paper or the turning of pages never woke anyone up.
Once in the room she thought of as her sanctuary, Drusilla breathed easier. Research. Books. Finding everything she could about this Mortaeus plant, finding an antidote, copying all the information she could find. That was what she was good at. She could be useful there.
And so began a sleepless night of research to help save the poisoned servant boy.
"He's getting hotter."
Drusilla had been in Gaius's chambers since the early morning. Sleep had not come at all last night. She had spent it reading and, when she could not concentrate properly anymore, writing an account of the previous day's events on a stray parchment roll. At least something had helped settle her!
After a meager breakfast - as if anything more than a bit of cheese and fruit could pass! - the young archivist had gone down to tell Gaius about whatever information she'd found, which was pitifully little. She had stayed to let Gaius take a rest, changing the wet compresses over her friend's brow often, trying to get the black haired boy to drink some liquid. Goodness, but he was burning up! Drusilla would have sworn she could cook an egg on his forehead. For now, Gwen was watching over Merlin, while Drusilla ran around the chambers pulling phials and bottled herbs as Gaius called them out to her.
"Get me the licorice, on that lower shelf there. Should help his breathing. The lungwort too."
"What language is that?"
Drusilla and Gaius stopped and turned back to Gwen. Merlin, still unconscious on the cot, was in fact muttering strange words in a hoarse voice.
"... liffrea wuldres wealdend ... woroldare forgeaf ..."
Gaius frowned worriedly.
"None, the fever's taken hold. None of those words are his own."
As she ran around the physician's quarters, gathering bottles and dried herbs, Gaius came to his ward's bedside to take Merlin's pulse, dropping the boy's wrist back on the cot after a few seconds.
"His pulse is weaker. Drusilla, we'll need tincture of yarrow, too."
One moment later, the old man had picked up Merlin's arm again, pushing up his sleeve. Both girls were distressed to see a strange, perfectly round ring of red, raw skin.
"What is it?"
"It can't be right. The rash isn't supposed to appear until the final stage."
"What does that mean?" both girls asked in unison, although Drusilla could feel a weight settling in the pit of her stomach. Didn't she read something about a rash being a symptom?
Gaius hurried back to his books, flipping the pages one-handedly while he pulled out his magnifying glass.
"It says here that 'once a rash appears, death will follow within two days.'"
Gwen's and Drusilla's worry spiked, as well as their voices.
"What!? How is that possible?"
"You said he had four days."
"Something's increased the flower's potency."
The physician returned to his texts under the numerous questions both girls were flinging at him. What did Merlin ever do to engender such an attachment from those girls?
"It warns that 'the effect of the Mortaeus will be more rapid if an enchantment is used during the flower's preparation.'"
"An enchantment?"
"But Bayard's no sorcerer."
Gaius's face was grim as he spoke up again, his eyes glaring at the empty air.
"No, he isn't."
"Drusilla, child. There you are!"
Geoffrey of Monmouth had been looking for his niece all morning, and was relieved to see her in the doorway to the archives. He could not, for the life of him, locate the treaty he was looking for and needed his young assistant's eyes.
"I need to find the peace accords between Mercia and the Western Isles. Have you seen it?"
At the sound of her uncle's harried voice, Drusilla snapped out of her haze of worry.
"It's on my desk, Uncle Geoffrey. I was going over it last night, I wanted to know what a war with Mercia would entail ..."
The old archivist sighed in apparent relief. He'd been afraid that the document had been misplaced. That oversight would have plagued his mind for weeks!
"I see, and?"
"There are no provisions in case one kingdom declares war against a third party. Unless their king decides to wholly back Bayard's treachery, it's very improbable that the Western Isles would declare themselves against us."
Hearing this helped the old man breathe easier. He could rely on Drusilla's understanding of the legal treaty. The girl was very well versed in the political intricacies of the 7 kingdoms. Geoffrey offered a relieved smile to his niece, only for it to fall as soon as he really looked at her. His darling neice looked exhausted, her braided hair unkempt and her her old brown dress laced haphazardly. Her eyes were bloodshot and sunken, and her usual exuberance was nowhere to be found.
"Drusilla, my dear, are you unwell? You look a fright."
She shrugged - despite the years he'd spent lecturing her about proper posture and decorum, she shrugged at him!
"I haven't slept a wink last night. I was far too worried."
Of course she was! Geoffrey could certainly understand that! Camelot was on the brink of war. If she had come to the archives in the middle of the night to read up on political matters, she must have been dreadfully worried indeed!
"Maybe you should go see Gaius, ask him for a calming draught."
He saw her eyes rolling impertinently upwards at the suggestion.
"I'm afraid Gaius is otherwise occupied, Uncle..."
His old friend? Too busy to dispense medication? Nonsense!
"...His ward is dying."
Shame blossomed in Monmouth's face as he realized that he hadn't spared a single thought for the poor soul who had been poisoned in front of the whole of Camelot at the banquet. The prince's manservant was distant relative of the physician too, and under his responsibility. Another look at his own ward, at his side, hugging herself and looking wretched, made it all too real for him.
"Gaius must be beside himself with worry!"
"He is, I spent my morning helping him to care for Merlin. I wish there was something else I could do to help."
"Is there no cure for it?"
She shook her head dejectedly.
"Only one, and Arthur might very well be risking his own life on the way to find it."
Another sleepless night, this time spent in Gaius's rooms, tending to Merlin. Drusilla had insisted the old man take a break and get some rest. Even her uncle Geoffrey had called the initiative 'quite thoughtful' and had not objected to her shirking her copyist duties to help the healer.
She spent most of her time changing the cold compresses on Merlin's head and behind his neck, trying to make him drink watered down broth, and ignoring his incoherent babbling. He called out Arthur's name often. Poor boy was delirious!
After another - intense - bout of feverish ramblings, Drusilla pushed the boy's fringe away from his clammy forehead for the umpteenth time.
"Shhh ... Don't fret Merlin. Rest."
The sound of her voice and the movement of her hand seemed to quiet him a little, for a moment, so she kept at it. Whatever she could do to help soothe him would have to do.
After a while, Lady Drusilla grew tired of uttering the same cooing sounds and exhortations to rest. She figured that if the sound of her voice was keeping him calm, what she said did not matter so much.
"You've put the whole castle upside down and inside out, did you know? You did well, to be sure, but still ..."
He remained quiet and did not acknowledge the change of topic, so she carried on quietly.
"Camelot will be at war soon. Arthur has run off a full day ago, to find you an antidote. Gaius all but told him that he was running towards a certain death, but the absolute fool went on his merry way nonetheless! King Uther is madder than I have ever seen him before ... At least, as mad as the time Morgana dropped her wine goblet on Arthur's lap in front of the whole court at banquet! ... Did you ever hear about that? It happened a few years ago, before you came here ..."
She kept her inane chatter as the night progressed, if only to keep herself entertained, talking about any and all aspects of her life in Camelot, and her life before that as well.
"My father was a knight, did I ever tell you that? He was as tall as the king, and shaped like an oak tree! He had this big beard, that went down to his chest, and his hair was as black as mine ... and yours too, isn't that funny! I remember his laugh. It sounded like an earthquake when he laughed! Sometimes, he would pick me up and toss me over his shoulder like a sack of grain, and ferry me around the castle hallways ..."
In the next room, Master Gaius, having long ago abandonned the prospect of sleep, let the quiet ramblings of the young girl lull him into a peaceful state of contemplation. Clearly the girl had decided that Merlin and her were to become the best of friends. A nice idea. He only hoped the prince would come back swiftly enough for this idea to remain possible.
"... isn't as bad as you would think. As long as I apply myself in my copyist duties and if the work is done in reasonable time, he lets me roam the archives to my heart's content!"
Arthur came back the next day.
Drusilla was in her rooms, attempting to brush her hair into a somwehat respectable plait, when she heard a commotion in the courtyard. There was the prince, being escorted by guards into the castle. Forgetting her hair instantly, the young lady ran to Morgana's rooms and entered without bothering to knock.
"Arthur's back! He's come back!"
Morgana and Gwen jumped in surprise., but soon a relieved smile bloomed on the maid's face, while Morgana's grew more worried.
"Uther's ordered him arrested as soon as he returned. He'll be taken to the dungeons!"
Drusilla's face fell.
"But ... what about the antidote? Merlin, he ..."
"How do we get it from Arthur?"
As Gwen hurried down to the dungeons with a platter of food, Drusilla stood in the hallway by the kitchens, nervously tugging at her braid. The plan was simple, but its execution rested in part on her being a good enough diversion.
When a dour-looking servant exited the kitchens with a food platter meant for the prince, Drusilla moved from her post and into the woman's path.
Here we go!
"Is that lamb?"
Lady Drusilla of Monmouth stood in the hall, blocking the servant with her hands on her hips, elbows widely spaced. The servant had to stop or else risk losing the full tray.
"Oh, looks delicious! I'll take this off your hands. Thank you!"
She made to pick to tray from the servant's hands, but the older woman dodged the attempt.
"It is Prince Arthur's meal, my lady."
"Oh, he won't mind at all if I nibble his ..."
The servant was now actively trying to bypass the young noble - a grave breach in decorum, it sould be noted - but the energetic girl was being her most rambunctious self in the middle of the tight hallway.
"Trust me, someone must taste the prince's food. Imagine if it was poisoned! There's certainly some of that going around ..."
Another attempt at dodging, foiled again by Drusilla!
"There is no need for ..."
Drusilla's voice rose in its most dramatic crescendos.
"There is every need! Did you not know that Prince Arthur was almost poisoned - to death! - days ago? And could you imagine if the Mercian delegation should try their luck again, now that there are no more servants to taste the food and drink given to the king and his family? Will you taste it, to be sure that the Prince is safe?"
Since she rarely required the help of a servant on her daily tasks, the royal household staff had little to no experience dealing with Lady Drusilla's demands, much less her lunacies, or her current frantic gesticulations.
"My lady, I assure you tha..."
The girl threw an arm over her eyes with a ridiculous sob.
"Ohh! Woe is us, for the prince will surely die ... because of your negligence! The king will never recover from so much grief. The kingdom will rip itself apart, and Camelot will be ruined! Ruined!"
Really Drusilla, you're being too much!
A quick look from behind her arm told her that her time was up. That servant was about to gather speed and ram into her just to pass. Better put an end to the whole charade before anyone else heard about it!
"Oh fine, then! You have no sense of duty!"
With a final dramatic movement of her long skirts, the young lady turned around and flounced away, vacating the hallway and letting the older woman pass. Hoping that Gwen had had enough time to come back up from the dungeons, she hurried to Gaius's rooms.
As soon as she arrived at he door, Drusilla could hear Gwen's panicked voice through the wood panel.
"He's stopped breathing. What's happening? Gaius?"
She burst in, seeing Gaius with his head against Merlin's chest.
"His heart has stopped."
Drusilla and Gwen both spoke at the same time.
"He's dead?"
Gaius muttered under his breath, frantically searching for a pulse.
"He can't be. He can't be. It was his destiny."
Gwen let out a sob at the sight of Gaius standing up, looking grave. Drusilla grabbed her hand and held it in both hers, trying to find a glimmer of hope but finding none.
"It's my fault. If I'd have got here sooner. If I'd have been quicker."
The old physician gave the servant girl a hug as she started crying in earnest. Drusilla could only stay rooted to her spot, holding one of Gwen's hands in hers, her own eyes going blurry with tears.
"You did everything you could, Gwen. We all did."
Gaius spoke up, his voice thick with emotion.
"No, no. It was me. I should've looked after him better. It's my fault."
Drusilla could feel the tears streaming steadily down her face, but she could do nothing to stop them, nor would she. The three of them stood there, silent and grief stricken, for a long moment. Not a sound was heard in the room, other than the quiet sobs of the servant girl, her head hidden against Gaius's shoulder.
"That's disgusting! You should be ashamed of yourself. You're old enough to be her grandfather!"
All at once, the trio turned their heads and saw Merlin's head raised from the pillows, eyes open. Gaius was the first to recover his senses.
"Merlin! You're alive?!"
Gwen released Gaius and squeezed back Drusilla's hand - hard. Merlin looked pale and weak, but his grin was genuine when he replied cheekily.
"No. I'm a ghost come back to haunt you."
At that moment, Gwen rushed to Merlin's side and kissed him on the mouth. Drusilla and Gaius exchanged a quick surprised look and then averted their eyes from the display of emotion. A second later, Gwen stood back up and tried to compose herself, with little success.
"Sorry, I'm just...I thought you were dead."
Merlin did not seem to mind at all, if the healthy blush that was growing on his pasty face was to be trusted. He stammered a quick retort.
"It's fine. It's more than fine. ...erm...what happened? The last thing I remember is drinking the wine."
Letting out a pent up breath that she hadn't known she was holding, Drusilla went to his side and hugged him tightly, relieved beyond measure.
"Lucky you! These past few days have been horrid, absolutely and positively horrid!"
As soon as she released him from her death-grip, Merlin eyed her, confused.
"I'm almost afraid to ask ..."
Sitting herself down at the foot of his cot, Drusilla took a heaving breath and patted his hands, still lying on the cover. Another surge of relief went through her when she realized they were no longer deathly cold.
"I can catch you up on things, once you've had something to eat. Unless you're too tired to hear me talk?"
With an easy grin, Merlin said she could talk as much as she wanted. He would come to regret those words in the next hour or so!
Drusilla was still in the physician's chambers when Arthur made his visit. She had been talking the ears off of poor Merlin for the better part of a day now, and had certainly retold him most of what she had been rambling to him about while he was unconscious - if not even more!
"Still alive, then?"
The prince stood at the door, looking smug - and also relieved. Drusilla was glad to see him out of the dungeons, and grateful for what he'd done to save his own manservant. Said manservant was still reclining on his cot, looking better, but nowhere near healthy yet. He smiled at Arthur's entrance.
"Oh. Yeah, just about. I understand I have you to thank for that."
The prince swatted away his thanks with a careless gesture of his hand. His smile, however, and the way his ears were reddening, told the young noble lady that her old friend was not as flippant as he wanted to appear. He was glad to have Merlin back, and proud of having saved a life. That was plain to see. The iciness she had been feeling towards Arthur in the last few years melted a bit at this realization.
"Yeah, well, it was nothing. A half decent servant is hard to come by. I was only dropping by to make sure you're alright. I expect you to be back to work tomorrow."
With a small cough, Merlin nodded happily.
"Oh yeah, yeah of course, er, bright and early."
"Perfect! Drusilla, your uncle wants you in the archives as soon as possible."
Drusilla stood up and headed towards the door herself.
"Very well then! Get some rest, Merlin. I hope to see you back on your feet soon!"
She waved at him again and gave Arthur a grateful smile of her own on her way out the door. Arthur turned to leave right behind Drusilla, but Merlin's voice stopped him in his track.
"Arthur. Thank you."
"You too. Get some rest."
As soon as the pair of nobles was out of the physician's rooms, they walked down to the main hallway together, in companionable silence. Before Arthur could go on his separate way, to the throne room or wherever else he was headed, Drusilla put a hand on his arm.
"Arthur hold on."
The prince looked at her inquisitively, waiting for her to go on, but now that she wanted to speak her mind, the poor girl felt a ball growing in her throat, making it almost impossible to express herself. The last few days had been so full of dread, worry, and uncertainty, and it was all catching up with her. Instead of trying to push out the words, she lunged and gave Arthur a strong hug. It took him by surprise, but after a moment he hugged her right back.
"You're a good man, Arthur Pendragon."
Aaaannd that's it for today, next chapter is in the writing.
Also, you'll notice that chapter length varies a lot. It all depends on Drusilla's level of involment in Merlin's schemes. It will probably keep doing so, at least until Merlin and Drusilla are a bit more well acquainted.
Until next time, follows and reviews are the best way to show you're there!