I'm gonna tell you a story. It's probably not the kind of story that you'd wish to hear in any other circumstances. Or who knows, it may just be the exact story you would like to hear. This story may seem lighthearted, don't all stories seem to start that way? But it also doesn't mean that it'll end on the same note of happiness. It's quite the cautionary tale of what happens when two people who'd once believed they were friends make a promise to each other in their youth. And how something as simple as a promise between friends could lead to horrific repercussions for the future.
Take it with a grain of salt if you will, or treat it as the gospel truth if you want. I can't decide how you process this story for you, that's up to you and what you believe. But just so you can be warned, so you can't say that I didn't tell you: this isn't your mama's bedtime story where the beautiful Princess gets rescued by the dashing knight from where she's trapped in a tower. While there is a girl involved-isn't there always?-she's not about to be swept off her feet and brought to a castle to marry her one true love: the man she just met after he'd slayed a dragon to get to her.
And it certainly doesn't end with Happily Ever After. But despite the fear of the cliche, I will fall into the age old troop and start this story off with a classic: Once Upon a Time...
Once Upon a Time-Camelot was not always the magic hating place that it was today. To be frank, Camelot only started executing the people for magic in the last twenty years or so. In today's time, one shouldn't show any kind of surprise when seeing somebody as they were dragged to the dungeons to await their execution. It was almost to be expected by this point.
But at first, it had started off small, as things tend to do before they become an inferno. With the men who were already known for practicing magic being rounded up and trialed properly to see if their magic was a threat or not. Most of the weaker magic-users got off easy and had left the castle shaken but unscathed. It was only the smart ones who feared the worse was on the horizon and took this chance to escape the city with their families before everything would take a turn for the worse.
Sadly, far too many people didn't recognize the early signs for what they were. Even as the stronger magic-users who hadn't been as lucky to be freed were led out to their deaths on the execution platform. Their only crimes being cited that they had grown to powerful and were now deemed a threat to the city at large.
It had been an act of war against the magic-users. But a war they never saw coming, and it was swift and harsh. They had been over-powered and conquered before they'd even had a chance to fight back, before they had even realized that they should be fighting back. As was ordered by the King that they trusted to take care of them as members of his kingdom. Within just days of the first onslaught, many people had started disappearing. One or two at first and then more as the new few days passed. The people in the streets were getting restless by this, and although the king had ordered his knights to search for the culprit, it felt as if he had only done so to keep the people content because nothing seemed to be getting done.
Until one brave peasant made a connection that everybody should have made: all those missing people only had one single thing in common. They were all known magic-users. And not just the men this time either as there had been several women reported missing as well. Hell, some of the missing were children who had just stared showing signs of magical power brimming under the surface, doing the little tricks they could like making the flowers bloom before their time. Whole families even were suddenly gone-all known magic users-disappeared in the middle of the night with nothing but empty houses and left behind possessions to prove they had even existed in the first place.
Nobody would ever know what happened to these people: if-because they knew that the missing people were dead without a doubt as the people started to whisper rumors among themselves-they had been tortured before their untimely deaths as they were being held prisoner deep within the catacombs under the city, kept shackled in iron chains to prevent them from using their magic (everyone knew that iron was pure and could stop sorcerer's from accessing their magic)-or so the rumors went. Or if they had their deaths be mercifully quick, a death that many would have rather instead of the fate that awaited those left behind. Those that were forced to watch as their freedom was about to be stripped from them, their lives taken because of the very gifts they were once proud to hold. Treated like nothing more than animals in a cage as they were packed in cells together like sardines. Many people would whisper prayer's to the goddess Hectare, the first of the magic users to have existed-for guidance or help. But neither came.
And those that chose to fight, who at least tried to take down Camelot soldiers before they could be taken as well...were struck down right where they stood. No execution was needed for somebody who would attack a soldier of the city they lived in.
It had all happened so fast. The men being rounded up at the beginning had just happened one day out of the blue. It had been quite a shock since the city was split between mourning as the wife of the king and their beloved Queen had past on from this life not even the month before. It was also supposed to be a time to celebrate as the Queen had done what was probably the hardest things a woman could do: she'd given birth to their future, their Prince Arthur who would someday take command of their great kingdom. And it was only days after the men who hadn't been released were killed by execution: leaving the town uneasy for what this may mean about their future, that those people had started to disappear.
Not a week later, that one peasant man made the connection that those missing had been known magic users. Suddenly, the magic did not seem like such a gift many had believed it to be. And things got frighteningly real as the king turned his sights-and his armed men-to those magically gifted still living freely inside his city.
Guards stormed down into the city in droves, seeking out all of those with magic. And it suddenly didn't matter if you were powerful-like that group of men who had been taken first-or if you could only do a few parlor tricks to entertain the masses. People were being dragged out of their homes and out onto the streets, arrests were made and the execution dates set one after the other. Within hours, dozens of people had been taken to await the upcoming flames of the pyre. And not even being a child was enough to save you.
People were scared, riots started to form as the king ordered a city wide lockdown. The guards were suddenly at every entrance in or out of the city, blocking anybody from being able to enter. And more importantly, stopping people from leaving. Only very few managed to escape-some with what little that they had been able to carry or nothing at all-just as the barricades were being put into place. It was literally being treated as if they were under siege, only the battlefield was in their very own backyard. The people who didn't get out on time tried to stick it out, to keep their head down or hide away in cubbyholes or poorly crafted safe-houses or underground. It didn't matter, as long as they were able to find just a small hidden nook to hide them from the guards continuous search for magic-users.
Friends who were 'normal' tried their best to hide people they knew from the horrible and awful onslaught they were being treated with from their own king. They built trapdoors and hidden crannies under their floors so that the guards would walk right over them while they were none the wiser.
Until they brought in the hounds and those crannies were discovered. Suddenly even the people with no magic were having their floors dug up and if one of these crannies had been discovered, the entire family was rounded up to be taken to the executioner: their crimes listed as conspiracies against the king.
Weeks passed like this and everybody was afraid to leave their homes. Long time friends were being turned away by 'normals' for fear that they would be carted away as well just for being seen with them. Some people had even started trying to prove their own loyalty to the king by turning in people with magic that were still hanging on by a thread by this point. Nobody knew who to trust, or where to turn.
Many people had been discovered in their own hidden nooks, their bodies recovered by the stench of death. Those people had been starved to death, to scared to search for the food they needed in order to survive just in case they were caught by the guards. They would rather have an agonizing slow death as their bodies caved in on themselves then to face the judgmental king and the fires of hell he was trying to send them all to.
Magic was being snuffed out of Camelot and there was no stopping it.
But weeks would pass like this, and then the months would go. By the time things started to calm down, an entire year of this fear and panic had gone by. Nobody practiced magic out in the open for fear of the prosecution they would be faced with. There was only a handful of people left within the city borders who could still use magic, those who hadn't practiced it so freely before the deaths had started managed to go unnoticed, but those that did kept it tightly under wraps. Treating it like this secret, acting as if just having this gift-even though there was many that were starting to see it as a curse-was just as bad as being a rapist/murderer.
And with magic being no longer out and seen in the open, the propaganda would start to spread throughout the kingdom. Things like people who used magic were no better than demons. That they had the use of dark magic at their side-even though all forms of magic were now considered dark, even something as simple as a unicorn was treated with all of the disdain and disgust until it wasn't the only magical creature that was now verging onto an extinction. Some even said that those who used magic only could because they had sold their souls straight to the Devil himself and if you were caught associating with one, then you were no better yourself.
Only the pits of hell was good enough for such horribly awful people. And the golden eyes that came with using sorcery would be a sign that one no longer held a complete soul within them. The golden eyes had became a thing of nightmares, something to be feared for if you caught sight of them, it meant that evil wasn't to far behind. And if you didn't flee to safety, your soul would also be taken along with the one who had already given it up.
It was only after the second year since the Great Purge-as it was being called-had started did Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot, make it official. The terrifying and and dark-wicked-craft would be treated as if one committed treason. Just being accused of having magic by somebody who hated you was enough to be sent to the pyre unless one had been lucky enough to be proven innocent just before the fires were lit. But that was rare and far between.
Heads were kept down as to not attract any attention as the people grew accustomed to the new law Uther enacted. Magic had been banned from Camelot for the people's safety and protection. Anybody suspected of using magic meant they had a death sentence that hung over their head. Uther would continue his great and noble work for the many years to come-nursemaids and nannies left behind to raise his son into the spoiled prince that he would become-while the king kept his focus on exterminating all magic from his kingdom.
Like the pest it was.
Twenty years of this would pass, and the king would take great pleasure in watching as the magic died from his kingdom just like leaves on a tree would in the fall. Until one day, due to Uther's own faults, a young boy would be brought to his kingdom. A simple boy who'd known magic long before he could even walk or talk. A simple farm boy whose fate would be forever tied around the fate of the king's own heir.
But the future-although destined to end up at one place-still had many turns and directions to take before it became Fate. And that would be a story for another time as I have seemed to have gotten ahead of myself. For there has been a part of the story that's been left out, a part kept so secretive and hidden within the shadows that only a small handful of people knew the real truth. But there was only three of them that were still alive today: King Uther, his wise physician Gaius, and...Her.
There was this time, long before Uther would become the ruthless king that he was known as, that he had once welcomed magic into his home like a friend. But that was in a time that he refused to think about, not wanting to believe that he had ever been so young and naive. Even with the now constant reminder of a certain boy running around his kingdom to show him that yes, he really had been that young and naive.
But back when he was that young, magic had been frolicking among the streets. Both sides of the track-nobles and commoners-would celebrate together by showing off their talent for magic. Magic was something to be proud of, something that everybody had been able to have access to with the great abundance of spell books and teachers available. It was a time where not even one's social standing or funds would stop them from learning.
Even those who had no gift for magic, who'd been born unable to use it as only a small bit of percentage was capable of using the gift at all, found joy in watching others expressing themselves. The innocence of it all spoke of happier times, and maybe that was another point to show how naive they all were. How blind they had all been before Uther became but the first to show them the truth of how evil magic-users really were, hiding behind their false facades of friendships and loyalty.
Twenty years before the Great Purge would start, there lived a noble family right on the far edge of the kingdom. Nowadays, those who even remember that the family existed spoke of them only in cautious whispers, far to afraid to speak any louder lest they were heard by their king. Only those who were old enough to remember them knew of this noble family because their very names had literally been burned-struck-from all of their records under King Uther's orders not long after his beloved wife had passed on.
This noble family was smaller than most as it only contained two members, a mother and a young daughter. Her father would be doomed to forever remain a mystery as some claimed not even the mother knew who he was. That might be why they lived so far away from the inner city, because in that day and time there was only one job for a woman and that was her duty to her family. She was to marry into a good name and bare her husband sons to carry on their family. But to have a child-for her to have a daughter-out of wedlock...she'd be considered nothing more than a harlot, and her daughter doomed to follow the same path when she was grown. It was only her family name that had spared her from being desolate right from the start of it all.
But this story isn't really about the mother, it is focused entirely on the daughter.
This little girl was the absolute apple of her mother's eye, her mother who would send away anybody who dared suggest that her daughter would not have a prospective future without a father to give her a proper name to bring into her future husband's family. But it was despite her heritage, the little girl would become beloved by the handful of servants that were allowed to stay in their little bit of an estate, much smaller than somebody with a 'proper' family should have. She was just so cheerful and playful, ready to play at all hours of the day. She hated to see anybody who was sad, and would go out of her way just to try and make them feel better.
But she was also inquisitive, holding tightly onto this almost desperate desire to have all the knowledge she could get her hands on. It was daughters of the court that didn't get the opportunity to learn more than how to run a household. Not like the sons that were taught business and politics and strategies. Sons of the court who would take their lessons-being taught how to swords fight instead of forcing poetry down their daughter's throats-for granted.
Som servants tried to express concerns to the mother that her daughter would not be a proper lady as despite her gentle nature, she was starting to grow to wild. She was more interested in horseback riding instead of her practicing her needlework as a passable past time. Her mother wouldn't hear of this, and she encouraged her daughter to do anything that caught her fancy. Rather that be those interests that should only be attractive to a man, or asking all the questions she wanted to make her growing expansive knowledge of the world around her widen. She wanted her daughter to be able to push aside boundaries that she herself never could. And maybe her daughter would be able to reach the stars someday, living for herself instead of what society would deem was suited for her.
But her mother grew worried because while the little girl wasn't spoken fondly by those more...traditional...that would past through their estate, her daughter was still quite the beauty. The little girl hadn't even reached the age of ten before marriage offers started to be delivered to the mother, many asking for her daughter's hand in marriage when she'd became of age at eighteen. Some for their sons who were similar in age, but some of these offers were made for the grown men themselves who wanted to keep the beauty of her daughter all to themselves.
It was horrible, and the mother refused to even entertain such offers. The mother-who was very ahead of her time-would allow her own daughter choose who she would wed. But only once she was old enough to make a proper decision, and that was only if she'd want to wed at all. The mother could only hope that her daughter would grow up to be wise enough to chose somebody who would love her for more than her long, dark hair that was so brown and thick it could have passed for a raven's black coloring. Falling down her back like some kind of waterfall, enhanced by the sparkling clips she would use to keep the strands out of her face. Her blue eyes were so deep one could feel as if they had been drowned in the ocean if one dared to stare at them for to long. Her skin-despite the many hours spent in the sun-would stay as pale as the moonlight, fairer than the smoothest of milk and it was quite a marvel to see such skin.
Her mother's only hope was that her daughter's personality would stand out over her looks. Because if someone loved you for who you were instead of looks that were subject to change as you grew older, then happiness would stay. Her daughter was this kind soul-something she hoped she'd been able to teach her daughter to be weary of so she wouldn't be taken advantage of once she was grown and her mother wouldn't be able to protect her as easily as she could when she was a child-and this kindness was such a rare trait to find in a noble.
In today's time, it's extremely hard to find a noble who cared for the 'little people' instead of their own agenda's. But back then, it was a much different time to be alive and one had to be more weary of those they welcomed into their lives. So when someone was kind for no other reason than for the sake of it, it was often remembered. Her daughter would be flocked by these marriage proposals when she become of age.
But luckily, the mother had many years to be content with her daughter without having to worry about such nonsense. Because the two of them lived so far in the outer skirts of the kingdom, they were content and happy with only each other and the servants that would work their estate. It was a happy and simple life for the two noblewomen, but things tend to change rather we want them to or not.
And nobody can stop it.
The daughter had barely been twelve when-quite by accident-she discovered a gift that would change her life: magic. She'd had this affinity for magic hidden deep within her and it was only a wonder she had not been able to discover it before. Her magic was quite the power source for someone so young who had just discovered it. And just like everything her daughter had an interest in, her mother had decided to nurture her budding daughter's talent for it.
Only the best tutors were brought in from the city to her child, the one's the mother would approve of, and she watched as her daughter and her magic started to grow as the years of their life would pass by in peace. That small girl would grow from an innocent child into a beautiful woman. From an amateur magician just learning her craft into quite the powerful sorceress: some of her tutors had even been brave enough to make a remark that the girl could grow powerful enough to become one of the high priestesses of the Old Religion as her magic had grown with each passing year.
The young lass would barely be eighteen years of age when her mother had died, and maybe her mother had been protecting the young daughter from more than she would ever know. Because some could say that her mother's death was only the start of all of her problem's, what would ultimately lead her to go down the wrong path that she would have otherwise never had taken if she only had her mother's guidance to help her see what kind of mistakes she would make.
The kind of mistakes that could never be undone no matter how many apologies she would try to utter.
But we are getting ahead of ourselves for something came long before those kind of mistakes had been made. A meeting: just a simple meeting that would change the young girl's entire fate and despite all of the power she held, she was powerless to stop what was about to happen. Powerless to stop it all because she had gotten ahead of herself and didn't stop long enough to realize what the possible repercussions could be.
Despite having the body of a woman, she was still the same naive young girl that she had always been. But her nativity would soon be burned away by the sins she was about to cause. The guilt of knowing thousands of her own people would die resting on her shoulder was almost to much for even a High Priestess to handle.
But like I said, it all started with a meeting that was held-not when her mother had died but when her True Troubles had started-not barely a handful of weeks later. That was the time the then Prince Uther had sent her this letter, inviting her to come to the castle and spend a few weeks there with him as well as his fiancé Ygraine. As it would turn out, her mother had been keeping secrets. Like how she had known the King-Prince Uther's very own father-before she had moved her and her infant daughter out to the country so that they could be free of the states one would be receiving when they were an unwed mother.
Because of this connection, Prince Uther had felt it was only right to send for the daughter as to offer her condolences. As well as being able to offer this safe place that she would be able to rest and heal from her lost without all of the reminders her family estate would hold for her.
Not wanting to be in her mother's shadow for any longer, as the estate was filled with more memories than she cared to remember during her grief, the young girl-now quite a powerful woman in her own right-agreed to the letter. She was going to visit her kingdom's castle for the first time in her life, or visit anywhere for that matter as her mother had never permitted her to leave the estate before. It was for her own safety, as her mother had once claimed to her when she'd gotten old enough to ask. Her mother hadn't wanted her to face the dangers of the outside word where any sort of mishaps could happen. It had been probably the only thing her mother had been really insisted on. But now that her mother was gone, it was finally time for her to face the outside world.
If only she knew then what accepting that invitation would cause. Of the havoc and the destruction that would follow because she'd put herself into the crosshairs of Prince Uther Pendragon. An inescapable path that would ruin her life as well as the thousands Uther would go after because of what she and him had done.
But, like always, I find myself getting ahead of the story, so back to the beginning we go.
The young woman arrived at the castle with a few meager possessions that she didn't want to leave home without, even though she was only to be there for a few weeks. She'd been welcomed among the nobles-often referred to as the Lost Noble-considering her and her mother had been so sequestered far away in their family estate that many nobles almost considered her family extinct. And maybe they were, considering that she was all that was left of her noble breed.
As the days went on, this woman started to think of her mother less and less as all of her heartbreak slowly turned into something that she hadn't felt since her mother's death: this touch of happiness. Within such a short time, she had grown attached to Uther and Ygraine as their friendship grew. She had met many others that she would come to see as friends as well.
One of these people was Prince Uther's right hand man Balinor, who as it would turn out to be, was just as magically powerful as herself was. She may have been interested in having him as a suitor, if he wasn't dragging around that beautiful peasant girl. The peasant girl was barely older than herself, and it was clear right from the start that Balinor was unable to take his eyes off that Hunith.
But time passed on and eventually, she was starting to feel as if she had stayed for far to long. Her family estate still needed her to be able to manage things so all the work that her mother had done to make them their home wouldn't have been for naught. So unhappily, she returned to her family estate and life-as they say-went on.
But as fate would have it, this woman would return to Camelot castle only a year later as to return the favor. Uther had reached out to help a noble girl he had never met before to mourn her mother. And now, she would find herself doing the same for the king had just passed on.
She would help Ygraine, Balinor, and Hunith as their friend Uther went through the terrible process of grief. And she would stay to watch Prince Uther become King Uther, taking what was his proper place on the throne as the past King's torch passed down onto his son.
And she would stay, leaving her family estate to the servants who lived there. Because she had found a home within Camelot Castle, was so closely intertwined with the King and with his-her-friends, that she became the King's personal Court Sorceress. Whose duty it was to advise the King in all matters of magic that would show up at his door. She worked with close regards to Balinor, who didn't get the title himself if only because he had his own duties that would take him away from the city far more than he wanted to as he had to leave his beloved Hunith behind for her own safety.
Something about keeping peace among the dragons. But she herself had never gotten to involved with that, finding that her own new-found duties kept her quite busy without her trying to get involved with Balinor's very own specialty.
But it was this woman's decision to stay and become a member of the court that would be leading to the new generation knowing only horror and fear. It was what would lead to all of the people disappearing, and the mad riots in the streets as people tried to escape. That decision was what caused friends to turn on their friends, neighbors to turn against their neighbors, family to turn the other in for just a spot of gold that King Uther would offer as a reward to anybody who turned in a sorcerer trying to hide against the New Law he'd had created.
And all because this woman had made King Uther a promise: that she would help him and his barren wife have the one thing that both themselves and the kingdom at large would desperately need...a hope for the future...
A son that would carry on with the kingdom after the father had passed. Maybe she was still naive, or maybe she hadn't done as much research as she thought she would. She had known that all magic came with some kind of price, and that this magic-as powerful as it was-came with the highest price of all.
It was the rules of the old religion, something that couldn't be changed and was far more powerful than she was. For a life to be created, another life would have to be taken. She had warned Uther and he had understood, had known that he would forfeit his own life so that he would finally be able to offer his kingdom an heir they were becoming restless for as the years had gone by into his rule and no child had yet to have emerged from his wife.
If only Uther himself hadn't gotten to be so desperate that he had turned to his friend for help of the darkest kind. So dark that he wasn't even able to bring himself to tell his best friend Balinor who was away during this moment, what he was planning on having his Court Sorceress do for him. Because trading one life for another was the darkest kind of magic the world had ever known. And the Old Religion would never fail with making sure the balance of the world was kept in harmony.
If only Uther and his court sorceress had done the proper work before attempting the spell without Ygraine's consent or knowledge of what they were doing. Then maybe they'd have realized: the price of using magic just to create a child was the life of the one who had birthed it.
Maybe the thousands of lives lost during the Greaf Purge would have been saved as not even Uther-as ruthless as he would be in his adult years-would have traded Ygraine's life for a son he didn't personally want if his own kingdom's future hadn't been depending on it...
Which was what lead us to the present day time. Far off near the boarders of Camelot was this large forest, the kind of forest that would stretch on for miles and miles of nothing but thick trees. Very few people ever traveled so deeply into these woods because even those that were local were liable to get lost. And as you had gotten lost, it was very unlikely that you would find yourself out of them again. It was a death sentence, the trees of thick and by the hundreds, and dozens of different kind of species of dangerous animals or even the highly poisonous plants that grew. It was just so easy to die in these woods, for your own body to be eaten by the wild animals so not even your family could ever hope to retrieve it and give you a proper funeral.
But there was only one person that knew the woods like the back of her hand. Had casted a dozen spells and enchantments that would help her survive. Spells that would cause the trees to move out of her way as they formed a pathway for her to get wherever she would want to go in the forest. Other kinds of spells that when she touched something, it would glow either a dim blue to tell her it was safe to eat or a bright pink to allow her to know it was dangerous. Back when she had only first moved to this land and was still learning what she could. There were enchantments as well as runes she had carved into the wall of the cave she had came to call her home. It would keep the more dangerous animals-normal as well as magical-away from her home. It also helped with keeping people from wandering to close to her home-if they had even been able to travel so deep in the first place. But it was better to be safe rather than sorry.
Her only concern was her own protection as, for quite a long time, she had been on the run from the King's men. Things had managed to calm down in the last handful of years since other things took precedence over a single, lone woman nobody could find. But still, she didn't trust that she wouldn't be recognized if she tried to return home. It wasn't a chance that she was willing to take, not when she still had things to accomplish.
Anybody else, after having to flee their own home in the cover of darkness only to have to hide from the very guards she had once seen as friends, would have taken their toll. If this was somebody else, they would have been nothing more than a shell of their former selfs as they were left to wallow in their very own misery.
But she wasn't anybody else. In fact, some people may say that she hadn't aged a day. It was as if she was seemingly trapped in her twenties, her body still as youthful as it was the day she left Camelot. With her long dark hair and blue eyes, she was still as beautiful as a siren from the stories of old. Even if she now lived in a cave. But it was in this cave she had claimed, that she would finally make her first move to get her revenge.
The cave was large, with many different little sections to it, spreading out for at least a mile before it stopped. It used to house a bear, but that was years before she had...evicted...it to make space for herself. She was standing up in one of these sections, probably the largest room the cave held. This wasn't the room she had taken to sleeping in. No, that would take place in yet another sectioned off part of the cavern. But the one she stood in now was the one she would use to practice her craft, deep within the cavern where no light ever shown as it was closed off in all directions but one.
Except for the single ball of fire that hovered above her head-fueled by her own magic-as to give her a single light source. The shadows of her own figure danced off of the obsidian stones of the cave. But she paid that not an ounce of her attention, being so focused on the task as hand. Literally. She held all of her hopes for revenge in the palm of her hands, in this little clay monster she was crafting, a beast she was forming by infusing it with her magic to do her bidding.
The woman's wine colored lipstick stained lips spread into a smile-showing off what was her perfect white teeth-because not even her having a life in a cave had stopped her from keeping her appearance to the standards of a well-bred Lady of the court. But her hands were stained with clay as she held it over this vat of water that had taken her much longer than she had thought it should to create. She was careful not to get any hint of the clay-the red putty mailable to her touch as she poked and prodded at it to make it look exactly like a perfect miniature figuring of what she was wanting her monster to look like-from staining her wine colored sleeveless dress, the ends of it tattered because she cared far less about what she was wearing when there had been work to do.
Once she had finished crafting her little baby monster, the woman picked something up off the ground from the side. She had placed the object there for safe keeping, as she wanted to keep it close at hand till she needed it. She didn't want to risk it shattering, it had taken her years to create this perfect vessel, and she would not see her revenge taken from her because of her own poor management as even now she held it with cautious hands.
It was an egg. A stark white porcelain egg with funny looking swirls and designs she'd painstakingly pained onto the surface. To the average eye, it looked as if somebody would have just been experimenting with different colors and paints. But to the trained eye, to somebody of her caliber, they would clearly see that these markings were runes. Several different symbols that basically translated to mean: Life. Puppet. Creature. Breath.
All of the elements that she would need like mud and water, had been the easiest thing to grab as she literally held an abundance of it in her cavern.
The woman carefully cracked open the egg, revealing an empty space within like some kind of container. Her every move was done with care as she carefully moved her tiny clay monster inside of it. She didn't dare to move faster than a slug could crawl for fear that the delicate shell of the egg would shatter in her grasp. But as soon as she had settled her clay monster creation inside of the egg, she closed it back up with a solid click, sealing it inside.
The woman's smile grew, knowing that her plans were finally going to come to fruition after all this time. She held the egg over the vat of water, making sure that the egg itself didn't touch the water before everything was completed.
"Berbay odothay arisan yeldo." She said in a soft tone, smile growing as she said this spell three times, holding the egg with one hand and waving her second hand over the top of the shell. Her smile grew softer and amazed as the shell of the egg started to glow a dim yellow in reaction to the magic she had cast on it. So dim that she could see a silhouette forming under the shell, giving her just this glimpse of the clay monster within it. The egg seemed to warm against the palm of her hand and was it just her imagination, or did the egg seem to pulse? Practically radiating the imitation of a real life form even though it was nothing but her puppet.
It was...beautiful, destruction at its finest and she knew that this afanc she had created was going to do great things in her name. All she needed to do was...let it go.
The woman allowed the egg to slip through her fingers-the thing was just slightly bigger than her hands and caused barely any kind of splash-as she dropped it into the vat of water she hovered over so protectively. And quite protective she should be, for this little vat of water was pretty much her only connection to the outside world.
She watched, seeing her egg as it got sucked down into the water, like this kind of invisible force was pushing at it. Guiding its way deep under the ground, and disappearing from her view completely. She knew exactly where the egg would end up, right into the underground water supply that came out of the pumps the city of Camelot used to get their water. There was a reason she had chosen this particular cave to nest about in. So far away from within the city that she could remain hidden and at ease. But close enough that she was able to use her magic to chip away at the stone and the rock until she'd created this underground water passageway so she was still connected to the city for her own purposes.
But she wasn't quite down with her spell just yet and the woman waved her delicate looking hand over the vat of water. The clear image of the water shifted and shimmered until she could see a picture forming. It was like some kind of looking glass, a simple beginner spell that would allow her to use water and the reflective surface as a means on spying on those who would never know that she'd been watching them. She had used it quite a lot as the years had passed, her subtle rage which had been growing as each year passed with her revenge being forsaken. But no more was another year to pass her by without her being able to watch the people who had ruined her fall as well.
She would be able to sit back and watch now as her plan was starting. Inside the reflective surface of the water, she could see the image of a man forming. He was an ordinary man as he was clearly a commoner if those ill-fitting clothing that he wore was any indication. But she was more entranced by what she saw the man doing. He was at the water pumps, using the handle so that a gush of water would be released from the faucet. He stuck his hands under the spray to catch a handful within his cupped palm. Then he lifted it to his lips and took a generous mouthful, quenching what thirst he had straight from the pump itself.
Oh, the woman thought as she smiled once again, the man better be thankful that he had not been drinking from that particular pump mere seconds later. The man was safe, she considered as she saw the man walking away and disappearing from her view. For now at least. But no matter, it would only be a matter of time before him-and all of the citizens of Camelot-would return.
Water, something that was so precious and necessary for human's continued existence. What would happen if their supply had been tampered with? What would the townspeople do when their most basic need was suddenly taken from them? It was something she was most eager to view from within the safety of her cave.
The woman waved her hand over the vat of water again and watched as the image would start to shimmer before shifting to a different scene all together. This time, the picture was dark as there was no sun to light it up as it'd been in the first image. She was able to see the underground water supply that ran under the city of Camelot, supplying and nurturing water to the entire city. The water pumps the people used came directly from this water.
She could also see a glimmer of white as her egg was just now breaching the surface. Her eye's lit with dark and aroused excitement as she waved her hand over the water again so she could cast her final spell.
"Diegol cnytte, gewitte me yst, aliese hine to Camelot he cymp."
The woman withdrew her hand from where it had been over the water, and leaned in closer so that she could get a better look. And what a sight she saw as the image drew in closer so that she could see her egg more clearly. In the egg, she could see a pressure building up from it. Almost like a chick would when it was trying to peck it's way out of that confine for the very first time.
Pieces of the egg was starting to crack and break, falling off into the water as a small hole formed. She got just a glimpse of a vivid yellow eye poking out of it, with a thick muck surrounding it before she leaned back away from the water in satisfaction. Her little baby monster would do the rest for her, and all she would have to do was sit back and finally give herself a chance to relax.
Everything would be taken care of soon. That King Uther should have known long ago that she wasn't going to just disappear. Because that little girl-so innocent and naive-hadn't been the same for quite some time. She had not been Her ever since that dreaded day she had been stupid enough to agree to what the king had wanted from her. After all these years alone, where she had allowed her anger and hatred and bitterness to build up into the cool shimmering ball of rage that was always in the center of her chest...her soul had been growing dark and twisted.
She would be as hated as she was beautiful, with a name that she knew would strike cold fear into the man she had once been naive as to call a friend: the King of Camelot, the one they called Uther Pendragon.
Her name...Nimueh.
X
A warm night had descended onto Camelot, and the streets were void of most people as they had retired to bed. The lower town was almost like a ghost town as those who lived there disappeared into their homes at what was their first opportunity so that they could rest for the next day. If only they knew what was coming, maybe many of them wouldn't have bothered to return to their homes for fear that they would be abandoned by their own king as the worst came to pass.
But as it was, nobody had yet to realize that there was something sinister growing right under their feet where their water supply was situated. But be that as it may, the worst of the catastrophe had yet to happen, so people went on with their nights as many of them usually would any other night.
Right dab in the middle of the city, where its location would allow people to realize they'd now reached the Heart of the City, as those who were local jokingly called it was a tavern. But only the peasants and only when they had gotten to be drunk enough that they'd forgotten they were not supposed to say such words out in the open. Even in a joking manner, as any number of people could have heard them. Or even the knights could have heard, and it was a good way of getting sober for the night in a dungeon cell. Everybody knew that only the castle was to remain as the true Heart of the City, and don't let anybody try to convince you any differently.
This particular tavern was pretty quiet, but that was an odd thing. Especially at this hour of the night where it was just opening. But the barkeep-who also happened to be the owner of this fine establishment of the lower half being a tavern while the upstairs was an inn for weary travelers to rest their heads at nightfall. Or for men who had gotten into one hell of a fight with their wife and didn't want to return home-firmly blamed that group of knights who had taken residence right at the counter.
Knights were arrogant and rude, so many of the peasants couldn't relax with them close at hand. For fear of something as simple as accidentally spilling their drink on one of the knights would have most likely ended up with them in the stocks. Something about having not shown the knight in question the 'proper' respect that he deserved. But the very few of the peasants that had dared to venture into his tavern despite the bright red cloaks that indicated these men at his bar were knights of the city, were doing pretty good at having avoided them. They sat in clusters around the bar, talking in low whispers as they cast their worried looks to the knights. Not many of the knights would venture into a peasant bar, as there was one establishment just for knights on the other side of the city and closer towards the actual castle. Peasants were not even allowed to enter for fear that their own touch would stain something of value.
The knights seemed to take the odd looks in stride, one of them even appearing to think that the looks had been more appreciative in nature compared to the suspicion or worry that they really were, if his winks to some of the prettier peasant woman were anything to go by. Rather they were sitting with friends or with a husband didn't seem to matter.
That specific knight turned back around to face the barkeep and slammed down what appeared to be his now empty of ale glass on to the countertop, "You know," the man that was known as 'Knight Christian' said as he licked the remaining ale off the top of his lips, "I really do hope that the prince managed to get a good lay out of him. I honestly cannot think of any other reasons for why one would keep him around otherwise. From what little I have seen of him, he's probably only good for one thing."
None of the handful of friends that he'd came into the bar with needed to ask Christian who he was suddenly talking about. Apparently as it seemed, there was only one topic that was discussed about so frequently nowadays. As was ridiculing the horrible disservice he had done to the prince, even after all these weeks of it having happened. Merlin. Their prince's husband. The 'Consort of Camelot.' More like the 'unwanted Consort of Camelot' that most of the knights had jokingly taken to calling him when he was mentioned in conversation.
The man who sat beside him, Knight Julian as he was known by, looked a lot more shrewd and severe about the situation as he swirled his finger around the top edge of his glass of mead. This whole situation appeared to be no joking matter to him, as the entire kingdom could be at stake if things got worse instead of better over time. Merlin and that disaster of a council meeting was still a very hot topic among those who just could not let it go, and Julian was only relieved because it had been done in the privacy of Camelot. Just imagine how weak the other countries would come to think of them as-who would dare to try and attack them just because their consort acted less than favorably-if they had also bore such witness to the scene. "He can't be that good at it." Knight Julian answered his comrade as he grumbled irritably. "Or surely Prince Arthur would find a better use to occupy his time so he isn't mucking things up." If their consort was any skilled at those bedroom activities, then the prince should just keep him locked in there to fulfill his husbandly duties. Prince Arthur should not allow his consort to run all over the city willy nilly lest he caused some kind of scene all over again. "We have got to be missing something. Our prince is smarter than to marry somebody like 'that' just for a simple reason as in 'he loves him.'" He said this very mockingly as it had pretty much all but became a running joke that there had to be something they didn't know going along behind the scenes.
After all, who could possibly love any kind of boy like 'Merlin'. It was bloody ridiculous as Knight Julian had long since grown quite tired of hearing the lie their king peddled to them on the matter. But it wasn't like he could do anything about it. The King, after all, had to have his reasons for approving of the union.
At his side, Knight Christian gave a non-communicative hum as he ran his hand down through his shaggy dirty blonde hair. But the hum didn't give Julian any indication as to rather or not he agreed with his statements.
Although, the sudden slam of a glass hitting the table was enough to make both of these 'brave knights' flinch as neither had expected the sudden noise. Julian and Christian looked to the seat that held the third member of the group. Markus. The best friend of the prince in question. Usually, Markus would have his two lapdogs-two of the lesser knights-who'd taken to following him and Arthur around. But not tonight. Markus had decided to tag along with them to the bar, apparently he had really needed a good 'hard, stiff drink'. And they'd been able to see right from the start that there was something upsetting Markus. But it was even clearer now, if the highly disturbed and annoyed expression on his face was any indication to how he was feeling.
"Of course we are missing something," The Knight hissed only after he was finished with swallowing the fire that had been disguised as moonshine down his throat. Markus didn't look at either of them, his head ducked as his bangs fell over in his eyes. He had this harsh stare focused on his glass, where he had his hand squeezing it so tightly that it honestly was a miracle that the glass didn't give in and shatter.
Markus hated to admit it, but he had grown quite bitter in the last few weeks. It had been festering inside of him ever since that stunt Merlin had pulled with the council chambers meeting. Wasn't he supposed to be Arthur's best friend? The one he went to when he'd needed to digress? But Arthur hadn't even told him things weren't going right within his marriage, hadn't even bothered to tell him he was calling together a meeting so that he'd be able to 'defend' Merlin's honor or some shit like that. Markus would have advised him that it was a bad idea, and look at how things had turned out since? People still gossiped all about how Merlin had humiliated not only himself but Arthur as well, even with all of the weeks that have passed since then. One may think that it would calm down as more days passed but nope. Camelot had been calm for the past few weeks, surprisingly enough. As there was no Royal weddings to plan and no noble guests to entertain, the people had fell back on the last thing that entertained them.
Markus almost brought his glass back up to his lips before he remembered that it was still empty. And he snarled, setting the glass back down on the counter with an audible click as his lack of drink caused his irritation to spike wildly off the charts. Here he was, the 'best' friend to the prince, and yet said prince was refusing to spend time with him. Making his excuses, acting as if his duties as a Prince was keeping him to busy from getting up to their usual shenanigans. But he sure hadn't had that problem before Merlin had came to town, so obviously it had to be his fault that Arthur was now being to 'busy' for his own friend.
Markus had thought being friends with the lone heir of Camelot would have given him some kind of perks. And it had for the past several years-he'd gotten the best guarding duties, and was able to pick the better shifts to work. But those perks suddenly seemed to be drying up as he-was usually the first one to know when things were happening in the kingdom as Arthur had no problem telling him the latest problem he was working on-but those days seemed to be behind them. He hadn't known Arthur was to be married until the announcement Uther had made, he had not known he was to marry a guy until he'd seen Merlin coming into the grand hall that day of the wedding. He hadn't even known that Merlin was making accusations about that Knight from the southern isles until he'd heard the rumors spreading along with all of the other people.
What was the point of having Arthur as his best friend if he couldn't even get the best news before the entire city had already heard of it?
Markus shook his head in disgust, unable to believe that he was practically being left with the dredges of their society instead of being in the spotlight where Arthur constantly was at any given moment of any given day. But he knew what could make him feel better, being able to tear someone down who wasn't able to fight back always seemed to do the trick when he was in one of his-rare but he's had them before-moods. "I mean, forget about Merlin making a fool of himself in front of the council. Did you see that girl Arthur danced with that night of the celebration party?"
"You mean Lady Clarissa?" Christian said as he tried to be ever so helpful. He grinned as she was one beautiful lady, and it hadn't been any wonder why Arthur had chosen to dance with her instead of his consort. If the council meeting was the talk of the town, then Arthur and his impromptu dance with the new girl in town was the highlight on every person's lips as they giggled amongst themselves. Finding it apparently funny that Arthur hadn't lasted in marriage life for two weeks before he had apparently 'strayed'. Or at least that was how the rumors were going nowadays.
Markus rolled his eyes because he apparently didn't care to know her name. Her name was completely not relevant to what he was trying to get at. "Who cares what her name is," the knight grumbled irritable. "I'm saying that this is a sign if I ever saw one. Arthur didn't marry this 'Merlin' because he was in love with him at all. If it was me in Arthur's place, and I had just survived a near death experience, then I would want to spent my evening with the one I was in love with. Not the first random girl to make herself known. That is not how a man in love acts."
Markus could still remember watching along with all the other knights as Camelot's only heir was literally pitted against those snakes and that mad-man. And still managed to win despite having started off the fight with not a weapon to his name. Plus, Markus thought as he hunched in on himself, if Arthur had really cared for his consort, he wouldn't have gone off flaunting the first woman to approach him after the fight.
"So who is he then?" Julian broke through his train of thoughts. "If Arthur's not in love with the consort, then why did they marry? He's a peasant boy so it's not like an alliance could be made with his family. Does he even have anything to his name, or is his life just being funded by Arthur? Where did he even come from? How did he and Arthur meet? He's just a foreigner isn't he? So how come none of us knew he existed until Uther announced that Arthur was to wed."
Markus scoffed bitterly because he knew the answers to none of these questions. This felt as just another reminder that he was going to be left in the dust about everything. He didn't have Arthur talking to him so much nowadays so he was as clueless as any one of the guys were, "I have no freaking clue." He grumbled in irritated disgust.
In their society, marrying for love just wasn't something that happened. Especially not for people of their social standing, where they'd been taught from an early age that they were to marry a Lady from an acceptable family to welcome into their own. Now, if they'd been able to find one on their own, then great. But if not, it was more often then not that families would get involved to scope out an ideal Lady who would bring quite a dowry with her. But things were slightly different for Arthur, who should have been matched off and married to whoever his father ordered him to. A Princess who could bring land or gold or soldiers into their ranks. What good was a peasant boy to bring with him? Did he even bring anything or did he just have the clothes on his back? He, like Julian had suggested, probably had just assumed that Arthur would be funding his life from now on.
The last and final member of their party, who had been staying silent so far sitting over on the far end of the bar, scoffed at them, "Well I don't blame Arthur for seeking the attentions of a woman." Knight Bryon said, scratching at the short black hair on his scalp. "Or maybe it was Arthur's version of a punishment for him after the way Merlin humiliated him in front of practically the entire kingdom." Being that it'd been several weeks since the meeting and it was still the most talked about gossip going around the city, it was no wonder they rarely saw Merlin anymore. Unlike Arthur who could often be seen in the training fields working on the new recruits-quite harshly in fact as he'd been trying to drill procedures into their own heads, focusing more on that than he would usually. It was quite odd. "It wouldn't surprise me if Arthur was only with that girl so that he could show Merlin that he doesn't need him at all. Not if he can't be trusted not to make a fool out of himself and Arthur by association."
The council meeting had spread like wildfire among the city, a nonstop gossip tirade that just refused to die. If people weren't trying to gossip about that, then they were gossiping about how Arthur had won his fight against Valiant so amazingly. Or they were gossiping about who the girl was that Arthur'd chosen to keep company with. As the city had been surprisingly quiet and calm since that mess of a tourney, there wasn't really much that'd been interested enough to move on for. Not unless one counted that Knight that was put into the dungeons during the tourney. There wasn't really anybody who seemed to know why he was down there, other than Arthur that was but he wasn't talking. Despite the rumors like: that Knight had been caught stealing, or he was a traitor who tried to give state secrets to another kingdom, or even his personal favorite-he had been caught having an affair with the consort and Arthur had got him thrown in there over a jealous rage. It had sure gotten the new recruits into a tizzy since they were probably the best behaved recruits Arthur had worked with in quite some time.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, gentlemen." Spoke up the bartender. He was a simple peasant of no worth, who ran a simple bar that would be usually catering the simple peasants who he knew wanted to escape their dreadful lives with a quick drink. But for now, he wasn't able to help himself from listening in to the talking going on by the knights that had intruded on him and his patrons. He was leaning against the bar, standing behind the counter as he'd been casually cleaning up a glass. Although the cleaning was a relative term, as he'd been using a dirty rag and seemed to be moving the smudges from one spot to another. "But wasn't Sir Merlin right about that Knight he'd gone in to accuse?" As only a simple peasant man, he didn't want to make a fool of himself if it turned out he had gotten the wrong kind of information. "Didn't that Knight actually try to kill the prince during the finales?"
He was probably one of the few people who hadn't been able to attend the actual fight as his kids had been sick, and as a single father since their mother had died in childbirth with his youngest, he'd been forced to stay behind so that he could take care of them. He'd only heard about the Knight's attempt on Arthur's life-via snakes, apparently?-from some of his patrons the next night. But out of all that he'd heard going around in rumors as nobody was really sure what had went down as the story got re-told over and over again by the people who weren't actually there to witness it, there was one that had stood out to him. According to some, Sir Merlin had somehow knew what was about to happen, and tried to warn King Uther, but he'd been turned away in favor of the knight.
That was also what had led to one of those conspiracy theories. Like the one that people whispered to each other when they thought nobody was listening in-nobody bothered to notice the bartender lest he stop refilling the drinks-that Merlin had actually been working with Valiant. Which was how he knew what was going to happen, and going to the king had all somehow been apart of their plan. But it all went wrong because Arthur had been supposed to die, and that was the reason Sir Merlin hadn't been seen since the dance. He was trying to play victim as to throw off all of the suspicion from him.
The four boys looked at each other, as if they were trying to ask through their glances 'why was the barkeep trying to talk to us'. They'd been trying to talk among themselves, not to entertain the simple-minded peasants that thought they could gain something by nosing about in their conversation.
Christian scoffed, turning away from the bar to talk to his friends, as if the bartender-who only had the purpose of filling their drinks as they were emptied-wasn't in front of them or clearly listening in on them. "This is why I do not like coming here, everyone is so nosy and trying to get into our business? Someone tell me why we didn't just go to the bar closer to the castle?" At least that one was the one the knights mostly frequented, instead of the one they had ended up at that had the stench of peasant permeating the air.
"Because this is the one we found Markus already getting drunk in." Bryan answered him with a bored expression as he flicked an invisible piece of lint off his bicep. And the knight in question didn't give a real reason as he just grumbled something inaudible under his breath.
The barkeep would have rolled his eyes and continue on his merry way-if not thrown them out for getting lippy on him-if they were any other. But seeing as they were knights and he did not fancy a night in the dungeons or for a few hours in the stocks when he had a bar and inn to run, he just bit down on his tongue. As getting into it with knights just wasn't worth the pain it would later cause him or his purse of coins if he missed a night of work.
Knight Julian didn't seem to have the same problems about talking to 'the help' or maybe he was just drunker than the rest of them and wanted to make sure the barkeep had the right information, if the drunken way he swung his glass around was any indication. For what it was worth, he nearly cobbled Knight Bryon upside the head with it, if the other knight wasn't as sober and managed to duck out of the way.
Julian went off on a tirade as if he hadn't nearly brained his comrade with a whiskey and gin tonic, "It was just pure luck on Merlin's part that he was actually right." None of these four knights actually believed for one second that Merlin had been working with Valiant, even if some of the stupider or younger knights had decided he must have. But that was because they had all agreed earlier on that Merlin was to dumb to plan an assassination attempt, as who would kill a prince when they now had all the free-access a life of royalty would be able to get you. "But who cares if he was right, he didn't exactly do anything to help stop it from happening." Their prince could have be dead right about now, and all Merlin had done was complain to Uther about it before he'd been disappearing off to wherever he had gone as the council chamber meeting had concluded.
Seeing that Knight Julian was in a talkative mood, or maybe he was just to drunk and didn't realize he was 'entertaining the help' the bartender took this moment to fish for some actual answers, "But I thought that was what this whole rumor was about. That Sir Merlin did try to warn the king and prince of what was happening."
"It is," Knight Christian said dismissively as he was to busy trying to find his reflection within his smudged glass so that he could fiddle on his hair and primp. "So what?" Any of them could have warned the king what was going on, it didn't really take any special skills to do that. But Merlin had failed so epically about it that it was literally a disgrace.
The bartender frowned, his hands that were still working on the glass pausing, "But then is it really his fault that nobody-not a single person-actually believed him? I mean, what else was he supposed to do?"
Knight Bryon looked up at this as he got into the conversation, "Well I've got something he could have done: he could have ordered one of the knights to be on high alert. Could have gotten ahead of the crises before it become a problem by finding a handful of knights to be prepared to jump in if what he'd been saying was true. So that there would be no surprises preventing the knights from helping Arthur. I think everyone was to stunned to do anything once the snakes popped out."
Knight Christian finally looked away from the glass he'd been looking at his reflection in so intently as to fix his hair, "No, that wouldn't have worked out either." It took him a second to realize that everyone was staring down at him. And Knight Bryon was glaring at him for disagreeing with him. Christian took all of the looks in stride and just rolled his eyes, "What, if Merlin had came to one of us after the King had already declared him a liar, would any of us had agreed to help? I doubt he would have been able to find a Knight before the tourney started that would have been willing to."
After some shared looks, it was clear that the other guys were internally agreeing with him as well. Even if it didn't stop Bryon from going on a brief grumbling rant about, "Whose side was Christian supposed to be on?"
The bartender, leaning more heavily against the countertop, resumed washing his glass to keep his hands busy as he looked over at the four Knights in front of him, "So, the consort went to the king and got turned away. And he also couldn't go to any of the other knights to help protect the prince...what would you have done differently if you were in his position?"
The bartender really wanted to know what the knights would have done. Unlike all of the other people, the bartender had learned to take everything he heard with a grain of salt. He heard all kinds of stories-both false and true-in this building. The real issue was trying to glean which one was which. And while the bartender didn't wholly agree with Merlin as the consort-he'd already been there for how long now? And having a peasant so close to the throne hadn't made much of a difference in the long run. What, with the people who'd came in here complaining-when the knights weren't around to arrest them for it-the little things like how so-and-so ended up locked in the stocks for not getting Arthur's sword for him fast enough when the prince was ready for a training session. Or even poor Tommy had gotten yelled at-quite publicly by Arthur just last week-because he was having some troubles getting the prince's horse prepared for a sudden spur of the moment ride in the woods the prince wanted to take. But all of those things aside, the barkeeper didn't think that it was fair to expect much from Merlin. It was clear that he was just going to be one of those useless nobles that sat back as all the poorer people around them suffered.
Knight Markus finally spoke up, apparently not caring as much that a 'peasant man' was still trying to engage with him, looking up as he'd been staring blankly at his empty glass this whole time, "It's not our place to go out of our way for something we don't believe is true." Markus said, with a stubborn tilt of his chin. "Our only duty that day was to enjoy the tourney as past competitors. Besides, our job is following orders given by the Royal family so that we can protect them and the kingdom at large. Not listening to the whims of a boy whose not even a real Royal."
Markus went to drink from his glass, only to stop because in his irritation, he'd forgotten once again that his glass was empty. Markus snarled and slammed the glass on the table before giving the bartender a wittering kind of look. The kind of look that said, why isn't my glass filled by now even though I haven't asked for my fifth glass?
Bryon snorted, holding up his half filled glass in honor to this statement, "True that." Knight Bryon agreed boldly. Merlin may hold the title of consort but that didn't mean many of the knights were looking forward to following the orders of the first person that looked as if he had been dragged right off the street for the sheer purpose of marrying Arthur.
The bartender didn't look very pleased but he bit down on his tongue once again if only so he wouldn't start something. Then he set down the glass he'd still been cleaning onto the counter-maybe a little harder than would have been necessary-and tossed down the rag he had beside it. The barkeep reached under the counter and pulled out a pitcher that was filled with mead. He didn't hesitate to refill Markus' drink, as well as the others who held their drinks out to him pompously.
Without an acknowledgment or even a thank you, Markus drowned his drink in one gulp as the bartender was putting the pitcher away for later. Markus slammed his drink back on the counter and turned back to his friends.
"I mean, I'm not the only one seeing what's wrong here, right?" Markus demanded as he tried to find some kind of validation with his emotions. "This...Merlin..." he practically spit the name out in disdain, not acting at all like his usual self. He'd been holding all of this in for weeks and it was like now, thanks to the power of his drink, all of it was coming to spill forward out of his mouth. "He's supposed to be one of our leaders someday, isn't he? The day Arthur becomes king...his power will be elevated from consort of a prince to consort of a king." The difference was actually a huge contrast. Just like the difference when a man was a prince from when he become king. And to see Merlin with so much power literally at his fingertips, and to also know that the boy had no idea what he was doing...it was just a maddening emotion. Markus continued with his tirade as to get everything out of his own system before he could go nuts, "He's going to stand beside Arthur someday on top of a golden throne. Someone who is good enough to be our leader would have done something to stop Valiant rather anybody believed him or not." Markus, in his frustration, started to wave one of his hands about as he got more and more worked up over all of this. "You can not even begin to tell me that there was not a thing he could've done to stop it." the Knight glowered down at his hands, now clenched in fists to show his agitation.
In his own drunken stupor, it made perfect sense for Merlin-who knew what was going on-should have made more of an effort. Like jumping inside of the pit itself when none of the actual knights had dared to do it, and fight off the pair of snakes instead of just leaving Arthur to fend them off himself. Didn't Merlin realize that the prince's life was far more important then himself, that consort should have been more than willing to toss his life away as long as the prince got to live. It didn't matter if everything had been worked out at the end, it didn't matter to him that the prince had made it out alive. It still got under his skin that Merlin hadn't done 'more' as to prevent it from happening at all. Arthur could have died! And then where would the entire kingdom be? Stuck with a common boy who would inherit the throne in Arthur's place.
Markus finished his little tirade by grumbling half to himself, "What was he doing again as Arthur was fighting for his life?" But he didn't know, nor did he really care. He had already made up his mind concerning that, "Probably off sitting on the side like a coward, wouldn't surprise me if he was just waiting for Arthur to die."
This was another reason Markus had gotten so irritated by the whole matter. Because if Arthur had died, the prince's station would have been given to Merlin. As his husband, it would have been seen as Merlin being given an inheritance, unless the prince had some kind of will out there that nobody had known existed, explicitly stating that his throne was to not be given to Merlin. And instead given to whoever Arthur stated in said will. But the prince was young, even if he would often be the target for attempts on his life, so Markus doubted he actually had one stashed away somewhere.
The bartender intercepted the conversation again as he picked up his rag and started to clean up water spots decorating the wooden countertops, "I thought Sir Merlin was just a commoner?" He asked, not seeing why they thought Merlin should have done more than what he had done. "He's one of the people, isn't he?" Or at least that was what had been said after word had spread that Prince Arthur had married a commoner instead of one of the many Princess's that would come to visit the city at one point or another. But that was also before Merlin had went in on a council meeting and failed. The people had hope that Merlin-as a commoner-was somehow able to make all of their lives better. But now that the people 'knew' Merlin, it was clear that he was not the man for the job. The right man for the job would have been able to get Uther to see sense or reason, instead of just falling back in line like everybody else had to.
"If you mean a no-good commoner, than yes, that's exactly what he is." Julian grumbled at him disgruntled. They were all pretty much in agreement that Arthur could have done much better than whatever Merlin was supposed to be. Hell, him marrying a serving girl would be better even. At least then, they wouldn't have the whole gay aspect nagging at them. Who knows what the other kingdoms had thought of the union. Some of the more conservative kingdoms may even consider them 'weak' as their prince was apparently gay. And that was something none of them had seen coming. It wasn't like Arthur would have agreed to such an outrageous union if he wasn't.
The bartender decided not to allow the other knights nodding their agreements with Julian to stop him from pointing out a fact, "So, this consort of ours isn't a trained fighter. He isn't a warrior or anything, right? If he's a common man, then he probably hasn't even held onto a sword before he came here. So, how do you think he could have helped, because all I can see is a kid going to his death by jumping into a battle he can't win."
The bartender believed that if their newest 'consort' wasn't up for the job, then that was that. It wasn't like he could do anything about it, not with being a commoner. But if Consort Merlin couldn't do the job, then at least have a good reason for it. Like the council meeting everybody was so hung up on. But all he saw was a group of knights trying to put unrealistic exceptions on the kid. It wasn't as if anybody was expecting Lady Morgana to jump into the fray like she had, throwing the prince a sword at the last moment. So why did they expect someone who wasn't trained to fight to...jump into a battle?
But it seemed as if the bartender also wasn't able to win at anything either. Because none of the knights seemed to have heard them as they had turned among themselves. It clearly was a successful attempt at freezing out the bartender and his points. It was obvious that the men were to far gone in their own drunk stupor that they were refusing to see reason beyond their own-way to high-expectations leaped onto somebody who had never been expecting to hold such a high position in the court-or any position in the court really.
Knight Christian was the next to drink down his mead in one gulp before he burped in this loud and obnoxious manner, "You know what, I think your right." He said as he gave Markus a friendly shove to his shoulder as he moved the conversation back around to the earlier statement Markus had made, "Merlin would probably like it if the prince had died during that battle. Then he could have the entirety of the kingdom to himself."
Markus didn't say anything to this, it became apparent that he had lost whatever mood he had for socializing. But he didn't have to as Julian took over the conversation quite easily by snorting, "Please, as if Uther would have allowed that? He'd probably arrange to have Merlin killed in some kind of-accident-if only it became apparent that Merlin is suddenly next in line for the throne. I'm surprised that he hasn't already."
As he said this, Julian had started to fiddle around with his long Pendragon red cape as to fix the way it was falling over his shoulders and down to the floor. This group was clearly proud to be Camelot knights, but having to much pride wasn't always a good thing. And it was made even worse because people who were supposed to represent the city-like the knights-probably shouldn't be wearing their uniforms if they were planning on going out to get drunk. Which they'd been increasingly getting drunker as the minutes had passed all of them by. It wasn't a good look, but really, it wasn't like any of the peasants watching the knights could speak up.
Knight Bryon seemed to think Knight Julian's statement was funny, if the snort he let loose was anything to go by. "The King isn't going to go out of his way to organize some kind of attempt on the boy's life. He doesn't have to when he can just have him set up and then jailed for something. Even executed if he did go with the right crime. And somebody who's in trouble with the law can't exactly be up for grabs for the throne."
The scary part was that he hadn't even been joking about it. I mean, sure, he had said it in a kind of joking manner. The kind that would have caused anybody to dismiss it as him just having a morbid personality or morbid sense of humor. But there were other cues noticed that said he was anything but joking: like the way his lips dipped into a frown, or when his fingers tapped in a messy pattern onto the tabletop. As if he was impatient and was just waiting for the day Uther would decide he'd had enough of his son's wayward consort. He didn't seem to care that he was pretty much telling them it was okay for this boy's life to be taken away just because he was obviously naive enough to marry the prince when the man had a father like that.
Knight Bryon continued on in a flippant kind of manner, waving his hand about at his wrist, "I mean, can you imagine how insane it would have to be for Uther to allow 'Merlin' to take the throne off his hands if Arthur had died? Who wants to bet that we would all be dead within like a week."
"Ooh," Knight Christian hopped onto their bandwagon, almost like a misplaced innocent little puppy. Which was only hindered by the briefest hint of a smirk, "How much do you want to bet Arthur will end up dead because the little boy tried to poison him or something so that he can get the throne all to himself?"
It was funny to him in hindsight. To think that the prince had married somebody who had the intent to kill him. Maybe if he had married a Princess like he was supposed to, then his people wouldn't be wondering if his husband was plotting to kill him for something that he never should have had access to.
Julian scoffed and waved this bit of news as nothing more than petty gossiping, "That is never gonna happen. I'm not sticking up for the boy, but we all know that Arthur can take care of himself. Besides, have you even seen the boy? He can barely walk in a straight line, yet alone attempt a successful assassination attempt."
"Now, now boys, don't be going off the deep end, you hear me." The bartender spoke up as he tried to give some sage advice from an old man to the next generation. "I can admit that the consort is a lot of things-" as he was often uncertain about the fate of their home seeing as the boy hadn't done much to make him think otherwise. "But I doubt he's going over plots and making plans to cause Prince Arthur's death."
The bartender was all to aware of how petty rumors could ruin a person's life. Like that man on the far table who was now living in the alley behind the bar because his wife had kicked him out after her sister accused him of trying to have an affair with her. But the man loved to talk and that was how the bartender knew that the sister had made a move on him but he had turned her down. So in a move of petty rage, the sister had gone straight to the wife and made up some stupid lie to ruin his life for offending her.
The rumors bouncing off the walls in regard to Sir Merlin was an abundance, and he had heard pretty much all of them. From the one where people claimed Merlin was really this slave who had been brought here with the sole purpose of 'servicing' Arthur. Only they had gotten the wrong one-a boy-and Arthur had been forced to marry him to hide any of the true nature of their relationship. Or like the one that claimed Merlin was really some kind of prince from a foreign land who likes to pretend he's a commoner to mix among the people more easily-but that one was just a funny annotate rather than one anybody had actually believed. And the rumors only seem to grow more and more outrageous as more and more days had passed by since anybody had last seen the consort. Some rumors that were just fun things to talk about, and others that were just downright nasty or cruel. Some things that were awkward, and others that had been just horrible and awful things to hear for a boy nobody really knew. As if most people were just eager to believe every wishy washy rumor they heard right off the bar.
And even though he knew his opinion on the matter was the least popular one-as he only knew a handful of people that seemed to be sharing the same sentiment-he thought just making up stuff without a shred of proof for the people listening wasn't the right thing to do. Even if the fate of the kingdom could be hanging in the balance-he was just a simple bartender-things like what the royals choose to do with their lives wasn't up to him.
Although...not even he could argue against the boy being a klutz. He had seen him once or twice before he had disappeared-and that had started another rumor that Prince Arthur had chosen to keep him locked away inside one of the many towers of the castle so that the consort couldn't embarrass him just by existing-and maybe he was a bit bias but the boy had almost reminded him of himself as a young lad.
Knight Cristian looked at him as if he was this gnat at the bottom of his shoe before he said quite rudely, "What exactly are you still doing here?" He demanded, as if the bartender had not been there the entire time and attempting to rein in their conversation. "Are you actually trying to 'lecture us?'" Because heaven forbid someone hold a Knight accountable for being a fool in public. "The only reason you are here at all is to fill up our drinks." And then Knight Christian-quite boldly in the old bartender's humble opinion-slammed his empty glass in front of the bartender and flashed him what was a seriously smug looking smirk, "So go ahead, and fill her up. And wipe that look off your face, just be happy we aren't planning to have you flogged for trying to get involved in the business of a Knight."
The bartender's hand twitched towards the underside of his counter. He kept many of his more expensive drinks safely under there, but he also kept a rather large club to chase away the patrons who got to drunk and thought that they could start trouble in his bar. But he was not facing a drunk peasant who couldn't even throw a punch proper. He was facing trained knights-and despite being drunk out of their minds-surely they would be able to fend off a simple peasant man and his club. So that was when the bartender finally gave up on trying to entertain these men and just left them to it.
He filled up their glasses with a rich amber liquid-swallowing his pride as he did so-and sequestered himself to the far end of the bar. Close enough to still hear their voices trailing over towards him as he started back up what was his nightly cleaning ritual. But he wasn't standing nearly close enough to garner their immediate attention. And what did it really matter-their attitude-as long as they would continue paying for their drinks.
"Well," Knight Bryon spoke up after he had taken a large gulp of his drink and settled his glass back down on the counter. "Hopefully, wherever Arthur stashed Merlin away for the last month, he keeps him there." It would be for the best really, keeping Merlin in line was for the good of the kingdom. And if that did mean Merlin really was locked in a tower up in the castle somewhere, then none of them could fault Arthur for taking such extreme measure.
Knight Julian snorted into his drink, and the results nearly came out his nose before he'd managed to calm himself down, "Well, Merlin would deserve it. After embarrassing Arthur like that in front of the king-" the meeting of the council was something that most would probably remember for a long time to come around. "And then I heard he showed up to the dance acting like nothing even happened before. I don't blame Arthur for making Merlin known as the most unwanted consort within Camelot's history."
After all, Arthur had made his feelings clearly known about his consort simply by dancing with that girl. If one chose to dance with the most random girl around-despite her being quite beautiful-then it was clear there had to be something seriously off about the consort.
Knight Christian couldn't help but throw his two cense back into the round, "That is just another reason he's unworthy of being any kind of consort to our people. Nobody has heard anything from Merlin since the night of the dance, and surely someone would put up some kind of fight before just allowing their husband to lock them away as if they'd been some kind of animal. So clearly, if he can not even stand up to his husband, or face any of us to get a dose of humbling humiliation, how can he be trusted to lead a kingdom?"
Knight Julian leaned against the countertop on one of his elbows, looking casual and very relaxed as he said, "Well, let's hope-if Arthur ever lets him out of his tower-that he doesn't cause us anymore of a headache."
As if all of the problem's Merlin had caused since his arrival was done on purpose just to irritate them all. Forget about the prince who had to deal with his boy on the daily. And that was only if Arthur hadn't just left his consort to wallow in his 'cell' or wherever he was right about now.
Knight Christian decided to have a bit more fun with it, and raised his glass as if he was making a toast before he announced, "Well I have a better idea. How about we have this toast, let's hope that something horribly bad will go down, so Merlin won't be still hanging around by the time Arthur is ready to ascend to the throne."
If Christian had been seen making a similar toast about the prince or the king, it would not have ended up well for him. He would be trialed with treason and probably executed as if he had been planning on committing some kind of assault himself instead of just wishing for it. Hell, if it had been any of the other past consorts, he would have been treated as if he had threatened the past royals themselves as Pendragon's were practically known for being possessive bastard's over their consorts. You should have seen the way Uther had behaved the few times somebody had been just brave enough to go after Ygraine when they'd been courting.
But I suppose Camelot's 'unwanted' consort had entirely different rules for everybody to play by.
Julian and Bryon didn't hesitate to slam their mugs against Christian's in agreement, all of the mead spilling over the tops and sloshing out onto their hands. It fell over their hands and all over the floor as they toasted for the consort's immediate death, so that the prince could be rid of the burden he'd been saddled with.
The three boys were so high off of life-as well as off of their mead-that not one of them had even noticed that Markus hadn't participated in it. In fact, he hadn't contributed much at all towards their conversation. He sat on the far end of the group, with this glower on his face and hand still tightly clenched on the base of his empty mug.
The boys could make all the jokes that they wanted to, Markus thought quite aggravated, but he truly considered Merlin-as well as his actions-would cause their kingdom nothing but embarrassment. What would happen to the kingdom when they had a royal guest-which was very liable to happen at any literal given moment-and the boy still didn't know how to act? They could lose alliances that the crown had for generations, just because not a single person seemed brave enough to put the boy in his place.
Well, Markus thought, he would be more than willing to knock Merlin down a few pegs if he thought for one second that he was anything special. The first chance he got...he would be happy to take it.
The bartender watched all of this from his far off position, frowning deeply as he watched them cheering amongst themselves. He then shook his head, he didn't think he would ever be able to understand the callousness people could have towards one another.
Especially these particular group of nobility, who were literally wishing for the quick death of one of their own...
