Part III: The Lost Light
Gaius threw down the massive volume he was holding with what felt in that moment like the most upsetting thwunk Merlin had ever heard. How had the old man even been holding something so hefty and unruly?
"George did what?" Gaius shouted.
Merlin pursed his lips, and took a quick step to the other side of the table, avoiding the old man's gaze. "I'm not sure he did anything. I'm just saying he might have."
Gaius slowly spun as Merlin paced around him. The ride back to Camelot had been surprisingly uneventful, with no sign of bandits or other dangers. Merlin had thought, at one moment during the long ride, that he had heard soft druid singing somewhere in the distance, but in his eagerness to return home he had dismissed it as the whistle of the wind. They had arrived just as night was falling over Camelot, the skies finally clearing from a long day of drizzle and cloud cover to reveal a few bold stars.
"Did he, or did he not, look back when you were crossing the veil?"
Merlin looked at Gaius, his mouth slightly agape. "I…I don't know. He looked back, but we might have been clear."
"Do you learn nothing from your mistakes?"
"Technically –" Merlin scrambled, "It was George."
"Yes, blame the seven year old."
Merlin hung his head. "Look, Gaius, there's a perfectly good chance that nothing will happen. We were on the fringe, one little glance may not have been enough to break the veil. I just wanted to make you aware that there could be a remote possibility that –" Merlin trailed off, staring out the window at nothing in particular. Aithusa was curled in the square below, attracting the usual attention that dragons do as she settled into a calm sleep. The knights were bustling about the halls, chatting or checking some final things before making their way home for the night. The city was just as it should be.
"Merlin, are you smiling?"
The sorcerer found he was. Gaius gave a disgruntled shake of head and plodded away, back to leafing through his massive volumes. He wasn't looking for anything in particular in the books, he simply liked to remind himself of all the things he used to know.
Merlin bid Gaius goodnight, and trotted off to his new chambers in high spirits. The room still felt too large, the bed too luxurious, but it seemed somehow less empty now. With an oddly restful mind, Merlin settled into sleep.
IOIOIOIOIOI
Dawn broke through the stained glass window in Guinevere's chambers with an alarming beauty – her serving girl had failed to close the curtains fully the night before. She gave a contented stretch beneath her silk covers and contemplated rolling over and going back to sleep. Would it be a crime to neglect business for a day and just lounge about? There seemed to be a false belief among the general populace that ruling the kingdom was an easy task, or at least a fun one, but Gwen knew all too well the tedium and long hours of council meetings, the lonely evenings devoid of any visitors (for fear they may disturb her) and the heavy heat that came with impossible decisions. It was never the job Gwen wanted. It had been Arthur she'd desired – the title and the silk and the endless meetings were just part of the deal.
Gwen let out a yawn and rolled over in a graceless manner unbefitting of a queen. Her eyes drooped, and were half closed when they alighted on a beautiful, full bouquet of wildflowers that had appeared seemingly spontaneously on her bedside table. She smiled and reached out to touch them, half believing they were some remnant of a dream.
A series of three soft knocks on the big wooden door alerted Gwen to her serving girl's pending presence. The girl walked in, her steps light and silent.
"Good morning, Salia," Guinevere said, still curled under the covers.
"Good morning, my lady," Salia returned softly. Her voice sounded almost like very quiet music. She reminded Guinevere of the birds she so often admired and studied, flitting around the room in her faded yellow frock.
Salia set a silver tray filled with fresh bread, cheese, and grapes at the foot of the bed. It was the usual breakfast, and Guinevere gave her usual smile. "Thank you, Salia. And thank you for the flowers. They've brightened my morning."
The girl looked confused and a little horrified, her eyes darting to the vase filled with light purple blossoms. "My lady?" she said.
At this Guinevere sat up. "Was it not you who left them for me?"
Salia shook her head 'no' and the movement rocked her entire slim frame.
"That's odd," Gwen said, "I don't recall them being there last night when I went to bed."
Salia folded her hands in front of her and glanced at the floor, clearly feeling altogether uncomfortable with the situation. "Perhaps Asha brought them in last evening and you missed them?" she offered. Gwen thought back to the evening before and felt with certainty that the flowers had not been present when her evening servant finished her chores for the night, but she supposed it was possible the young woman had slipped back in and placed the vase on the table while she was asleep.
"Will you be needing anything else?" Salia asked.
"No, not at the moment," Gwen said. Her eyes fell back on the flowers, mystery that they were, and she recalled with some uneasiness the importance of the day.
IOIOIOIOIOI
In shade of the forest, three hooded figures waited in a pregnant silence near the mouth of an ancient cave. Each listened with aptitude as the leaves rustled in the trees and wafted through the air toward the ground. At last, one heard the awaited sound – soft footfalls.
A man in a deep blue cloak appeared through the early morning fog. He paused in front of the trio, throwing his hood back with a sense of purpose. He was an average man in stature and appearance, with russet hair tumbling around his ivory ears and a well-defined jawline. On his neck was a trio of spirals – the mark of a druid, if a crude one.
"What news, Gareth?" asked the middle hood, in a seething, trilling voice.
"Gaheris is dead," replied the man.
A shutter of surprise ran through the three. The middle hood spoke again, her voice cracking and lashing at once, "By whose hand?"
"I don't know. I could only glean that he was killed in the Queen's chambers, and that she and the boy still live."
"How could this be?" asked the woman to the right of center.
"Gaheris was a fool, he should have waited." replied the man to the left.
The center hood raised a hand, bidding the others to fall silent. "We must be more careful and deliberate," she said. She tilted her head up, revealing a face as severe as her voice and a few sharp blonde curls beneath her maroon hood. "We will have vengeance yet."
IOIOIOIOIOI
Gwen made her way down the long hallway on the second floor of the castle, hurrying her step when she caught sight of Asha carrying a basket of laundry at the far end. "Asha!" she called. The girl spun, startled by the queen's urgency. She was not as timid as Salia, but she still had a sense of her place in the castle, and that it was a low one. Asha shifted the basket of laundry to one hip and wiped her free hand against her red dress. She attempted a clumsy bow.
"My lady?"
Guinevere smiled softly, though she felt a shiver run up her spine. "Asha, did you leave a bouquet on my bedside table last night?"
"I'm afraid not, my lady, though I could do so in future."
"That won't be necessary," the queen said. A fear was dawning on her, and it showed. Her face turned pale and her brown eyes hung wide, open like windows to her thoughts.
Asha threw the basket to the other hip. It was not overwhelmingly heavy, but she was a girl of practicality, and didn't like her arms getting sore if it wasn't necessary. "What ails you?" she asked.
"Tis nothing of importance," Guinevere said. "Tell me, have you seen Merlin this morning?"
"The sorcerer?" Asha asked. "He was out in courtyard this morning with his dragon. I have not seen him since."
Guinevere nodded and thanked the girl before striding away, trying to hide her fear with a proud posture. If the flowers had not been brought in by either girl, then who remained? No one else should have access to her chambers – could the bouquet have been a veiled threat? Look, I can come and go without any notice? Gwen thought back to the previous week, the horror at realizing there was a man threatening her son that dawned too late. Gaius had attributed her lax reaction to the man's appearance to his use of magic. Certainly, Gwen had no desire to condemn magic the way her predecessors had, but the ease with which magic deceived scared her.
To Gwen's relief, Merlin was still in the courtyard, scratching his great lizard's head softly. He had a far off look in his eye, like he was caught in an impossible daydream. Gwen almost hated to rouse him from it, but she was desperate for an answer.
"Merlin," she said.
He turned, half surprised, and then gave a great smile. Had Gwen not been in a fit of worry she might have noticed how genuine and out of place the gesture was, but in her distracted state failed to notice.
"Gwen," he said, "Can I do something for you?"
"I just wanted to thank you for the bouquet," she said. "It was sweet of you to remember what today is."
Merlin's face fell, and Gwen was seized again with fear.
"It wasn't you either, then?" she asked.
Merlin shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, it wasn't me." He noticed the change in the queen as she let her fear spill fully onto her tired face. She sucked in a few short breaths, and they came back out in uneasy huffs. Merlin straightened up. "What's wrong?"
IOIOIOIOIOI
Merlin and Guinevere stood in the bedchambers, eyes both fixed on the little purple flowers which stuck up from the vase in tufts.
"I'm sorry," Gwen said, "It's silly, I know. It's just after last week…"
"No, Gwen, I'm glad you told me. This is what I'm here for."
The queen nodded. "Can you sense anything?" she asked uneasily.
Merlin took a deep breath and closed his eyes, stretching himself through the room. It still felt strange to do such a thing by request and in the presence of his friend, but it was freeing, too. The energy of the space flowed through him – there was nothing unordinary about it, or at least nothing hostile. With his eyes still clamped shut, Merlin said, "I don't think magic was used here."
He stretched further, listening to the soft sound of the earth and the bustle from the courtyard. Then something struck him – a presence he didn't expect. It was familiar. It was – Merlin's eyes flew open. "Gwen, you said something about today being special?"
Gwen's eyes fell to the floor for a moment, then she looked back up at Merlin with a solemnity befitting of her grief. "It would have been my wedding anniversary."
A smile broke across Merlin's face, which took the queen entirely by surprise.
"What is it?" she asked.
Merlin rested his hands on her shoulders. "I can't explain, Gwen, but I promise it isn't bad. Enjoy the flowers." With that, he turned and sprinted from the room, leaving the queen alone with her thoughts and a bouquet of purple wildflowers.
