A Tale of Two Arthurs Part 2.
Authors Note: So sorry to have kept you waiting. Here is part 2 of 3 (maybe 4 see how it goes) Have also half written the Lancelot episode. Hope to update soon. Thanks for your reviews!
He was back. The horns at the gates of the city heralded the Princes return. Morgana rushed from her room where she had been lazily reading and walked quickly down the corridor to the court-yard terrace. She had dreamt of fire and people burning, hatred and anger. Arthur had been in her dream, a different Arthur with blazing eyes, holding his dagger and approaching an oblivious Uther. It had caused her to wake in a panicked sweat with her heart racing, pounding fiercely in her chest. She did not see the end, but believed it ended with Arthur attempting to kill his father. She knew once she had seen him, all her doubts would be washed away. Arthur may not agree with Uther, not after Uther had nearly let Merlyn die to punish him, but he would never harm his father.
She herself was still angry at her guardian for jeopardising her handmaiden's life. Merlyn had lasted longer than her last three maids and fit Morgana perfectly. She wasn't always punctual, a little forgetful at times. But when she did a job, she did it well. She was thrilled that her maid could sew and wasn't an uptight abiding maid like the one she had had before poor Alys. Mary had been unbearable, shocked by Morgana's behaviour and her mixing with those of all classes. Even her dress sense seemed to get a furious tut of displease. No, Merlyn suited her very well she thought, glanceing at the girl accompanying her. She smiled widely as she watched the procession grow closer, eagerly awaiting Arthur's arrival.
Merlyn kept pace just behind her, equally as relieved at his return. The foreboding she sensed last night had stayed with her all night, increasing as the sun crept higher and the envoy got closer to the castle. Something was brewing. She watched as the entourage made its way up the road toward the castle. Arthur was easy to pick out, riding forward, leading his men. It was a relief to see him returning home. She watched as Lady Morgana greeted him enthusiastically, her smile at its full luminance. She watched as Arthur dismissed his troops and started to enter the castle, heading up the steps toward.
The weird bond that existed between her and the prince had made her feel a lot of things. Annoyance mainly but there had always been awareness. As the prince neared her, instead of the slow building excitement, the low hum of attraction and anticipation she usually experienced in proximity to him, she felt a cold shiver and a sickening tightness in her chest. His eyes passed over her without lingering, his manner stiff and alien. Merlyn did not know how to explain how she felt. It was as if she was repelled by an unseen force, away from him. Something was wrong.
She followed the two royals at a distance and on arriving at his chambers, busied herself with fetching the prince some water. She kept in the background and listened to the banter between the two childhood friends. Their friendly banter continued, but Merlyn could sense that Arthurs humour was darker, almost as if he were laughing at the Lady Morgana.
He didn't look at Merlyn once. Morgana eventually prepared to leave and Merlyn quickly followed her, eager to leave the room and the altered Arthur.
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So far, the mission had gone to plan. No one seemed to have noticed that he was an interloper. He had ridden though the gate into Camelot, the great city of the beautiful kingdom he had been unfairly banished from. He had grown up in this city, in its narrow passageways and thriving population. As the procession reached the stronghold, he had dismounted and stood a foot away from his most hated enemy. It had taken everything in him not to react as he wanted. Instead he greeted the King as his son would. Uther had welcomed him back quickly and moved on to the procession. He had not noticed anything different about his son.
Neither had his ward who had arrived quickly to greet the returning Prince. The Lady Morgana was even more striking in person. His beauty affected her but though the metaphysical link between interloper and prisoner, he found that although Arthur was aware of the beauty of his fathers ward, he had no intention, nor the desire to pursue the eager young woman. That the Lady Morgana was interested in the Prince was clear, but the feelings were unrequited. He felt sorry for the girl when something tickled the back of his mind.
It was then he learned something interesting about the Lady Morgana, something that he took a moment of pleasure from and stirred more pity for the young woman. The Kings beloved ward had magic. Mostly dormant and untapped, but it ran though her veins seeking release.
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Arthur was thirsty but he swallowed his discomfort and continued on his arduous task. Using his fingernails, he had dug down into the wet ground beneath him. Rowan had found it amusing to leave the prince tied to his tree in the pouring rain and whilst the prince was now soaked though, he had managed to dig down into the soft ground where a sharp stone offered hope. Using his nails he gritted his teeth as he worked it from the ground. Rowan had sat nice and warm in his shelter, studying some sort of book with aged pages. Odin had to have reached the castle, and Arthur had a feeling the man had infiltrated the city with ease. He needed to escape. Whereas Odin did not seem to harbour any ill-will to Arthur, he most defiantly meant to assassinate his father. He didn't believe he himself was safe with Rowan and was certain that if Odin hadn't told his accomplice that they needed him alive, Arthur would already be dead.
Although his father and he may not be on the best of terms, at the moment, their relationship strained, he would not let a terrorist harm him. And Gaius was an old man and no threat to anyone. If anything were to happen to him, Merlyn would be on her own. She would have to return to her hometown. Even worse she lived with Gaius, what if Odin harmed her. He had to escape. He was trying so hard to control his emotions in case he accidently transmitted anything to his captor. Turning the stone around in his fingers he watched Rowan as he started to work at the rope. He had got incredibly lucky and he knew it. The relief he had felt when feeling the long almost sharp side of the stone had been incredible.
It took him most of the afternoon to get half way though the rope and darkness began to fall around him. The temperature dropped as the light slowly left the world and he shivered in his clothes much to Rowans amusement. The man stayed away from him, as if Arthur was an irrelevant piece of furniture. There was no conversation, gloating or threats. He just went about his work with a quiet studious joy.
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He felt wrong. She could not explain it. She watched him covertly though the meal as he ate and conversed with Morgana and the King. He was paying a lot of attention to the Lady Morgana and she hated the uncomfortable knot that formed in her stomach as a result. Maybe the trip had made him miss Camelot, miss Morgana and made him realise he had feelings for her. Not that it should make any difference to her of-course, but it grieved her. She studied him and frowned when she realised he was using his left hand for most of the meal. Slowly she began to clock the differences in his behaviour.
He was quietly respectful to the King, but there was a strange under current to his words that only she seemed to realise. Not once did he run his fingers though his hair. He ate his meal slowly whereas he used to attack his plate, especially after a long journey. He wore a tunic of an orangey yellow colour; a shade she knew he was not fond of when two of his preferred choices were clean and ready for them.
And he still hadn't looked at her.
She watched as the meal finished and the various parties departed. Arthur was a knight. He had a strong, knightly posture he used at all times, a confident swagger that he maintained even when exhausted. Today, he moved gracefully but not as powerfully as he would usually. His stride was shorter and he favoured his left leg.
Returning to the chambers she shared with her uncle, she went over all the signs, all the little things she had noticed. She needed Gaius to believe her. She entered the room to see her Uncle moving from table to table, muttering under his breath as he searched the contents of the various tables placed around the room.
"Uncle…Are you all right?"
"I'm looking for that darn parchment I was reading last night. I left it on the table, right there." He said gesturing at the clean table she had tidied that morning.
"Parchment? You mean the one you started to read last night, declared utter nonsense and asked me to throw out?"
Gaius stuttered in indignation as she parroted his words from the previous night, with a bemused if affectionate look on her face.
"You threw…"
"I put it inside your potions book just in case." She told him, laughing, before he let loose a barrage of insults on her.
Gaius huffed and puffed for a bit knowing he was stuck much to his niece's amusement. Letting it go with a sigh, he picked up the aforementioned book and sure enough the thin piece of parchment lay safely inside it.
"Merlyn, I do not know what to do with you." He signed a long suffering sigh.
"You don't know what you'll do with out me." She corrected grinning. Unwilling to let her have the last word, Gaius turned but the door opening behind her diverted his attention.
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It was her laugh that had done it. The sound of the young woman's mirth had struck a deep cord inside the Princes mind. Standing out side the chamber door, Odin had stood, gathering his wits to face one of his most hated enemies, only to hear the sound that had sparked his interest. It conjured a picture, a forbidden treasured image of deep indigo eyes that danced with mirth, surprise and passion along with the phantom sensation of a pair of full lips on his. On Arthur's lips, he corrected himself, amused by what he had learned. He entered the room and stopped dead.
Despite his intention to assess the traitor and leave the room as swiftly as possible, his eyes fixed on the girl. She was Morgana's handmaid, who had been with him during the dinner with the King. He had only cast a quick glance over at her, but now that his focus was fixed on her, he was surprised to see how much the Prince had been able to keep from him. Her name was Merlyn, Gaius' niece and she was important. Arthur had yet to recognise the feelings the young woman aroused in him.
The second surprise came from the girl herself. He had not noticed before, having been attentive to the King and Lady Morgana that he had missed the aura around the young girl. How could he have missed it? Whereas Morgana held the promise of Magic, this girl held so much more. Magic of the purest kind flowed though her veins, into the very air around her. Mostly untapped but not ignored. This handmaiden used magic, was learning magic.
Odin felt amused and awed that this girl stood in the same room as Uther and his son and neither knew the potential she held in her hands.
His entrance had disturbed the banter between the pair and they stood looking back at him, backs straightening on ceremony.
"My father wishes to speak with you, Gaius, regarding news from the diplomats." He managed to deliver the message easier than he had thought, his attention split. Taking the chance now he studied the old man, surprised at his appearance. Gaius was old, almost frail. He looked exhausted but his eyes were sharp with wisdom and knowledge. Magic still hung in the air around him much to Odin's surprise.
"Of course Sire, I will come directly." He addressed Odin before turning to his niece. "Thank you, my dear."
Gaius smiled at his niece as he left the room, and Odin knew that what ever form his revenge would be for the old man, it would not cause harm to this young woman.
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She stayed up for her uncle's return and spent most of the night persuading him to take her seriously. She hadn't realised that her uncle had his own concerns about the prince.
Gaius knew something was off with the Prince. He had been a bit standoffish with the physician and hadn't said a word during the long walk to the throne room, whereas the young man would often enjoy conversing with the older man. The feeling of the Princes eyes on him though-out the conversation with the King had left him with a chill. It had been out of character for Arthur to treat Gaius with such suspicion.
"He is just wrong. Arthur is right handed, the imposter is left. He has a limp and he moves wrong. Plus he just doesn't interact with people the same way Arthur does. And what is with the odd marking on his wrist. "
"What marking?"
"Its like a long lighting bolt, from the bottom of his left thumbnail to the first knuckle. It shines when the light hits it"
Something of her observations must have rung a bell with Gaius who retreated to his books after shooing her to her chambers. One night of troubled sleep later and Gaius had uncovered something unnerving.
"It's called a mirror image enchantment. It can replicate the mirror image of a subject, a disguise for the sorcerer who drinks it. The double will have the mark of sky sparks only visible to those with magic." He showed the illustration of the markings written in his well-worn book which Merlyn recognised as the odd shaped mark on his finger nail.
"So, the man who arrived today wasn't Arthur?" She asked Gaius, worried. "Then where is Arthur? He must have been captured... But the Knights didn't mention anything untoward…"
"The charm will only work if the original is alive. It doesn't only alter the appearance of the caster, it gives them an impression of the original's thoughts and knowledge. That is how the spell is so successful. It is not true telepathy, so that's why the impostor's behaviour is slightly odd."
"So, Arthur might not have left Hyrin."
"Actually, he has to be closer to Camelot, my guess would be the forest where the envoy spent their last night. He has to be within range of the castle for the imposter to get enough impressions. We are going to have to be careful about this… Look here's a counter spell, actually there are two. This one blocks the link between the original and the impostor; the second disrupts the mirror image and will expose the fraud." He paused looking over his glasses at his cabinet. "I have most of the ingredients for the second potion. Unfortunately it will take at least a day to prepare. We have to make them before we try to find Arthur. We can't risk alerting the imposter."
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Merlyn had dashed into Morgana's chambers, apologising profusely about her tardiness as she helped her ladyship into the nightwear. Fortunately Morgana was in a good mood, having spent the evening with Arthur who had been partially attentive. It disturbed Merlyn that the impostor seemed to be spending more time with the Lady and wondered at his motives. With the mirror image he had the perfect disguise in the castle.
"He was obviously in a good mood." Morgana told her, "and unusually charming. Not that I am complaining."
"I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, my Lady," Merlyn joked weakly. "Do you think he's well?"
Morgana laughed at her maid's particular sense of humour and smiled a small, soft smile.
"I suppose he must be. Maybe he's finally decided to grow up?" She said hopefully before bidding Merlyn good night and retiring to her chambers.
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The light from Rowans small camp fire was the only thing brightening the thicket that hid the two men from sight. The temperature had plummeted after sunset and the damp clothes against his skin had pushed Arthur past shivering. He was relieved when he at last felt the give in the rope that had been binding him. Swallowing the overwhelming urge to scramble to his feet, he slowly pulled his legs up to his chest and prepared to stand. He had only raised himself an inch, his eyes fixed on his captor, when the man turned to face him.
Rowan smirked as he looked at the rather shabby prince before setting himself down on his bedroll, facing away from his captive. His arrogance was extreme to the point of stupidity. Or was he? The question rolled around Arthur's head as he slowly tensed each of his stiff aching muscles. In the dying embers of the fire, Arthur saw Rowan turn over, appearing to be asleep.
He had no choice, he had to risk it. Stumbling quietly to his feet, a groan rumbled silently though his body as he wasted precious seconds stretching. The down pour had made the forest floor damp and slick. So he slowly made his way to the tree line and into the forest.
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Merlyn left her ladyship's quarters, her duties completed. She walked though the darkened passages in deep thought. She had decided to leave the castle and seek Arthur. She would use a simple tracking spell and hopefully track him down. Then they would sneak back into the castle and when the potion was finished, they would expose the fraud. It was a hastily put together plan. But it could work.
Knowing that the other Arthur was still in conference with the knights, she approached the Princes Chambers to fulfil her next clandestine task.
"The imposter will have to drink a small amount of the potion everyday in order to maintain the illusion. It has to be hidden somewhere. His quarters maybe. It would he helpful to get a sample."
Entering the Princes chambers with the shirts she had mended for Glen, she started to methodically search the room, careful to leave no trace of her investigation. Opening a closet door she felt the slight sensation of magic. A quick look in the wardrobe and she spotted a dark box on the floor. It was hard to see and even as she looked at it, it was as if the box was trying to repel her interest. A privacy charm must have been applied, one almost powerful enough to fool even her. Carefully she opened the box and shivered. A dark bottle, three quarters of the way full sat protected by the padded sides of its box. She quickly tipped a tiny amount of the potion into the smaller vial she had the foresight to bring. Blanching at the blood red colour, she quickly corked both bottles and replaced the larger in its box, tucking it back into its hidden corner.
Securing her own tiny sample she hid it deep in her skirt pocket, muttering a quick enchantment of her own to keep it hidden. Moving away from the cupboard, she became aware of approaching footsteps, (her hearing magically heightened to prevent her being caught. By the time Arthur and Glen marched into the room, she was on the other side of the chamber, hanging up the mended shirts.
"Oh, thank you Merlyn that was quick!" Glen exclaimed gratefully. The seamstress Everild, had been trying to push her daughter, Mildred on him for weeks, much to the rest of the castle staffs amusement and Merlyn had saved him from another embarrassing encounter.
"Our little secret!" Merlyn teased. "I don't want Everild to accuse me of meddling." She focused on her friend in an attempt to ignore the man who was not Arthur.
"Of course," Glen agreed colouring. He turned to his master, who much to Merlyns dismay dismissed his servant for the night, leaving her alone with the imposter. She carefully hung another shirt up, avoiding the mans gaze as she attempted to act normal.
"It's a pleasant evening." The imposter told her stretching and sitting on the foot of his bed still watching her. Merlyn knew Arthur sometimes noticed her, felt him sneak a covert look. But it was nothing to the way, this man noticed her. And the feelings the attention elicited were quite different.
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Odin quietly amazed at the conflict that the young girl evoked in the Princes conscience as he watched her finish her task. He made idel conversation as he ordered her thoughts. He needed another dose of the potion, soon, the link between himself and the prince was weakened. He was not sure how the Prince would act when alone with the handmaiden. He could not determine whether the attraction was acknowledged and acted on or if the relationship was in its early stages. The prince was attempting and due to the diminishing effect of the potion, succeeding to some extent to protect his thoughts. He should just send her one her way with a polite goodnight but he was curious to find out. Was the future king of Camelot in love with a sorcerer?
Merlyn finished her chore, smiled at him and headed to the door. Unbidden, Odin found himself on his feet, striding to the door.
"Goodnight? I have not seen you for over two weeks. Surely I get more than a quick goodnight?"
It was a small hesitation but one he noticed, so the attachment was new. But he had the memory of those perfect lips on his…on Arthurs. With the princes most charming smile he dipped his head down and pressed the lips in question with his own. What was he doing? He needed to get her out of there before the potion completely wore off. But instead he had pressed his lips against hers.
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It took everything in her not to panic when the imposter lowered her lips to his, and it was almost painful to accept it. She allowed the kiss to last a heartbeat more and then broke it, ducking her head, hoping he would see it as shyness. She knew she had succeeded when he chuckled and bid her goodnight again. Meeting his eyes for a second she managed a convincing smile before leaving the room. She hurried down the deserted corridors until she reached Gaius's chamber, trying to keep her composure.
"Ahh Merlyn, just in time, I've finished preparing the candle. We can perform the first part of the task."
"I'll be just a minute," She answered thickly as she hurried up the steps and into her room. She closed the door calmly and walked to the bed where she sat down gently. Dropping her head into her hands she shivered, recalling the cold feeling of the imposters lips. If she wasn't sure already, she was now.
She had only kissed Arthur one, a quick brief meeting of lips, but even a quick brush of hands had always left her warm, tingly with something she could not describe, something that drew her to him like a moth to the flame. But that kiss. The one just bestowed on her repelled her. She felt guilty for kissing another, but knew she'd had no choice. The whole episode shook her, and she was glad she had been able to leave the room without anything else occurring. She'd heard tales of noblemen, serving girls and unclaimed children.
She took a moment to gather herself before joining her uncle in the main chamber. On the table stood a candle had been dipped in the potion and dried, ready to be lit and for the spell to be cast. Taking a deep breath Merlyn recited the severing spell, the chant that would break the mental link between Arthur and the fake. As the last word of the old religion left her tongue, the flame extinguished with a hiss.
Miles away, the prince swayed as he felt something snap in his head and a weight lift from his mind.
Yards away in the castle, the intruder stirred in his sleep, turned and then slept on oblivious.