Chapter 1 - The Festival of Fools
[Twenty Years Later]
A young man, tall and lanky, climbed out onto the balcony of the bell tower, overlooking the bustling courtyard below. His blue eyes watched the activity excitedly, a bright grin lighting up his childish features. He joined the blonde man who was leaning on his elbows.
"Good morning!" he greeted, noting the clear blue skies and bright sunlight.
The blonde, Will, silently pointed to the chirping little bird in its nest between them.
Merlin's grin only seemed to widen. "Will today be the day?" he asked it. "Are you ready to fly?"
The little bird flitted its wings a bit, but did not attempt it.
"You're sure?" Merlin asked, scooping it up into his hands. "Good day to try. Why, if I picked a day to fly, oh, this would be it! The Festival of Fools! It will be fun-the jugglers, and music, and dancing..."
As Merlin spoke, the bird began to flap its wings again. Noticing, Merlin slowly removed his hands, and the bird fluttered off a bit unsteadily. A calling flock of birds flew by, and the newest addition immediately set off towards them.
"Go on!" Merlin encouraged. "Nobody wants to be cooped up here forever!"
"Oh, man!" Will uttered, watching it go as well. "I thought he'd never leave!" With that, he swiped the nest off the balcony, wrinkling his nose at the white dropping that were left behind. "Hey, Merlin! What's going on down there? A fight? A flogging?"
Merlin smiled at his active friend, then studied the brightly-dressed people.
"A festival!" a voice exclaimed. Lancelot and Freya, both with dark hair and kind brown eyes, appeared behind them and looked out at the activity as well. It was Lancelot who had spoken, eyes twinkling merrily.
"You mean the Feast of Fools?!" Will gasped.
Merlin nodded. "Uh-huh!"
"All right, all right!" Will grinned. "Pour the wine and cut the cheese!" He shoved one hand under his shirt and made a farting noise with his armpit. Freya grimaced at his antics.
"It is a treat to watch the colorful pageantry of the peasant folk," Lancelot said.
"You're a peasant," Will reminded him.
Lancelot scowled, gesturing to his sword and chainmail. "Trying to pass as a knight, thank you."
Will shrugged and jumped up to sit on the balcony railing. "Boy, nothing like balcony seats for watching the ol' F.O.F."
Merlin's wide smile suddenly faded. "Yeah," he said dejectedly. "Watching." He turned away from the courtyard, hanging his head, and returned to the bell tower.
After sharing a quick glance amongst them, the three scurried inside after him.
"Aren't you going to watch the festival with us?" Lancelot asked.
Merlin shook his head and sat down at his carving table. He had made several figurines of the people he saw everyday below, and had replicated the church and the surrounding buildings. The diorama was his prized possession, something he had constructed very carefully with his own hands. Although it was Gaius who had taught him, back when Uther still allowed Merlin to come down from the bell tower. Gaius was too old and arthritic to make it up all the stairs, so they rarely saw one another anymore.
"I don't get it," Will whispered, perplexed.
"Perhaps he's sick!" Lancelot exclaimed.
"Impossible," Freya said dismissively. "If twenty years of listening to you two hasn't made him sick by now, nothing will."
Lancelot frowned sadly. "But watching the Festival of Fools has always been the highlight of the year for Merlin."
"What good is watching the party if you never get to go hear it?" Freya asked. "He's not a figment of anyone's imagination, like us."
While the boys shared conceding looks, Freya approached Merlin and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her sadly, turning the baker in his fingers. "Merlin, what's wrong?" she asked kindly. "Do you want to tell me?"
"I," he started. But then his eyes shuttered, blocking his emotions, and he turned back to the painted townspeople with a pout. "I just don't feel like watching the festival, that's all."
"Well," Freya said, "did you ever think about going there instead?"
Merlin's head snapped back and he gazed at her in alarm.
Lancelot appeared at his other side, beaming. "Sure!" he said.
The young man shook his head. "I'd never fit in down there," he said quickly. "I'm not...normal."
"Oh, Merlin," Freya sighed, cupping his cheek. "Merlin, Merlin."
"Don't believe that!" Will chastised.
"As your friends and guardians," Lancelot said, "we insist that you attend the festival."
"Me?!" Merlin yelped, touching his chest. He frantically shook his head again, pushing himself away from the table in an attempt to escape.
"Of course you!" Will said.
"It would be an educational experience," Lancelot added.
Will spread his arms. "Wine, women, and song!"
"You can learn to identify various regional cheeses," Lancelot smirked.
"Bobbing for apples!"
"And the indigenous folk music."
Freya intercepted Merlin as he paced, rooting him by putting her hands on his shoulders. "Merlin, take it from me. Life is not a spectator sport. If watching is all you're going to do, then you're going to watch your life go by without you."
"Yeah," Will agreed, "you're living, with the flesh, and the hair, and the eating. We're just part of your mind, right Lancelot?"
Lancelot nodded. "Yet, if you think of us, do we not appear? If you forget us, do we not disappear?"
"Merlin," Freya smiled, "just grab a fresh tunic and a clean pair of pants and -"
"Thanks for the encouragement," Merlin said at last, "but you're all forgetting one thing."
"What?" they asked in unison, smiles fading.
"My master," Merlin answered somberly. "Uther."
"Right," they said, shoulders slumping. If there was one thing they all feared and hated more than anything, it was Uther.
"Well," Lancelot said thoughtfully, "when he says you're forbidden from ever leaving the bell tower, does he mean 'ever ever'?"
"Never ever," Merlin clarified, raising his eyebrow sternly in an imitation of Gaius. "And he hates the Feast of Fools! He'd be furious if I asked to go."
Will sniffed and grinned mischievously. "Who says you've got to ask?"
"Oh, no," Merlin shook his head.
"You sneak out," Will said, gesturing grandly to the balcony.
"It's just one afternoon," Freya insisted quietly.
"And you sneak back in," Will finished, pointing to the dusty floorboards under their feet. Though Merlin tried to keep the place clean, it was difficult. The open-air room was perfect for the bells, but less than perfect for living space. It was very drafty, to say the least.
"I couldn't," Merlin uttered.
"He'll never know you were gone," Freya said.
"We'll never tell," Lancelot promised.
"I mean," Merlin stuttered, "if I got caught..."
Lancelot put an arm around Merlin's shoulders, but he ducked under them and crossed the room. "Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission."
"He might see me."
"You could wear a disguise," Will suggested. "Just this once. What Uther doesn't know won't hurt you!"
Freya took Merlin's hand and looked meaningfully up into his frightened but hopeful eyes. "Nobody wants to stay cooped up here forever," she said.
Merlin gaped at her for a long moment. Then his face softened, and a smile crept across it. "You're right! I'll go."
Freya clapped her hands happily as Will and Lancelot behind them cheered.
"I'll get cleaned up," Merlin announced, crossing the room to his water basin, snatching up a towel along the way.
The trio cheered again.
"I'll stroll down those stairs," Merlin said determinedly.
Another cheer.
Finished washing his face, Merlin strode to the door that led to the stairs, back straight and chin up. "I'll march through the doors and -"
He was cut short as he reached the door by the sudden appearance of the regal Uther, who merely raised an eyebrow. Merlin stumbled back, swallowing his heart. Lancelot, Freya, and Will had disappeared into thin air.
"Good morning, Merlin," Uther greeted coldly.
"Ah," Merlin stuttered softly, lowering his eyes. "Um, good...morning, Master."
Uther surreptitiously cast his gaze around the room. "Dear boy, whomever were you talking to?"
"My...friends."
"I see." Uther swept into the room, tapping Merlin's head as he passed. "And what are your friends made of, Merlin?"
"Nothing," Merlin said sadly.
"Can nothing talk?"
"No," Merlin answered. "It cannot."
"That's right," Uther smiled condescendingly. "You're a smart lad. Now...lunch."
Upon hearing the word, Merlin jumped into motion and hurried to a shelf against the wall, collecting several dishwares and carrying them back to a small, round table. He set down a silver platter and goblet for the king, and then a chipped wooden cup and plate for himself. Uther sat down on the padded chair, placing a covered wicker basket on the table. Merlin took out the meal, serving the finely cut meats and breads for Uther, and then the dried ones for himself before taking his seat on the rickety stool.
"Shall we review your alphabet today?" Uther asked, smiling tightly.
Merlin nodded eagerly, glad that the king appeared to be in a good mood. "Yes, Master. I would like that very much."
"Very well," he drawled. "A."
"Abomination," Merlin answered quickly, hoping to please.
"B?"
"Bastard."
"C?"
"C-c-c-c-contrition," Merlin stumbled.
"D."
"Damnation."
"E?"
"Eternal damnation!"
"Good," Uther nodded. "F."
Merlin set about breaking his bread, happy at the acknowledgement that he so rarely received. "Festival," he said. As soon as it left his mouth, he gasped and dropped his lunch to slap his hands over his big mouth.
Uther spluttered, and then dabbed his chin with his napkin, glaring angrily. "Excuse me?"
"Forgiveness!" Merlin cried, backpedaling desperately.
"You said...festival."
"No!"
Uther stood slowly, and Merlin shrank down in his seat. "You are thinking of going to the festival."
Realizing that it was no use lying, Merlin's shoulders slumped. "It's just that...you go every year."
"I am the king," Uther said sharply. "A public figurehead. I must go! But I don't enjoy a moment." His lips curled in a scornful snarl. "Thieves and hustlers and the dregs of humankind, all mixed together in a shallow, drunken stupor."
"I didn't mean to upset you, Master," Merlin said in a small voice.
Uther sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to compose himself. When he opened them again, Merlin was relieved to find the anger gone. "Merlin," he said tiredly, "can't you understand? When your heartless mother abandoned you as a child, anyone else would have drowned you. And this is my thanks for taking you in and raising you as my son?"
Merlin's mouth opened and closed, tongue scrambling for words as his eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Sire," he choked out.
The king sighed again and beckoned for Merlin to follow him out onto the balcony. Merlin hurried after him, unwilling to displease him again. "Oh, my dear Merlin," he said. "You don't know what it's like out there. I do...I do."
They stopped together, and Uther swept his arm to gesture to the city as a whole. "The world is cruel. The world is wicked. It's I alone whom you can trust in this whole city."
Merlin gazed at Uther with wide eyes, unable to comprehend that the jovial people he had spent his years watching were bad.
"I am your only friend," Uther continued. "I who keep you, teach you, dress you. I who look upon you without fear, Merlin. How can I protect you unless you stay in here always?"
Merlin didn't seem to have an answer, and looked a little confused.
"You are twisted," Uther said sternly.
"I am twisted," Merlin repeated softly. This was his least favorite lesson of all.
"And you are evil."
"I am evil."
"These are crimes," he said, "for which the world shows little pity. You don't understand, Merlin. Out there, those people will revile you as a monster."
"I am a monster," Merlin said, chest aching. He wished someone would come and make him human. He knew his master was only trying to protect him by making sure he knew these things about himself, but sometimes it felt as though Uther hated him, too.
"Why would you want that? Just stay in here, and they'll never hurt you. Remain in here, Merlin, be faithful to me."
"I am faithful," Merlin gasped out.
"Be grateful to me."
"I'm grateful."
"Do as I say, and stay in here."
"I'll stay in here," Merlin promised.
Uther nodded grimly and turned to leave, while Merlin didn't move. He scarcely could breathe. As the king passed the threshold, Merlin called out.
"You are good to me, Master," he said, and Uther paused to listen. "I am sorry."
He turned back. "You are forgiven," he said. "But remember, Merlin: this is your sanctuary." The king gestured to the bell tower, jeweled rings flashing in the sunlight.
"Sanctuary," Merlin repeated.
Uther left, boots tapping on the steps as he descended. After a moment, Merlin was no longer able to hear him.
Merlin turned back to the courtyard, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. How he wished for only one day to spend with them. Just one day, just to see what it was like, just to talk with someone. Merlin wished he weren't a monster. If he could just be normal, then he could walk around with them, have real friends that he could touch.
Merlin wanted to run downstairs and throw himself into Gaius' arms like he did when he was a child. But he couldn't. He was not allowed, even though Gaius always welcomed him and treated him kindly. But Uther disliked Gaius, so Merlin could no longer see him.
The young man rested his chin on his hands as he watched the people below, no longer able to stem his tears.
Down in the bustling streets, a well-built blonde man in armor was walking, his chestnut horse, George, trailing obediently behind him. The man, Arthur, turned the map several ways as he scrutinized it, then looked up at his surroundings before shaking his head indignantly.
"Huh," he said aloud. "You leave town for a couple of years and they change everything."
George nickered quietly, and Arthur took the reigns to lead him along, tucking the map into his belt. He spotted a pair of knights walking nearby.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said good-naturedly as he approached them. "I'm looking for the Palace of Justice. Would you -"
As the men walked past him, completely ignoring him, Arthur's good demeanor fell flat.
"Hmm," he muttered. "I suppose not."
He turned his head to glare at their backs, contemplating how he would find his destination, when out of the corner of his eye he spotted a flurry of colorful movement. In a corner made by the conjoining of a wall and a building, a young tan-skinned woman was dancing whilst playing a tambourine. Her long dark curls framed her beautiful face with chocolate eyes, and swung nearly as much as her hips did underneath her swishing purple skirts. Prancing around her feet was a dainty white goat with shocking green eyes and black, floppy ears.
Arthur gaped at her for a moment.
A mother and her young daughter walked by, momentarily obscuring his view. It prompted him to move closer.
"Stay away, child," the mother barked, grasping her daughter's arm and yanking her along when she stopped. "They're Druids. They'll curse you!"
Arthur, entranced by the girl's dancing, dropped a few gold coins in the hat on the ground. It wasn't full, as many citizens of Camelot were particularly biased against the Druids and their misunderstood magic. He stepped back to continue watching the show, momentarily forgetting that he was soon due somewhere.
A small boy with startling blue eyes and dark locks appeared at the top of the wall. Though he had said nothing and made no noise, he looked meaningfully at the dancing girl, who stopped and turned to him. They communed through their eyes, it seemed, because at once he disappeared behind the fence and the girl began to gather up her things.
As the goat picked up the hat in its teeth, the change spilled, and the girl abruptly knelt to gather the coins. She moved quickly.
But not quickly enough.
"All right, Druid," said one guard gruffly. His shadow falling over her crouched figure made her pause and look up. "Where'd you get the money?"
"For your information," she replied curtly, standing, "I earned it."
The knights guffawed. "Druids don't earn money," chuckled the first one, though with a menacing undertone.
"You steal it?" asked the other, placing his hand on his sword hilt.
Arthur narrowed his eyes at the confrontation. Harassing an innocent, unarmed woman, Druid or not, was in no chivalry codes as far as he was concerned. But he refrained from stepping in, as he wanted to see what the Druid girl would do. Perhaps he was simply waiting to see if she would use magic.
"You'd know a lot about stealing!" the girl retorted, standing her ground. The goat bleated loudly as though to agree.
"Troublemaker!" smirked the first knight.
The second stepped forward to grab her. "Maybe a day in the stocks will cool you down."
The girl backed up against the wall, looking between the two men warily. "Morgana!" she uttered. Hearing its name, the goat lowered its head and leapt forward, butting the second knight hard between the legs.
He squealed like a stuck pig, treading on his partner's feet as he fell back, clutching his crotch. The Druid girl and her goat seized the moment and ran, shouldering past Arthur as he watched her go in both surprise and amusement. He had expected her to use magic, not her pet. Although it seemed to have worked just as well.
The knights scrambled to their feet, shouting curses, and gave chase. Arthur feigned ignorance and tugged George ahead a few quick steps, blocking their path and causing them to lose sight of their adversary.
"Oh, dear," Arthur said. "I'm sorry. Were you looking for someone?"
"Why, you," fumed the knights, turning their frustration on him. "Peasant!"
Arthur cocked an eyebrow. "Peasant?" he repeated incredulously. Did they not see the brilliantly shining armor that encased his beautiful form?
The first knight yanked a small dagger from his belt, brandishing it toward Arthur to scare him. Arthur merely grinned ferally and unsheathed the polished longsword from George's saddle. The men blanched.
"You were saying...?" Arthur drawled.
Both knights finally appeared to recognize him for who he was.
"Oh! Sir, at your service, Sir!"
Arthur smiled tightly and sheathed his sword. "I know you have a lot on your mind right now, but...the Palace of Justice?"
"Of course, Sir!" squeaked the knight who had been victimized by a ruthless goat. "Right this way, Sir!"
The senior knight smiled indulgently at the idiots who immediately began to clear a path through the crowd so that they could maneuver through it. He patted George's neck, trusting the loyal steed to follow him without having to lead him by the reigns. They passed a huddled figure against a crumbling wall.
It was an old man, if the white beard was any indication. Arthur was unable to see his face because of a faded old blanket wrapped tightly over his head and shoulders. In front of him was a dented tin cup about halfway full of alms.
Arthur paused, digging into his pocket. He dropped an entire handful of gold coins into the cup, careful not to spill it. He nodded respectfully to him and continued on his way.
Once he walked by, the old man stirred, reaching up to remove the blanket. Morgana the goat dismounted the Druid girl's head, watching after the kind knight. She smiled, touched by his actions. It had not escaped her notice that he was the reason she'd managed to get away, either. Perhaps there were good people in Camelot, after all.
Though Arthur had heard that Uther was an iron-fisted ruler, he was admittedly a little surprised when he was directed to find the king in the dungeons. When he arrived in the dark, chilly corridor located rather high up, he first spotted the king standing outside of a room. It was quite clear to Arthur that the tortured screams were coming from there.
"Guard!" he snapped suddenly.
"Sire?" came an echoed reply.
"Ease up," he ordered.
Arthur felt a tad bit of relief that the man's ordeal was finished. He didn't know what crime the prisoner had committed, but he very much disliked torture for any reason. Arthur picked up the pace slightly so that he would reach him more quickly.
Uther continued speaking. "Wait between lashes. Otherwise the older sting will dull into the new."
Arthur's heart fell at those words, but he carefully schooled his expression to mask his discomfort and empathy.
"Yes, Sire."
The man's screaming began anew.
Uther turned and spotted Arthur just as he reached him. "Ah, so this is the gallant Sir Arthur, home from the wars."
"Reporting for duty, as ordered, Sire," Arthur replied, standing ramrod straight.
The king smiled. "Your service record precedes you, Arthur. I expect nothing but the best from a war hero of your caliber."
"And you shall have it, Sire. I guarantee it."
"Yes," Uther nodded, obviously pleased. "You know, my last senior knight was, um, a bit of a disappointment to me."
A whip cracked, eliciting an agonized scream that echoed hauntingly. Luckily for Arthur, Uther had turned, missing the involuntary startle the knight had given.
"Well, no matter," Uther said. "I'm sure that you'll whip my men into shape."
"Uh, thank you, Sire," Arthur cleared his throat, a bit hesitant due to the king's word choice. It must have been on purpose, though, because the king smirked. "Uh, very, uh, trem - uh, a tremendous honor, Sire."
King Uther suddenly sobered and motioned for Arthur to follow him upstairs. "You come to Camelot in her darkest hour, Sir. It will take a firm hand to save the weak-minded from becoming so easily misled."
"Misled, Sire?"
They stepped out onto an open walkway. Across the city they could see the Camelot church, bells tolling the midday hour.
"Look, Sir," Uther pointed below, "Druids."
A merry group of people were laughing and dancing, inviting other passersby to join them. One of the men was clearly drunk, and exceedingly loud. So much so that the others had to intervene when he tried to solicit a kiss from a lady. "Gwaine - no!"
Uther's lip curled in disgust. "The Druids live outside the normal order. Their heathen ways inflame the people's lowest instincts - awakens evil - and they must be stopped."
Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I was summoned from the wars to capture fortune tellers and palm readers?"
The king chuckled wryly. "Oh, the real war, Sir, is what you see before you. For twenty years, I have been taking care of the Druids, one...by...one."
With the last three words, Uther mercilessly crushed a scurrying ant on the balcony. Arthur watched, slightly perturbed. The king suddenly flipped the stone tile over, revealing a multitude of ants, which panicked and ran in each direction at the invasion.
"And yet," Uther growled, "for all my success, they have thrived. I believe they have a safe haven, within the walls of this very city. A nest, if you will. They call it the Crystal Cave."
Carefully choosing his words, Arthur asked, "And what are we going to do about it, Sire?"
With a nasty grin, Uther slammed the tile back down, grinding it a few times for good measure. Arthur felt rather numb, and perhaps a bit sorry for the crushed ants.
"You make your point quite vividly, Sire," he said.
"You know," Uther smiled, dusting his hands, "I like you, Sir. Shall we?" He turned to leave, but stopped abruptly when the crowd below began to cheer loudly. "Oh, duty calls. Have you ever attended a peasant festival, Sir?"
"Not recently, Sir," Arthur negated.
"Then this should be quite an education for you, Sir. Come along."
With all the drinking and shouting going on, no one noticed a slim, cloaked figure scaling down the side of the cathedral. Halfway down he realized that he'd sorely misjudged the length of rope he'd need, and looked up.
"I need more!" he hissed.
Will leaned back out of sight, presumably to relay the request, and after a moment reappeared. He shrugged. "There is no more!"
"Agh," Merlin groaned. "Okay, I'm coming back up!"
He made to pull himself up, but then realized he didn't have the upper body strength, and was now stranded. Merlin looked down, wondering if he could drop safely. Not a chance, considering he was more than thirty feet up.
"Will!" he hissed again. "Go get Gaius!"
"Gaius can't see me, you dollop-head!"
"Aaagh."
"Use your magic!"
"No!"
"Use it!" Will waved his arms in a flighty gesture, giving Merlin a pointed look.
Merlin shook his head, still clinging for dear life. "I can't believe you all talked me into this! Clotpoles!"
Freya and Lancelot appeared at the balcony on either side of Will. "Use your magic!" they insisted.
"It's forbidden except to ring the bells," Merlin protested.
"Use it!" Lancelot said.
"Hurry," Freya urged, "before someone sees you!"
At last Merlin gave in, looking around. No one seemed to have noticed him yet. With a sigh, he allowed the familiar buzzing beneath his skin to escape. The soothing heat in his eyes meant that they were glowing gold, something he had quickly learned to fear in others' presences.
Turning his ankles so that his toes pointed toward one of the statues, Merlin propelled himself sideways, latching onto a fold in the holy man's stone robes. He released the rope, then sent it coiling upwards into the bell tower so that he could put it away later.
Using magic to ensure his balance and agility, Merlin clambered down the statue, occasionally pausing to secure his cloak. He couldn't afford to let anyone see him, to learn his identity. Uther would kill him.
A group of Druids had banded together on a platform in the center of the courtyard, singing loudly and jovially. It drew people's attention, including Merlin's. He turned to listen and watch, legs wrapped around a lamp pole to which he had jumped from his perch on the statue's huge foot.
The performers encouraged people to dance and sing along, and though most people didn't know the words, it didn't stop them from adding their own lyrics. Grinning happily at the display, Merlin slid down the pole and was swallowed up by the crowd.
Completely unused to being jostled around by people, Merlin found himself overwhelmed. The smells, the touches, the sounds, were all a bit too much for him. He struggled to get out of the crowd, almost panicking as he realized he needed air.
Just as he made it to the edge of the fray, someone bumped into him and sent him sprawling head first into a bright tent. He crashed to the floor, sending clothes and furniture flying. A dressing screen was knocked over, much to the consternation of a girl, who yelped in shock and quickly covered herself.
"Hey!" she said, initially offended. But when she saw that the young man was pulling down the hood of his cloak to block everything out and looked rather embarrassed as he struggled to disentangle himself and get to his feet, she softened. "Are you all right?"
"I didn't mean to," he stammered out. "I'm sorry!"
"You're not hurt, are you?" she asked, kneeling beside him. "Here, let's see."
"No, no, no!" Merlin said frantically, trying to push her hands back.
Unsuccessful at stopping her, he froze and waited for his doom as the Druid girl pulled back his hood. Her chocolate brown eyes studied his face, and then she smiled, much to Merlin's shock.
"There," she said kindly. "See, no harm done. Just try to be a little more careful."
"I-I-I will," Merlin stuttered weakly, quickly stumbling to his feet and running outside. He flung himself headlong into the thick crowd, now glad for it because it would hide him.
As King Uther and Sir Arthur arrived at the festival, accompanied by several lesser knights, a Druid jumped up on stage. Uther entered a small pavilion and sat on a small throne, already bored. Arthur sat atop his horse at the king's side, observing his surroundings.
"Come one!" said the Druid grandly, spreading his arms invitingly. "Come all! Hurry, hurry, here's your chance! See the mystery and romance!
"Come one! Come all! See the finest girl in Albion make an entrance to entrance! Dance, Guinevere...Dance!" With that, the Druid's eyes flashed gold and he disappeared into a cloud of brilliant smoke, which quickly cleared away.
In his place was the Druid girl whom Arthur and Merlin had met, wearing an Arabian-influenced garment. The tassels and beads swung and bounced with her movements, as did her curly hair. The sultry music matched her sweet performance.
Uther's lip curled. "Look at that disgusting display," he said to his new senior knight.
"Yes, Sire," Arthur said enthusiastically, leaning forward.
Guinevere continued to dance, striding along the makeshift boardwalk to Uther's pavilion. From somewhere within her bosom, she pulled out a long, starry handkerchief. The Druid girl wrapped the fabric around Uther's neck, using it to pull him close. The cold fury in his expression and his stiff posture did nothing to deter her.
Still dancing seductively, Guinevere leaned close to kiss him, but then twirled away at the last second, leaving Uther with the handkerchief around his head, concealing his face. Uther angrily yanked the cloth off, but she was already gone.
The Druid who had announced Guinevere's dance was once more front and center. "And now, ladies and gentlemen," he called, "the piece de resistance!"
The eager crowd, if at all possible, gathered even more closely to the podium.
"Here it is, the moment you've been waiting for! Here it is, you know exactly what's in store! Now's the time we laugh until our sides get sore! Now's the time we crown the king of fools!"
The citizens cheered wildly.
The Druid grinned at the response. "You all remember last year's king?"
A drunken man was lifted on the shoulders of several Druids, calling for another tankard. His overall scruffy appearance made Gwaine the perfect candidate every year.
"So come on up, contestants!"
The Druid bent down and began helping those who were too drunk to help themselves get onto the platform. He continued to shout encouragements for more people to come up. Guinevere reappeared, wearing her normal purple dress, and helped as well. Spotting a familiar face, she smiled and reached out invitingly.
The laughing crowd abruptly stopped when he was pulled up, hood down. Then, as though someone had cued them, the citizens gasped in alarm and fear, murmuring amongst themselves.
"It's the sorcerer," cried one frightened voice, "from the bell tower!"
"The sorcerer!"
"Sorcerer?!"
"Why is he -"
"Who let him -"
"Sorcerer!"
Merlin, devastated to realize that they were afraid of him, shrank back. Guinevere tightened her hold on his arm, though, utterly confused by their reactions. Uther had stood from his seat, seething at the sight of his ward.
Before the crowd got too out of control, the male Druid on the stage leapt forward. "Wait!" he cried. "Ladies and gentlemen, don't panic! We asked for the scariest face in Camelot, and here he is!" He gestured grandly to Merlin, who barely concealed a flinch. "Merlin, the Sorcerer of Camelot!"
All at once, as though by magic, the crowd's mood improved. The festive people cheered and catcalled, whistled and toasted. Merlin was confused at the sudden change, but as it was a good one he allowed himself a tentative smile.
Guinevere disappeared from his side as Geoffrey of Monmouth, the Druid who had led the activities, placed a silly crown over his dark locks.
"Hail to the king!" he bellowed, leaping aside with a flourish.
The crowd cheered wildly, and Merlin felt dizzy with excitement, emotion swelling in his breast. Uther was wrong! The people loved him. They were even chanting his name! He had been crowned the King of Fools! Merlin, the supposed evil spawn of Druid, was loved!
To the side, two knights did not approve of the festivities.
"Watch this," said one to his partner, smirking and winding his arm back.
A tomato hit Merlin square in the face, splattering. Stunned, Merlin looked down to the ruined vegetable at his feet. The crowd went silent once more, but only for a split second.
Laughter erupted.
"Hail to the king!" howled a mocking voice.
Suddenly, Merlin found himself being pelted with produce of all kinds, including boiled potatoes. He raised his arms defensively, mind reeling. Why were they doing this? Never in all his years of watching them had they done such a thing!
Uther was right.
Merlin tried to jump down from the stage, hoping to avoid any more humiliation and foodstuffs. But they weren't finished. Before he could escape, he found himself being lassoed like livestock, pinned down to the platform. The fruits and vegetables continued to rain down on Merlin, who searched the crowd for a kind face, for someone who might stop his torment. He was horribly afraid that they would run out of food and start hitting him with rocks.
He spotted Uther.
"Master!" he called. "Master, please! Help me!"
Uther merely glared at him from his distance. Finally, Arthur had had enough.
"Sire," he said, "request permission to stop this cruelty."
"In a moment, Sir," Uther replied coolly. "A lesson needs to be learned here."
Just as the words left his mouth, the crowd, for a third time, fell silent. Arthur abandoned his incredulous and disgusted gape at the king to see what had caused the diversion, and Uther's look of contempt intensified.
Guinevere was slowly ascending the steps that led up to the platform, wide eyes locked on the pitiful form of Merlin, who had begun to weep when Uther did nothing. His blue eyes looked pleadingly at her as she knelt beside him, soiling her dress with juice.
"Don't be afraid," she said softly when he shied away, voice wavering with the same emotion that swam in her eyes. "I'm sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen."
Uther growled. "You! Druid girl!" he barked. "Get down at once!"
She turned to look at him over her shoulder, but made no move otherwise. Her face hardened as her eyes met his. "Yes, Your Highness," she called back bitterly. "Just as soon as I free this poor person."
"I forbid it!"
Lifting the hem of her skirt, Guinevere pulled out a small knife from her boot. She swiftly cut the ropes that bound Merlin to the podium, then stood and turned to Uther.
He bared his teeth. "How dare you defy me!"
"You mistreat this poor boy the same way you mistreat my people!" she said, full of conviction. "You speak of justice, yet you are cruel to those who most need your help!"
"Silence!" the king yelled, spittle flying from his lips.
"Justice!" retorted the Druid girl, pointing her knife skyward.
Uther, breathing heavily, clenched his fists. "Mark my words, Druid. You will pay for this insolence."
"Then it appears we've crowned the wrong fool," she replied calmly, tucking the knife back into her boot. "The only fool I see is you!"
"Sir Arthur!" Uther barked. "Arrest her."
Though disheartened by the order, Arthur motioned the knights forward. They moved into position, surrounding the stage.
At once Guinevere began to cry, looking horribly frightened. Arthur cringed inwardly, regretting that she would likely be imprisoned. But as she reached for another handkerchief in her bosom, he noticed something change about her - her eyes. But before his mind could completely register it, Guinevere buried her face in the new cloth.
And promptly disappeared in a puff of smoke.
The crowd gasped, and the knights groaned.
Magic.
Uther shouted in frustration, kicking his throne off of its pedestal. Arthur turned to him to await the orders he knew was coming. "Find her, Sir Arthur! I want her alive!"
"Yes, Sire," he responded, already turning to the knights. "Seal off the area, men. Find the Druid girl, and do not harm her!"
Arthur and the knights quickly dispersed. The girl could be anywhere, but was likely somewhere nearby. After all, it took powerful magic to transport, and she didn't seem to possess much. Guinevere would probably be tired after that theatrical disappearance.
Uther approached Merlin, who hadn't moved except to shrug off the remainder of the ropes. The crowd had slowly moved away, noticing the dark clouds that were moving in quickly. Merlin hung his head low, ashamed.
"I'm sorry, Master," he whispered brokenly. "I will never disobey you again."
When Uther said nothing, Merlin slowly lowered himself from the stage and trudged across the courtyard to the church, disgusted with himself. As he reached the steps, the rain began to fall. Merlin looked back to see Uther watching him coldly, then averted his gaze and shut the door to his freedom.