Disclaimer: Do not own Merlin! That would be some random guys in Britain who have a tv channel that I watch a lot. Robin Hood, Sherlock, and now Merlin. I love these shows. Makes me proud to be a quarter British. Oh, by the way: I OWN JO! Although she doesn't like being owned...
I'm sorry! I know it's been longer than usual; I've been watching Game of Thrones worshipfully, because it's one of the most amazing shows I've ever seen. Seriously, you can't get any more awesome than Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen and Tyrion Lannister. Speaking of, I hate Aredian even more now... cause he's that asshole, Tywin Lannister. Hmm... crossover? JOKING!
On a particular day in Camelot, there was a palpable feeling of high spirits in the air. Performers juggled, danced, sang, played instruments, balanced on their hands, and even held mock battles while they slowly made their way up the streets to the castle. Townspeople gathered to witness the rare spectacle, whooping and cheering to their hearts' content. The plethora of colors and sounds reached the gates in due time; one man in the front did a spectacular flip and bowed to several maids nearby, making them all giggle.
"Whoa!"
Merlin grinned and clapped from where he watched at Arthur's window, feeling as though he could bounce off walls; he had had little cause to feel lighthearted these days. Not even Nimueh's near constant prophecies of impending doom could get him down from his high.
He shouted in excitement again when another performer let off a shower of sparks.
"Merlin!"
And there was the darkest cloud in the room: the birthday boy himself. Frowning (and also pouting, just a bit), Merlin craned his neck to look at him.
"What's wrong?" he asked, exasperated. "It's your birthday. The whole of Camelot's celebrating!"
Arthur's only response was a grunt.
"Well we can't forget that it's the anniversary of Ygraine's death," Nimueh pointed out.
Just like that, Merlin's good mood plummeted to almost match Arthur's. He'd forgotten about that; maybe that was the reason for Arthur's sulking.
"Please," came a voice from the doorway. The subject of conversation herself stepped forward, offering him a small smile. "You're right Merlin, of course. It's a day for celebration. You and Arthur should both be enjoying yourselves; it'll make me happy to see my son smile."
Just as Merlin felt a weight lift from his shoulders, Arthur had to break the string lifting it again.
"I suppose the king won't be able to attend."
Even Ygraine's smiling face fell.
"I suppose not," murmured Merlin, thoughts racing. "But I'm sure he would want you to be happy."
Arthur sighed, turning and giving Merlin a mock glare. "Very well, you've convinced me. I'll be visiting him for a little, then I'll join the 'celebrations', as you call this bloody circus-"
"-um, sire, it is a circus-"
The prince continued as though he hadn't heard. "You, in the meantime, can clean my room, wash my clothes, and bring my father and I lunch. Then you can have the rest of the day off."
Ygraine decided against following her son into her husband's room, choosing instead to visit the Great Hall and observe the preparations. She passed Guinevere in the corridor, smiling at the girl even though she was invisible to her. Jo hadn't visited in awhile, so she surmised that the blond woman was occupied with Morgana. She had always been an outsider- someone who usually stood back and observed, never really becoming associated with anyone. Ygraine was glad that Jo seemed to have, at last, found somewhere to belong.
The upbeat mood that ran throughout Camelot was contagious; even the dead seemed excited, many gathered in the Great Hall to view the proceedings. She headed in the general direction of the entertainers just in time to see one of them snap a case of something shut while addressing another man who was at least two heads shorter than the first. Their conversation was nothing unusual; outlining plans for the performance later, speaking egotistically about their various skills... it was all things that Ygraine had seen before, though this year's festivities seemed especially exuberant.
"Your majesty," came a sharp voice from behind her.
Ygraine pivoted gracefully to face Bertha, the former head cook at Camelot. She'd died of illness years ago and had haunted the kitchens ever since, watching her replacement and his underlings like a hawk.
Ygraine smiled; she was fond of the woman, finding her sharp tone and crabby manner somewhat endearing. "Hello, Bertha. Is the cooking up to your standards?"
Bertha snorted. "Hardly. Bloody Gerald's getting the soup wrong! Too much salt, that'll make the Prince's face pucker up like a raisin."
"Well, we'll have to hope that the soup won't be served to my son." In actuality, Ygraine highly doubted that there was anything at all wrong with the soup, but she knew better than to disagree with Bertha. "Anyway, did you need me for anything?"
"An odd one's askin' for you," said Bertha, habitually rolling up her sleeves without (Ygraine suspected) realizing it. "Bloke named Aredian?"
Ygraine sighed. "If you see him, tell him I refuse to speak with him until he learns to directly speak with me. If he were truly noble, he would have approached me himself instead of sending messengers. As it is, I would rather he not converse with me at all."
"Said it had somethin' to do with the magic boy."
Ygraine's attention was caught like a fish on a hook. "Merlin?"
"That his name? Never bothered finding out. Claims he knows something about Marvin-"
"-Merlin-"
"-and the former ward. Overheard Vivienne or somethin' like that. Threatened to tell Martin-"
"-Merlin-"
"-unless you went and talked to him."
Ygraine's expectations of the day plummeted. What Aredian was doing was nothing short of blackmail; the man was desperate to speak to her for some reason, and she didn't want to burden the young warlock with what Vivienne had discovered just yet. "Very well; I suppose I'll go and find him."
"Says 'e's down in the castle archives. Finds it amusing to talk to all the dead bookworms down there, or somethin' like that."
Ygraine nodded her thanks and took leave of Bertha, following the twisting castle passages down to the library. Spirits were able to walk straight through walls if they so wished (she could even sink through the floor) but she preferred going the long way, admiring the sights of the castle she called home. Striding quickly past a snoring Geoffrey of Monmouth and smiling fondly at the sight, she made her way to the back alcoves. Indeed, there were several heated debates of numerous deceased scholars going on. Aredian was not a participant at that moment, but was instead waiting for her at the back.
"Your majesty," he said, bowing. Ygraine was not flattered.
"Next time, approach me and inform me yourself," she said, her tone losing its customary warmth.
"Forgive me, Queen Ygraine," he replied. "But I have a small favor to ask of you. It should not be very difficult to carry out; it's a task I suspect that a small child could accomplish-"
"What do you want, Aredian?"
"What I want is quite simple," he said, shrugging. "Revenge."
"You and half the other people I meet," she deadpanned. Inwardly, she thought Jo would have been proud.
He continued as though he had not heard her. "I want revenge on the Merlin boy. He and his magic were what got me killed."
"There is not much I can do about it," Ygraine told him, frowning. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"It's simple really," he said, looking incredibly pleased with himself. "Just inform the witch that he is Emrys."
"No."
"If you don't, then I will tell him what Vivienne told you a few weeks ago."
Ygraine bit her lip. She had to choose between two evils- and it was quite clear to her which was the lesser evil.
"Then tell him," she replied flippantly, straightening her spine. With a frosty look that brooked no argument, she spun on her heels and left the room.
Many of the guests were watching the show, clapping wholeheartedly. The rest kept glancing quickly in shock at the normal-looking Uther Pendragon, who sat in his usual seat, looking for all the world as though nothing was wrong except for a bit of paleness. Merlin had been surprised as well when Arthur told him that his father would be attending the feast. His heart had ached for Arthur at the almost unrestrained joy on the prince's face- the hope that maybe, just maybe, Uther was finally recovering.
Naturally, Merlin was plagued with mixed feelings regarding this development. A part of him was happy for Arthur- how could he not be? Arthur was his friend, and he cared about how he felt. Another part of him was disappointed that there was a chance that the tyrant might be able to rule for a few more years yet, delaying the return of magic even further. And then yet another part of him felt guilty for wishing the man dead.
Still, he couldn't begrudge Arthur's good mood; the prince looked happier than he had in days, clearly relieved and joyful that his father was once again sitting by his side. Ygraine was standing behind them, looking more radiant than ever, a beautiful smile gracing her face. Merlin knew that she had had little cause to be happy these past few weeks. How could he consider taking that away from anyone?
"Arthur looks content," commented Lancelot. "Perhaps this marks the beginning of Uther's recovery."
"That isn't very good for Merlin, is it though?" asked Will on his other side. "I mean, the man'll probably go even more paranoid over magic than before, what with Morgana betraying him and all."
Merlin waited, but the snarky comment that he had been expecting never came. Frowning, he glanced around to make sure no one was paying him much attention before turning to Lancelot. "Where's Nimueh?"
Lancelot shrugged. Will's brow scrunched up a bit. "I remember her being with us back in Arthur's chambers; she must've slipped away at some point."
Merlin, as he had had a habit of doing lately, massaged his temples. It was ironic that he was made more nervous by her absence than her presence. He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by one of the entertainers. The man was white haired, and had a secretive smirk that seemed permanently stuck to his face.
"I have a challenge for you, Prince Arthur," he said clearly. "Do you accept?"
Arthur exchanged glances and grins with Uther, shrugging and standing. "Of course." His father clapped him on his shoulder.
"He's even acting normally," said Will, in awe.
"How would you know?"
Aaaand there she was. Merlin shot Nimueh a reproachful look, only to receive a sneer in return. She looked over at the performers, raising an eyebrow. "Looks fun."
They were strapping Arthur to a giant wheel, rendering him immobile before the one who had issued the challenge shoved an apple into his mouth. He then stepped back several paces, gesturing for one of his helpers to bring a case to him. Merlin's breath caught when the man pulled a well-sharpened dagger out, showing it to the audience.
The wheel began to turn.
Already he could feel his magic responding to his agitation and anxiety. It leaped against his barriers, trying to get through to stop the knife that flipped through the air, to bury itself not a hair's breadth away from the left side of Arthur's head.
As one, the audience sagged in relief, Merlin, Lancelot and Will among them. Nimueh just looked gleeful.
The second dagger landed on the right side of his head. Merlin was almost certain he saw Arthur go limp, glad to not have been impaled.
Then, before he could even have time to recover, the third was let loose. Its motion seemed to slow before him- beautiful, but deadly as it raced towards his friend. Smiles faltered, and Merlin felt his magic about to get past the boundary when-
The dagger buried itself in the apple.
Thump. A nobleman sitting nearby fainted. As the man was helped out of the hall by several servants, Arthur stumbled down from the mechanism, grinning idiotically and munching on the apple as though he hadn't just almost been stuck with a knife. Merlin couldn't help but roll his eyes as Nimueh voiced exactly what he'd been thinking.
"Typical."
"Isn't that poison oak?"
"It has its uses."
"What, like giving people rashes?"
"I don't imagine your father bothered to teach you much about herbs," snapped Morgana.
"No, he didn't," replied Jo, unabashed. "I had to learn the hard way. I almost died after eating a yew berry by accident."
Curious despite herself, Morgana looked up. "How come you're ali-" She broke off, aware of the mistake she'd been about to make. Jo only smirked.
"It took healing via magic, a week of being bedridden, and about three bucket fulls of vomit."
"Lovely picture," replied the witch, grimacing. She moved on to the marigold plant, gathering several handfuls and stuffing them into her sack. The forest seemed quieter than usual; reports of a possible Questing Beast sighting were rumored around the smaller towns, according to Jo. Something, she knew, was coming. Morgana just wasn't sure what- and whether it would benefit her or not.
"By the way..." began Jo, suddenly keeping her voice flat. Morgana frowned and turned to her- the girl only did that when she had something important to say. "Ygraine told me something interesting the other day. Or rather, half of something interesting."
"It's not like you to beat around the bush," said Morgana. "Spit it out already."
"The reason you fainted was because you're bonded with someone who was attacked by a Dorocha."
Morgana felt her stomach flop. "Bonded?"
"Yeah, bonded. As in, if they die, you die. If they're hurt, you feel their pain, and vice versa. If you knew the person, you could probably communicate or something. That sort of thing."
"Who?"
"She said she didn't know," replied Jo. "Ha. More weaknesses for you..." But there was no real taunt in her voice.
"You're not wearing any trousers," Merlin said, struggling with all his might not to burst out laughing, though Arthur seemed too drunk to care. Nimueh had already given up, collapsed on the floor as she was, positively hooting. Lancelot was succeeding keeping a straight face, while Will was laughing almost as hard as the sorceress.
"Good point," muttered Arthur, pulling them up as though it were as trivial as swinging a sword (which he, being a prince, did on a daily basis). The prince stumbled out of the room, his boots scraping on the floor as he went. Merlin filed away a reminder that he would probably have to drag Arthur back to his chambers later; maybe he could enlist Gwaine's help. On second thought, that was probably a bad idea, as Gwaine would most likely be even more drunk.
Leon then, he decided. Nimueh and Will were beginning to calm down at last; Lancelot was breathing deeply, clearly relieved at not having laughed insanely like the other two.
Merlin shrugged to himself. "Might as well find Gaius."
Ygraine entered the room, and felt the smile slip off of her face.
The entertainer was dead, the blood seeping from where the sword protruded from his gut. Her husband was bleeding as well, cradled in the arms of their son, who alternated between shouting for help and sobbing quietly. Her hands flew to her mouth as a wordless cry escaped it, and a blur of movement later found her kneeling at their sides, calling out for her son's pain. Uther himself seemed almost at peace- as though he were already dead, caused by his one day of clarity. Why? Arthur still needed him. She had waited for two decades; she could wait longer.
The door banged open and her brother rushed into the room, followed by Guinevere. Both of their faces went slack with shock at the sight that befell them. Ygraine wondered distantly what they would think if they could see her in the room; no doubt they would think the sight even stranger.
She glanced at Arthur, surprised to see that he had already wiped the wetness off of his face. His normally vibrant eyes had lost their vitality and became dull. Someone was speaking to her, she realized, as though listening from outside her soul. The voice was female and vaguely familiar- Vivienne. Then an arm was attempting to guide her out of the room, but she shook it off. No, she needed to be in the room, in case Uther's time did indeed come. She needed to be there to- to-
Why did-
What was wrong with her?
Why was it so hard?
Vivienne was in front of her, smiling sadly.
"The fool queen, they should have called you," she said gently. "Sometimes, you can be far too selfless."
The hours passed. They- meaning two knights- got the king into his bed, and Gaius ran a check on him. Merlin, Arthur and Guinevere stood to the side, watching in silence. Glancing around her, Ygraine realized that Vivienne had left some time ago- probably to find Gorlois and tell him the news. She also noticed Merlin's eyes move over to her once or twice. Nimueh had entered the room, laughed once, and then departed once again. Will left as well, uncomfortable. Lancelot stayed, his eyes not leaving the king's still form.
Eventually, Gwen left as well.
A part of Ygraine wanted to scream at Gaius to hurry up, but she refrained from doing so. Eventually, Gaius looked over at Arthur, his expression grim.
"I'm afraid his heart is bleeding, sire," the physician explained. "He has only a few days at most."
Arthur turned a strange color- almost gray. "Is there nothing that can be done for him?"
Gaius' response was a simple shake of his head. Ygraine's head snapped over to the door, where she heard a shuffling noise that no one else seemed to notice. Suspicion formed in her mind as to who it could be, but there wasn't anything she could do about it.
"Could magic be used to save him?"
All eyes in the room shot over to the prince, who had uttered the words- all except for Ygraine's. Instead, her gaze flicked over to her son's manservant, who was looking like he didn't know whether to faint or to break out into song. He quickly composed his expression and met her stare, the resolve there quite clear. It looked like he was apologizing to her. She smiled sadly, and shook her head.
"In theory... yes," was Gaius' cautious reply.
"Then do it," commanded Arthur, almost glaring at him. "Find a sorcerer who will help us, I don't care how far you have to look for one. If they're willing to heal my father, I'll take them. I'll do whatever they ask."
"Are you sure that is wise, sire?"
"Yes," replied Arthur with absolute certainty.
Nothing more was to be said on the subject.
When Agravaine entered the hovel, Jo wondered vaguely if he didn't have more important things to do at Camelot. How was it that no one seemed to pay any heed to his more-than-frequent trips to the forest? Perhaps they assumed that he was a troubled man, or that he was having a liaison with someone outside of court. Well, Jo was certain that he wished he were having a liaison with a certain witch.
"Mortally wounded?" said Morgana in a strangled voice. She looked as though she didn't know whether to be happy or confused.
"Yes," reported Agravaine. "But there is a problem."
"Isn't there always?" Jo asked tiredly. The corners of Morgana's mouth twitched.
"Arthur intends to use magic to heal his father."
The witch's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Jo wasn't as shocked; she knew about Arthur risking himself to save the druid boy a couple years ago. "Well then... we must ensure that he fails."
Jo instantly saw the possibly fatal flaw in the plan. If Agravaine were to place the necklace on Uther, then Ygraine (who probably hadn't left his bedside) would instantly notice. Vivienne had told her something that would mean problems if the queen decided to put a stop to it.
So, while Agravaine was being tasked with making sure that Uther's heart finally stopped beating, Jo assigned for herself the task of keeping Ygraine out of the way.
After all, she had no great love for the man who had- by all rights- killed her.
Will couldn't get the bad feeling out of the pit of his stomach.
Merlin was planning on using his magic to heal the king. He'd told Arthur where to find the sorcerer earlier and was now pacing his small room, probably too excited to sleep. It was finally his chance to prove that magic wasn't necessarily a force for evil... and yet Will felt that a black cloud was hanging over his head.
Something wasn't right here.
Something was going to go wrong.
He felt he should warn Merlin. The warlock might listen to him; he was much better at doing so than Arthur Pendragon, but Will had rarely seen his friend look so happy.
So, seating himself at Gaius' work table and absently watching the old man make a poultice, he decided to keep his mouth shut.
Meh... not as long as I'd like. Oh well. I'm starting to love writing Ygraine; hers is one of the few characters that hasn't been explored very well in the series, and I just can't help but like her. And I throw more hints about Jo at you- but not the full story. That'll be awhile. I'm sadistic.
Reason for the title: Tragedy. Well, obvious... it still works grammar-wise because it's a play genre. Heehee!
More Ygraine next chapter, by the way. As for Aredian (coughTywinLannistercough)... well, we'll see what's up with him, and what he wants to tell Merlin. By the way- I added Bertha because she knows Jo. I'm debating about whether or not I should keep her around, or let her disappear after this chapter. What do you all think?
Again, sorry for the late update! Blame the awesomeness that is Game of Thrones. Many thanks to my incredible reviewers: SunnySmile13, Meri Ley, Fiwen9430, La La Looney, King Sabre Tooth, and Mike3207. I luvs you all!
Review, please! (Nimueh might be high on sugar next chapter if you do... oh yeah, and WILL IS GENDRY!)