Hot and sweaty from another hard session of trying to whip another group of would-be knights into shape, Arthur returned to the castle kitchens where, not so long ago, he had commissioned from the cook a special dish comprising of a pastry case lined with a sour cherry compote base and topped with a frangipane filling with flaked almonds scattered over the top.
This time, however, he did not stride into the kitchen in his usual brash manner but instead, crept quietly (as quietly as a man in armour could) down the few stairs to the main room where the cook and her assistants bustled around each other in what looked like a chaotic but carefully choreographed dance.
He could hear the matronly, no-nonsense cook muttering to herself about the amount of preparation and food to be cooked for this evening, there were still a number of the more important guests to whom Uther had extended an invitation of unlimited stay.
Poking his head slowly around the corner, Arthur scanned the scene carefully but he was quickly confused by the number of pots and saucepans steaming and bubbling merrily on the hobs while a suckling pig was being spit-roasted within the large cooking fireplace which was tended by a young lad who frequently mopped his brow with a large handkerchief.
The prince sighed, irritated by the uncomfortable heat and his inability to seek out the particular pot or dish or whatever it was that he was supposed to be looking for. So much for stealth! Arthur blew out a puff of air from the corner of his mouth which lifted a lock of blond hair which hung over his eyes.
Standing up straight and pulling his shoulders back in a suitably regal fashion, Arthur pulled out the small phial of purple liquid and carefully loosened the cork stopper before hiding it in one of his mail gauntlets which he had taken off.
"Ah, Cook," he said to announce his visit to the woman who was astounded to see the prince appear not once but twice in one day in a part of the castle which he had hitherto never set foot in before.
"My lord?" she asked enquiringly.
"I was just wondering how that cake was coming along?" he smiled brightly at her.
"Tart."
Arthur cocked his head to one side, a little taken aback. "Excuse me?"
"Tart," she reiterated. "It's a tart, not a cake." Running a busy kitchen such as Camelot's required almost military organisation and planning and Cook was not going to be swayed from her work even if it was the Crown Prince.
"Oh, I see, yes." He realised just how out of his depth he felt in a domain where he clearly had no control whatsoever.
"It's 'coming along' fine. Were you wanting it served for this evening's meal?" Cook asked bluntly.
"Um, no. I was rather, uh, wanting to serve it to Princess Elena as an afternoon sweet." Arthur felt like a child caught doing something naughty but not being sure what he had done wrong. "Could I see what it looks like?"
Cook gave him a funny look but he was the prince and she wasn't technically in a place to refuse him even if she ruled in the world of the kitchen. "This way, though I must tell you, it is not yet near finished cooking."
Arthur followed her to a long wooden workbench on which sat an earthenware dish lined with pastry on covered with a jam-like cherry sauce, a bowl next to it held the filling of ground almonds, butter, sugar and eggs. He wasn't lying when he leaned over the containers and sniffed, "Mmm, smells good." He pointed to the cherry mixture. "May I?"
Cook took a small spoon, lifted out a taste of the compote and held it out to Arthur who nodded in satisfaction after carefully putting it to his mouth. It held just the right amount of sharpness to account for any bitter taste that might be present in the finished tart.
"It tastes great, thank you." Arthur beamed his most charming smile at the middle-aged woman in an attempt to soften her stern demeanour but he could see no noticeable effect. All of a sudden, he lifted his nose as if sniffing the air. "Is that burning?" he enquired with a note of concern and nodded in the direction of the great fireplace.
Cook let out an unseemly yelp at his query and bustled hastily to where the pig was crackling and sizzling under the kitchen-hand's attentive eye with no hint of burning at all. Arthur felt a bit guilty as he briefly watched the lad being scolded harshly by the cook for something which he hadn't even done but there was no time to tarry.
With a furtive glance round about him to make sure nobody was looking, Arthur slipped the small bottle from his gauntlet and sprinkled a few drops of the potion on the cherry layer. He was about to return the bottle to its hiding place when with a slight shrug, he added an extra shake. For luck.
He slipped away, mission complete, and sent a silent prayer that the plan would work.
Gwen was surprised to see Arthur emerging from the kitchen as she returned from her latest visit to Merlin. It was distressing for her to see her friend so helpless and it distressed her to be so helpless to do anything. Merlin, she decided, was arguably her best friend in Camelot. Certainly, she was well-liked by many of Camelot's citizens but there were not that many she would call close friends and fewer still who she would share any secrets with. In many ways, Merlin fulfilled that role – they had supported each other through tough times, shared hopes and dreams. They could be themselves with each other safe in the knowledge that there would be no repercussions from any confidences shared.
To Arthur, she had given her heart whether she wished it so or not and he had reciprocated the feeling in small, subtle ways but the huge barrier between them remained insurmountable. She knew she had to let him go – she'd already done so by not showing any objection to his marriage to another but there was still that hollow, empty sadness in her soul.
He spotted her immediately, as if his senses were automatically tuned to find her wherever she was and he went straight over towards her. There was nothing wrong with that was there? Just two people showing their concern for a mutual friend, that was all. Their eyes and behaviour told a different story, though and the slight nervousness and the uncertain glances spoke volumes about things their voices could not utter out loud.
"My lord." Gwen's eyes were downcast.
"Guinevere. How is Merlin?" Arthur wanted to place his fingers beneath her chin and tilt her face up to his.
"He is the same, at least he has not deteriorated." She rewarded him with an optimistic smile.
"And how are you? I hope that you are well? I hope that we, I mean Merlin, aren't taking you away from any time you might want to have to yourself?" She was touched by the feeling in his question.
"No, no," she replied quickly before pausing. "Since her return, Lady Morgana has not required my services as much as before and I find I have more free time than I know what to do with these days."
"You can always spend it with me." The words had come out before he realised what he'd said and his eyes filled with horror at himself and he feared the worst, that now he had surely driven her away with his forwardness.
Gwen felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment and also guilt that she secretly very much desired to do just that. "I…I…uh…" she stammered, not knowing what to say.
"I meant, there is plenty you can do for me." Arthur was horrified as he heard what he said in his attempt to extricate himself from his bad case of foot-in-mouth disease. "That is, with Merlin out of action, there are some chores that I need done." Arthur shook his head in mortification as she regarded him with startled eyes.
Dear gods, I've just told her I see her as nothing more than a servant!" He could have kicked himself and he wished the ground would swallow him whole right then. Everything he was saying was going wrong!
It was Gwen who took the initiative to leave first. "I see. Please excuse me, my lord. I have some chores of my own to attend to." She hurried away, leaving him staring after her with a devastated expression.
That afternoon, when Arthur had bathed and changed, he took charge of a rather delicious looking pastry set on a pretty plate and made his way to the guest chambers where Princess Elena was currently being housed.
His knock on the door was answered by her nanny, Grunhilda.
"Your Highness," curtseyed the plump older woman.
"Ah, Mistress Grunhilda, how delightful to see you again." Arthur kept his smile bright as he entered the room and went over to where Elena was sitting and who now looked at him with some wonderment and pleasure at his unexpected appearance." She had had little contact with her supposed husband-to-be much to the disgruntlement of her nanny and the poor princess had begun to give up all hope of being re-united with him.
"Elena, I'm sorry that I have been unable to see more of you lately since the unfortunate incident with my servant. I'm sure you understand what it must be like to worry about a dear companion who has fallen very ill."
The young princess looked over at her nanny and smiled sweetly. "Yes, of course. I'm sure I wouldn't know what to do if anything happened to Grunhilda, I think I would be beside myself."
Arthur kept up his full charm offensive. "Thank you for being so understanding and to make up for my lack of attentiveness, I wish to invite you and Mistress Grunhilda for a spot of cake and sweet wine which Cook has prepared specially."
Elena clapped her hands in joy. "That would be lovely, we shall come with you now, won't we, Nanny?"
Arthur held out his arm to young woman and led the way out while Grunhilda allowed herself a satisfied smirk which she quickly hid.
Tables had been laid for the royal court to enjoy a light repast and the top table seated the royalty and their companions. Grunhilda sat alongside her charge since she was her only companion in Camelot.
The conversation was light-hearted and Uther demonstrated his capacity for easy small-talk with all his guests and gave everyone an idea of where Arthur had inherited his charm from.
While guards lined the walls at intervals, several pageboys hurried amongst the tables to serve the guests efficiently and on the top table, Arthur had laid his very special tart. "Please, let me serve. It's the least I can do." He used a knife to expertly cut out generous wedges which he gave to Elena, Grunhilda, his father and himself.
Uther raised his goblet and announced a toast. "To Princess Elena."
Everyone followed suit and echoed, "Princess Elena," accompanied by polite smiles in her direction.
"Yum," nodded Elena in approval as she took her first mouthful.
"This is very good, Arthur, you must give Cook our compliments," agreed Uther.
The slices of tart were finished in quick time and Arthur insisted in second helpings which nobody objected to.
With their stomachs satiated, Arthur's look of satisfaction was not out of place and his expression subtly intensified when out of the blue, Grunhilda let out a very loud belch. She immediately clapped her hands over her mouth before lowering them again when she thought it had passed.
"Oh, my dears, I do so apologise. I don't know what came over me." At that moment, her belly began to gurgle conspicuously and her plump face began to turn a light purplish-pink colour and her nose began to elongate until it ended in a sharp point.
There were some cries of alarm as little black nodules appeared all over her face and skin while her ears also became large and pointed as her teeth and nails lengthened and sharpened.
Finally, the transformation (or reveal) was complete and Grunhilda glared malevolently at Uther Pendragon who had drawn his sword.
"What manner of dark creature are you?" he demanded.
Meanwhile, Elena was staring aghast. "Nanny! What's happened to you?" she cried and to which Grunhilda snapped.
"Oh be quiet, you stupid girl! All this time I've wasted on you, trying to get you to behave more like a proper princess and you couldn't even get the prince when you had him in your reach!"
"But Nanny…"
"Don't 'Nanny' me. I never wanted you foisted on me in the first place and the last eighteen years of my life have been the longest!"
Elena burst into tears at that as her world was flipped upside down and the woman she had come to know and love like a mother turned out to be nothing of the sort.
"Sire," called Gaius as he approached the king. "She is Grunhilda, a pixie working for the Fairies, though I do not know what her purpose is here."
"Magic is not tolerated here!" Uther snapped. "Guards, seize the creature!" he bellowed his command as armoured men sprang from their stations and raced towards the pixie.
However, the power of the Grunhilda who served the King of the Fairies was greater than any of the mortals present at that time and before anyone could get near her, she made her escape, disappearing in a puff of smoke.
"Gaius?" Uther looked askance at his oldest advisor.
"She has left, sire. I'm afraid that where she has gone, we cannot follow her," the physician answered gravely.
"Merlin!" cried Gwen delightedly when she opened the door to Gaius's chambers and found the young sorcerer to be on his feet once more. Much to Arthur's bemusement, she ran straight to Merlin and threw her arms about him in a tight hug. "I'm so glad you're alright! How do you feel? Do you need any help?"
Merlin laughed and returned her hug before holding her back from him slightly. "I'm absolutely fine. Gaius told me what had happened, I can't believe I missed all the excitement!" He turned to Arthur. "What of Princess Elena?"
Arthur folded his arms. "The poor girl was distraught and she had no idea of Grunhilda's true form. Even so, though, father won't have any association with magic at all so the wedding is off. She left this morning with an escort that father arranged for her."
"All's well that ends well, eh?" Merlin grinned as he looked from Arthur to Gwen who shared a brief smile and gaze of hope and longing.
The spell was broken between Arthur and Gwen at those words as the blond man stared pointedly at his servant.
"Yes, Merlin, it does. I have my personal servant back, alive and healthy which is a good job as there is a stack of steel to be polished, shirts to be mended, floors to be swept, stables to be mucked out…"
Merlin cursed his big mouth as Arthur's list of chores droned on and on. Nevertheless, he was glad that the latest disaster had been averted and his two best friends still had a chance to be together.
So, that ends this particular fic – just in time to see what really happens in Saturday's episode!
I hope that you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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