Chapter 4: Impostor
She stares out into the darkness, her vision impaired by the flickering light of the torches that line the castle walls. She can see the moon or, rather, one of the moons – the other is barely visible near the edges of her vision. It casts little light over the forests below, but what it does cast almost succeeds in quenching what hope she has left.
Nothing moves in the forest at night. She can't see any indication that the Doctor has realised his plight. Nothing to say that someone has discovered the truth. She's still trapped. She's still alone.
And the Doctor's in terrible danger.
Rose turns from the window and sighs softly, letting her body all but collapse against the solid strength of the stone wall. Her head aches a little, as does her throat from her earlier screams, but she knows that that's because of whatever it was that Morgaine did to her. It was a violation, really. Her thoughts and memories were read and discarded like so much rubbish by the queen until Morgaine found what she wanted.
The Doctor. Everything she knows of him, everything she feels. And, now, knowing that her most intimate thoughts – and the secrets she's held for the Doctor – are now known is almost enough to make her despair. However, there's always hope. She's alive, after all.
He might be in trouble, but she can rescue him. She just has to think.
It might be seconds or minutes or hours later when the door opens to reveal the same young girl who brought her dinner. She can tell that Mab's still scared, but there's determination on her features.
"If it pleases you, mistress, tell me of yourself," Mab says simply, and she takes those words to heart. Something in the way the girl holds herself tells her that she's poised on the brink of a decision. Perhaps, and her hope rises again, to set her free.
"Once upon a time," she begins and pauses, considering the phrase. "Yeah, that'll do. Once upon a time, there was a girl who worked in a shop. She filled her life with chips, folding clothes an' the telly. Until she met him. He travelled through time and space in a ship that was bigger on the inside than the outside. An' he asked her to come with him. They had adventures. He changed. She changed. An' he showed her a better way of living. A better way of being. How to save the world or a person. An' now…"
Her breath catches in her throat as she stares at Mab. "He's Merlin, yeah. An' I'm supposed to be Nimue. But the Doctor…he doesn't know that it's not me that's with him. Doesn't know that it's Morgaine. An', when he leaves, she's gonna kill him. Stop him from comin' back. An' I have to get out of here, Mab. I have to. He needs me…"
Absently, she wonders when she changed from the story format to a confession. But it had to be done. She has to convince the girl to let her go.
"I..." Mab lowers her eyes, staring at her clenched fists as if they held the secrets of the universe. "I don't know. I'm sorry that this has happened, but…"
"Mab, someone once told me that it's not what you say that matters. It's what you do. Let me go. Please. I can't lose him." She vents all her emotions into that last sentence, praying that the child will listen.
Thanks to what can only be described as magic, Morgaine's pretending to be her. She might look like her, might even have some of her memories thanks to the Vulcan mind meld or whatever it was she'd done, but she couldn't be her. She can stop this. Take her identity back. And show the Doctor that he's been fooled by a fraud. However, everything rests upon Mab's decision.
The girl bites her lip and nods once. "I will release you."
She wants to cheer, but she restrains herself, knowing that it might persuade Mab to recant her choice. Instead, she settles for the simplest response of all. "Thank you."
Mab nods. "The guards changes every hour, mistress. I must wait until then to release you. If I do not, it is likely that the guards will realise that something is amiss. I am not allowed to be out this late in normal circumstances."
Much as she wishes she could escape now, she can see that this is the best way. And, once the guards are distracted, she can slip out of the castle.
She pauses at that moment and realises that she doesn't truly know where she is, let alone how to find the TARDIS. "How far-" she starts, but Mab cuts her off.
"You should head for Camelot. I have never been, but one of the ladies in waiting once said that it's a day's journey from here. The road leads there…" The girl's voice trails off and she bows her head again. "I'm sorry, mistress, that there isn't more that I can do."
"Come with me," she says instinctively. This isn't a proper life. Surely Mab must realise this.
Mab takes a step backward, shaking her head violently. "No, mistress. I cannot. This is my place."
"But if they find out…"
"I will die knowing that I performed a righteous deed," Mab says, smiling faintly. "No, mistress. Do not take that to mean that I intend to die. It would be my fate if we were to be caught. However, I do not intend to be caught."
She nods and settles herself back into one of the uncomfortable chairs. Sneaking a glance at the marked candle which she learned was their version of a clock, she resolves to wait. But only until the hour is upon them. Then she's going to rescue the Doctor.
It's a plan. Yet she's enough of a pragmatist to realise that nothing ever truly goes to plan. She's just waiting for the cruel twist of fate that seems to be inevitable in these circumstances.
In a perfect world, she wouldn't see that particular twist. Sadly, this isn't…well, it's not her world at least and from what she's seen it certainly isn't perfect either.
If anything, it at least makes life a bit more interesting. She just hopes that the Doctor catches on to the fact that she's not with him. She doesn't want to consider what might happen if he doesn't.
"You seem vexed, old friend," Arthur says quietly.
He is, but he isn't. He's not sure how to even describe what he's feeling but vexed is far too simple a term. "Oh, wouldn't say vexed. Not really. Confused would be more like it. How long have you been fighting Morgaine?"
Arthur shakes his head. "For far longer than I care to relate, Merlin. Sometimes it seems an eternity. Others, it is but the blink of an eye. She wishes to claim my kingdom and anything else that she sets her eyes upon. It is all that I and my knights can do to keep her contained and my people protected."
"And how long have I been with you?" He regrets the words as soon as he utters them, and prays that he has taught/will teach – semantics are rather difficult when one's considering one's own future, he thinks - Arthur well.
"You have often told me that it is unwise to ask about the future. Especially your own. I cannot answer your query," Arthur replies much to his relief.
"Quite right, too," he responds, staring at a point somewhere in the distance. Thanks to the rough terrain and the darkness, it has become unfeasible to continue riding the horses. So they walk, leading the animals along behind them. A few of the knights carry torches to light their way, but he can tell that several seem particularly nervous about travelling through the darkness.
"We will stop soon," Arthur announces, casting a wary eye on their surroundings. "There are dangers in this forest, especially at night."
He understands. It is too much to expect them to be able to return to the TARDIS now. Much as he'd rather leave now and never return, he can't. At least, not yet. Besides, this will give him time to speak with Rose before they leave this place behind them.
He suspects that she's not doing as well as she's trying to make herself appear. At least, that's the only logical explanation that he can come to. She's not said a word since her initial introduction to the knights. Perhaps she's worried about what happened or about the TARDIS. However, he can't really tell.
He curses the faint light of the torches. It's hard to read nuances of expression in the unreliable light, but it'll have to do. He can hear her walking along behind him – which is, in itself, strange. She's never walked behind him. At least, not when she can help it. And especially not without holding his hand.
He finds that he misses that fragile human contact, but she's keeping herself aloof. She's still close enough, though, to listen to his words.
"Doctor?" Rose asks and he slows slightly to allow her to catch up to him. Once she reaches his side, she continues, "I assume that we will not reach the TARDIS tonight?" Is that disappointment or anger in her voice? That he can't tell bothers him. Usually, she's an open book to him.
Perhaps he has been relying on her too much.
"No," he says quietly. "Not tonight. It's too dark to continue much further and the king says that there are dangers in this forest at night."
A strange smile crosses her face. "I doubt anything will trouble us tonight if we go further."
He shakes his head. "This isn't Earth, Rose. Can't assume. Remember when you assumed the Trelixian cats were harmless?"
"Oh, yes. I understand. Then first thing tomorrow?" Rose's voice is hopeful, yet aggravated.
He wants to sigh, but doesn't. "Yes. First thing tomorrow."
"Good."
They walk in silence for a few more minutes; at least until they reach a clearing. The king holds up his hand, halting their forward progress. "We will make camp here for the evening. Lancelot, you'll…" Arthur's voice trails off as he turns to face the group. "Lancelot?"
He turns, too, and makes a mental calculation. Where there were once nine figures – including Rose – there now are eight.
Lancelot is gone.
She tells herself not to be impatient, but it's terribly hard. She wants nothing more than to be outside, escaping from this prison and well on her way to rescue the Doctor. Fate, however, has other plans for her. She knows that Mab's idea of waiting for the change of guards is a good one and her best chance at getting out of here. That doesn't help in convincing the nagging voice at the back of her head that tells her the longer she delays, the more danger the Doctor's in.
An eternity, or maybe a few minutes, later, Mab returns with a thick brown cloak. "Put this on, mistress," she says. "You are the only female in the castle with blonde hair. The guards will know you."
She nods and takes the cloak, draping it over her clothes and lifting the hood. Once Mab is satisfied that she is well concealed, the girl opens the door. "Stay quiet and follow me. Step only where I step and, whatever happens, do not stop."
"Okay," she replies and says nothing further as Mab leads the way into the castle proper.
Once upon a time, much like in her story, she supposes that this castle might've been a gorgeous place, full of gold and jewel-bedecked women and laughing men. Now, even through untrained eyes, it's apparent that the castle has fallen upon bad times. While gold and rich tapestries still fill the halls, there's just a hint of dust, of disrepair, that she doubts Morgaine would let pass had she not had her mind on defeating her enemies.
It's almost sad, she decides, to be surrounded by such opulence and to not be able to appreciate it. To be so consumed by anger and hatred that nothing else seems to matter. She pities Morgaine, she realises, despite what she's done to her and to the Doctor. Despite what the queen has done to her people as personified by the terrified girl in front of her. She knows that even the show of some measure of compassion would do little to melt the queen's heart. Hatred for so long – and she believes it to be a long time indeed – has to be hard.
That doesn't excuse what the queen has done to try and change things for her version of better. She should know. She tried to save her dad, to fix something instinctively though she knew it was wrong. And she almost destroyed the world in the process. Something tells her that if the Doctor doesn't become Merlin, much more than the world would be lost. This universe, and perhaps her own, might lie in the balance.
She realises that she's let several corridors pass without her truly being aware of them. Focusing herself on the task at hand, she listens intently as they move down the hallways.
It's hard to pause, duck and hide in an instant, but she tries her best whenever Mab indicates that she must do so. It's harrowing work. Each time she suspects that they're about to be found, they manage to escape detection. Each time she's certain that she must've made a sound, she finds she's safe. It's almost enough to make her feel a bit cocky. As if nothing can touch her.
She knows differently and she keeps that in mind as she follows Mab. She can't get caught, not now, not so close to true freedom. She realises that she's placed a great deal of trust in the girl. She could be leading her anywhere, but she believes that her trust is well founded.
A little bit of compassion, in some cases, can go a long way.
It's been at least a century, maybe two, since he's last been on a true campout. Admittedly, this particular campout has far less singing Kumbaya and far more sharp, pointy objects and dour glances than the last time, but it's enough to bring back a few good memories.
Rose is close by and he suspects – no, knows – that she's trying to keep an eye on him. As if she fears that he'll wander off in the night to look for Lancelot or to leave her behind. What she doesn't know is that he can't do that. Especially not after...
He dodges away from the thought with practiced ease. Denial wasn't only a river in Egypt – the country or the planet. Instead, he stares deeply into the flames and lets the dancing light mesmerise him for a time.
"Doctor?" Arthur's voice causes him to blink, startled at the unexpected sound.
"Yeah?" he replies, turning to look at the other man. From the corner of his eye, he sees that Rose has lain down but she's still watching him.
Arthur sighs as he settles next to him, folding his legs so he can lay his arms across them. "I forget that you are not my Merlin. At least not yet. It is rather vexing to see you but be unable to discuss subjects that you should know but don't, at least not yet. I had desired to speak to you regarding Lancelot, but you would not understand."
He shrugs. "Oh, might not be me yet, but I'm still me." He wrinkles his nose. "Or would that be I might not be me yet, but I will be? Something of that nature."
The king laughs softly. "It is you," he agrees. "But you do not have the years of knowledge that Merlin does. Lancelot and he are as close as brothers."
"You are worried," he summarises. If he were to be truthful, so is he. He carefully redirects his gaze away from Rose.
"Yes, I am. It is most unlike him to leave without notifying me. Something must have caught his attention, yet I cannot fathom what might have done so. We have rescued Nimue and are returning home. It should be a time of celebration."
"Should be," he echoes.
"Yet..." Arthur's voice trails off as he stares into the fire. "Tell me of your world, Doctor."
This is the first time that he's heard his name, his real name, from the king. He stares at him in amazement. "What?"
"You told me your name long ago, my friend. I simply think of you as Merlin. Will you tell me?"
He hears rustling behind him and knows without looking that Rose has edged closer. "Oh, I can tell you a little…" So he describes a fanciful place full of overbearing stuffed-shirts who did nothing but watched life as it was born, lived, and died. He describes a world made of smoke and cities made of song. Some are lies. Some are truth. But he feels that he cannot share more than what he has.
Some things are meant to be kept secret.
"Thank you," Arthur says once he finishes. "I have always enjoyed hearing of your life beyond this world. I am certain that you anticipate your return with gladness."
He would be lying if he said that he wasn't. "Oh, I look forward to it."
"Then I will leave you to rest, my friend. I must apologise again for delaying your return, but it would be best if you remained with my knights and I until you return to your TARDIS. I must search for Lancelot."
He nods slightly, hearing the faint catch in Arthur's voice as he mentions Lancelot's name. He hopes that the man is fine. "We'll find him," he says, but it's a hollow comfort.
Arthur gives him an inscrutable look. "Yes, we shall."
As the king moves away from him, he returns to his earlier contemplation of the fire. It's not a campout, he decides as he shifts to find a more comfortable position. It's the base camp for an ongoing war. Not only against Morgaine – he turns to look at Rose and smiles at her when he notices that she's watching – but against the forest itself.
He can only hope that the armistice continues. Otherwise, well, he doesn't want to even contemplate what 'otherwise' might entail.
"Stop," Mab hisses, pressing herself against the wall. She follows suit, closing her eyes and slowing her breathing as she hears shuffling noises from around the corner. A guard? Surely not. One just passed them not five minutes ago. The shift change should've come and gone.
That doesn't negate the fact that they do have company. The cool stone leaches the heat away from her body, but she's not concerned with physical comfort. She's more worried that she's about to be found. That this escape is going to be thwarted before she even steps foot outside.
She's certain that her heart's thumping loudly enough for whoever it is can hear it. It's practically a siren's call. I'mhereI'mhereI'mhereI'mhere…
She isn't prepared for what she sees when the man comes into view. Not that hair. Not that face. Not that oh-so-familiar smile.
"Jack?" she whispers instinctively, unable to prevent the name from escaping her lips. It can't be. It simply can't.
But it is.
To be continued...