*Sigh* No one knew the novels, eh? Guess I'll have to eat all the snickerdoodle cookies by myself...
;) Ah, here. Have some oatmeal cookies instead, because you're reading my story :D
~3~ No Sleep
Arthur wasn't in bed when Merlin threw open the chamber's scarlet curtains, which was highly unusual.
"'Morning, sire," the warlock said sleepily, opening a second curtain and flooding the room with light. He winced and shut his sore eyes against the brightness, even though it was dulled by the overcast sky. It was raining, but lightly.
Arthur grunted from his chair at the table in reply, his own aching head resting in both hands. Obviously, he had had no decent sleep either, or else he would have said something, most likely an insult. The bed sheets were a real mess, indicating the prince's struggles with personal night demons as well.
Merlin set Arthur's breakfast before him, but it was ignored. The prince was pale, sickly even, and turned a faint green as the smell of eggs hit him. The nightmares had clearly been worse than ever before, to make him ill so. As he turned away, Merlin took the hint and pulled it to the other end of the table, where it will be forgotten. There was a loud clatter as he accidentally knocked over an empty goblet. Both he and the prince closed their eyes and grimaced.
"Idiot," Arthur snapped half-heartedly.
"Sorry, sire," Merlin winced, and brushed a fork with his sleeve. It fell to the floor with a small tinkle that might as well have been crashing pots and pans. Arthur jumped to his feet with barely-suppressed rage. Merlin quickly stepped away from the table before he caused any more damage.
Despite his curiosity, Merlin refrained from asking Arthur what his nightmares were as the prince paced before the hearth. He might get his head bitten off if he asked. But after several minutes of total silence, besides the rain and Arthur's footsteps, Merlin felt his own temper, birthed from the deprivation of sleep, arouse.
"Will you stop that!" he growled. The prince halted, staring at his servant in astonishment.
"What did you say?"
"I said, knock it off! It's irritating me."
"I...am irritating you?"
"Yes. Are you deaf as well as stupid?"
Arthur could only stare at Merlin in shock. "I could have you thrown in the stocks for that."
The argument that followed did not throw Merlin in the stocks, but he was tossed into a cell, which made him all the more cranky. However, within the hour, he became depressed and sorry.
Arthur spent that whole hour hacking a straw-filled, armoured dummy with his sword until he could no longer move. He finished venting his anger, and ordered Merlin's release – after a sincere apology from him, of course, which the warlock was only too ready to give, as long as he was released from the damp and stench of the dungeons.
By nightfall, Merlin was still doing the usual chores – polishing Arthur's armour, shining his boots, washing his clothes, cleaning his room – and at any other time, he would have been ready for his warm bed. But now, he hoped Arthur wouldn't notice him still picking dirt from the prince's greaves, even after the sun was gone behind the hills.
"Merlin, you've been working hard all day. You should go rest."
"I'm fine," the warlock replied tightly, combing the armour for invisible specks of dust.
Arthur stared at him. "Don't think I haven't noticed that this is the third time you've polished that."
Merlin sheepishly placed the armour on the table.
"Well, go on, then."
Standing, Merlin snuffed out the candles, slowly, leaving only one to find his way out. Arthur watched him strangely the whole time. When Merlin finished, he then started to straighten the prince's folded clothes, as though they weren't already.
"Merlin—"
"Right, right, I'm going." He put away the armour cleaning tools, and then began to align the metal plates on the table.
"Merlin." Arthur pointed to the door and mouthed go.
The warlock bowed his head. "Goodnight, sire."
† † †
Merlin slapped himself in the face to stay awake. He was not in the mood to be killed by Freya—no, Morgana—again.
It had gotten worse over the past few days by a substantial amount. When the nightmares first began, the dreamer would wake up very quickly, and may or may not have another when they fell back asleep...if they even fell back asleep. But now, the nightmares held the victims, preventing them from waking up. The mind cannot rest if it is roiling in fear every night, all night.
Merlin was taking the long way back to his chambers when he nearly walked into Gwenevere.
The serving girl, former handmaiden to the Lady Morgana, did not look like she was having pleasant dreams herself.
She was stifling a yawn. "Oh, h-h-hi, Merlin," she said. She shook her head, eyes downcast. "Sorry, not enough sleep."
"You're not the only one," replied Merlin miserably, rubbing his temples. He went on his way.
"Your cheek is red. What happened?" The warlock did not seem to hear.
Φ
He was back in the forest, only this time, he couldn't move, not even his eyes. There was a hiss from the surrounding trees, but he could not turn to run.
Arthur suddenly stalked into his line of sight, wearing his newly shined armour. Something moved through the fog before them. The prince, holding a spear, turned to Merlin and raised an eyebrow.
"It's probably more afraid of you than you are of it," he said, just before the Questing Beast sprang out of the mist and ripped him to pieces.
Merlin tried to scream, but could not as the half-snake, half-leopard monster turned its attention on him. A voice whispered in his ear.
"How are you going to fix this one, warlock?" it said, and he realized with horror that it was Nimue. "You've failed your destiny, Merlin."
No! he thought. No! You're dead!
The forest started to vanish into darkness, but just before it did, he heard Nimue's cruel laughter in his ear, and the Questing Beast pounced on him, bloodied claws bared. He saw a flash of Morgana's face, smiling wickedly. The Beast had him—
Φ
Merlin woke, arms outstretched, gasping for breath. His heart gradually slowed, and he wiped sweat from his forehead. Glancing out the window, cracked slightly open, he saw that it was not quite dawn.
He fell back against his pillow. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Arthur's mangled body, torn to shreds.
"She's dead," he whispered to himself, to the darkness. "She's dead. I killed her. And that monster as well."
The shadows did not reply.
† † †
Knowing that he wasn't going to fall asleep again, Merlin walked the castle grounds for an hour, until there was pink on the horizon. Shivering from the cold, he wandered back inside. Finding food in the kitchens, he ate what his churning stomach would take—which wasn't much—and brought more up to Arthur's chambers. Most likely the prince would already be awake, if his dream terrors were as bad as before.
This time, however, Arthur was not sitting at the table when Merlin got there that morning. He was still asleep, but deep in the throes of a nightmare.
"Father," he groaned, tossing and turning. "Father, please..."
Merlin set down the food tray and moved towards the bed.
"Arthur?"
"No...Gwen..."
"Arthur—"
"Please, Father...don't—"
Merlin started to shake the prince. "Sire, wake up—" He choked as Arthur's hand lunged out and grabbed him by the throat.
"I'll...kill you," said Arthur. To Merlin's horror, he saw that the prince's eyes were open, but could tell he was still asleep. "Touch her an' I'll..."
"Arthur," Merlin rasped, legs giving. He was unable to break his friend's painful grip on his neck. "Arth..." Only the prince's powerful grasp kept him off the floor.
"Fight me...coward!"
Irises flashed gold in the darkness.
Smash!
Arthur's eyes blinked and suddenly became clear as day. Puzzled, he stared at his hand suffocating Merlin for a second before releasing him in horror. The warlock crashed to the floor, sucking in air, throat burning. He started to cough as Arthur rolled off his bed on the other side in disbelief.
After a minute, Merlin was able to stagger to his feet. He didn't meet Arthur's eye. Instead, he picked up the pieces of the shattered water pitcher that had saved his life, and left.
† † †
"You think it's Morgana, don't you?"
Gaius led Merlin down the corridor, looking unsettled. "You suspect her?"
"Well, it makes sense. It's been a year since...you know. But there's been no word of her. I don't think she would have just fled, never to return."
"It is possible that this problem is of her doing. I'd treated her nightmares ever since she was a child, though they never truly went away. She would have suffered as we suffer now, but for much, much longer."
"So she's making us all feel her pain," Merlin said flatly.
"It seems so," finished Gaius.
† † †
Arthur mulled over Merlin's suggestion, staring into a goblet of wine. "Morgana..."
"Yes. It sounds right; I doubt that she would forget that we were the cause of her sister's death in a hurry. And with her growing power from the events of last year..."
The prince did not look happy. "Well, I suppose we can't rule her out."
For several moments, all that could be heard was the cackling flames in the hearth. Merlin fidgeted as Arthur continued to stare into his cup sightlessly and silently.
† † †
"The situation is getting out of hand. There have been five deaths in the past two days." Arthur stood before the council, hands clasped behind him, struggling not to yawn. "Three of those were from either a spouse or a parent strangling a family member in their sleep. The other two were suicides committed by the unwilling killers."
Sir Leon, on Arthur's right, glanced towards Gaius. "You have looked into this, I'm sure."
"I have, my lord."
"And what have you concluded?"
Gaius fidgeted uncomfortably. "I believe it to be magic."
"It is magic," an adviser hissed.
"We don't know that," put out Arthur. "Maybe it's the water. It wouldn't be the first attack on the underground streams. Someone may have poisoned them."
"Who would do such a thing? We have no quarrel with the surrounding kingdoms," said Sir Elyan, sitting between Sirs Gwaine and Leon. "I don't recall Camelot having offended anyone, leastways."
"Three messages arrived by pigeon over the past four days," said Leon. All turned their gazes on him. "From three corners of the kingdom, speaking of mysterious occurrences that may...have something to do with sorcery." He paused. "One was from the south, from Cornwall, another the south-west, from Soltier, and the third from the north-east, the far north-east, past the borders of our land."
Arthur gaze flickered over to Merlin, who was standing just behind Gaius. Gwaine, too, reacted.
"They are asking for soldiers to investigate, all three of them," continued Leon. "Perhaps one is the root of our current attack."
"That answers 'where'. What about 'who?'" asked Elyan calmly, and yawned.
"We do have one suspicion," Arthur said hesitatingly.
"Morgana." Sir Lancelot muttered the word flatly. The usual light in his eyes was dimmed from the sleep loss.
Arthur nodded numbly. "With the power she acquired through...a series of unfortunate events last year, this may be her most dangerous attack yet."
"But how is such magic possible? You said yourself, Gaius, that the unnatural winter may have gotten its energy from the land, so the sorceress wouldn't exhaust herself and die before she succeeded in her plans. The land had withered to uselessness last year, and not only because of the cold. But now, the land is fine. No energy is being sucked from it. How is it possible?"
Arthur indicated to his servant. "Perhaps Merlin can explain. He was there when Morgana...Well, he'll explain."
Merlin heaved in a breath. "The item that she had demanded was...something that channels magic, and magnifies it. It was the single blue tail feather from the only Phoenix in existence, and with that power, she doesn't need to use the land to support her." Unconsciously, he raised his neckerchief higher to hide the bruises, and then hastily threw his arms back to his sides. Arthur looked away guiltily.
"Well, how the hell are we supposed to fight that?" asked Gwaine gruffly, tilting back on the two hind legs of his chair.
Arthur opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and opened it again but had no words.
"She is proof of what magic really is. It turns what you believe to be your closest friends and family into evil beings. This is why we must stamp out sorcery from the kingdom at all costs," insisted one of the chief advisers, Gerom. The man was a close friend to the ill King, Uther, and shared his views of magic entirely.
Merlin just managed to stop himself from shifting.
"I suggest we hire Bounty Hunters," said the adviser. "It would be too risky to send our knights."
"We could find her," said Sir Percival in his low voice, "ourselves."
"It's too dangerous," replied Gerom. "We mustn't send knights on a wild goose chase, if that is all these messages turn out to be." The adviser looked Arthur square in the eye. "The council was charged by your father the King to keep you safe, sire. I know he would agree with me when I say that we must hire Bounty Hunters to investigate these pleas."
Outside, Arthur watched the sunset glow through the windows. He sighed. "Council is dismissed for the day. We will resume in the morning."
† † †
Pacing his chambers, the prince was restless. Merlin could almost see the cloud of frustration over his head.
"Perhaps it's for the best. Gerom is right—it may be too risky sending important people in place of Hunters. Or a total waste of time."
Arthur looked at him incredulously. "Have you not got it into your thick skull? This is the reason why men are knighted; to protect the kingdom, not hide in it and hope that if they don't move, all danger will pass. You of all people should know how dangerous and useless Bounty Hunters are."
Merlin's heart skipped. "M-me? Why?"
"Remember the one who'd caught that druid girl, before she escaped and terrorized the lower town as a Bastet?"
Freya, Merlin thought with a straight face.
"You were nearly beaten by him because he thought you knew her whereabouts?" Arthur waited expectantly.
"Oh, yeah." And I did know her whereabouts, he added inwardly.
"See? Totally useless."
While Merlin pondered on whether Arthur meant that it was he or the Bounty Hunters who were useless, there was a knock at the door.
"Enter." Arthur raised an eyebrow but did not seem surprised when Lancelot and Gwaine stepped in, suited for riding. "We are ready, sire," said Lancelot.
"...Ready for what?"
Gwaine looked aghast. "For what? What d'you think? Not to go picking flowers!"
"You're going to go," added Lancelot, "with or without us, and with or without the council's consent."
Arthur glanced at Merlin as though the manservant had told the two knights his unsaid thoughts and plans. Merlin shrugged.
"Great minds think alike."
Arthur rolled his eyes, but it was clear to them all that he was grateful.
Is your Arthur as big a prat as mine?
Sorry. Read that somewhere and I just had to say it! x3
Btw, it is a small thing but credit to the writers of S1 Ep 13 with Arthur's line of, "It's probably more afraid of you than you are of it." ~ it was added on purpose for the sake of the nightmare's impact on Merlin. Bad memories, right?