Author's Note: Hey ya'll. I know it's been a while again. And I do apologize for that. No excuses this time—might as well let those of you following this story know that I do tend to take "leave of absences" between chapters. Though I do enjoy writing, the idea of sitting and clacking away on a keyboard all day isn't really all-that-appealing to me. Plus, now that this term has started up, schoolwork is going to make everything else a lot more hectic. But hey now. Lets focus on the good. I worked hard to get this out this weekend. Consider it my labor day present to all ya'll lovely readers =). And as such, you guys should definitely drop some reviews for me. Let me know what you like, what you don't like, what I'm doing right, what I'm doing wrong, and all that jazz. I love getting feedback whatever it is =). And more feedback may mean more frequent updates… maybe. If you catch my drift ;). "Anywho," read and (hopefully) enjoy!
Her back ached. Stiff as a damn bored. Oh, wait. Wait a minute. No it didn't. She had lost feeling in it about an hour ago. Or… two? How much time had passed since sunrise? Had she even slept a nip? What in Albion was a 'nip'? Guess that's a 'no' on the question to sleeping.
One thing rang true and clear. Arthur was an ass. Among other things that a proper lady (like herself, of course) wouldn't mention.
Raivierra groaned and shook her head to clear it. A hiss escaped her lips when rough wooden splinters scraped at her neck and punctured her nape. She wrenched her wrists, which were likewise enclosed by the stockade's board. She shook vehemently. The padlock held fast. She let out a growl of frustration; like the caged beast she was.
But all things aside… this was… nice? She'd been the only one to hear the creatures of the night retreat to the bright chirps and warbling of morning birds. She'd been the only one to see the stray cats clambering about market stalls, scavenging for scraps. To see the dogs running them off. And the cats slinking back minutes later.
And now an incessant itch. Brought on by the irritating plaster of her cast. Oh, she wouldn't dream of reaching her hip… not from here. But she would certainly try. She raised her right leg—now clothed down to the calf with a cotton peasant's slip (at least Arthur had a servant rid her of the painted face and clown attire she'd worn the night before), and turned it at the knee to rub that ankle against the back of her thigh. Easing it higher to her bum, and… nope. Her leg would definitely not bend that way.
Smack!
Something hard struck her square in the mouth. Her bottom lip grew hot and she tasted copper. Her little balancing act had distracted her from the modest crowd of spectators. With more arriving as the rest of the town awakened. She looked down to see a freshly bruised apple rolling away from her. Then back up to see a young boy laughing with glee.
She dodged the next squash, thrown by a young woman. Its goop dripped down onto her shoes as the shrill-voiced woman cried out at the waste. She jerked her head to the side just as a gnawed-on beet flew by. It struck the space next to her eye with a sickening thud. And then a barrage of overly ripe crop blotted out her view and smothered her breathing.
"Well well… what's this?" A masculine voice purred with amusement, and leather-booted steps announced the steady approach of a man.
Her loss of one sense didn't leave her completely blind. From the pace of his walk and the impact his boots made on the packed dirt, he had to be somewhere between one and half to two meters tall. On the taller end, if she had to guess. And… perhaps a bit on the heavy side.
"Take your best shot." Raivierra spat back, momentarily closing her eyes and shaking her head in attempt to get her vision back.
"Ah. Let me help you there…" rough leather gloves and naked fingers brushed against her eyelids, sweeping down her cheekbones to her jaw. Clearing it of most of the produce splatter.
She bit at those very fingers, causing their owner to yank them safely out of her reach. "Touch me again, and those won't be all that you lose." she growled threateningly.
"Easy there." That unnamed voice got defensive. "I'm just trying to help."
Raivierra finally opened her eyes, squinting against the bright light. Her prediction was correct. Well, halfway. The man standing before her was of average height, but of sturdy stature. The way in which his layered attire sat accentuated his muscular build.
And she'd seen him. A few times before now; down at the tavern. She had never served him… but Catalina had crooned about his looks. Fair enough. And mentioned how oddly gentlemanly he was.
"Well, aren't you a pretty bird." The unnamed man gazed down at her; his rugged face casting a broad smile.
Gentlemanly? Brazen, more like.
"Beg pardon?" Raivierra raised her tomato-drenched brows. That was new. A man as bold as he was a rare find. Well, not at the tavern. Especially after a few drinks. And even moreso after a few patrons found themselves low on coin and mead.
But this man…seemed perfectly sober. And he had looks enough to not need to be the desperate skirt-chasing type.
"What I can't comprehend…" he trailed off and glanced behind her post before looking back at her, "Is what foul manner of man would find it suitable to leave an attractive woman like yourself subject and vulnerable to unsavory sorts of men that might… take advantage of your situation." He leaned casually against the corner of the pillory with a smug look on his face.
"Well." Raivierra started, narrowing her pale eyes at him. "I am inclined to give fair warning that I kick like twenty oxen." She adjusted her neck to be facing frontwards again. "And I'll have you know it's not below me to aim low."
The man chuckled and caught a rotten fish that had been inches from slamming into her face. He grimaced slightly, dropping the mackerel and wiping the slime on his pant leg. "Oh, I'm not a man you'd have to worry about, dear lady."
Raivierra raised a brow; fighting with the left corner of her mouth against the tiniest of smiles. "So you're not the unsavory sort to take advantage of a woman bent over in the stocks…" she paused, watching his affirmative gesture. "You're just the scum of the earth type that roams the land trying to charm and bed as many women as possible." She jerked her head towards the sack by his feet. All his belongings probably thrown in that humble bag. She watched his head begin to shake. "Oh yes. That's much better." Good. That should scare him off.
"Wow." The man clearly looked taken aback, but gave no indication of wanting to leave. "That was uncalled for." he feigned a wounded voice to match his expression. "I'm not feeling particularly scummy at the moment." A devious grin formed on his face, stretching his profile. And his teeth—curiously white against the bristly darkness of his jaw.
"Yes, well…" Raivierra eyed him warily from the corners of hers. "Perhaps you are having an off day." she retorted smartly.
"Must be." The man replied, crossing his arms and rocking back on his heels. Watching her from the rim of his amused brown eyes.
"Come away from her!" A young woman shouted out at Raivierra's visitor. "That slattern had the gall to insult both the prince and our king!" she shrieked, spitting with each yowl.
The man's face grew stiff with raised brows as his eyes searched Raivierra's. "Really now? The both of them in one go?" A smirk formed at the corners of his mouth as he mused. "Well done." He grinned boyishly and laughed, giving Raivierra praise through his conduct.
He approved? Openly? How odd.
"I'm impressed." Raivierra assented, granting the man a vague look of approval. "There's not a handful of men around here that would admit to a sour opinion of the prim and proper." Her expression turned into a sly smirk, "and even fewer that would tolerate a tongue like mine."
He leaned back slightly and stretched leisurely. Taking on a relaxed manner, he spoke in a tone that conveyed false chagrin, "Well, the nobility and I don't seem to see eye-to-eye." His face stretched again into a wide smile at her words; breaking his feeble facade. "And it's just that I've known women like you."
Raivierra quirked a brow at that. "I'm sure you've known many a woman." The tone in her voice suggesting the lewder connotation to the word. "But not a one quite like me." She watched as he chuckled and shook his head at her sauciness. I can promise you that."
"Clearly." Whisked back at her along with a smug look.
He had her interest. She would admit that much. Not to him, of course—but to herself. Presumably, any other man would have been running for the hills by now. Or be demanding reparations for her noxious attitude. But he seemed to be enjoying himself.
And maybe she was as well.
"Well. As fun as this has been…" He started, batting away yet another in-bound potato and waving off the curses shouted at him, "It seems a shame that I have yet to learn your name."
"Not terribly." Raivierra replied smartly, sending him a coy look.
"Move aside if you will!" Someone called from within the small gathered audience. The voice was light. And whoever it belonged to was trying to reach her.
Merlin.
"And here is where I take my leave." The man inclined his head—as a knight would to a Lady. With a scoff from Raivierra, he hefted his bag over his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd. Gone.
Merlin emerged from the crowd, edging between two larger men. "Rai I need your help." He gasped out, clearly winded. And excited; a given from his tone of voice.
"I'm listening," Raivierra flashed him a strained smile. It wasn't as if she could avoid it.
"Right." Merlin didn't seem to notice. "Well, Lady Katrina needs—you remember her? From last night?" His motions were exaggerated as he spoke. "Well, how could you forget?" Good God, he sounded like a child that had just received a new toy. "Well, I need to make sure she is tended to perfectly. Everything has to be to her complete satisfaction." His beaming smile vanished a moment and was replaced with a sheepish look while he uttered the next words, "So I could use a hand."
Raivierra watched him for a few minutes longer. Letting him stew. "And so you want to make a good impression because you fancy her."
"What!" Merlin pulled back, holding his arm up in defense as if she had attacked him. "N-No! I-I just think Uther would… ummm… appreciate t—"
"Well, I'd love to help you, Merlin." she stated flatly, interrupting his stammering. "But I'm a bit busy… in case you hadn't noticed." She struggled against her binds representatively; making the hinged boards rattle.
"Ah! Right!" Merlin fumbled about in his pockets for a moment and drew out an unnecessarily-large keyring with a single key. "Arthur said you had suffered long enough." He moved to her side to find the stockade's padlock.
"Did he now?" Raivierra pronounced the words slowly and deliberately. Bitterly, perhaps?
"How did you get into this in the first place?" Merlin inquired absently, still jamming the key into the lock. "I left you with Arthur last night, didn't I?" The lock finally clicked and the padlock fell to the ground. He began to lift the top board of the contraption to let her out. "I didn't think Uther would have been able to find you before the night was ov—"
"Stop right there." Raivierra cut him off again, rising from her place. Free again, she flexed her legs and rubbed her wrists. Rolling her stiff neck, she looked into Merlin's confused face. "You said it yourself. You left me with Arthur."
Raivierra hitched up her skirt with one hand as she strode across the room crowded with occupied chairs and tables cluttered with frothy tankards. Empty. Half-empty. A few drops of mead left in the bottom. What wasteful dotards.
A pair of hands settled around her waist.
She looked down to be greeted by a young man wearing a lascivious grin. She took a deep calming breath. She would behave… Owen had warned her so before. Raivierra feigned a bashful look back. And the next moment, the man was sprawled across the ale-drenched floor. Unconscious. Her hand vaguely throbbed. Her once-lifted skirt was dragging as she shifted her stance.
…Whoops. So she hadn't just imagined landing a mean uppercut on the fellow's fragile chin.
And yet, aside from the initial uproar of surprise, the other patrons paid little mind to the commotion. A common occurrence. With enough alcohol in their blood, men seemed to fancy a good brawl.
A hand fell on her bare shoulder, locking in a firm grip. Instinct drove her to throw her elbow back. Back into a man's face. Merlin's face.
"Gahh!" Merlin cried out and he released her to hold his nose, which was now leaking a crimson fluid. "Was that really necessary?" He asked with a nasally voice.
Raivierra slammed the full tankard she had been carrying on the nearest table—knowing full well that the men scrambling for it had no intention of buying. "Come here." She replied, grabbing his forearm and dragging him out the back; dismissively waving off a fuming Owen all the while.
"I can't breathe!" Merlin exclaimed in alarm. "I'm going to be horribly disfigured for the rest of my life—if I make it through this."
Raivierra pushed his hand aside and moved close to inspect his nose. It was heinously swollen… and bleeding a bit, but other than that, the bridge was fine. "Stop being such a princess." She took the eating cloth tucked in her sash and dabbed at the blood running from his nose. Once he was good as new, she gave him a light slap on the cheek. "You're fine."
Merlin eyed her warily—wincing when he wrinkled his nose. "Oh, I am so terribly sorry, Merlin. My good friend, I'd never mean to harm you," he carried on in an awful rendition of a woman's voice. Real subtle suggestion. Real subtle, Merlin.
"What did you want?" Raivierra prodded impatiently. "You only ever come down to the tavern when you want something."
"Oh, yes." Merlin grew deathly serious and pulled her aside, further into the alley corner. "I need your help with Lady Katrina again," he spoke in a hushed tone.
"I'm not going to walk you through sex, if that's what you're asking." Raivierra returned smartly, grinning stupidly.
"W-what? God, no! I'd never ask you to… Rai!" Merlin's face grew red with each second. Too easy. And absolutely undeniably adorable. Then he looked sick. "Oh, God… believe me when I say I'm not at all interested in… that with that thing!" He wretched out his last words.
"Merlin, have some tact." Raivierra chided. "She's a lovely woman. And just two weeks ago, you wouldn't shut up about it."
"Rai, that's just it. It's Lady Katrina. She's not a woman." He lowered his voice again, glancing nervously about.
"Oh really?" Raivierra leaned forward, feigning interest to humor the young man. "And what exactly is she then?"
"She's a troll!" Merlin blurted out, with eyes wide and all that.
"A troll." Raivierra sounded out the word. She lowered her head and tried again, "A troll…" Nope. It just would not stick. She snapped her head back up at Merlin, "You know, Merlin. It's times like these that make me wonder what you say about me behind my back."
"Could you please focus for just one moment? I'm serious!" his voice grew insistent. "She's a troll. Purple skin, sewers, warts, odor, tusks and all." His gorgeous blue eyes went wide… well, wider. "And her servant! Jonas? Yeah, he's got a tail! I mean, that can't be human!" his frantic eyes desperately searched her calm moss-green set. "You of all people—you've got to believe me."
She didn't. To be honest.
"I do, I do." Raivierra conceded with a sigh. Believe him or not, Merlin was convinced. And on the off chance that he wasn't delirious… well, she wasn't about to miss out on Uther courting a troll. She put her hands on her hips and rocked back on her heels. "Alright. Alright. So what are you planning and what do you need from me?"
"Raivierra."
A quaking, aged voice drew her reluctantly from her dreams. Yet her eyes remained closed. She heard her name a second time. She felt a hand reach for her shoulder to shake her awake. Raivierra bolted upright and her eyes snapped open; calling her knife to her from under her pillow. She held it up in defense against… Gaius.
The old physician remained frozen until the knife was tucked away once more. "Merlin isn't back yet." His voice trembled a bit with worry.
Raivierra flopped back down onto bedroll—wincing at the impact against the solid stone floor. She sighed and closed her eyes nonchalantly. "He's probably just off and upset about the king's decision to marry a troll." she muttered through an extended yawn. It irked her. This man. Interrupting her much needed sleep. Especially when the man he spoke of was the reason for her exhaustion.
"He told you the Lady Katrina is a troll?" Gaius took on a cautious tone.
Raivierra nodded casually and rolled over on her side to turn her back to Gaius. "I don't see why he's so worried. It'll fix itself." she mumbled, not really taking care to make sure it was coherent.
"Did he…" Gaius moved to the other side of the bed to be facing her directly. "Tell you anything else?" his voice was curious. Pressing. Concerned.
Raivierra looked up at him, furrowing her brows with thought. "Should he have?" she took a tone more accusatory than anything.
"No. No, I suppose not." Gaius waved her off dismissively—though his tone said otherwise. "But we've got to make sure he's alright." He quickly changed the subject and began faintly scavenging the room. "There might be something here to tell us where he's gone."
"I know exactly where he went." Raivierra grudgingly rolled off the thin mattress and climbed to her feet—much easier now that Gaius had cut off that damned cast a few days ago.
Gaius smirked at her. "A little much for sleeping, don't you think?" he inquired, referring to her outfit; which consisted of her full set of leather armor. "You weren't perhaps already thinking of going after him, were you?" Gaius carried on smugly.
"Not at all." Raivierra yawned and waved him off; making for the common room. She briefly stopped by the rickety dining table to snatch up a bruised apple from the wooden bowl. Collecting her weaponry by the door, she pointed a sword at Gaius as she leisurely savored a bite of the fruit. "If I'm not back with him, you get the princely prat to come after us." And with that, she stepped across the threshold and eased the door closed behind her.
Darkness rushed to embrace her. Only the dim bobbing and weaving of torch-lit dancers illuminated the walls. It wouldn't be long before they burned out for lack of pitch.
Nearly half an hour of slinking about in the hallways—avoiding detection by the guards on patrol all the while, found her slipping into the sewers of the keep. Reluctantly, might she add. It reeked. Feces and the other unwanted excrements littered the ground and clouded her senses. She delicately picked her way through the shadowed hallways, making no attempt to hide the distaste on her face.
Noises. Voices. She froze.
A lone voice. A man's. In a language she didn't recognize. Or maybe her ears were playing tricks on her again. Whomever he was, he was shouting. The structure around her trembled and shook. For a brief moment, it crossed her mind that she might be caught up in a cave-in… yet she pressed on. Drawn in. The source of the disturbance charming her curiosity.
"Merlin?" Raivierra called out softly as she cautiously weaved her way through the pathway. Finding Merlin was what she came for, yes, but if she drew too much attention to herself, someone—something else might find her first.
Her right hand fell to the longsword at her hip. Slowly pulling it from the scabbard, she rounded another corner and… keeled over. She retched vehemently; nearly losing her late dinner. And that apple. The smell was overwhelming here. Something of an intense mix of dung, vomit, urine, acrid sweat, and all sorts of mold. Hands on her knees and breathing heavily, she swallowed thickly and willed herself to straighten up.
"Merlin?" She called out again, this time much louder… and with a touch of unease. Not particularly caring for her own discretion this time around. "Merlin, are you there? Can you hear me?" Her voice rose several volumes. She couldn't quite decide whether his presence or lack-thereof concerned her more.
"… Rai?" Merlin's familiar voice finally broke the suspicious quiet that had pervaded for what seemed an eternity. "Rai, is that you?" As if he had answered his own question, he carried on, "Rai, I'm here! I'm… trapped."
Trapped? Drastically picking up the pace, Raivierra sprinted down the passageway and several more—her boots sloshing in unmentionable refuse, kicking the waste up at her own legs as she followed Merlin's voice through the maze of tunnels.
"Merlin!" She cried out in despair as she came upon a dead end. An entryway closed off by fallen rocks—or rather, boulders. Perhaps a product of the quakes.
Had she taken a wrong turn? Or was he…
"I'm here, Rai. I'm in here." His voice was surprisingly calm. And muffled, whereas her voice echoed boldly. "Are you alright? Did you see her?"
"Mer—What are you talking about?" Raivierra returned, her brows furrowing in her confusion. "Who… no—forget it. Are you hurt?" she inquired, leaning against the pile of rubble. Straining to hear his response (with which he took his time).
"I'm fine. But you've got to listen to me." His voice became progressively frantic. "It was her—Katrina. I told you, she's a troll!" Raivierra could imagine his exaggerated gestures and wide blue eyes as he spoke. "I followed her to—and she trapped me here! W-with her magic!"
"Alright, Merlin." Raivierra held her hands up and shook her head despite the fact that he couldn't see her. "Look. Just… we're getting you out of here. And then we'll see about the… whatever." She resigned herself to hauling and heaving away the boulders in the rock pile.
On the other side she heard Merlin groan reluctantly… knowingly. Yet he followed suit. The sounds of rocks being tossed about confirmed that.
Hours passed. With little progress. In fact, aside from the sweat that beaded Raivierra's face and matted her hair to her neck, nothing had really changed. Well, scratch that… her arms had gone flimsy about an hour ago. How she managed to keep lifting these loads was a mystery to her.
"Are you quite done yet?" Merlin asked exasperatedly—apparently he had given up a good while ago. "Ready to actually hear what I have to say?"
"I will be once you're out." Raivierra grunted out a curt reply as she weakly rolled a stone to the bottom of the pile.
"Rai, please." Merlin pleaded in desperation. "The wedding was set for early morning. The roosters were making noise some time ago—it's probably already started."
Raivierra grunted with the effort of throwing her umpteenth stone aside. "Just calm down. I'll get help and we'll—"
"Rai! I'll be fine!" Merlin suddenly exploded. His impatience had finally taken hold of him. Plain and simple, it shocked Raivierra… pleasantly, but stunning nonetheless. "I-I'll be fine." His tone came much more sheepish that time. "Thank you. Really—but you've got to do something. You have to stop that wedding"
"I don't really have any personal disagreements with Uther marrying a troll. I mean they're completely compatible." Raivierra combated with her usual sarcastic demeanor.
"Rai…" Merlin started; the agitation apparent in his voice.
"I'm on it, I'm on it." Raivierra replied flippantly, waving off his frustration. She took a step away and quickly retracted it. "But once it's done, I'm coming back for you."
An "I certainly hope so." sent her on her way.
Jonas was waiting for her.
He stood in front of the double doors to the throne room. Shriveled face pulled into a vulgar sneer. Hunched back drawn up into the closest thing he could manage to an erect stance. Determined to bar her entry.
"Move aside." Raivierra commanded, taking on an imposing posture. Self-important tone, lock-jawed, and everything. Her best imitation of Arthur. Except without the stick rammed up her arse.
"My mistress wouldn't appreciate that." Came his hiss of a reply.
Raivierra had already started eyeing him up and down. Sizing him up. Not that there was much to consider. He was short—hunched over like he was. And scrawny. Possibly even malnourished.
She momentarily contemplated her weaponry.
Nah. Too messy. And she didn't want to kill him. Yet. Besides… even exhausted as she was, he shouldn't give her much trouble.
She took several tentative steps before coming to a halt a few feet from Jonas. And closed the distance between them with a hooking punch that sought Jonas' head. Followed by an uppercut to his liver.
Or rather, where it would have been if he was human.
Unfazed by her assault, Jonas answered with a fist to her gut. A hit that had her doubling over. She could take a blow fairly well… but there was no way someone his size could had that strength. It caught her off-guard. As did the knee that struck her in the face.
Raivierra stumbled backwards, clutching at her tender and now-bloody nose. The angle of the strike had been off… which explained why she was still on her feet. Before she could steady herself, Jonas had closed in on her. She blocked a punch with her forearm. Checked a kick with her shin. And defiantly stood up against an elbow driving down on the nerves in her left deltoid.
Raivierra threw a high punch of her own in an effort to get him to relent.
Jonas ducked the attack and grabbed her forearm with both hands. Using her momentum against her, he spun around, swinging her with him. After a full three-sixty, he released his grip. Sending her flying back into the wall—taking down a corner table and its vase with her.
This all seemed way too familiar for comfort. She could practically hear the wilderin shrieking.
"Rai!"
She heard him before she saw him. How the hell did he get out? "Get in there Merlin. I've got this." She assured him nonchalantly and climbed to her feet.
Merlin held her gaze for a brief moment before nodding and running towards the unguarded doors. A second later found him sprawled on the floor holding his neck.
Jonas—in a display of surreal speed, beat him to the door, turned around, and clothes-lined him.
But now the little hermit was distracted.
Raivierra skirted around and charged full-speed at her opponent, barreling into the 'man' shoulder first. Rather than following through, she launched him away with her shoulder, sending him careening into the wall adjacent to the throne-room doors. Head first.
Payback and then some.
While Merlin staggered to his feet and slipped through the doors, Raivierra pursued her downed adversary. Pulling Jonas' limp body across the stone flooring of the corridor, she stashed the man in a nearby storage room. Not entirely inconspicuous, but it would have to do.
A thunderous applause erupted from within the throne room. Enough to pique her curiosity (though evidently, it never took much). She turned on her heel and chased after Merlin—edging her way through the doorway and into a huddled mass of spectators.
"Are you alright?" Merlin appeared at her side with an inattentive question. The man probably asked out of obligation rather than actual sincerity.
"Close enough." Raivierra replied in a like-minded manner; straining her neck and standing tall to see over the heads of the audience. Jonas certainly wasn't the first man she'd met that had no quarrel with hitting a woman.
"Well at least that's something." Merlin scoffed out a reply and shook his head in disapproval. He gave her a tight-lipped smile and pulled her close to show her what warranted his displeasure.
From this angle, Raivierra had a clear view of the podium. Of the chubby minister. Of Uther and Katrina in their regal ceremonial garb.
… And of the lingering kiss they shared.
Note: That's it for now, folks. I'm gonna keep this short and sweet. Just let me know what you think so far, por favor. And suggestions are very much appreciated =)