A Marriage that Started a Legend

by IJustShowedUp

Follows canon but with my own arranged marriage spin on it. What happens when Hunith makes a mistake and is forced on the run with her infant son? What happens when Camelot knights find her twenty years later? What happens when Arthur learns he's betrothed to a peasant boy? Will Merlin be able to stand among royalty? Will these two different boys survive each other? Review!

111. Chapter 111

This chapter is dedicated towards Jacquelyn-because they wanted to see Nimueh switching up her plans for Merlin just a bit, after realizing how alike Merlin looks towards his father and the idea really helped me flesh out a bit more on how I'd chosen to do this scene of the story. So I hope that they will enjoy how I included it in. Real exciting stuff, since we finally get Nimueh and Merlin meeting face to face! And we will be one step closer towards the 'worse mistake of Arthur's life', which is coming up real fast! I estimate it'll be only another chapter or two before we get there ;p

X

As far as Nimueh had been concerned, the plan she'd been working on tirelessly since her little mud baby monster, had its life and light cruelly snuffed out by Balinor's heir…would be going off without a hitch. She had everything set up just the way she wanted it…the cave with the only cure towards her poison within the entire kingdom, was ready and ripe to the picking. She had spelled it days ago to keep every living creature from entering it, and had lifted up the enchantment only this morning. That would keep the man eating spiders-each one the size of a small dog-that lived inside, absolutely ravenous. So ravenous that they would be descending down in droves upon the first pound of meat brave enough to walk into their domain. She had everything on the outside ready and prepared for the prince's arrival in the coming days, she only needed to prepare for things on the inside. To move the people she wanted, into the places that she did, before she was able to put the final piece of her plan into action-forcing the outcome that she wanted.

The entire trip here, she had felt the steady weight of the box she was carrying inside the large pockets of the dress she had stolen. A peasant dress that had not been worthy of her status, but nobody would see her coming with it on. Her enchanted cup had already been carefully prepared back in the cave she called her home. It only needed to be carefully put into place…replacing the original cup she knew Bayard had been intending to gift to Prince Arthur as a belated gift for his wedding. Nimueh had spent many days and many of her nights watching Camelot, and Mercia once she learned their presence would be arriving soon. It had really helped her finalize the finer details of her plan, and put together the final product of what she had been thinking. Doing this with much public to witness it, during such a stressful time in the kingdom's history…where the Pendragon Family was trying to foster peace…it had been too good of an opportunity for Nimueh to miss. And all of the smaller details she had been going over with a fine tooth comb, had started fusing itself together in her mind.

The biggest issue with Nimueh's plan, had been about how she was going to move her chess pieces-the people that the priestess knew was essential to her plan-into the places she needed them for her plan to work. Bayard was like the castle piece on the board, the rook. He was straight forward within her plans, able to move forward because Nimueh knew what Bayard would be planning with his gift towards the family of Pendragon's. He would be the easiest to take out, as far as the priestess was concerned. And then there was Uther…he was a bit trickier, but only because Nimueh had such a large and complicated past with the man. That would be the only reason she had moved the king into the position of bishop…Nimueh was pretty confident on which direction he'd end up going once she had put things into motion. But Nimueh had not became the youngest priestess in her generation doing 'guesswork' and 'possibilities'…she had done the extra work, and prepared a few other options if things didn't go exactly how she had it worked out. And then there was Arthur…she had placed him in the position of king, placing the prince in a spot that was firmly above his father for once. Arthur was no more than a pawn to her, but quite an important one that her plan relied on. If Nimueh took out the prince…the entire kingdom would fall down to ruin, leaving who she was really after, the true prize behind the power of the throne…the heir of Balinor.

Arthur had always been her intended target, but it had only been because he was the son of Uther. Other then that, she found what she had been of Arthur from her looking glass…was that he was more boring then a toadstool. Nothing she had seen was remarkable, he would have died already if the heir of Balinor had not intervened. It did make sense, in this very strange and metaphorical way…because the king in the game of chess, always remained hidden behind his men. He was always protected, never moving very far from the queen piece. His Queen. His…Merlin. Nimueh would be moving the 'King', very far from his Queen, leaving Merlin defenseless to be tested. If he died because of her plan, then Balinor's heir had never been a true opponent to begin with. Had not been a real queen, who could direct armies to her will, or bend all of her enemies onto their knees for daring to cross the path in front of her. But if Merlin lived…Nimueh's mouth watered at the prospects…but she was getting too ahead of herself.

What had she been thinking about, before she had started to think of how essential the queen was to the board-since the king would have no reason to protect a kingdom, when he had already lost the one person he was supposed to be standing in front of, to sacrifice himself with the killing blow from the enemy's arrow-ah…yes. The biggest problem that Nimueh had with her plan, was how she could orchestrate all of her chess pieces to fall into the line that she wanted them too. And she needed to tread carefully, since the king of Camelot was now aware of her, after the physician found the broken shell of her egg left behind in the water supplies of the kingdom. Uther was an oaf, but he was power hungry and paranoid. If he got even a whiff of something being off, if he smelt her presence anywhere near his precious treaty in the making…then Uther would rather call the whole thing off, then give her the chance to ruin it.

Which would be exactly why Nimueh had decided to come into Camelot for the first time in twenty years, and get her hands dirty as she interacted more…hands on…then she had usually. Nimueh wasn't going to leave things to chance, she had already done that with her muck monster, and look how that turned out. With it dead, and Camelot thriving-moving on as if she hadn't effected them in the least. Cows, the lot of them…able to move on so easily from an event that could have caused this kingdom mass destruction. But…the entire kingdom would learn, by the time she was done with playing with Uther…that they had put their trust in the wrong king all of these years. Besides, it had been far too easy to get into the stronghold of a city, like child's play for a priestess like her. And with an added glamour spell here and there…she'd be able to walk along the castle unnoticed. People she knew back when she came here, might find her features familiar in a way. But like the something that stuck on the very edge of their tongue, something that wanted to come out, but none of their brains would be able to connect the dots. Especially not after twenty years, where time and distance might have muddled their perception of her…she hadn't aged physically in those twenty years. Nobody would expect for Nimueh to look as she did when she had left, all those years ago. All of the magic pounding away beneath her skin…it did work well on the skin, especially for a woman who'd spent the better half of a decade hiding in a cave.

But anyway, Nimueh could not have denied that there was something else forcing her to be more involved in her plans, another reason why she was here now, moving easily among the kingdom of her enemy as if she was one of their guests.. Merlin. Nimueh could not have denied it if she wanted to do so…but her obsession with the boy had started to grow. She had considered him nothing special at first, he was almost a disappointment at first, considering the lineage Nimueh had known Balinor had came from. Balinor had been a dragon in the fire, a roaring beast among the drab…it still amazed her that he had settled on the plain girl that would someday end up becoming Merlin's mother. Balinor had been a true beast among them all, mixing well with those Pendragon's…a kind of people who only pretended to be the beasts they named themselves after. Using their reputation as keepers of their great kingdom to keep it underneath their rule. Nothing but a bunch of falsehoods, if she was able to get inside as easy as she did.

But after her muck monster had been defeated, there was a note of curiosity that had been struck inside of her. And she had started watching the boy more closely through the bowl of water she used as her looking glass. And at first…she had been disappointed. This was the heir of Balinor? A boy that had more magic in his veins then blood, a boy whose magic should have been roaring free if Uther did not exist, the boy who had literally came from dragons, powerful beasts in the world who had once-when they were plentiful-not bowed to men. How could any heir of Balinor, allow himself to be weak like Merlin was. What boy, who had the backing of the king's reputation-which could be used to his advantage if he knew how to give a good talk-would allow himself to be pushed in the muck and shelter himself away from other. What kind of sorcerer, would not use even a hint of his magic in any kind of attempt to protect himself? What kind of dragon…would allow himself to be caged and tamed as Merlin himself had became?

But then…Nimueh had continued watching, and somewhere along the way, as her days had passed…her perception with the boy had started to change. Because where exactly were all of the great dragons now, where was Balinor now…where were anything that could show the boy how to become just as fearsome and as strong as the dragons had been? There was only one dragon remaining in the world, and he'd been dumb enough to allow Uther to trick him, resulting with the life long sentence he had under the case. And Balinor could be gone, lost to the sands of time or even dead, for all that she knew. She had long since tried to track Balinor, but the man was smart, and had done some kind of enchantment on himself so that he could not be tracked by magical means…if only she hadn't been still bitter about the way he refused to come with her when she had first fled the kingdom, then maybe she would have tried tracking him down with more of a normal way. But anyway…her perception of the boy shifted and changed, and now she could see him with both eyes as opened as they could be. Nimueh was not a blind woman…she could spot potential when she saw it.

The dragons and Balinor had been grand, behaving like they thought Camelot only stood because of them. But now they were gone, because they had been so open and free among themselves, as they should have been. It was their right…as keepers of magic, to be proud of that magic. But in the time they lived in, it had also caused their destruction. And what about the Wyverns? Wyverns were powerful creatures ruled and created by magic, and some had even said the group of them could be considered cousins to the dragons. Once the dragons were gone, it would have only make sense for King Uther to turn his attention onto them next. But the king had never made a move to slaughter them like he had done with the greater beasts. And why was that? They were far smaller then their cousins, and would have been far easier to kill but yet…Nimueh knew that they still roamed the land as free as they could be.

It was because they were smarter. Maybe not with the brain capacity's they had-they were wild creatures, after all, and deserved to be remarked as such. Far wilder and far more in touch with their animal side then the dragons who tried too much to be one with the people once those with no magical blood started colonizing the world-but they knew far better how to survive. They lived mostly in the dessert nowadays, in places that had less people around. They hunted in packs and droves to cripple their enemies…only somebody whose soul was wilder and more fierce then their own, would have been able to tame them. Balinor may have pictured himself as a dragon, but Nimueh liked to think she resembled these Wyverns herself. Dragons had once been fierce, but it was the Wyverns that were still thriving. Balinor had given up, he was off hiding wherever he was. But it was Nimueh who still fought for her right to live, being carried on by her thirst for vengeance against Uther. She might not have a pack, but it was because she had no use for one. She wasn't a Wyvern, even if she portrayed herself as one. She was a priestess of the old religion, and did not need one.

But Merlin…Nimueh found herself at an impasse, unable to decide rather or not Merlin mostly resembled the dragons his father had been so fond of. Or the wyverns Nimueh had decided to attach herself too. Merlin wasn't fierce, or there was no chance he would put up with the people that should be standing beneath him, behaving as they were. But Merlin did not feel quite like a wyvern either, perhaps that would be because Nimueh could not discern any kind of plan or future goal coming from the boy. Doing nothing to ensure his own survival, with barely even a pack-if one would call the elder man Nimueh had once knew, or the serving girl that became a frequent guest in the boy's room during all his depressed states-functioning around him. But Nimueh also didn't feel comfortable writing off the man she considered to be a true queen of the chess board.

Merlin was an unknown entity, so unlike his father after the raising his mom had done, that it made it impossible for the priestess to estimate which path he would go down. Being an unknown entity…made Merlin the most dangerous piece on the board. Rather it be as the queen, hidden behind all of the power and defenses of the throne until he was forced to show his own hand. Or as the pawn, hidden on the frontlines of the battle to fool the enemy into thinking he was nothing of any real important. To make the enemy see the 'queen' as anything other then the real threat he was. And perhaps…as the priestess considered this train of thought carefully…that was Merlin's real power.

Merlin was so unassuming, that nobody would ever guess he was what he was. Merlin was so plain, he could walk into a room and declare he was a sorcerer, only to be laughed at by the most paranoid of the lot. Merlin was so unthreatening looking, that nobody would see the golden hidden behind all the blue he carried in his eyes, until they'd already taken the last breath they ever would. Merlin could walk among these people, he could be seen as nothing but…the lowest of the low, even with the title of Consort being held right above his head. Not even Nimueh could have done that without using her glamour charms to walk among them, having already did herself a disservice by showing all her power all those years ago to the King. She wasn't brave enough to tempt fate like she once had as a young girl, nor was she ready to face the king that had ruined her life. Not until she had finished what she was setting out to do. She wasn't stupid enough to start revealing herself more then she already had, knowing there was still much for her to do in this world before she started her final battle against the king. She was powerful, and had nothing to fear. But…she was known and that reason already put her below Merlin. Merlin who was unknown, and there's no telling what he could decide to do with all the power she knew was hiding beneath his human skin.

And for those reasons alone…perhaps Merlin was neither a dragon like his father, nor a wyvern like Nimueh. Perhaps he was something else entirely…a Phoenix? A magical creature that burned with fire, and died by fire, but would always be strong enough to rise from the ashes. Facing the life they'd left behind, brave enough to face the troubles that must've came before even without the strength and power his grown form would have carried with him. Or maybe…maybe it was entirely something else, that Merlin was. Not exactly being a Phoenix, but…perhaps something the likes of the world had yet to see. Whatever it was, rather Nimueh would end up in disappointment or excitement…she knew that she would not be able to rest until she knew for sure, exactly what Merlin Pendragon was.

It had only been all too easy for Nimueh to stay in the woods along the path she knew Bayard's men would keep. She had found it even easier to use a simple misdirection spell, and it caused one of the younger serving girls that had been most susceptible to her spell work, to wonder away from the path the others had been going. A simple spell or two it had took later: and the serving girl's neck was broken. Her form going to the ground with a hard thump, silent enough to grab not a soul's attention. Her body was still there, naked for animals and vultures and buzzards to pick all the skin away piece by piece, destined to be nothing but a pile of bones along the grass. Forgotten by time, but her sacrifice would be worth it all, Nimueh was sure, wearing the girl's dress as she joined in on the party of servants. Nobody had been any wiser that one of the serving girl's now looked drastically different, the king had gotten too many to accompany him, and it seemed to be near impossible to keep track of them all. But Nimueh had saw her chance, and took advantage of Mercia and their stupidity. One should always know who was traveling among them, if only to be aware of the one person they should look after. If only to know who was the most likely one that would try to stab them in the back the second they turned away.

Nimueh had marched with the other servants straight up to Camelot castle. The guards that greeted them at the gates had been young and fresh, nobody that would have noticed her if she came marching in wearing her true form. She had known her glamour was strong, but the real test would have to be when she saw Uther for herself. In person, after all the many years she had been waiting for that moment. But how was she to know-even as a priestess, she was no seer, and her magic had a limit when it came to seeing the future-that her ideal meeting wouldn't be as she had imagined it would have been.

Nimueh had barely even noticed Uther standing there when the servants parked outside the grand staircase that would lead up into the main entrance of the castle. She had eyes latched only onto Merlin, trying to discern as much as she could from the distance. But he was too far away, there had been too many people between her and him…she would've had better luck checking out Uther after all these years. But she did not try to look at the two kings. She craned around her neck, cursing herself for not being able to use her magic quite yet. Though it was tempting-people rarely noticed the things that happened right in front of them-Nimueh decided to wait. She would not use her magic to give herself a bird's eye view, to see Merlin. She wanted to see him face to face for herself, wanted to be able to breathe in his presence and determine how much of a threat level he was to her. Or if he could be a potential ally in Uther's war against magic.

Though it had pained her, and wounded her pride, Nimueh had done the work of a servant as she was handed along her instructions by an older maid. To carry the bags of one of the knights personally guarding Bayard to be waiting and ready for him in his room. Nimueh had waited until she was alone, rounding the corner, before she set fire to the trunk in her hands. The luggage caught fire faster then any dried up kindling would have, her magic edging it on until she was able to watch the entire thing be eaten up. The fire did not burn her, even as the handle in her hands turned to the dust it was always meant to be. And floated away, leaving not any indicator that she had been carrying a trunk around to begin with. Nimueh might be playing the part of the servant, but it would not be for long. And she would only do what little she had to do, to blend in. She would not bend and work for any other just because she wore the garb's of a servant…and it seemed that was another way Merlin and herself would end up being forever different. Nimueh bowed for no man, but the consort-not a dragon, nor a wyvern, but rather a Royal gem hidden beneath the dirt caked about his skin-seemed content to live in mediocrity. Until somebody like herself had came along to coax what was already there, out along the surface.

Nimueh after disposing of the trunk had spent the next hour or so of her life, dedicated to walking among the halls of the castle she had once called her home. Tracing familiar stone as she walked down halls she used to race down, playing as if she was a child and not a sorceress in training. Seeing the tapestries that had not been around when she was, making a mark in her mind on those she recognized as making it for the past twenty years she had been away. Nimueh didn't try to venture too high into the castle, knowing that it would be too much of a risk trying to see her old tower. The place she had practiced her spell craft, gifted to her by Ygraine as her own space among their home. But she knew Uther had long since sealed it up, leaving it nothing but a hollow shell, after he had disposed of, or sealed away all the belonging's she'd collected over the years, forcing her to abandon everything when she ran.

Nimueh couldn't help but feel nostalgia, though it was also tinged with bitterness and disgust. This had been her home for years before everything had gone sideways, the one and only place she had felt safe enough to retreat too after living through the unfortunate death of her mother. This had been her safe place, where her friends were, people she had once considered close enough to be her family. But then the king had came to her, asking for help, and when things went just as Nimueh had warned him it would…he turned on her. And he betrayed her. And because of that, there was no place in the entire kingdom that was safe for her kind. And that kind of hatred had spread, infecting the other kingdoms like they were diseased. Some kingdoms were more strict, and some were less. But whichever way one turned, it seemed like she could find no place that would welcome her or her kind. She was better off living in her cave, waiting out the days until it was time for one of her many plans to come to fruition.

But the more halls she traveled, stopping every so often so she could look out one of the windows, and look down along the grounds she had once strode across as if they belonged to her…there was something she noticed. It was very faint of course, a presence so light hearted that Nimueh had barely even noticed it until she was there for long enough. Back in the years pass, when Nimueh had lived in this kingdom, the entire castle had been saturated in her scent. And it was her magic being used as the conductor, imprinting her signature onto every stone in the castle. On every blade of grass that she walked on daily. Every grain of sand. Every tapestry and vase and book and table in the castle. Even the marketplace had bits and pieces of her magic, like the jewelry shop she'd once frequented the most, looking for gems she knew could be used in her spells. Gems were powerful objects, and she knew just how to use them. Even places she had never been but were within the boarders of the city had started to, over time, become cloyed with her scent as her magic spread to cover the entire city that had became her home. She hadn't lived here long enough-she wasn't as powerful back then as she was now-to cover the entire city with this invisible and impenetrable dome of magic that only other magic users in the area would have noticed.

Her magic, as the most powerful sorceress in the area, was something that should have been used as a warning. A sign to other magic users and magical creatures that there was an incredible and powerful witch living within the gates. One that had staked the city as her home. Now, it wasn't exactly a barrier that could keep people out of the kingdom if they wanted to come in. But at least they had been warned over who had staked their claim on the territory. It warmed them, if they tried to start trouble, she would be there to put them to a stop. Her magic strong enough to ward off the smarter ones. But of course, back then, magical attacks had been a very rare occurrence. Most people had been happy with the peace they had. It was only after the Great Purge, that those with magic had started becoming more abundant, becoming more public as they attempted to kill the king and free their people. Of course, those that tried always failed, because it was their own arrogance that made them think any of them were strong enough to take out a king. Most people did not seem to realize that using stealth as she did, would get her better results. It was best to remain hidden, then to make a public spectacle out of yourself. Her way got things done far better. But anyway…

After no longer living here for twenty years, Nimueh had not been surprised to notice her magic was nowhere within the castle. Perhaps it still lingered in the room that had been her tower all those years ago, but within the castle itself, it may as well have been nonexistent. Her connection towards the city had been cut off when she had decided to forsake their entire land after Uther had betrayed her. And with it, Nimueh had taken away her protection. Magic could very well be this instinctive force, could know what one wanted before even they knew. And once Nimueh no longer considered the city as her home, everything she had done for it…had ceased to exist. Uther had thought it was his Great Purge, that drew all of the dangers out of the shadows in their attempts to stop him when he first started it up. But that hadn't been nearly the truth. Nimueh's protection was gone, which meant none of the dangers had any reason to fear from stepping inside of the kingdom. And bringing about the havoc that her very presence had been stopping. Uther had stopped them…the king still had his armies and his numbers of men and all his weapons. But magic hadn't been sniffed out of the kingdom as well as he thought. Those that wanted to live only got far better at hiding it.

But what did surprise Nimueh, was the faint singe of…she would dare to call it electricity, the faint hum of something that resembled lightning, hovering in the air. It had been this very faint electrifying feeling, only somebody that could be as strong and as powerful as she herself was, would've even noticed it was there. And non magical people? They would wade through it, none the wiser to the magic hovering in the air as it clung loosely to the stones Nimueh had once been bold enough to claim as her own. In all her life, Nimueh had not once considered somebody else would try to claim their protection onto the land she called her own. She had never considered somebody else, in this time where being caught practicing magic would end in death, would have ended up becoming powerful enough to mark the territory.

But it hadn't been fully formed, Nimueh noticed as she set her hand on one of the stone walls. She closed her eyes as she tried to feel more of the magic, but it was still so faint it was whispery. Her magic rose to try and capture a bit of the essence, but every time her magic would go to grab onto a bit of the faded golden light she could see now that she was concentrating on it, it would fade away as if it had not been there. Making Nimueh feel as if she was chasing some kind of ghost. One that did not want to be caught by her. Nimueh would have been offended-who dared to face a priestess of the old religion like her, and snubbed their magical nose up at her-if she hadn't been so intrigued by it. This…this had to be Merlin, Nimueh knew logically. Something Nimueh should have expected to come from Balinor's heir…even though the sorcerer did not seem to resemble the dragon his father had been, there were similarities between the magic Merlin bore, and the one his father did. Enough to tell they were close by blood, but had vastly different life's…resulting in their magic signature diverging. And unless there was another powerful sorcerer in the area that Nimueh had somehow missed…that magical signature could only belong to Merlin.

Every magical being, every creature or human who carried a spark of that magic, had a signature they left behind with all the spells they used. Every spell cast, every potion brewed, or even every step they took or breath they breathed for the more powerful creatures, left a mark behind. Stating they'd been there. But it took somebody as powerful as Nimueh to be able to read it. Nimueh's magic herself, had always been a red shade. She had assumed it had meant that it was her destiny to join Camelot, and live underneath their red flags and banners. But only now, did she know-because all magic beings signature carried a spark that was uniquely their own just like humans had different fingerprints-that the red hue of her magic carried with it her vengeance. Red was power, it was strength. It was anger, fueling her with continuing the path she had taken all those years ago. Balinor's magic had carried more of a blue hue. It was cool, and calm, showing it to be a peaceful entity. A playful one, that could think with a rationality that many people did not have. This was quite an odd twist, but one only needed to know Balinor to know how it had fit him perfectly. Nimueh wondered if Balinor's magic was still blue, or if it had darkened over the years after that man had eventually fled from Camelot. It was rare, but their color of magic could change overtime. But only if they had experienced something truly traumatic, something that was enough to change their entire worldview. Creating a shift in their soul. Nimueh's own magic resembled blood nowadays, then the lighter red banners of Camelot.

But the magic she could only assume was Merlin's, was not a color she had ever seen in another soul. The wisps of the magic she could see was gold. Faded as it was, it could still match the golden hue of their magical eyes…perfectly. The red Nimueh had might indicate her magic being fueled with her anger, but the gold…it meant Merlin's magic was being fueled by something else. Something Nimueh did not quite understand. And when Nimueh didn't understand something in front of her, she refused to put anything to rest, until she knew every little detail of what made it tick. How could the consort have magic that was gold? Every sorcerer had gold eyes, but for their inner magic to resemble it as well, a show of Merlin's inner soul…it was baffling. And so different from Balinor's…she almost doubted the consort was actually his son. But Nimueh was smarter than that, and while they were different enough to question it, the similar feelings she was able to decipher were too close to question it for long. The Consort of Camelot was undeniably Balinor's heir, but…the consort was his own man as well.

Nimueh could bathe in this golden magic, if she was given the chance. Could strip herself of her dress, and lay down in her bath. Allow the golden caress of magic to creep up onto her legs, tickling her as it lightly brushed along every curve she had, every muscle and every tendon and every single of her blood vessel's. She would arch her head back along the rim of the tub, her eyes fluttering closed in ecstasy, the gold ropes sliding around inside of her in a way no man had ever done before. Staking it's own claim on her…her mouth being dropped open as she grasped, her knees sliding up so that her legs would spread…feeling the gold strings as they-slow but sure-slid along her womanhood. Trying to encourage all the magic with the little rocking motion of her hips, to enter her core, and claim her fully. To become physical with her as her red magic tried to lure it in, tried to show her how good of a mate she could be. How their magic could entwine their way together inside of her, arching her breasts as more gold magic worked their way up…encircling her nipples in such a way, it would show others that she had been the only one in the world who could stake claim on such light magic. All the dark in her own tempting it to join her, as even more strings of magic worked their way up her throat, clutching along her neck as if they were human fingers. Enough for her to grasp at the sides of the tub, struggling to breath even as she had her mouth widen with desperate and breathy gasps as more of that gold magic slid its way into her mouth. Forcing her to open up wider to accommodate the magic, arching her back so harshly that she was nearly bent in two, choking on all of the gold…

It would be pure ecstasy, and she could spend hours letting that magic play her body to its own fun. Nimueh had never been the type of woman to lay on the bottom, and allow the man to do all the work of pleasing her. But that gold…feeling the purity of the magic that lingered in the air just out of her reach…she would be willing to give anything a try. If only the gold would stay with her. Would fuel her own power…there's nothing in the world that could get Nimueh going like power. Even now, she could feel the undergarments she wore under her dress moisten, clinging onto her neither regions, making Nimueh rub her thighs together to alleviate the touch. If only imagining what that magic could do to her, imagining all the organisms is could wring out of her body with a few simple touches…could get her this wet in the real world…she knew she had not made a mistake in coming here. Nimueh's nails dug into the stone she was touching, her eyes fluttering into the back of her head as she hummed, her core throbbing in-between her legs pleasantly. Nimueh didn't often take time to pleasure herself, not even being in an empty hallway was enough to stop her from toying with the idea of allowing her fingers to slid under her dress. Anybody could walk into the area, and wonder what she was doing, not being able to feel the things that she felt.

Nimueh tilted her head back towards the ceiling, where the two long strands of black hair she had hanging around her face fell over her shoulders, a low hum echoing out the back of her throat. She could do it…she could push her fingers to their proper place beneath her dress, could slide them along her wetness and imagine how much more pleasant it would be if it was gold tendrils of magic instead. She could take all the time in the world she needed, to push her fingers inside of her hole and imagine she was getting herself prepared for the man strong enough to command such magic to his own will. But no…she would not. And her core throbbed harshly to her decision, as if it was trying to punish her for not going through with what she wanted. Nimueh rarely herself of one thing that she wanted. If she wanted pleasure-rare as it had been amongst her scheming-then she would have taken the time to take it. But…denying herself sent a thrill up the long length of her spine. She would prefer to wait until she had a grip on the man she wanted. She wanted to see for herself if his magic, as it touched her naked body, would start burning as it tried imitating the stretch of what would be a long, rigid cock that she wanted to slide inside of her.

But Nimueh couldn't feel the full force of what all that magic could do, and it left her disappointed. The wisps she could feel clinging onto the walls were just that, wisps. Lingering in the air, but also behaving like a phantom. Stoping her own magic from trying to reach out and brush against it. The connection with all of the land beneath their feet, hadn't been formed yet. Merlin hadn't done this deliberately…he hadn't spelled his mark onto the land to mark it under his protection. It seemed to be like Nimueh's connection had been formed, accidental and only because they themselves had formed an attachment toward the land. But for some reason…Merlin's wasn't staying. The magic kept fading and reappearing, as if it was struggling to decide rather or not it should stay. Why, Nimueh would even go so far as to guess that Merlin himself, didn't know the connection had started to form.

There were reasons as for why a connection between magic user and land could form, that wouldn't have forced by any kind of spell work or ritual being done to claim it. Being an accident would be the most common, like Nimueh, who had taken the land as her home. And the connection had started to form from there. Or…it could be like Merlin…Nimueh was thinking as she mused over a theory…who had managed to save the land. Therefore, kickstarting off a connection…the muck monster. Her baby monster that she had sent to take over and destroy Camelot all those weeks ago. The kingdom might have rejoiced, believing their prince destroy it down in the caves. But Nimueh had been watching, and she had saw what really happened. Her muck monster had been laying a claim, had been causing the land to sicken and drained it of all the resources it had. But Merlin had shown up, and he'd defeated it. Whatever claim her beast had managed to get before his destruction, would have been automatically given to his conquerer. To Merlin…

But as she had said before, the connection between the boy and the land hadn't fully formed. Merlin had no attachment to the land as a whole, not magically, at least. Which…could be something that would happen if Merlin's magic was also rebelling against the claim. But that was also something that would only happen if Merlin himself, hated the land so much …his magic was rebelling against it. Magic sometimes had a mind of its own like that, especially for the powerful. Should Merlin really hate Camelot…he would never have anything to show he had any right to this land among those who lived in the magical community. Nothing other then this wispy half-formed connection that would never be truly completed. But Nimueh liked this theory…because it made things far easier for her, if she decided she wanted to take Merlin away from this place. Make him her King, a position far more worthy of him, then 'Prince's Consort.'

But of course, Nimueh would need to meet the boy she had came to know as the holder of this golden magic. How could she have known if Merlin's existence for as long as she had …and not realized he carried inside him the most powerful light magic she had ever known to exist. It would be most…pleasurable, to see if she could corrupt that magic. And she could only blame not realizing how bright the magic carried inside of Merlin was, was because she couldn't sense things like aura's and magical signatures from her cave. The water bowl she used as a looking glass gave her images, but the spell was a simple one, and it would be too much to ask for it to give her these little details. But Nimueh was no longer in her cave, and as long as she carried on her disguise as a pitiful servant…she could walk along Camelot castle just as freely as she had done in the old days. She would be doing a disservice to herself, if she didn't speak to this Merlin for more than just to kickstart her plan.

Nimueh would still need to follow through with her plan, of course. No amount of discovering Merlin's magic was going to change what she had came here to do. But perhaps, the young sorcerer was as interesting as his golden magic may suggest, she could tweak it a bit. Nothing major, that would be enough to throw off the entire plan and cause too many variables for her to keep up with, forced to watch it fall off onto the wayside and into something she hadn't planned for to happen. Nimueh wasn't stupid enough to risk everything she was going to be doing in Camelot, on the slim chance that she might be able to conquer this boy as her own. But if she could tweak it a bit…maybe she would be able to leave from Camelot with a much bigger prize than she had been planning for…

Yes…Nimueh smirked as she pushed herself away from the wall where she had been gently trying to prod at the golden tendrils of magic lingering behind. She could see new ideas forming in her mind, see a secondary plan forming as it was blending seamlessly into her original plan. The powerful and bold enchantress started stalking down the hall as the finer details of her new plan-one that involved bringing Merlin to her cave-started to color in. She walked like a predator may have, with no fear and absolute self confidence, her flawless face riddled with no self doubt. Any man seeing this, would have fallen to their knees in an attempt to get the attention of such a powerful woman. The shadows along the walls of the castle-specks of gold within them that only she would be able to see, making her feel special in a way she hadn't felt in quite a long time-seemed to dance for her. Darkness in her brewed, confidence etched into her every step, magic leaked out of her as if trying to assure the faint wisps of the golden magic trying to hide from her, that she was going to be back for them.

Nimueh must have walked down dozens of different halls in her pursuit to find the keeper of that golden magic. But that was of course-right when she was about to give up, and put into phase two of her plan into motion (where she would be replacing one of the cups Bayard intended to gift to Arthur as a reminder of the peace treaty standing between Mercia and Camelot)-that she found him. Honestly? It had been the magic she found, before she found him. Nimueh had always been sensitive towards magic, probably why the lure of pure magic called to her when she was a child, and had started a young girl onto her wicked path. So when she got nearer to the boy, she could feel the burst of magic…this had caused her to stop in mid-step. Forcing her to concentrate, to find out if she had imagined it or not. But no, Nimueh knew that she had not imagined it when she felt it come again for the second time. That burst of magic…Nimueh squeezed shut her eyes so that she could feel the powerful wash of golden magic touch her body.

If she had thought the golden wisps she had been feeling all along the castle walls was enough to arouse those feelings in her gut and core that reminded her she was a woman, the kind of woman that had needs her own magical abilities had no chance of curing…it was nothing when compared to her being so near the source of it. Before, she had only gotten moist between her legs. Yes, it was more moisture than she had ever gotten within such a short span of time without a single finger touching herself along her womanhood. But it was only moisture, nonetheless. But now…it was as if there was something that had been awoken inside of Nimueh…a source that ached within her. She wanted to have the gold magic…she wanted it badly. She wanted it on her, and she wanted it in her, she wanted it so throughly that she'd never be clean of it. Her clit ached and it throbbed, sending such a strong wave of pleasure up her spine that she was almost amazed she hadn't crumbled to her knees from it. Each and every brush of her undergarments against her womanhood only seemed to prolong the agonizing pleasure, knowing the mounting pleasure would have to wait until much later only made her clit spasm. She clenched up as tight as she could, her thighs pressing together to hold herself in, but the only thing she wanted was to present herself before the golden magic and allow it to take her. Take her. Take her. Take her…she was strong on her own. But that magic forever tainted in her own…Nimueh would never be powerless again. Nimueh would even go so far as to say she needed that magic more than she needed air in her lungs. And heaven help the poor soul that tried to stop her from taking it.

Nimueh stopped walking when she reached the end of the hallway…she could feel the magic like an overwhelming and never ending presence. If Nimueh was a lesser woman, she would have gotten down onto her knees and bared back her neck to show the golden magic it could take her. But there's no lesser woman standing there, and Nimueh would be sure to stand above the 'Queen' that held that magic within them and their soul. But it would take her, god would it take her to lengths she had never been taken before, because she had allowed it. Nimueh peeked out around the corner that kept her covered, making sure she prepared herself before she made her first introduction to the boy with the golden magic in his heart. And yes…she could see him…not clearly, since he was turned around. But it was definitely him, walking with the old man, and away from three teenage serving girls that Nimueh barely paid any attention to.

They haven't seen her yet, and Nimueh took that chance to do something daunting and unlike herself. She took two of her fingers, and pressed them harshly against her neither lip in order to calm herself and alleviate some of the pressure she was under. But it did nothing, and Nimueh dragged her head back around the corner before she could be seen, with her mouth dropping open at the spark of lightning that shot up her spine. Nimueh pressed her back against the stone of the walls, pressed the back of her head against it so harshly, she would be surprised if she didn't find any of the indents on the blue turban she wore to hide the majority of her dark hair. Nimueh took only a second to close her eyes tightly, as she tested herself and the waters, and she breathed. Pulling in a large breath of air that she could have sworn tasted just like magic.. .

This was only a taste of what that golden magic could do to her body, and she spread her legs a little bit wider. Her lips dropped open as a ragged gasp escaped her, moving along her fingers up and down her womanhood through her dress. Nimueh wanted to hike her dress up, and push her fingers in under her undergarments so she could touch along the heat of flesh for herself. Wanted to feel the wetness soaking onto her fingers, wanted to taste herself as she licked what came out of her, imagining it was the boy she was pressing damp fingers to his lips. But she did not, remembering she had a job to do here. But Nimueh was powerful, and she knew she deserved the entire world. Even this pleasurable little piece of it. She took an added minute to continue rubbing on her womanhood through her dress, pressing her fingers harshly on where she knew her clit to be. Her body shuddered in an almost uncontrollable way throughout the experience. When she finally dragged her fingers away-leaving her wanting to finish herself off, but knowing she had no time for anything more than she did-her clit was probably red and angry with her for teasing it. For not finishing herself off before Nimueh talked to the boy with the golden magic.

But Nimueh's clit gave a painful jolting sensation, feeling as if it had just tried to jump out of her, when she realized she would be talking to the boy like this. With her undergarment wet and stained from her admiration, with her womanhood throbbing in desperation, with her clit glistening with juices he had made her shed. Nimueh clenched her legs together again, and grinned as the painful throbbed echoed up along her hips. Yes…she could imagine the magic strings she had thought of earlier, grabbing her hips, and showing her how much it enjoyed how her womanhood glistened. The feeling only grew more exciting when she realized the boy wouldn't know, not yet at least, how aroused she would be when they talked for the first time. How her clit wanted to connect with his manhood, how her hole wanted to be taken in every way it could be. Front, back, mouth…it didn't matter. She was no lady, and would find even the most degrading acts to be the most pleasurable experience…as long as that golden magic was constant. If this was only the taste she got from feeling a burst of magic the boy probably didn't even realize he had been emitting, she could only imagine how it would be when she was right in front of him. Talking to him. Breathing in his light as if it was her own…another spurt of juices coated her undergarments, and Nimueh could now hear the voices that her new soulmate, and the physician she once knew so well she would have called him a friend…nearing her. And that's when she knew she needed to make her grand entrance.

The magic had made her feel more alive then twenty years of the hatred and anger she'd been brewing to encourage her to keep going. It was so raw, so untamed…she would go so far as to say it carried with it an addictive quality. Nimueh would be damned if she allowed this moment to pass along her, without her making one hell of an impression on the boy that had awakened her. It felt as if she had been sleeping all her twenty years away, and now this light magic…it took the time to seep into her soul, and she wanted it, and her cunt throbbed with a hunger that surprised even her. Yes, what in the world would be better then Nimueh destroying Camelot right under the king's nose? Taking away the consort all the kingdom had scorned would be a pretty good start, none of them able to see that raw power he hid behind his innocent boy facade. His magic could be used for better things, then being used to save their worthless lives. The young woman made a simple hand wave in the air, a mutter of words, and her eyes flashed as gold as the boy's golden heart was. And three throw pillows materialized right into her hands.

Nimueh peeked another glance around the corner before she ducked back behind the wall. Merlin and Gaius looked to be almost upon her, and she clutched her grip around all the pillows more tighter, rubbing her legs together one more time to feel the rush of tingling pleasure to carry her into her next act. She needed to time this just right, needed to make sure she left an impression. Needed to make sure she could form a connection to Merlin based on who they were, rather then what their magic said how they could be together. The priestess wasn't stupid, and didn't know yet whether or not the consort would take her offer, so she would have to keep her own magic tightly closed inside of her. Less Merlin also be able to sense her, and realize her wickedness could be a threat against his light. But god…how Nimueh wanted to see the golden light slowly darken overtime, becoming probably more wicked than ever her own was…if she didn't mess this up, and was able to lure him into her. But Nimueh knew that she wouldn't. She had calculated out every detail to exactly how she wanted them. Even with her sudden tweaks-or like she preferred to call them-improvements, she knew she was not going to mess this up. The throbbing in her center made itself known again, reminding her how desperate she had to be to grow obsessed with such purity in such a short span of time.

But it was addictive, as she had already mentioned before. And when Nimueh decided she must have waited for long enough-she had waited years to feel something that had as much potential as she herself did-she stepped out into the hall. Directly in front of Merlin Pendragon, gasping with this false startle ness, dropping her pillows all along the floor in front of them as she purposely placed the toe of her slipper into a crack between the stones. She fell to her knees right in front of the Prince's consort, in front of the one she could see as a potential soulmate, and she cared not to notice the physician by his side trying to lead him by. Because the gold seemed to wash over her, bathing her body in light only she was aware of, making her fingers flex in one attempt to stop herself from acting out of line. Like reaching for the ties that held up the consort's pants, encouraging him to become her own. To see her magic, just as she saw his and to be equally as enthralled with it as she was.

Nimueh had never allowed herself to be on her knees like this for any man, none she had met had ever been worthy of a goddess like she was. But this was also all apart of a plan she had been working on all along. Because in all the years Nimueh had been alive, she had never once met a man who could resist a woman in trouble. Not one that looked like she did. Not one who was clearly in distress, as she easily made a false blush bring out the rosiness in her face that she did not have naturally. And Nimueh bowed her head down to the only man whose magical potential could rival her own, a soft mutter of "I'm sorry," coming from her lips. Nimueh was sure to keep her eyes on the ground, knowing the man would be coming to her aid. But a shy woman could only get so far in this scheme of hers, but she would not keep up the charade for long. She only needed it long enough to bait him, before she caught him like a fish on the hook. Luring him straight to the darkness she kept in her soul. And true enough, she saw when Merlin got down onto his knees in front of her, the bag he carried falling to his side, so that he could help her…

X

Merlin had never meant to stay in the hall for as long as he did, but he also never expected for a serving girl dressed in Mercia blue, to fall out in front of him. He had only wanted to return to his chambers, and maybe prod his uncle for a bit more information on what the three serving girls who had accosted him had been talking about. Merlin was not sure if he could wait until after tonight's events to have whatever it was his uncle wanted to talk about. It was important, he was able to tell that much. And Merlin could only think of what it could be, each idea more wilder than the last one would end up being. But he needed to get out of this hall first, needed to get away from those girls and their weird attitude and far away from them screaming at him before Gaius had shut the girls up. People were always screaming at him, and always fussed at for some misconceived slight he didn't realize he had even done.

But the serving girl in blue wasn't fussing at him, and Merlin could hear the three Camelot girls down the hall start up the crackling they were prone to doing. The sound echoed in his head, reverting throughout his skull…laughing as if the three girls thought somebody falling onto their face must've been the funniest thing they had seen all year. And it grated onto his nerves, because not that long ago…had he not been the one tripping in front of everybody? Merlin could still vividly remember his first mistake as consort, when he had made a stumble on the red carpet as he walked his way down along the aisle, to meet Arthur at the end so they could exchange their false vows to the other. Which was exactly why Merlin found himself dropping to his knees in front of the girl, and dropping his own bag so that he could help her pick up her own belonging's.

X

"I really am so sorry about all of this." Nimueh cooed under her breath, luring Merlin into a false sense of security with the innocence of her voice. She picked up one of the three throw pillows, as if she was scrambling to collect all of her belonging's together. She could barely contain her glee as the consort kneeled in front of her, proving that she made the right call with creating this false persona. "I believe that I was in such a hurry to bring these to my king…I fear I must have stopped looking ahead of where I was going. I do hope that you will excuse me. And accept my apologize for giving you such an inconvenience…"

Nimueh trailed off, peeking up at the boy with the golden rays of magic emitting off of him like a beacon, coming and going in short bursts, through her eyelashes. And she had to hold back in a gasp, feeling the way her undergarments clung wetly against her core. Nimueh had seen Merlin in the days past, had watched him through her looking glass. But seeing a watery image that rippled and distorted the image far more than she would have liked, did nothing when being faced with the real thing. Merlin was young, much younger then Nimueh would have gone for if it wasn't for the magic coming off of him. But Merlin looked like his father…his face was softer then the other man's was, Nimueh could assume that was either his youth or his mother's influence. But that coloring…the dark of his hair, and the blue of his eyes…for a second, Nimueh almost forgot everything that the twenty or so years had brought her. For a second, she could've sworn it had all been some kind of horrible nightmare. She had not been betrayed by the king, and it was just an ordinary day in her life, where running into Balinor would not have been an uncommon occurrence. But she knew that was not true, as the other man spoke, much softer than his father would've ever spoken.

"It's alright, don't worry about it." Merlin muttered under his breath, his hand nearly shaking in distress as he snatched a pillow up from the ground in front of them. He was waiting with baited breath, squeezing his fingers anxiously around the pillow he carried, for the serving girl to start screaming at him. Hell. Maybe it was somehow even his fault that she had tripped in the first place. He could have distracted her, or he could have been walking funny, and she had tried to dodge him…it seemed farfetched, but Merlin wouldn't doubt it if she somehow claimed he was responsible. Maybe Merlin should just cut his losses, throw the pillow back to her, and make his escape back to his rooms. But the girl didn't say a word, and Merlin breathed in a shaking breath, because for most people, they didn't have near anxiety attacks over just helping somebody clean up. "I…I can help you get all of this picked up…"

And Merlin waited, his whole body tensing up, for this to be the moment the girl in blue scorned him. But he was frozen on his knees, and he did not retreat even if his mind told him to back off away from her. Before he ended up with another accusation against him-people already thought he had been dating another man, it wasn't a stone leap to say he'd hurt a woman purposely, just because he had ran into her. But, the consort didn't feel as if he could just walk away from her. He knew very well what it felt like to be laughed at like the three serving girls had been. Knew very well what it was like to be on the receiving end of everybody sticking their nose in the air, or snickering at you behind their hands after making an innocent mistake. But blown way out of proportion for other people to be entertained by. But…Merlin dared to look away from the floor, and got caught with the other girl's eye.

The girl did not shield away from him or sneer at him as if he was somehow beneath her. She was a common serving girl, a beautiful one Merlin could objectively see, but seemed to be no different than the other serving girl's Merlin had met in Camelot. Other than the fact that she hadn't yet started to shriek at him for ruining her pillows. The blue turban she wore was a head covering, allowing only two strands of long black hair to frame her face, and Merlin could only assume she had either really short hair or the rest of it was tucked in under the head covering. It really brought out her features…Merlin wondered if there was any color that would bring out his own. But the days where Merlin showed concern for how he took care of himself, was long since gone. He was lucky he only had one pair of boots, or he probably would end up wandering around with two different ones on, for how little he cared about things nowadays.

Nimueh was the first one to stand up, making herself keep eye contact with Merlin, her legs felt unsteady beneath her but she watched with satisfaction as Merlin slowly followed her up, that stupid pillow she had used as a ploy clutched in his hands. Nimueh was sure she could feel the crackle of his magic surging around her, before it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. She pushed back the shudder that was working it's way down her spine, pleasurable in what could only be the most agonizing way. It was strong, and she was sure that Merlin must have felt it just the same. But if he did feel it, he was either much better at masking it then she was …or he really wasn't as sensitive toward the magic hovering all around them. But she found that hard to believe, Nimueh could literally taste it on the back of her tongue. She wanted to stick her tongue out and collect more of it, swallow it into her belly. Sucking as much of it out of the air, as she would suck milk from the boy's neither regions, if she ever get the chance.

Nimueh licked at her ruby red lips-even disguised as lowly as she was, the priestess could not resist keeping the color that had became her signature, though no servant should be able to afford such a vibrant shade of gloss-in a way she knew had always drawn the male eye's down to it. She liked to think her lips were her best quality, followed by her eyes…her skin, her hair, her body…and everything else about her was the best, depending on what a man like. But Merlin had to be made out of stone, or perhaps he was one of the very few gentlemen actually still left in the world, because Merlin did not glance down at her lips once. He did not continue to gaze down her neck-where she knew her pulse point could be seen from how hard it was fluttering along the side of her neck. He did not trail his gaze down so that he could look at her breasts, admiring their form and shape as he tried-and failed-to make it look as if he was not imagining his hands on them. His hands cupping her, squeezing her breasts so snugly it would feel as if he was trying to make them burst…rubbing his fingers along her nipples while sending sparks of magic straight through the dusky circles in the center of her breasts. Nimueh would have taken pleasure in cutting off the hands of any man who looked at her with vulgarity, but Merlin…Merlin she would have allowed. If only to feel all the magic within them combining as they travelled closer to being intwined. But yet…Merlin did not carry any such look on his face. In fact, he could have been looking at a child for all of the interest he was showing her.

Nimueh's only reaction was the subtle twitching of one of her fingers around the pillow she herself had picked up off the ground. But she was infuriated, and perhaps even more enthralled, by this man's strength if he was able to resist her feminine beauty. For no man-other then Balinor, but he had already been enthralled with Merlin's mother long before the priestess made her appearance-had ever turned away from her. And no man ever would, she decided with the surge of self confidence that she had carried with her ever since she was a little girl. Nimueh cleared her throat, clutching tightly at her load as she turned up the bashful act, making all the blush she had forced onto her face darken, looking up at the consort with eyes that spoke of shy curiosity, "I really must thank you for helping me collect my things as you have. Not many men nowadays would have been galant enough to do it. Perhaps…if you would be so kind…may I know the name of the man who was gracious enough to save me?"

Perhaps Nimueh was laying it on a bit thick, but she knew it would all work out in the end. Nimueh had never once been denied, not even with her vengeance not yet completed did Nimueh see it as a failure. But even Nimueh's posture spoke of her eagerness, to see what more this boy could do other then destroying her muck creations. She had the pillows put up against her stomach, and it forced her breasts up higher into the air. A sure attention grabber, though the dress that she wore hardly did her any favors. And when Merlin again, gave her no look down, she figured her normal dresses that were far more revealing in all of the right places, would have given her a far better chance. But she was willing to count it as a win, considering the light pink she could see starting to work its way up along the nape of her neck. She knew a man could not be so magical, he could be resistant to her charm.

"Oh, um, my name…you want to know my name?" Merlin said in a stuttering tone, feeling the heat burning it's way along his face now. He…Merlin hadn't considered for one second that the girl in front of him might not know who he was. Merlin's face had been recognizable since long after that first month of his marriage. But it made sense, Merlin realized, considering the girl was from Mercia. And as many people had pointed out to him, he didn't exactly go around looking like a consort would. She most likely thought Merlin was no different than any other servant she could have ran into instead.

Merlin found himself glancing over his shoulder, expecting for the group of three serving girls to rein down on them as if they were a pack of hyenas. Ready to tell the girl exactly who she was talking to, and why she shouldn't bother with talking to him at all. Merlin was the Liar. The Oddball. Merlin was the One that Tricked Arthur into Marriage. The Freak in Peasant Clothes, who couldn't even do a Council Meeting in the correct way. Merlin was the Unwanted Consort. And the three girls felt like the type to make sure this new girl would never forget it, the next time they crossed paths. But rather it was quite a miracle or not-perhaps the girls realized there was still chores to do, or did not want to risk Gaius raging at them again-the girls had already left. Leaving with those big laundry baskets in tote, and leaving Merlin to be humiliating only to himself, as he tried to navigate these new waters. To somebody who didn't know who he was. Who didn't have a single expectation for him, that Merlin would undeniable fail to meet.

Merlin whipped his head back around to meet the vivid blue eyes of the girl still standing in front of him-he was honestly surprised she hadn't taken his distraction as her chance to duck out before he caught her. But she still stood there, and was still waiting for his name, and Merlin squeezed what he was holding tightly between his fingers, almost forgetting it was a pillow hr was holding. Merlin was being stupid, he was definitely being stupid. He could do something as simple as introducing himself. Merlin had done dozens of those when he had first entered Camelot, but then again…most of them had turned their noses up at him. Or behaved confused by his greeting. Nobody could say Merlin didn't learn from his mistakes, so he didn't dare bring up a hand to have a normal everyday handshake-something nobles apparently didn't do at all-with the handmaiden. "I'm Merlin!" He practically spat at her, as if he was some unrefined beast. And Merlin could feel himself squishing back up, trying to make himself into a small ball, already knowing he had completely screwed that up. And she would never want to talk to him again. The one person who didn't look at him as if he was something in the world that needed to be squashed beneath their boots.

But Merlin had forgotten one thing…just because the young serving girl in front of him did not recognize his face, didn't mean she wouldn't recognize her name.

And Nimueh let out a startled gasp, her lips flying open as if this had truly shocked her. In one smooth motion, before the consort of Camelot was able to recognize what exactly was happening, or before he could stop her, she dropped down onto her knees. Nimueh threw herself onto the ground, and committed herself to selling her act as she pressed herself and her forehead, against the stone floor. The pillows she'd been carrying was tossed to the side, her arms pressed to the ground above her head, "Oh! Please! I hope that you will forgive my impudence! I cannot believe that I have the nerve to not only waste the time of Camelot's one and only…to talk freely to The Consort to Camelot's own prince! Please, I will beg you not to think my own manners reflect in anyway with King Bayard's. I will whip myself a thousand times if I am the cause for any distress I might have caused you!"

As Nimueh laid upon the cold stone, knowing that the other man had not said anything just because he was gaping with disbelief and horror at her, the 'striking herself a thousand times' comment settling into his bones, she couldn't help but wander rather or not Merlin could smell her lust. Surely he must be able to smell it lingering on the air, the perfume of her womanly juices rising from her loins in search for the magic that seemed to be hiding from her. Nimueh could for sure smell it, could almost feel the tendrils of magic that she wished would appear before her. Could imagine the simple pop of magic would be enough to rip her bodice open, and reveal her breasts for all to see. Gaius could look, if he was going too, Nimueh wasn't picky or prudish in the least. The powerful woman who took charge of her sexuality…she was perhaps destined to burn at the stake. Even without all her magical capabilities being known to the king, Uther would have found one way or another to burn her. And a powerful woman…was something that all men feared. But the one and only power Nimueh needed right now, was knowing she was able to bring Merlin to his knees. And not just to help her to pick up a few dumb pillows, as if she wasn't able to pick the pillows up her damn self.

And Merlin glanced at Gaius with this panicked expression on his face. But Gaius was no help to him, who looked just as lost as he was. This wasn't something that happened to them everyday…one minute, Merlin had been delving into an anxiety induced attack again, just knowing Arthur would be returning for him at any moment, once news of this new one got around to him. It wasn't everyday a prince realized that his 'consort' had dared to try and take another man on for a date. The prince was sure to be furious, and Merlin knew he could barely handle the prince when he was in a normal kind of mood. He feared for his life, once this got to him, but…the serving girl was distracting enough. Because Merlin couldn't think of one instance where anybody had dropped onto the bend of their knees, and begged him for forgiveness. Maybe King Bayard expected this if his servants and they were now responding to him as they would the king? Merlin hoped this wasn't true, because Bayard hadn't seemed that bad should one compare him to the other nobles Merlin had already met in the last few months. To know his servants were scared of him like this…it would disappoint Merlin more far more then the disappointment he had over Arthur not taking his abuse claims seriously. At least with Arthur, Merlin already held the doubt in his heart.

But Merlin also couldn't just leave her down there, even if his own self doubt usually got in the way to keep him from doing things nowadays. He couldn't allow it to stop such an awful thing from happening. Merlin got back down onto his knees, and reached out his hand to awkwardly prod at her arm, "Don't do that! You don't have to….there's not going to be any 'whipping yourself!' Please just stand up. I'm…I will not be punishing you for something like this!! It's…" Merlin found himself stuttering more than he would have liked to be, feeling like a fool when the serving girl glanced up from the ground at him. And he quickly snatched his own hand away from her arm, because what if she didn't like people to touch her as Merlin did? Merlin never wanted to be the man people were afraid of, he'd known what it was like to be the one that was afraid. Merlin's voice was softer when he said quietly, "Please…stand back up. I'm sure that Bayard would not want you to degrade yourself like this."

Merlin was practically besides himself with guilt, thinking he must have done something for her to act this way. Perhaps there had been something about his body language, he was thinking as he wrung his hands together anxiously, that had made him seem threatening? For the serving girl to think for even one second, that Merlin would have ordered her to go so far as to whip herself for some misconceived slight that hadn't even been a big deal…Merlin could feel the bile as it started to work it's way up his throat. Just the mere thought of somebody doing this, taking a whip and slashing it across their shoulders so that it would hit them along the back, this made him sick to his stomach. Imagining clothes tearing as it got to become too much, imagining flesh starting to peel from the skin as blood started to pour from the self inflicted wounds. Merlin might not have had a hand in doing such a thing, but Merlin also knew he would be at fault if the young serving girl tried going through with it. He…Merlin was not a special person. He was just who he was, with an unfortunate title attached to his name. People shouldn't be threatening to whip themselves-probably leaving a scarring behind that would never heal, sort of like the wounds Arthur had left on his insides-just because they ran into each other. What kind of place was these kingdoms, where servants thought they might have to disfigure themselves, to seek forgiveness, for something that was a complete accident?

"Oh, King Bayard would never dare to dream of doing such a thing to one of his own." Nimueh said in a smooth voice, she slowly made her way back up so that she was kneeling, and no longer pressed onto the floor. She behaved and talked as if she knew the other king for more then the day or two she had traveled with his caravan to the castle. But she was the dutiful servant girl, she thought even as she boldly locked a vivid gaze onto Merlin, making sure she had every bit of full attention from him. She subtly rubbed her thighs together once again, her crotch soaked in her juices, and where he'd touched her on the arm still buzzing. As if his magic tried to connect with hers, but had shied away at the last possible moment. Merlin must be powerful indeed, to have been able to illicit such a response by skin contact. It was amazing the non-magical people were unable to feel it. If Nimueh wasn't trying to keep herself under wraps, she would have allowed her own magic to free itself from her skin so that it could've met with his. "But I am a simple serving girl. And I would not want to dare upset the treaty our kings have worked so hard towards, simply because of a horrible mistake on my part."

Merlin could feel something in his shoulders relaxing, as he let out a shaking exhale. He was relieved, to know that King Bayard was apparently not the type of man to beat away at his servants if he was upset with them. Merlin couldn't say he had ever seen Arthur do such a thing, but the prince had also gave him no reason to think he wouldn't go that far with it if somebody upset him enough. But the serving girl, Merlin knew, was also right, and he could feel himself stiffening up far more than he had been originally. A new tension coming to him, making his throat dry and his heart race with panic as his palms sweated. The treaty…Merlin had nearly forgot all about it after hearing what those girls were saying about him this time. Those three serving girls…they clearly hadn't thought about the repercussions of what would happen had the Mercia serving girl ran off and informed King Bayard she had been cruelly mocked by Camelot. Merlin couldn't have said for certain if a serving girl would bring a problem like it to the king himself, and he couldn't say rather or not a King would have taken it seriously enough to withdraw the treaty from them. But if King Uther and Arthur seriously wanted to carry on with the treaty, then that kind of impression left on those who worked within Mercia, would not be the kind of impression Merlin thought the noble family would want to be carried out of Camelot's boarders.

But Merlin didn't have the luxury those three serving girls did. He couldn't just say or do something-though he knew he also wouldn't laugh when seeing somebody so kind fall onto their face-and then disappear as if they hadn't done a thing. Merlin was the Consort-unwanted as he was-and was still being forced into this duty. Even without the prince and king being a looming force over him, the sorcerer could feel their presence still. Reminding him of his Living Doll status, reminding him that everything he did reflected on them, and reminding him he had one job to do. Play his part. He knew already, that Arthur was going to be incensed-and come for him-the second he caught wind of Merlin being on the date that never actually happened. And there was nothing Merlin could do about that-it didn't stop his heart from fluttering in anxious panic, squeezing so tightly that his breath caught in his throat-but he could play his part. Not well, but surely the serving girl wouldn't know that Merlin was already screwing everything up by not behaving his part. But if this girl would return to Bayard, and claim Merlin hadn't treated her like he should have been…would that also jeopardize the treaty? He felt as if Bayard didn't outright hate him after their brief and barely worded conversation, but that didn't mean whatever opinion he had on Merlin-if it was even good, and the good of their talk before Arthur had started yelling at him wasn't just in his head-wasn't liable to change. If Arthur was going to get pissed at him for wondering off into the room of some man neither of them knew, then just how mad would he be if Bayard drew away from the treaty because of something he had done. Arthur might hate not being able to control Merlin like he thought he should, but Merlin was sure Arthur's hate was going to reach a new level if he knew the treaty's failure was all his fault.

Merlin cleared his throat, the tension in his voice audible as he said, "Please…stand up." And Merlin watched as the girl slowly did as he instructed her too, the pillows returning to her grasp as she picked them up. Merlin racked his brain for something to say, something Arthur-as a prince-might have said to her in this situation. But every memory Merlin came up with, seemed to involve Arthur yelling at him for a reason or another. And Merlin definitely didn't want to start yelling at her. That would hardly help him win her over…Merlin was able to feel the sweat of anxiety coating his palms while his fingers twitched with helplessness. He found that there was no words he could say to fix things, or give the serving girl a more favorable impression on him. Merlin sure hadn't done a good job on winning over Camelot, so what did he think he was doing…trying to win over Mercia? The breath escaped from Merlin's lips, and he could feel his shoulders sag when he gave up far quicker then the Before Merlin would have, "I really am just like everybody else. There's no reason to treat me like…like a noble."

Noble…nobility…it was probably the only insult Merlin could say on the matter without giving away just how much he had grown to despise noble kind. It had been one thing for him to be curious about how the other half lived, when he was a child too young and too far away from any real nobles to get a good image of them. But living amongst them had taught Merlin many things, and noble was only a synonym for being a person who was selfish, and greedy, and cruel. One word to describe somebody that takes everything they want with the world giving it to them, and giving absolutely nothing in return. Merlin should have known better then to try his best to do his part, should have known better then to try his best to emulate Arthur Bloody Pendragon. When the mere name was enough to make Merlin feel as if he had hives making a trail all up and down his limbs. Merlin didn't have much of a way with words, sounding awkward and clumsy even during the few times he managed to say something worthwhile. He fully expected for the serving girl to run off now, and explain to her king what a bad idea this treaty was. How Camelot's own consort was untrained, and a goof, and clearly did not know a thing about what he was doing. Who would want to make a deal with a family who had somebody like him right in the middle of it? Merlin might not be immediately involved with one thing going into the actual treaty, but it would have been expected for him to be as involved as could be. And if Bayard was fooled by the 'epic love story' Uther kept trying to peddle to his people, he probably thought Merlin had any say, since it would make sense that Merlin had the listening ear of his husband and father-in-law.

But the serving girl did not run away to spread the truth to her king. In fact, the serving girl even started to smile at him and not in a way that said she thought he was being funny-and not in a good way funny. "I would hardly call being the one peasant that managed to catch the prince's eye enough for marriage-" and their was a funny twinkling sound in her voice, as if she thought that was amazing. Why, if Merlin did not know any better, he would have thought she knew about the truth behind the marriage. But that thought was brushed away as the serving girl continued, "as being like 'everybody else'. But if you insist on it, I suppose I would have to oblige, though I find it hardly a hardship. My name is Cara."

And then Cara-the serving girl dressed in the deep blues of her people-held out her hand. Merlin's eyes stared down at it, feeling as if his eyes were about to pop right on out of his head. She…this was…Cars was holding her hand out just as Merlin used to do. Greeting him the way peasants would the first time they met somebody. Instead of trying to use all the confusing word games nobles seemed to favor playing. And in a normal situation, Merlin would have stepped away from it, his aversion to touch kicking in at the thought of anybody he didn't know-a stranger-trying to put their hands onto his body. A deep seated fear that this person could become the next Arthur of his nightmares. But Cara was smiling, nobody smiled at him nowadays, and Merlin glanced back down and faced the hand in front of him.

Merlin could do this simple action, Merlin could put his hand out and shake hers as if there was nothing to it. Merlin could do it…and hope that Cara wouldn't feel the sweat coating on the inside of his palms. Before Merlin could talk himself out of it, or shrink back into himself to avoid touching anybody who was actually being-nice? Merlin thought of this word as if it was a completely foreign concept-to him, he reached up and grabbed Cara's hand within his own. To his surprise…it wasn't some kind of a trick Cara was playing on him, making him think she was nice before turning on him. The smile she wore only seemed to grow. And Merlin could feel a sense of normality coming back to him. Yes. Something as simple as shaking hands with a new acquaintance. This…this would be something that he could do.