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!

113. Chapter 114

People around these parts like to say they knew more then others who lived, say, on the outskirts of the kingdom. They claimed they had seen much evil because of just how many times a sorcerer, or a witch, or a priestess, or some creature they thought existed only in fables, would attack. Perhaps, it was only because news of anything happening outside their strong and wide gates, rarely reached those who were not in the king's council. Surely, if the people of Camelot knew the things the people who lived outside the great walls had saw, they would not be so quick to judge. Nor would those living in the walls, claim their life was in any more danger then the ones on the outside.

People inside Camelot only saw those who wanted to add more evil deeds to their names. They saw people who were craving destruction, and wanted nothing more then to take it out of the king's hide. They saw people who threw balls of energy, or could disappear in a tornado with the crackling of insane laughter on their tongue's, they saw the mother who claimed vengeance on the king after her son was murdered under his protection. They saw that vengeance whenever it finally came to fruition, and only saw what the results of her hatred had wrought onto their kingdom.

They did not see the healer on the outskirts who mixed her potions into her herbs, healing a child that would have most definitely died without her assistance. They did not see the wondering traveler, who prayed to the gods every night for a month straight, to help the poor town he had stopped in for a single night during a terrible drought that would have left all of them starving. They did not see the villages who lived underneath the flag of King Uther, but who had never once seen the king making an effort to help them survive the next year. But they did see the knights the king dispatched, who had been given the duty to slay a magical beast that marked a town as it's home. And kept the bandits away from razing their home to the ground and stealing their crops when they set fire to their land for sheer amusement, which happened after the knights returned to the main city.

The people in Camelot City liked to say that evil was born. It was most of them, that easily believed the propaganda that the king peddled down onto them. And those who followed the ways of sorcery might have chosen to become the evil they would become, but some said that only meant they had been marked for evil from their birth. After all, if somebody gave into their evil urges and started practicing magic, then they were easily susceptible from the start. And nothing had been able to save them…only the weak willed would fall prey to this.

But those on the outside of Camelot-the brave few who had only seen evil coming from the hearts of men-might ask one question…or two…on the subject. Why did the sirens, those who lured men to the coast with their beautiful voices, take to drowning them beneath the waves? It couldn't have been because the men were apart of a group who wanted to take the sirens, and cut out their voice bones, and shave away all their hair, and gouge out their scales-which would've been akin to ripping someone's fingernails out-to sale out at the marketplace. Only a thousand times worse because of how embedded and critical-both in culture and bodily function-for a siren to leave. No, it had to be the men who were the victim. Wanting to touch the beautiful body of a siren, only to be murdered when a siren's screaming of 'no' continued to go ignored.

Why did the unicorns hide away in the forest, only showing themselves to a select group of people? It had to have been because unicorns knew they were beautiful, and decided to hide that beauty away so the entire world could stare down at it. It couldn't have been because unicorn's had an innate ability to sense the hearts of men, and knew from the start who was to be trusted. And who wasn't. Perhaps this would be why unicorns were only seen nowadays, by children who had ventured too far out in the woods. Children would've to be the most purest form a human could take, not yet having grown old enough to be as prejudiced as those who'd came before them. Unicorns hid to protect themselves from those who wanted their horns, or believed in the fairy tail that said a unicorn could grant wishes if tracked down. But unicorns were only seen if they wanted to be seen. If one saw one by the time they reached puberty, they should count their lucky stars, and be smart enough to know never to repeat what it was they have seen. For fear of hunters trying to destroy the beauty a unicorn held…inside and out.

Why did an old spinster living on the edge of a valley-who'd been rumored to be a witch-live in a shack far away from all who may venture near. Perhaps it was also, because she'd seen the horrors that men who did not understand would be bringing to her doorstep. Maybe she had adopted the ways of the unicorn, and only choose to be seen by those who'd truly need her. Perhaps this is why people, who had ended up lost and grievously injured in her neck of the woods, may find themselves finding safe harbor in her arms. And being returned just outside their own homes, with nary an idea of how they got there. But should somebody go looking to find her cabin in the woods…may they be doomed and forced to wonder throughout the endless forest for all of eternity. She needed to protect herself, because if somebody was looking for her…she knew it was for anything other then good.

So, this brought upon the aged old question that many have asked themselves over the years…was evil truly born into a world like theirs? Or had it been created? Forced into being what should have been been. Crafted until they became the one person they could not recognize. Forged in fire and with fear…some people would do anything to survive. Even if this meant giving into their baser animal instincts. Perhaps there would come a day where people learned to ask questions or learned how to be accepting of those whose soul sung with a different verse then the others, and nobody would need to ask a question such as that ever again.

But that was not this day…

X

The Priestess Nimueh, has had many years of practicing her patience. Practicing and planning and venting…there's been only so many things somebody like her could do when they were stuck in a cave for twenty years. Never venturing very far away where anyplace was populated with people. She'd kept to herself, not wanting the odds to be turned against her, just in case Uther somehow got word of where she was hiding out. Call her paranoid-especially when she learned to glamour herself-but Nimueh hadn't been taking any chance that Uther would find her before she could enact one of the many plans she had been considering.

Her patience could probably be declared as one of the most strongest when it came to her personality traits. This hadn't been true when she had been younger, she had been quite a impatient creature as a child. Often running off to whatever she had seen as her 'next big adventure'. But then, she had discovered her talent for witchcraft, and started to delve in it deeper and deeper, her spell work growing more and more complicated and advanced as she aged through the years. It had trialed her patience, and she had learned how to wait, if she wanted things to go the way she did. Nimueh couldn't very well be doing a potion, and then throw in just a bit more of the ingredients she needed earlier then she should, since she was eager to see the results. The entire bowl would only blow up in her face, and that had been if she was lucky. Her working with these forces that would escape normal human understanding had been no laughing matter. Nimueh knew it had been quite the miracle that nobody had died back when she had first started experimenting in her own magic, trying to discover exactly what she could do. Instead of just doing whatever was in the books her scrawny little hands had got a hold of.

Her patience was why Nimueh was also to stand as still as she was, half hidden behind one of the many walls that had made up Camelot Castle. Nimueh watched with a keen eye, never seen nor discovered, as one of Camelot's guards took the time to light one of the torches on the wall. This was the Royal Guest Wing, a place Uther would stash away anybody of royal blood for as long as they were in his care. Priestess Nimueh had never understood this line of thinking. Because it did not matter that the rooms in this hall were literally fit to be lived in by the most important nobles-fit only to have a royal king sleeping on the sheets-it was still a dark place. All the halls on this side of the castle had a design flaw, where there were no windows…except for inside the actual room of course. But none that could have used the sunlight to cast a light source into the hall, leaving the torches to be lit up way earlier then any in the castle.

Uther had explained it to her once, when she had first been visiting the castle, that it had been no design flaw. When his ancestors had first started building the castle, they decided this side of the castle would need to be used as a defensive strategy. The one place servants and non-fighters would be able to hunker down in the case of attack. It had been built with that mindset in mind, extra stones built into the walls to keep enemy fire out. Catapults had been a real concern, and it would only take one misfire to destroy the castle and all of the civilians if it wasn't strong enough to take it. But…by the time Nimueh had returned to the castle, Uther had changed many things around after he became king. His reign started in a time of peace, so this hall hadn't actually been used for many years. If there was an attack that got into the castle, a good bit of people knew barricading themselves inside the throne room-the strongest point of the castle-would be the safest bet for keeping intruders out. Though that would do nothing, if the people inside starved to death, which Nimueh had pointed out the first time she had heard all the changes the new king was making. But Uther had brushed her aside, saying it was no different then this hall. Nimueh begged to differ, since the kitchens weren't nearly as far away from the hall then it was from the throne room. But who had Nimueh been, to argue against the king who had generously taken her in after the death of her mother?

But nowadays, Nimueh had no qualms about arguing with whatever Uther declared. She owed him nothing. And even if she did, she had already paid her debt ten fold with every little thing she had endured after Uther had chased her far away from the kingdom all those years ago. Nowadays, the priestess didn't hold back with her cynical thoughts…Uther had probably only changed this wing and made it into their new quarters for royal guest for one reason. To be used as a subtle message to their guests that they 'were' guests, and would be held accountable if they stepped out of line. What other reason would Uther have for putting his guests in such a dark space, a space that needed candles to be lit up hours before the rest of the castle would? Uther always did like to have his vanity and power be known, and no guest with half the manners a noble should have, would dare to complain if their accommodations were darker then they were used to back home. Especially not in a foreign kingdom where they were trying to foster peaceful relations for the ongoing next stage of the future.

Nimueh watched as the guard who had lit up the torches on the wall, started to walk away in the opposite direction. She had no fears of the dark, and would use every inch of it to her advantage now as she hid in the shadows. She'd always been drawn to the darker side of things, and her wickedness showed her the way to go. Every spell in her arsenal, every potion she brewed…always had a tinge of her evil to go with it. It was a point of pride for Nimueh, something she worked hard to achieve, and she needed to stop herself from doing something childish, perhaps making the wind blow? It would have caused a chill of fear to go straight down the knight's spine, knowing something was unnatural about it, but never knowing the true evil that stood behind him, looking like a demon as she stepped out from behind the wall. But the knight never turned around, and Nimueh smirked, with her painted lips. Nimueh liked to say that she wasn't evil, or at least…she hadn't always been. She had been forced to do deeds far more dark then she had ever done, with survival in mind. A young witch on the run from millions of knights who would see her killed in a heartbeat…people like her needed to do what they must, if they hope to see a better future. All the circumstances she had found herself in…made Nimueh feel more vengeful, not evil. Somebody that did something only because something awful had been done to her…

But the knight would have saw no difference if he had once, turned around. Nimueh would have been the figure amongst the dark, who sniffed out the soldier's life with barely a flick of her fingers. It would be so easy to kill Uther himself, using that method. But Uther's pride was his kingdom and Nimueh wanted to see the light die from his eyes after Nimueh took everything from him. Before she went as far as killing him, to get vengeance for the hundreds of her kind he had killed off or executed for even being associated or accused of having magic…just as the light had died from Nimueh's eyes when she saw the results of the king'd wrath. Her vengeance was going to be sweet, yes. But…it would be far sweeter to see the look on Uther's face the day he realized he had married his son off to 'one of her kind.'

Nimueh grinned, feeling the delicious shiver course down the length of her spine as she thought of the boy, but the priestess brushed it aside and continued her work.

Nimueh walked down the length of the hall, passing by the candle light coming off of the torch. The light flickered with an ominous energy as if it could sense her presence and did not know what to make of her. If it should burn out, going all the way down to the wick, in order to escape the emptiness of her soul reflected in her eyes. Or if it should burn brighter than ever, until the whole candle was forced to combust due to how hot the flames were, trying to get her attention after destroying itself. Nimueh barely paid it any notice, only this flicker of a smirk appearing on her face to acknowledge she had even noticed it had happened. And then she was there, standing right outside of King Bayard's door.

All of this, Nimueh thought as she stared up at the door, all that she had done this last month in order to prepare for this very moment, had led to this. She only needed to go inside, and put the final piece of the puzzle into place. After that, it would only take a bit of manipulation here and there for her players to fall into their places. But her plan would all go off on the wayside if she did not have this piece where she was needing it. Some might even argue, that it would have to be the most important part of a plan. And Nimueh would not be the one to argue against this point of view. What would be a plan, if it didn't have a little magical artifact around to cause ruin to all the right people.

Nimueh took a moment to glance down either end of the hall to make sure she wouldn't be seen entering the very private chambers of the king. Only the king's most trusted servants were allowed inside of it, two who had been chosen for the specific purpose of attending to King Bayard while he was on his travels. And unfortunately, neither of those girls were the one Nimueh had decided to take the place of. The maid she had taken over was nobody important, only one of the many nobody knew to take care of the grunt work nobody wanted to bother with. Nimueh couldn't risk taking anybody that somebody might have actually known, for concern they might actually notice the intruder in their midst. But nobody had noticed her yet. And nobody was coming for her at the moment. Nimueh's painted lips grew even wider, as her plan continued going off without a hitch.

Nimueh easily popped open the door handle, these people really were confident in their king's privacy. Nobody'd even bother locking the king's door to prevent intruders, or even the anticipated attack any smart king would have assumed would happen to him while he was on foreign soil. All these people were arrogant, thinking they were untouchable when it came to the rules of men. Or the rules all types of magic users were supposed to be bound by, until the strongest of them all blew them down and made the whims of nature be bowed down before them. With nobody around to stop her from making her entrance, she easily slunk into the door. It slid shut quietly behind her, only a hint of the lock clicking in place when it closed.

Nimueh took a moment to look around the space in front of her, pressing the base of her spine against the door just to ensure it stayed shut. But the room was as empty as was to be expected at this time. The king was still doing his one on one meeting with Uther, and would probably not be back till he had to freshen up for the party in a few hours time. What that meant for her, was that she had plenty of time to make sure what was needed would get done. But she still needed to be quick, to get out of here, because there were servants she needed to be aware of still. There was evidence that the servants have already been hard at work as there seemed to be five large trunks resting at the foot of the four poster bed situated in the center of the room. Why anybody would have need of five trunks when they would be gone in a manner of days if everything went according to their plan, would have to remain a mystery to Nimueh. Though she was hardly one to talk, considering she used to never leave her chambers in the castle without a satchel filled with potions she knew she would most likely not need-and never did-but was trying to compensate for her new role as 'court sorcerer.' But Nimueh had grown, and she had learned, and she knew there wasn't any need to carry around such objects, when she was able to squeeze what she needed out of the earth around her. It was far easier, traveling without the added weight of all her pass actions dragging her down.

Nimueh pushed herself off from the door, and took a chance to scan the rest of the room. It seemed as if those chosen to prepare the king's royal chambers, had decided to embrace his home front. The sheets of the bed were as blue as all the capes every one of his soldiers wore, the exact same shade of blue she was using as a wrap to hide all the length of her dark and enchanting hair. There were bear skinned rugs that ran along the floor, making sure his royal highness' bare feet would not suffer the cold in the mornings. There was also of course, the trunks. And then there was this empty fireplace off to the side, and out of the way, though Nimueh was sure it would be stocked and lit before the king returned to go to bed. If he ever would…but Nimueh was getting too far ahead of herself. And her eyes landed onto a table situated right in the middle of the room, almost as if it was waiting for her. Or calling out to her…Nimueh believed in destiny strongly. Just as it was her destiny to put a stop to the wrong's Uther had been committing for decades on her people, she knew that it had to be a sign from the gods of old-and not the one God she knew Uther and his like minding people followed about so blindingly-that she was making the right call.

The gods of the old religion wanted her to do this, they had chosen her for this, and wanted her to seek her vengeance on the king. Why else would King Bayard have left behind an ancient but ornate looking box right where she would find it so easily. Sitting on the edge of his table, waiting for a time where it would be brought down and presented before their host kingdom's royal family. Nimueh wasted no time to hurry across the room, settling down the pillows she had used as a means to get Merlin's attention on the side of it. She didn't have any use for them now, and her electric blue eyes fell to the box. Locking onto them with this intense look holding its strength and desire, doing nothing to hide everything in her gaze now that she was alone. Nimueh was greedy, and she could feel her fingers twitching as the magic built up among her fingertips. Red sparks that were settling down easily as she got to work.

It only took a simple twist of the lock for Nimueh to get open the box…fools, the lot of them, she thought nastily when the lid of the box opened only a crack. It was bad enough none of them had bothered with locking the door-Nimueh would not stay anywhere without having a dozen or so spells cast onto the door, enchantments that would keep out any who'd meant her harm, and alert her in the process-but now, none of them had bothered to actually lock the box. And not even with something as simple as an ordinary key, carried around with them to keep thieves from stealing it. It would do not a thing against a sorceress like her, but at least they could say they had taken some sort of precautions to try protecting all of the valuables they had brought with them. And what was in this chest…would have to be the most valuable item King Bayard had carried across the boarder with him, and right to Camelot's territory.

Nimueh, her grin stretching into a pleased expression, was careful to raise the lid of the box all the way, as if she feared the hinges might squeak and give her away in the emptiness of this room. But this box was made to be carried by royals, so of course, it did nothing as mundane as squealing. There was one thing Nimueh was able to say about these royals…they knew how to build things that were supposed to last a lifetime. Even if they often threw things out with the trash as they finished with them, just as Uther had once thrown her out with the trash once she had done what he wanted her to do. Only for thing to go wrong in all the worse ways, just like she had warned…Nimueh shook her head. She did not want to bother thinking of the past right now. She had done much thinking on it over the last twenty years inside her cave, not a day going by without the thought crossing her mind…and sending her into another tailspin of rage before she learned to temper herself with her plans of revenge.

Nimueh rolled her eyes back down to the box, and took in the three goblets that laid within, laid out on this dark blue velvet cushion to prevent the cups from being damaged or dented as they hit against each other along the ride into the city. If Nimueh was a lesser woman-or somebody who had not grown with a mother rich enough to give anything and everything her daughter wanted to her-then the sight of the three goblets would have taken her breath away. They were beautiful cups, meant to be decorative rather then actually used, though used tonight, she knew they would be. Each of the cups had been encrusted with jewels around the rim and she knew, recognized them as she was somebody who liked to play around with talismans and magic jewels from time to time, that each one was a rare gem that could only be found among the Mercia boarders. Bayard was really banking hard on this treaty to go through, if these were the three cups he had chosen to give the royal family as a physical reminder of the peace between their two lands. Not everybody was able to say they were in possession of rare gems from a different foreign land. But that was royalty, and they traded the most prized possessions they had all the time, for only the simple chance that it would stop a war from being started. But that tactic would harshly work…Nimueh knew, if one would truly want a war to start, a simple trinket-even a rare one such as these cups-would not be enough to stop them.

Nimueh's eyes settled on the biggest cup of the lot, and she felt her lip lift into a sneer. The silver goblet had an octagon shape along the bowl of it, the jewels embedded right under it. Before it faded down into simple wavy designs along the stem of it, and down where it faded upon the bottom. That goblet…was made for Uther Pendragon. The most beautiful cup out of the lot, it would have been an insult to the king of Camelot if the king of Mercia tried giving him anything that was less then. Nimueh reached into the box, and she ran her pointer finger along the top of it with this horribly disgusted and contemplative expression on her face. It would've been so easy for her to slip her poison into Uther's drink, nobody would have been the wiser and she could've been gone long before anybody discovered what it was. And god…it must've been the most tempting thing Nimueh's had to push straight to the back of her mind, and deny actually going through.

Even if it would finally mark the ending of her vengeance…it was not what she had came here for. And it wouldn't matter in the long run, because she would simply have to start her revenge all over again if she started with the king. It would stand to reason, once the king was dead…his son would be the one to take his place. And one Pendragon would he just as bad as any other one. Besides, as she had said, she had not came all this way and did all of this work, only to make a few changes that would ruin what she had planned. Nimueh was not here-not this time-for the King. He would just have to wait until she came back for him. No, this time…she came here for Merlin. And Merlin is what she would have, though… his death did not seem as pleasing as before. But like she's said before…if Merlin lived through this test, then his magic truly was as strong as she thought it was. And it would end up being the perfect fit to sit alongside her as they ruled the world…until she could siphon out every bit of magic inside of him.

Nimueh's eyes shifted from the first cup, and onto the next in the lineup. Arthur's cup…and this was the one that she's going for. Nimueh reached into the box, and carefully pulled out the second cup, examining it from around all the angles around it, noting the differences from Uther's. One thing, it seemed, the lip of the goblet was round and looked far more like a normal goblet one would expect to see decorating the tables of a royal banquet. There were still jewels encrusted along the top of it, though there was a few less then those she had seen on Uther's, and did not look as flashy as those had been. But nonetheless, it was still quite the beauty, and perfectly acceptable for a prince. Before Nimueh could have the chance to do what she had planned though, she noted it had something on the bottom. Something carved along the metalwork on the bottom plate…it seemed to be only half a circle, a symbol of some kind? Nimueh ran her thumb along the bottom of it, feeling the carving scraping alongside her thumb as she got a better look at it. The half-circle seemed to be made entirely out of a black onyx stone, though there was a little white diamond in the corner of it, breaking up all the black darkness that marked it.

Something prickled on the back of Nimueh's neck, and she furrowed her brows together. She was sure she had seen a symbol like this before, but no matter how hard the woman thought about it, she could not remember what it meant. If it was something important, or meant something…perhaps the priestess should consult some of the books she'd smuggled out of the castle when she made her first big escape out of the city all those years ago. Magical books-rare tombs-that could absolutely not be lost to the fires of Uther's hatred, as he had been set on burning anything that could have even resembled something people could learn magic from. Some thing's had been spared-only if they proved they could have been useful against Uther's crusade-but most of them have gone and and found the fires. Perhaps, this symbol could be found inside one of them…she was sure it would have to be some sentimental bull, though. For why would Bayard try to include a magical symbol on a gift given to a man who hated all magic? Nimueh would have certainly done it, only for the sheer amusement she would get, knowing Uther would not have a clue about it's true origins.

No matter, Nimueh would just have to find out later rather or not it was sentimental bull, or something that actually meant something, later on. For now though, Nimueh put the goblet to the side. She would be sneaking Arthur's goblet far from the room when she took her leave. Arthur would not need it anytime soon. But still…nobody would know that it was gone either, though it would serve Bayard right to know he'd been lucky enough to be important enough that a priestess of her caliber had sought to rifle through his belonging's. She had learned there was not many people in the world, who would deserve the privilege, as many people she met met over the years were just as boring and as dull as the last she had met in crossing. It was perhaps why she killed them, if they had wondered too close to her cave. Perhaps living in isolation had driven her a bit mad, but…when one had been treated as badly as she had been, then any who crossed her would deserve what they got.

And speaking of deserving…

Nimueh reached into the pocket of the peasant dress she'd been forced to endure wearing, and dragged out the small, wooden case she had smuggled into the castle. Placing her hands on either side of the small chest, it reacted as it was meant too-her magical signature being the key to force the lock into turning. The chest grew in size, her hands moving along with it as it expanded until it was only slightly smaller then the one sitting on the table. Because after all, the box she had only needed to fit one goblet, instead of three. The priestess settled her box down on the table once it reached it's full size, and with a click-her magical signature pulsing over the box so that it was briefly covered with a red sheen of color-the lid popped open fully. Because Nimueh would never leave any item of hers unlocked, not even if she had no intensions on leaving it anywhere. And Nimueh would not be so crass as to lose something that was this powerful……she knew the importance of taking precautions. Just in case she had been caught-doubtful as that would have been-the best thing to do was prepare for any inevitable event. Even if they have caught her, they wouldn't have been able to pry open her chest. Not with any forces created by men.

Nimueh leaned over the table, and peered into her box. Her grin stretched wider then before, as she pulled out a goblet that was identical to the one Bayard had chosen to give the prince in every way possible. Hell, now that she was looking at it more closely, she could even see that it bore the exact same symbol on the base of the cup. How she had missed it when she had been casting her spell on it back inside of the cave was a mystery to her, but she'd been pretty busy doing her spell casting to notice a little thing like designing. She at least, knew the duplication spell she had cast over her water bowl-when she had first concocted this plan, and used it so she could spy on Bayard, and had watched them packing up the cups-was a success. It would have been too difficult for her to have another cup created, since she had already did all of the work to spell this one specifically. And speaking of spelling, Nimueh peered over the lip of her false goblet and smirked when she saw the inside of it.

The inside was the only thing that was different, because of the little pink flower petal that was pressed right along the bottom of the smooth metal. It was the petal she had grown with carefully consideration inside her cave, using magic to hasten the process in the weeks leading up to this moment. And then spelled correctly before making the journey here…it had been a difficult process, getting the magic just right. But it was nothing too difficult for a priestess such as her. It was such a light shade of pink, Nimueh herself needed to be moving the cup in a circular motion for the sun light to catch it just right. Nobody would notice it…and once they poured that thick and dark purple wine Nimueh knew the king would favor during parties and banquets…it would be able to hide the petal completely. Nimueh had absolutely nothing to worry about it being discovered. And even if it was, she was well aware that nobody around would be smart enough for it to be recognized as something magical. Expect for Gaius….. but a normal servant would assume it was nothing but a leaf that had-embarrassingly-slipped in during transport.

Nimueh carefully lowered the false goblet into the place that the real goblet had been resting. She fitted it into the indent the original had left behind, and she looked pleased when it fit perfectly. Like a lost slipper being returned to the owner, if she was ever found. Nimueh didn't take her eyes off from the goblet, whispering an enchantment under her breath as she trailed a wickedly long and painted fingernail slow down the side of it's rounded edges, "Alyson duru ronne-" and the priestess watched as the goblet itself gave a very light coat of simmering red energy. Before it faded, looking as if there had been nothing there to begin with.

Nimueh, before she had came to the city, had decided to put a stasis charm on the goblet. Just another precaution to make sure no 'unfortunate incidents' caused her spell to be activated long before it was meant to be. But the spell she'd used now, had released the enchantment, and now…it would be only a moment of time. The specifics of the spell like this relied on contact with a liquid…the second the wine touched the flower petal, it was going to release its poisoned toxin to spread along the rest of the cup. Drinking even a sip from it now…would have resulted in a slow and painful death. There was only one cure for it, and Nimueh would be there, waiting to see rather or not the prince would come. Or perhaps the prince would leave his consort to die on his own…should the powerful sorcerer somehow survive this encounter, it would be easier then ever to convince him to come somewhere he would be valued. Or at least…she would be more discreet at how she was using him, then the royal family has been.

The magic that she had used left the lingering taste of ash on his tongue, coating the insides of her mouth with a taste that was meant to indicate death. And what, other then the ashy remains left behind by those that have been scorched by the fires she would leave in her wake, would have been a good substitute for death? Ash had a way of symbolizing all the pain and suffering and destruction it would cause…trees being burned down in the forest. Fires being set towards the homes of innocent's. Witches screaming as their stake went up in flames…it only made sense that Nimueh's magic would have started to taste as such. But while may have cringed in disgust, the taste of death lingering in the air until her magic settled…Nimueh only hummed with a deep satisfaction that rocked her to the core.

She loved the taste her magic have become, loved that her soul had changed so utterly, that her spark of magic would be able to elicit such a drastic change…it reminded her that her innocence was long gone. That she was no longer stuck in the naive mindset of the child she'd been, back when she had been a welcomed friend in the castle. It meant that she had grown wise beyond her years, meant she would not be fearful when she finally got to taste the blood of Uther along her lips…it meant that she was strong enough in soul, body, and mind, to be about to carry out her own brand of justice. But while her magic tasted like pure pleasure along her own lips, she knew that it would be nothing when she finally got to coat…his.

The priestess glanced over her shoulder towards the door, and her lips started to look more like a wicked smirk. There was only one thing Nimueh could think of doing right now…only one thing she wanted to do to celebrate completing this next phase of her plan. And god, did Nimueh want to go free, and celebrate becoming one step closer. And Nimueh saw no reason not to…indulge…in herself just this once. It's been quite a long time since Nimueh was able to just…feel…something other then her desire for revenge. It was quite a simple matter, her eyes flicking gold as she whispered a few enchantments underneath her breath. Precautions needed to be taken if she was going to do this, and her spells would be enough to warn her if anybody came within the vicinity of this room. Giving her enough chance to escape, should she be interrupted and needed to leave before she was found.

But….how often did she get the chance to do something she knew would be as risky as hell. How often did she knew that it would be risky as hell, but the risk only made her want to do it more. And how many people in the world, would get to say they have sought their pleasure-and gotten away with it all-inside of a king's personal bed chambers. Because make no mistake, Nimueh had no doubt in her soul that she would be able to seek whatever pleasures she wanted, and know it would not even be suspected. She had no plans on leaving a shred of evidence that she had been in this room-she knew she wasn't stupid enough to leave proof of her activity-yet along exactly what she had decided to do while she was in here. People only lived once…right? Expect if somebody-her perhaps-was a priestess of the old religion. The boost in her power could sustain her for several additional years that she otherwise, would have never had. Perhaps, after the King of Camelot was dead and buried, Nimueh would return straight to the castle and have her way in the king's very own bed. It was definitely a thought she would have to come back to at a later date, as a final 'fuck you' to the king that had ruined her life.

Nimueh took this moment to allow her gaze to rest onto the third cup Bayard had chosen, but this one was clearly meant to be given to the Consort of Camelot. Though it seemed to look the same to Arthur's in every way, a twin cup to match with his princely husband's. Nimueh reached into the box to wrap her fingers gingerly around the stem of the metal cup, and pulled it out. Nimueh eyed the glistening jewels that had been lined along the top of the goblet, reflecting her face in the center of them as they forced a pattern. Blue, fro remind them it had came from Mercia. And red, to know they would forever reside to Camelot's royal family. And then the added addition of green between them, to have what would be the physical representation of the true that laid between the two of their lands. Nimueh's face screwed up in disgust, seeing it as nothing more than an unnecessary and gaudy gift that should never be given to a sorcerer.

Nimueh supposed the gems could have been used in some kind of ritual, only after they have been pried from the cup they rested in. The metal itself was absolutely useless to a sorcerer, but someone magic-who specialized more firmly in talismans and magic jewelry-could probably find some way to make the gems useful. Though honestly, Nimueh could sense that the magical properties inside of them were very weak. So the spell couldn't be anything very strong, or the gems were liable to explode in their face from an excess of sudden exposure to magic. It was very complicated, as the priestess knew only certain types of jewels were created to be strong enough to contain the power of a sorcerer. But…Nimueh was pretty sure Merlin-who from what she'd seen, despite his odd gift for doing magic for the most mundane of things without using words to aid him-didn't know much in the ways of actual knowledge. So, he probably wouldn't even see the gems and think to do some experimenting of his own, to see how much they could take.

Yes, Nimueh decided, she would have been very annoyed and disgusted if she had been the one to receive a gift like this. She probably would have used her magic to banish it away on principle, right in their face, just so they knew how absolutely useless she thought something like this cup was going to be to her. She could get a tin cup, and it would still serve the same function as the goblet…to give her an object to drink from. No, if one really wanted to impress a sorcerer, they should have stuck with something that would actually prove to be useful. An ancient tome full of new spells that could be played with. Perhaps something that was far more ancient, with gems that could actually handle being used in magic rituals. Rare ingredients that could be used in potions more advanced and dangerous then something that would be used in the more common ones. And those were just the few things Nimueh had been able to think of off the top of her head. She was sure if there'a somebody out there who was worthy of giving her a gift, they would have been more creative, and could think of something to give her that was more impressive then…a goblet.

No…this was absolutely not the ideal gift to give someone of magical descent. Every sorcerer Nimueh had ever met in her entire lifetime, had always been excited to get something to strength their magic ability. Something that pertained to the power they had…anything to increase what they could do. It was easy to cast a simple levitation charm, as it was one of the very first spells somebody learned how to do, forcing an object to move with a few words and wave of their hand. But everybody wanted to know how to set forest fires, blowing a forest into destruction. To cause tidal waves strong enough to knock down an entire village…nobody wanted to be stuck with simplicity. Everyone-few and far as magic users could be found nowadays-wanted to be more powerful then they already was. And Nimueh could only marvel at what kind of power range Merlin could have if he was had training or the proper education any young, budding sorcerer should have been able to have at their immediate disposal.

And, playing around with the cup, Nimueh angled it so that she was able to see the base of it better. And just as she'd seen on Arthur's goblet, there was an etching sketched on the bottom. It was a half circle just as the other, but the two colors have been inverted. The larger half of the circle was a white shade, and there was a very tiny onyx embedded into the center of it. Once again, she got the sense that she was missing something, something…important. The image once again, felt so hauntingly familiar…she was positive she had seen it somewhere before. It had to be in one of the books she had accumulated under a protection charm-to keep the pages safe from the elements-in her cave. But…Nimueh felt the sudden urge to smack herself across the face when she got hit with 'exactly' what it was.

Nimueh hadn't been wrong when she said it was most likely something on the sentimental side-gag-of things. When she had seen the black half, Nimueh hadn't been able to put the pieces together. But seeing the white one now, she was able to fit the two pieces together in her mind, sitting themselves alongside the other, fitting together like they were pieces of a puzzle. Nimueh had seen this symbol-the one that's been complete-in a book. But it was not in any of the books she'd gone and collected. No, the book she was thinking of came from a place that was much deeper in her memory…she had still been small enough that her mother would read to her a new book every night. And her absolute favorite had been a book about two koi fish…

It had been a stupid little story made for children, explaining how true love could conquer even death. The innocent child she had been, had enjoyed her mother's rendition-doing the funny voices and all to make it seem more fun-but the adult Nimueh had her life put into perspective. And was no longer able to find such stories 'cute' or 'funny.' The story basically spoke of a young woman who had lived in a small village but due to her family obligations, was told she would be forced to marry the elderly king of a nation they were at war with. It was her duty, to secure their kingdom and stop the endless bloodshed of her people. But on the eve of her wedding, the woman-for she was more of a girl, then a woman-got scared of what was to come. And while waiting for the wedding that would be her undoing, the young girl did what her heart had been screaming at her to do this entire time. She ran.

Her people would call her a coward for abandoning them all, but none of them saw the fire in her eyes, or felt the bravery of her heart as she did something that was entirely selfish…she knew she would not live for long if she had married that man. It was best to be known as the Coward Princess, then be known as the Dead Queen. And so she ran, she ran and she ran…until her feet was blistered and bleeding, the soles of her wedding shoes broken beyond repair. She must have gotten sick, or gotten lost running through the forest lining the king's castle, because soon it had started to rain. As if it was responding to the girl's sadness, because she knew she would always be known as the Coward Princess, abandoner of those who put their faith's in her. She must have ran miles before her sickness from the rain started to effect her, since it was only then that she passed out.

When the young girl woke up, there was no telling just how much time had passed. But she found that she was inside of a cabin, and she got scared, having no idea where she had just woken up or how she had gotten there. She rouse to her feet, barely able to walk from the exhaustion weighing down on her…her feet were bare as somebody had clearly took off her shoes, but thankfully, left her wedding dress alone. The girl didn't know where she was, but she knew the cabin was a simple looking place. There was no possible way the king she had been due to marry-a greedy man if she'd ever seen one in her entire life-would own something as simple as this was. Before she could explore much though, the young girl could hear somebody approaching the cabin from outside…and she reacted.

There was nothing but a fire poker in her reach, but the girl grabbed onto it with fire brimming in her heart. Sick or not, she would not allow another man to take advantage of her…she had ran the first time, but she would rather die then go from one monster to another. And when the door opened to reveal a friendly young man-the owner of the cabin who, as it would turn out, had found her and brought her to his own home (a kindness and grace she had never known) to help her heal and recover with no clue who she really was-barely older than her…she attacked him. Hiding behind the door of the small cabin, she clambered him over the head with that fire poker as hard as she could, refusing to do anything that would mark her as a Coward, ever again. And when he fell to the floor, that stupid straw hat he was wearing falling off his head, she made a mad dash for the door…only to realize the monster was not following her as she thought.

In fact, the 'monster' was looking at her-a little dazed, but grinning in awestruck amusement-giving her the option to leave if she wanted too. But the girl found herself conflicted with this, because despite being a Lady, she'd not lived long enough to have any choice be given to her. And this incident was enough to intrigue her, and so she decided to stay with the boy-as long as she was still recovering from her run out in the rain-who would soon grow into a proud man. But one that would never lose the sparkle in his eye. Not even when she decided to stay for good, living in his little cabin on the edge of a small village that rested miles and miles, far away from the castle. Not even when she eventually told him who she really was, and what she was running from…and the boy never made her feel like a coward for escaping from her own home as she had. He actually admired the courage she had shown by deciding not to tie herself down to a life of misery for people she never really knew.

Quicker then the blink of an eye, the years seemed to pass by, and the girl and the boy grew into fully capable adults. It was at some point along the road, they fell in love with each other, and pledged to spend the rest of their lives being only with the other. For nearly ten years, the girl lived the life of a farmer, but she could have never been happier. Within all of those years-since the village was in a remote area among a mountain range-she never heard news of what happened to her kingdom after her bold escape. She could have lived by her young man's side for an eternity, lived among the village as if she was one of their own, and have a peaceful life until the spirits decided to call her home. But one day, the young man that was now her fiancé, burst through the door of the cabin they had shared for ten years, and told her that she'd need to run. He would follow her soon, but she would need to get out while she still could.

The woman knew there was only one reason for this horrible behavior…the king had found her. After a decade of being to herself, the king had spent the remainder of his days trying to track down the woman that had scorned him. He always had a strong pride, and it made sense that he wouldn't have rested until she was under his thumb, as she'd been meant to be. But the woman had her taste of freedom, and she was not going to go back to being the bird in the cage that she'd been. She was going to run to try and keep the freedom that she had earned, that she had worked for, that belonged with her. But before she could run, the woman started to hear all this faint screaming coming from the village…the king who'd come for her was striking down the villagers as they spoke.

The woman was at an impasse where she didn't know what to do next. Should she make her run for it back into the tree and hope she was able to make it to another village before the king discovered that she was gone. Or should the young woman do what she had always been too scared to do, and confront the king. The answer she sought came in the form of more screaming, and the woman knew exactly what she had to do. Especially when she realized the villagers-those poor people who lived off their grains and had known only a simple life-was not telling the king her location. They died to protect her secrets, and they became…the bravest people she had ever met. She would not abandon them-the people she knew who had became her family-as she had once left and abandoned the people that should have been under her direct protection as their princess.

Her man had tried to talk her out of it, but she was tired of having the title Coward Princess, following behind her every place she went. It was time to put those to rest, and so that brave young woman strode out of the castle to confront the king of her nightmares. Their were bodies spread out across the entire village, people she once knew dead in the streets but she refused to look at them as she walked. She was not going to disgrace them by breaking down into tears in front of those who had survived the slaughter. And then the king was in front of her, riding on top of a powerful steed, looking mad with power as he grinned when he caught sight of her, recognizing her easily after all of these years. And that was when it became clear to the woman…the king was not going to ever let her go. He had came for her, because he needed her, desired her, in the way that no man other then her own fiancé should have. The only way the slaughter was going to stop was…if she foregone her own happiness, and agreed to return to the kingdom with him. For the wedding she should have been apart of.

She would not run this time, even if she had to say goodbye to everybody she knew and loved and cared about. Unlike at the last wedding, the young woman had a real connection to the people who lived here. Something inside that told her to keep her home safe from harm. Even if it meant falling down to ruin herself. So, the young woman spoke. And she made a deal with the elderly king. She would go with him without a word of protest, without a fight, as long as he swore to leave this village alone for the rest of their days. The king was not in a habit of making deals, but his age was catching up, and he did not have enough fight to continue keeping a wayward princess in her place. So, he agreed to her terms, knowing it would be impossible to spend another decade searching for her if she managed to escape him again.

The girl was set out to return to her fate, knowing she would not ever forget the village that had welcomed a stranger like her into their homes, and paid for it with their lives. Though, before she could climb onto the back of the horse the king rode on, their was a shout, and her fiancé was there to pull her away. And he fought, swinging the fire poker the young woman had once hit him over the head with, at the king with all his might, refusing to watch his beloved taken away from him. But it was all for naught, and the young woman could have been heard all across the Great Forest as she let out a high pitched scream of anguish when her fiancé fell. He had the sword of the king sticking out of his chest, and his eyes looking up at her lifelessly, giving his life to protect the one he loved. The girl fell to her knees, screaming as if she did not know what else to do.

The king did not seem to care about what he had just done, or the plight his new bride to be was going for. He only had one request…for her to fetch his sword so that they could start their journey home. The young girl, with eyes as red as the fire in her belly, looked at him, unable to see how there could be a man with so little compassion. So little humanity inside of him, that he would do something like this…and she knew exactly what she had to do next. She did what her old king told her to do, and grabbing on the handle of the blade, she carefully pulled it out of her lover's chest. Only, she did not hand it to the king. She stayed on her knees beside her lover, and looked at his blood staining the blade. Then her king got impatient with her, screaming at her to get onto the horse already.

The woman looked up to meet the eyes of the king, who for the first time, saw the storm brewing in her expression. The wind grew stronger, whipping the-girl's light colored hair all around her face. And the girl swore before the king…before all the survivors in the village who were peeking out of their hiding spots to watch the scene in front of them…she would never be his. And for as long as her spirit was strong, these people would forever live, safe from the king's wrath. And it was without another word, the young woman was lifting up her sword. Before anybody could stop her, the woman made a harsh slit across her throat, knowing her death would have been the only thing that freed her from the king's tyranny. A roar of shock from the king was the last thing she heard, as she fell on top of the body from her beloved.

Her blood mingled with her lover, staining the dirt beneath them, but the woman had never felt more at peace then she was now, as her spirit traveled to the other world. The King never returned to his kingdom-which eventually fell to ruin without an heir to inherit the throne, and forgotten by those who were charged with passing down the history, before the written word started to emerge and populate the earth-and some say the king was too old and weak to defend himself without his sword. And the villagers, in revenge for what he had done to their land, drowned him in a large pond resting on the edge of the village. A large pond that had been there long before they had settled there, and would be there long after they were gone.

But the young woman's word is said to continue to hold true even to this day. The village where the king ended, perished by those he had nearly wiped out, was never found when his soldiers finally sought after him. Some say the words were too twisted and mangled, leaving them walking around in an endless circle day after day, probably leading then further and further from where the village was located. But those in the village-who never received another visitor after this-had a different story. They said the young woman's words were strong enough, desperate enough, that she had melted the hearts of the spirits who haunted the village. And it was the spirits who decided to honor the Brave Princess-as she was going to become known by-by keeping the village safe from those who might seek its destruction.

And some say, as a reminder of the love shared between the princess and her lover-where they would give their lives just to remain together-that the spirits gave them two koi fish to remember their sacrifice. Only weeks after everything went down, two koi fish had shown up in the pond-a very strange event considering the pond didn't connect to another water source, so there was no chance that they could have swum in my accident. Some of the villagers like to claim they were the spirits of the woman and the man, given a new life from the other spirits, so that they could continue watching over their home. Because one of the koi fish was as black as the girl's eyes, with a light colored dot on its head to resemble the color of the woman's hair. And the other koi fish was as lightly colored as the boy's bright blue eyes had been, with a dark circle on its head to resemble the boy's dark hair.

Yin and Yang, they were named. After the boy who gave his life to save his love. And the woman who gave her life, only to save all of them. The two koi fish remained in the pond to circle each other in an eternal dance for many years, never breaking stride or stopping as they stayed together. If one looked at their dance for long, one could say the colors had been able to blend together to look like a circle. Showing all the differences between them, but how that hadn't stopped the pair from loving each other. Dark and Light. The evil that was shown in all of them by the girl killing herself, but all the good she had done by sacrificing herself. The good within a boy like no other when he gave his life to protect her but the action also showed a darkness in the boy, for he could have doomed them all, if the king had turned to the rest of them.

…Perhaps not the best story to tell a child, considering the suicide and near genocide of an entire village, but Nimueh could find no fault in her mother's choices now. At least she knew it really was nonsense, and something the Great King of Mercia thought he was being particularly cleaver with this charade. Probably another way to indicate how different the prince and the consort were-given their different heritage or (unknown to the king) belief systems-from each other. But it didn't matter because they had found 'love' with each other, and nothing was stronger then love…Nimueh wanted to burn the goblet on principle alone. Such sentimental bull was one thing that should not ever exist in the world. There was only power, and marriages made only for the convenience of the one family with less then to gain more.

But Nimueh had gotten off track, and this whole sentimental bull had ruined her mood. Not much, she was still very much in the mood, but the simmering heat low in her belly seemed to have died down some. Nimueh did not want that, and she dropped Merlin's goblet back into the box where she took it from. Useless hunk of metal…Nimueh had something much better then this, and perhaps, Merlin himself would know he could get whatever he wanted from her. For only as long as the magic in his veins kept stirring something deep inside of her. And stir in her it did, as she remembered the powerful waves of magic that had been seeping out of her, igniting a fire in her belly anew.

Nimueh wasted not a second longer, regretting that she had already wasted so much time she could have spent teasing herself into fruition. She did not have the time to play as she would have wanted, so she would have to make this go fast, as quick as she was able to bring herself off. Nimueh made sure to press her back against the door, so that she had this hard surface to hold her up while she went to work. And the priestess started dragging up her skirts, revealing her long and shapely legs…legs she knew would one day tremble as the magic from that boy creeped up along them. Scraping a piece of her skin here and there to make sure she knew that it was there-as if she could ever forget it was there. Nimueh only stopped once her skirts were bunched up around those hips she called her own. She was so wet down there…so far damp that she was surprised none of it was dripping down her legs as of yet. But give it time, she was sure it would be getting quite messy down there, far messier than she would be used too, whenever she took the odd moment here and there to indulge herself in the pleasures of the flesh.

Nimueh grabbed onto the edges of her undergarments, and dragged the heavy fabric down her legs until they'd gotten caught around her knees. And she smirked down upon her womanly juices overfilling the fabric. She had been right in her assessment…her undergarments were weighed down by the weight of her free flow. And speaking of free flow…there were a number of spells and enchantments that used these kinds of liquids. Mostly darker love possessions or charms to cause obsession…she would have to slip some of her own juices into something the one she desired would be drinking as well as a few other rare herbs that could only be found in the most remote places, but…it was doable. In the end…the priestess shook her head, it was an idea she might seriously consider later on, but for now…it wasn't feasible. Feeding a potion like that to somebody could taint them, could change them in untold ways if they ever manage to break free of the spell. It was a trauma, and as anybody worth their salt would know, trauma could change the soul. And therefore, change the magic inside of them…Nimueh would not do one thing to change Merlin's magic. It was the only thing that she found interesting about him, and she would not tempt the fates by changing it…she doubted she would find somebody else in the world that had a similar magic that could satisfy her.

And even if she did find somebody that was similar…it would be somebody eating tofu for the rest of their lives. She had full confidence in herself that she would survive but Nimueh knew she would only end up killing this imposter. His magic would be a poor substitute, and leave her feeling completely unsatisfied with what was being given to her after she had a taste of…him. And speaking of being unsatisfied, she could feel the aching throb in her core, begging to be touched by her skilled fingertips. Or better yet, be touched by magic as it brushed against her tantalizing and heated core. Pushing past her folds, and entering inside of her…playing around as if she was an instrument…Nimueh pressed her fingertips to her heated flesh. And her mouth dropped open, leaning her head back to press against the door, her eyes fluttering to a close as she imagined the touch of magic working her into a frenzy.

But her fingers were too firm, too straight…magic would not be like that at all. It would have been more flimsy, whimsical, there one minute and gone the next. Teasing her, since she would not know where it would strike next. It only took her a second or two before she found her hole, and her mouth got wider as she dragged in a ragged breath, pushing her finger in. Her walls clamped around her tightly-it had really been a long time since she had done something like this-but it was because of her own impatience, that she shoved a second finger into her hole before she was ready for it. The pain of it only strengthened her pleasure, and Nimueh scrambled to find a place for her hand to hold onto something. But there was nothing there beside her and she was left clenching her hand around nothing but air and the wall, nails digging into the stone to try and grab purchase. Her fingers were a very poor substitute for the magic she craved, but she knew very well which areas to touch. Which twists of her fingers would please her the most. And the third finger she slipped inside of her made the stretching of her walls feel unbearable…but again, the pain was delicious.

It ached, and it throbbed, and constricted against her as she pushed inside deeper. Groaning as she felt along the cavern inside of her, trying to find that special spot inside, the spot that would make her scream. The golden magic would have probably found it quicker then she could, but she curved up her fingers to try and get some space to wheee she would be able to work. Using nothing but her juices to pave a way for her fingers made the work harder, but nothing she would not be able to handle as she spread her legs open just a bit wider. She was so silky inside of her, completely smooth, all the golden magic that would encase her body wouldn't want to ever part from her. And this was when she hit a soft spot inside her, one that most men had so many difficulties trying to find. If they even wanted to please their women, instead of using her own body to chase their own pleasure as if they were some kind of caveman.

But Nimueh was no caveman, and she cried out, arching her back against the wall as pleasure chased up alongside her spine. She could just imagine it being Merlin's magic, could feel it rubbing against her soft spot just as she was doing it with her fingers. His magic would react to her pleasure, the magic would react and get harsher as Nimueh's own magic sparked in excitement. She could feel how damp her dark hair was underneath her turban, and the perfume that was her scent permeated the air around her. Her hips started to go down, her thumb finding her clit and rubbing a firm and harsh circle around the swollen nub. It caused her to cry out in pleasure, ragged gasps escaping her lips as she started to chase her pleasure in full. The door was banging behind her as her hips bucked frantically. Each push of her fingers against her insides causing a fresh wave of pleasure to fly up her spine as if it was lightning.

Even though her enchantments told her that nobody came down the hall, Nimueh squeezed her eyes shut and tried to imagine it. A knight perhaps, or even the king himself trying to return to his rooms…would he hear her startled cries and come rushing in, thinking she was in trouble? What would a face like that look like if he saw her now-if Merlin happened to be the one walking into the room-with her fingers buried so far up her neither lips, she could almost feel them trying to come up out of her throat. Each push of her hips causing a gasp out of her lips as if she had just been punched in the stomach. The idea of somebody catching her-the idea that 'he' might be the one to catch her, and know who she was thinking about-it spurned her on with an almost greedy sort of anticipation. She could feel herself getting close, and she could feel her walls clamping down like steel bars to try and slow her fingers, but it only caused her to go faster. Nimueh pressed harder on her clit, the little bud peeking out from its hooded hiding place swollen and nearly red as she rubbed a harsher and harsher circle around it.

Nimueh wanted to get caught. She wanted to be pushed as the door behind her flew open, the constant banging sound of it ringing in her ears and drawing 'him' to her, to find out what the sound was. Nimueh opened her mouth to scream, the dangerous idea that he-or anybody-would catch her in this act. Defiling herself in the room of a king…a dirty witch such as her…Nimueh thrusted her hips into this harsh circle that seemed to force out another wave of pleasure. Nimueh could feel how tight her nipples were at the stimulation…was her shirt tight and thin enough that they could be seen right through the fabric. Nimueh didn't know, but her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she couldn't look. Would that boy enjoy the sight of her nipples trying to tempt him to play with her? Or would he be drawn down to where the real little action was happening. Would he want to play with her, was he perhaps the type that enjoyed watching? Nimueh knew that she liked to watch, liked to watch as whatever brief love partner she had joined with another, and then watch as her lover killed whoever had joined them that night. Watching as people face into the inner darkness inside of them…that had always been a turn on for her.

Would Merlin be so easy to give into the darkness for her…she didn't think so. Or half the fun of turning him onto her side would have ended far too soon. Perhaps he would like his magic to join her, watch as his magic toyed with her…she was much more interested in that to begin with. Feeling the pressure as his magic lashed out, this golden stream of light grabbing her around her waist, forcing her fingers to stop all their pleasing so that he could do it himself. Watch when his magic forced her into a near frenzy, only to stop before she had the chance to show how much he pleased her. And then starting again, tormenting her again and again for hours and hours to come, before finally allowing her to…

Nimueh threw her head back, arching her back so tightly as her mouth dropped open into a silent scream as she finally pushed herself over the edge that she had been tethering on for far too long. Her eyes were forced open, and she was able to feel every spasm and shake of her body as a sudden new wave of juices coated her fingers. The smell inside the room grew deeper, and Nimueh stood there frozen for long seconds of her time. Allowing herself this moment to enjoy the post orgasm bliss that came with finishing off the best time. A blissful grin spread across her face, her core giving a comforting and painful ache-sensitive-with her fingers in her still. She could have gone again if she wanted too, but allowing herself this one pleasure was a temptation that she could not always give into. Besides, denying herself a little something something…made her throb just imagining what the next time-whenever she would stop her vengeance long enough to indulge herself like this again-would look like.

Sometimes, denying oneself something, only made it more sweeter when she finally got a taste of it. And god, would he be sweet as his magic swirled around in the air like this kind of wild and untamed force of nature. Powerful enough to not only knock trees down in a fit of anger, but sensual enough to want him on his knees before her. Worshipping her, as if he thought she was some kind of goddess, keeping his head in between her thighs to show her how much he absolutely adored her. Lapping at her juices, and forcing more out of her, using his magic to make her desire heighten because he knew how much it turned her on. Her little cave would be certainly more interesting, if she had this new plaything that would keep her company.

X

On the other side of the castle, completely unaware of the woman whose head he would have taken off if he knew she had just pleasured herself on thoughts of his stupid but very innocent consort, Arthur was storming down another hall. If anybody had came across the prince in this moment, they'd be ducking to the side to try and avoid him. There would be a good chance that the people would have seen this horrible storm cloud hanging above Arthur's head, and wearing this twisted and pissed off expression across his face. No single soul would have wanted to get on the bad side of the wrath that was Arthur Pendragon, who looked as if he was liable to take his rage out on the first person who may've been quite unfortunate to cross his path at this exact time. But if to be fair…nobody had seen Arthur quite as pissed off as he was in this moment. And pity the soul who tried to stop him from what the prince was doing right now.

Arthur had just spent far too much of his time trying to track down his wayward consort, and the prince was no better off then when he had started. For a man that was quite adapt at hunting in the woods, able to track down his prey with more skills and efficiency then train hunters-people whose actual job remained on rather or not they could bring back into the castle a decent amount of fresh game for their meat-he was absolutely helpless by his own castle. Arthur had done all of this before, and he was getting absolutely sick of being the one forced to track down his consort because of his inability to remain in one place. Or 'anyplace' that he was supposed to be in. How many times could Arthur check the kitchens or the library or the training grounds, or even the royal suite on the off chance he returned to where he belonged. And don't even get him started on Gaius' chambers, he had swung by their three times already on the off chance that he would've returned at some point. But no, Arthur still had his hands as empty as they have ever been.

How was Arthur to know that he had literally missed the boy by ten minutes the first time he had swung by. How was the prince to know, the only reason the physician was not there to inform him that Merlin was in no state to see him right at that moment, was because he had taken off after him when Merlin ran off. But was now stuck walking around the castle just as Arthur was, trying to find a boy who did not want to be found. Least of all, by his husband. But would Arthur had stopped, even if he knew the struggles that Merlin had been going through? Probably not. Arthur was the type of man to force his consort into his room, and let him have his little bit of a panic attack in privacy, so that he could keep this close eye on him. Watching him…always watching him…the blond prince honestly felt as if he couldn't keep his eyes off Merlin half the time. Arthur 'needed' to watch him, just so he would be the first to notice the next time Merlin made this colossal move that would offend the more sensitive nobles.

But who else was going to watch Merlin, Arthur had already tried his hand at the guard so that he was able to have piece of mind, knowing the boy wasn't getting into trouble. It had been nothing but a failure attempt, Arthur was pretty sure it had only caused Merlin to act out twice as worse then he'd already been. And to be honest…even knowing that Merlin'd been 'safe' under Knight Gregory's protection-at least when the guard actually managed to keep hold of him-Arthur had still been stuck in wondering rather or not Gregory had done anything that day to keep Merlin safe. It was why Arthur had gotten into the habit of dropping everything the second that a knight showed up at his door every morning and night just to deliver the most recent report from Gregory. Anything to keep him informed on the happenings of his stupidly bratty consort. Arthur prided himself on being the first to know if something had gone wrong…which was usually because the man he had been forced to marry would show up whenever he was not supposed too. Long before Arthur would receive his nightly report from Gregory.

But those days were gone, and Arthur was agitated, and he practically stomped his way down yet another hallway, with his fists clenched tightly at his side. The agitation seemed to be focused in his chest, and continuously made itself be known the longer it took Arthur to track the boy down. This is 'twice' Arthur has wasted his time trying to find him, this was twice in one day that Merlin was nowhere to be seen as he wanted him to be. Arthur had not been lying when he had said there was much for him to be doing, he still needed this time to finish prepping the speech he was expected to give during the celebrations. Needed to make sure Morris did his job and recovered the outfit he had worn at the last banquet they'd hosted a year ago. Needed to have a moment to calm himself down…public speaking had never been his fore take but one would not have known that from watching Arthur as he did what was expected of him. He knew how to do what he was told, unlike a certain little consort of his that should not be named.

But…fucking Merlin! It wasn't as if Arthur could just say…to hell with him, and retire to his room to get a thousand much smaller things that needed to be done before he could meet his father and King Bayard tonight. Not if they had another Valiant on his hands, with a king who might have gotten too greedy and thought his peasant consort was free game. But while most nobles were usually protected from this behavior from their own kind-bandits or more unsavory nobles being more likely to carry out an attack of any nature on any noble they needed to have close dealings with-people seemed to believe the boy's peasant heritage meant he was not under the same protection. Maybe they should have lied where the boy had came from to begin with, maybe they should have dressed him proper and said he was the son of a lord from a country nobody had ever heard of, came here to wed him to form a marriage bond between their two lands, or some kind of drivel nonsense like that. It would have caused the prince to have heaps of less stress on him, if he wasn't constantly forced to think about Bayard-an old man wedded to a queer lady who thought his young and fresh faced consort-meant he could talk to him freely.

If Bayard wasn't around, Arthur might have felt a bit more comfortable at the idea of leaving his consort to wonder the castle unattended, since there was no reason for the prince to think somebody else amongst his men would try touching what isn't their's…oh, who was Arthur kidding. He might not have realized as quickly as he had now, but if he figured out later that Merlin had been spending an abundant amount of time doing god-knows-what, instead of going over whatever nonsense Gaius felt like sharing with him-Arthur still hoped whatever interest Merlin had developed last month for those healing arts was nothing but a phase, and he would find far more acceptable hobbies to dabble away his days with-then he would be doing exactly what he was doing now. Stalking the halls of his own castle to try and find him…and it wasn't for the first time today, the temptation to chain Merlin to him so he couldn't run off, seemed to be growing in the pit of his belly like a fiery brimstone.

Already, Arthur could imagine the weight of the thick metal chain in his hands, so clearly that he could have sworn that he was actually holding them. Could hear the click of a lock as he clipped it closed around the dainty thing Merlin would insist upon calling his wrist. Something so thin, Arthur would have no trouble wrapping his whole hand around…he might need to invest in getting specially made chains though. Just to make sure they were small enough, that Merlin would not be able to slip his hand out…but it was strange, considering how absolutely long his fingers were. Slim or not, Arthur had grabbed the boy enough times to know the hand itself might be longer then his own, and…he had definitely been enough of his time thinking about Merlin's abnormal hands. And the prince stopped for a moment where he stood, to shake away all those thoughts. Arthur would rather focus on the horribly gobsmacked expression Merlin would be wearing whenever he realized he was now stuck with Arthur.

Yes, Arthur thought with a faintly dark smirk as he started back down the hallway. Merlin was a fairly odd looking boy, still growing into his gangly limbs, but having him chained would make a much prettier picture. As Arthur walked into another hallway though, his smirk dimmed down with renew agitation, he had already promised himself to stop thinking of such 'weird things' as Merlin would call it. But it wouldn't be his fault! Not really! It wasn't Arthur's fault that the other boy might look so much…nicer…if he had a thick pair of rope or handcuffs or…manacles if Arthur found himself to be in a particularly spiteful mood, weighing him down. The boy was so slim, he wouldn't be able to get two steps away from the prince without Arthur hearing the clanking of chains and his grunts as he tried to move them. Merlin was almost asking for him to do it by this point. Why else would he have Arthur chasing after him-Arthur always seemed to be chasing after him for one reason or the other, wasn't he?-if he didn't want to be reprimanded more firmly than Arthur had been doing to him. But Arthur had already made the mistake of thinking this way before. It was why Arthur had almost sparked him for real that one time, and got a busted nose for his trouble.

Arthur was so deep into his thoughts, that he never noticed the faint voice calling him from somewhere down a side hall he had just passed. He didn't hear the voice again when the voice sounded even closer then it had been before. And the prince didn't hear the running of footsteps coming from up behind him, chasing his long strides down the hall. And the prince most certainly did not hear the sound of his title as it came from directly behind him. But he did feel the soft and questioning poke done to his shoulder blade from behind. A man worth his salt would know not to startle another man, a man that was known for having been trained from near birth by the best trainers in all the land until he became known as one of the best himself.

The second the fingertip touched his back, Arthur went off in a violent reaction. With one sharp twist of his body, as if he was about to defend himself from enemy fire, Arthur was grabbing onto the wrist. His grip was strong and deadly, as it showed the powerful fighter within, throwing the smaller body around his own and into the wall. Arthur didn't register who the man was, his forearm already pressing dangerously against the other boy's neck, putting enough pressure that it made the boy gasp desperately for air. It took Arthur one more second, with the other boy beating desperately on his arm-useless it was, if it had been any attempt to get Arthur off of him-before he recognized him.

Morris.