Drip…drip…drip…the little droplets of water coming in through the cracks in the stone wall seemed to be forming a small little puddle in the corner of his cell and it was quite distracting, the scrawny serving boy from Mercia thought. And a shiver racked his entire body, his teeth clattering as he curled into the tiniest and smallest ball he could in order to conserve his warmth. But the Mercian serving boy-Stephen-his name was, hadn't known his night was going to end with being in a cell. Not when-a few hours before-he had been quite happily serving consort Merlin his beverages. This was the stuff of nightmares, he thought as a fresh wave of cold air hit him directly against his skin. There had been nothing to prepare him for this level of weather.
Stephen tried to drag his knees closer into his chest, sitting on a small pile of hay shoved into the corner, with his chin resting on top of them. But his efforts proved to be futile, there wasn't enough meat on his bones to offer a mediocre of protection to combat about the cold. It was as if there was an endlessly long chill in the air, cloaking the entire room in despair, a chance for freedom slipping away the longer they sat there. Stephen even swore he saw flakes of ice clinging onto the bars of the cell, as if the room itself was trying to prove how cold it was. Not even being crammed in this cell with twenty other Mercian servants and knights was enough to quell the fear in his bones. The fear seemed to seep into his bones even deeper than the cold that was trying to kill him…at least four other cells near theirs were also filled with his countrymen, each one filled until there was no real space to walk around in. Not even the familiar faces of the people he'd known for years surrounding him, relaxed the young serving boy.
Stephen didn't know what was going to happen to them…and it was so hard to imagine a few days ago, where he'd been his most excited about visiting this great country. It wasn't hard at all for Stephen to imagine they would all die here, shoved into a room like sardines and just waiting for somebody to pick the best first. Stephen wasn't the best…he would probably freeze in this cell long before anybody came and told them what they would be facing. Already, he feared the tips of his fingers were starting to turn blue-though that might have been just a simple trick of the light-the moisture in his mouth pretty much did not exist anymore, and his serving clothes were not meant to face this kind of chill…his body's shaking seemed to grow more and more violent with each passing second. Involuntary, and…
Stephen had been trying so hard to keep himself together, the serving boy didn't notice the knight standing next to him till his dark blue cape was suddenly being dropped on his head. And Stephen startled, jerking his head up, which caused the cloak to settle itself more firmly around his shoulders. Immediately, a strong warmth surrounded him-the cape so thick and heavy, it reminded him of the strong hugs his mother always insisted he get before he left in the morning's-and already, he could feel a few tears trying to escape him. They almost immediately froze against his icy cold cheeks, but Stephen simply ducked down the lower half of his face until it was hidden in the cape. Now, this small act of kindness was not something a Camelot Knight would have done for one of their servants. It only made him all the more grateful, despite their current predicament, that he'd been born in Mercia.
Where the people looked after their own, not expecting a thing in return for doing the bare minimum of showing some human decency to somebody who needed it more. And Stephen was sure to rearrange the cloak around him, tugging the top of the fabric over his hair so that the edges hung in his eyes. Now, he most likely looked like a large useless lump, the image actually quite eerie, since nothing of Stephen could be seen other than his large brown eyes. Reflecting the glistening ice bouncing off the walls as if they were crystals, peeking out of his little cave-breathing just a bit easier now that his lungs weren't freezing in his chest-to observe the knight that had been willing to give up his only source of warmth. Emitting his gratitude through a simple look…
"Okay, I'll be the first one to say it and admit it, this is probably the worse situation we have ever been in." Said the dark haired knight…he was standing nearly cramped up against Stephen in an attempt to make some room from the random knight he had been squashed up against this entire time…talking to two more knights standing just as close with the limited space they have been given. "But is it just me, or was it really cool how Consort Merlin just went and drunk that goblet? Kinda badarse, should any of you ask me. Tell me I'm wrong."
The knight's bare arms seemed to pebble with goosebumps as his cloak was currently indisposed and Stephen almost wanted to give it back. One act of kindness deserved another, but with his fingers frozen around the lapels, he didn't think he had any chance of releasing his grip. But the knight didn't look as if he noticed, glancing between his two friends with a brow arched high above his forehead. Daring them to try and admit that the Consort of Camelot wasn't exactly as badarse as all the stories they've heard coming up here had said he was. But it seemed as if nobody else in the group was going to answer at first…it could have been because they didn't agree with the knight's casual attitude in the wake of their crisis. Or perhaps because it was a question that needed no answer…Consort Merlin had really been a badarse, Stephen thought with stars showing in his eyes.
Kinda ironic, considering Consort Merlin had put them down in these cells.
But so inspiring as well…
"Seriously, that's what you are getting out of everything that's happened in the past few hours?" The second knight asked of the first in a gruff tone. He looked around in this exaggerated manner, as if purposely pointing out the fact that they had all been manhandled, their weapons taken, and thrown into these cells to rot until somebody came for them. But the first knight only raised his eyebrow higher, until the second rolled his eyes heavenward, as if to ask 'why' he was locked up with this idiot knight out of any other. "Fine, fine. Okay. Drinking the poison I suppose, was 'very' badarse. But don't forget the fact that he also accused our King of being the one who laced the goblet in the first place."
The second knight waved a hand towards the cell stationed in place right across from them. The member of the group turned to follow his hand…the cell was nearly identical to the one they were in. The only difference seemed to be its occupant, which was only one man instead of twenty. King Bayard. The King of Mercia hadn't said a single word since he had been escorted to the cells mere minutes after the rest of them had. They did not know it that was a bad thing-perhaps Camelot's King had done something traumatic inducing, and if that was true, and their king was damage…each and every one of them would be burning this entire kingdom to the ground. But perhaps it was a good thing…the king sitting cross legged on a small stack of hay with his eyes closed…it was quite possible that Bayard was trying to come up with his own plans for their escape.
But rather the plan came from Bayard, or from their very own minds…none of them would rest until Bayard was free.
Their King did not deserve to be treated like an animal.
Mercia was strong, and there was not a man here who would hesitate to walk into the mouths of hell just to make sure King Bayard would be okay. The same could clearly not be said for Camelot and their prince, when only the consort had been the one willing to drink poison. Any of Mercia would have stepped forward if Bayard had been the one in the position.
"You would have thought Camelot Knights would be far braver than that pathetic display we witnessed. Allowing their consort to march straight to his own death…do none of these men got a single ouch of loyalty running through their veins." Said that first knight, nodding him head solemnly, as if he was finishing off the second knight's unsaid thoughts. "Clearly, all the great and amazing stories we've heard about the knights of Camelot being the best out of the five kingdoms, were nothing but that. A bunch of greatly exaggerated stories, probably exaggerated by Camelot itself in order to mass up its power and reputation amongst the Five Great Kingdoms."
Each of the Five Great Kingdoms seemed to have that special something they were known for, something that made them all stand out in their own unique way. Mercia, for example, as the kingdom rested on the boarded of the ocean, had always been known for the great trade agreements they obtained. And then Cenred's Kingdom on the other side of Camelot was known for the powerful magic users that served their armies, trained and practiced with their magical craft until they were deadly…but it was no secret that many of those sorcerers were not there due to choice. The other two Kingdom's didn't really matter at this moment, but Camelot…their armies had always been known as something to fear. Not something riddled with cowards…didn't Camelot take the same oaths that Mercia did? To protect all of the kingdom, bear their swords and kneel before the royals of their kingdom, pledging life and limb to their causes.
Dishonorable, all of them. A shame to the red cloaks that wore so proudly when Mercia came walking in.
"You can all wonder about the stupidity and truly extreme lack of loyalty these knights hold when we are back within the safe boarders of our own kingdom." The third knight said gruffly, he was the most agitated and serious about what had befallen the group., immediately trying to take control over the direction of their conversation. "We need a plan if we are ever going to get a chance at returning home. Tell me, do you just want to stand here and wait until Camelot decides to execute us, or keep us as war prisoners and bargaining chips to be used against our homeland? Because I don't plan on waiting around that long."
The two other knights-and the covered servant-nodded once in firm agreement…none of them wanted to stay in these cold, dank cells for a minute longer than they had too. They wanted to be able to walk amongst the Great Beaches curved around the far North of their kingdom. Wanted to walk throughout the city-Mercia's Lower Town and Inner City did not exist, as they have long since combined the two into one huge place for the two groups to mingle with ease-and feel the sea breeze across their skin. Watch the sailors returning home with the fish being caught daily, and transported to the market stalls…watch with pride as their blue banners stretched out in the wind. Some of these things just weren't the same, when they were so very far away from their homeland. It made a hallow ache form beneath the ribs of each and every man and woman there today, made a desperate call form in their souls for the comforts of home…there was a reason none of them had gone down easily.
Their hope for survival was far stronger than Camelot's ability to break a man.
"Proving our innocence would probably be our best bet if we want to avoid an all out war, and stop our people from dying in a pointless battle." The third knight immediately got into trying to figure out what Camelot's next move would be, so they had a chance to combat against it. If they did execute them, then it would be to send a message to Mercia, declaring a war with no chance of tensions between the two lands simmering. But King Uther might be smarter than that, they already had a strategic advantage by having so many prisoners of war, and so many of them being high up in Mercia's noble classes. "But if we want a shot at freedom without the bloodshed, then we need to figure out exactly what happened. Consort Merlin said that another is the one that told him our King poisoned the cup. But we know King Bayard would never employ such underhanded tactics. A question remains then…who was this mystery informant? Who are they, where are they now? Are they down here in the cells with the rest of us? Or was it somebody from Camelot…?"
The third knight trailed off, making sure to meet eyes with the other three men, imposing just how important this mission was for them, and how everything might rely on knowing this piece of information. But though the other men exchanged a glance, none of them offered up any names or suggestions as to who it could have been. There were too many options, and yet none were more suspicious than any other. It wasn't like the Consort had given them any identifying characteristics that would help the group narrow this down…and besides, having that kind of information wouldn't really help if they couldn't get some kind of audience with the Camelot King to plea their case.
"It's probably somebody from Camelot. I don't see somebody just trusting somebody from another kingdom, especially one of the royals, without solid proof of what they claimed." Spoke the second knight, pointing out this obvious fact. Which would be true, the third knight thought with a solemn nod…especially since their kingdoms had been fraught with tension before the treaty had first been suggestion. "So maybe it's somebody the Consort trusted. It wouldn't surprise me if the royal family had some kind of spy to watch us while we were here. But since we have already established Bayard wouldn't do this, clearly they lied. But who would lie to the consort…who would benefit from our kingdoms going to war?"
The new question seemed to spark dreadful looks between the group of men, echoing inside their minds…who would want the kingdoms going to war? Who would get the most out of Mercia and Camelot battling it out to the death…but once again, none of them had a proper answer. And there was very little answers they could seek from inside these cells. It was hard to ask any questions from Camelot's people-to find any other witnesses-that could shed some light when they were stuck inside of the cells. Consort Merlin was the only one in the entire kingdom-literally-who knew what happened before he came bursting into the grand hall. But nobody had to point out that was an impossible route to take…it was very likely that the Consort would die with that knowledge. And it would most likely seal all of their fates…
"But don't forget, Consort Merlin is a former peasant, would he carry the same suspicious nature that any other royal may hold when approached by a foreigner in their own homeland?" The second knight asked in a low murmur…it was as if-with the seconds passing them by-more and more questions seemed to be forming. But no answers to accompany them…this whole thing was absolutely maddening. "I hate to say it, but is there anybody from Mercia who would try something like this? Just to rule our own people from the pool of suspects. Because if we have a betrayal in our midst…that's something we need to have exterminated."
The others in the group hardly gave it any thought before they nodded once strong and firm and in unanimous agreement to the second knight…such betrayal wasn't tolerated. Mercia was able to work so well together because their men are specially trained to work as a unit, being put in dangerous situations to form a brotherhood and learning how to work together. All the people who worked in close contact with the king-those who'd been invited to come to Camelot especially-had been checked out to make sure there was no skeletons in their past. To make sure their presence wouldn't cause any problems…to avoid the kind of betrayals that could cause an entire kingdom to fall out of balance and straight onto their knees…
"If we are going to throw around theories like that, though you have to trust me, I will be the first to cut the throat of the one who tried doing this to us, I have a theory of my own. But I am not sure if you will kill me for it, or agree that it might have just a bit of merit to it." The first knight suddenly said, as his voice bursted out of him, gathering the attention onto himself with a startling ease. But the first knight was calm under this kind of attention…the theory hovering in his mind was one that'd been hanging around since they first got shoved in here. But it was so outlandish, so crazy…he wasn't sure he wanted to say this out loud. But with their minds running empty, the theories that held no substances, and them not getting any closer than the group had been two hours ago…desperate answers might have been all they had. "How do we know it wasn't the prince who'd done it himself?"
Stephen could have been mistaken, but he could've sworn the room seemed to get colder with this proclamation. It caused a shiver to roll down his spine again, the kind of cold that was in his bones rather than just the room. Something inescapable to him. The steady 'drip drip drip' of the water coming in the cell seemed to be coming faster, and Stephen pulled the cloak on him even tighter, curling his fists into the fabric as it grew tight around his shoulders. He didn't like thinking about something that was so horrid…but now that the thought was there, it was sinking into his brain as if it was made out of steel cables. Not leaving, festering behind like nasty warts.
"Just think about it for one second here. I know it sounds just completely crazy, but if you put all the facts together, then the whole thing doesn't sound crazy at all." Continued the first of the knights, the group watching him with rapt attention as he cleared his throat. He held up one finger, to start counting off all the facts he had noted while they were in there. "Arthur is the only one who wasn't actually drinking his cup yet when his consort came running in? Why? Because it was poisoned. And then Consort Merlin somehow figured it out and came bursting in here to stop him from accusing Bayard. And it's like you said earlier," the first knight nodded to the second. "The Consort is a former peasant. It wouldn't be surprising if he came up with this whole informant thing just to throw everybody else off. He might have been too scared to admit it was his own husband, a very powerful man in this kingdom who could have the consort 'disappear' with a snap of his fingers if he wanted too. He had to protect himself, but he needed to make sure people weren't going to die in the resulting war that follows."
The first knight put down his hand, waiting with an anticipated breath for what the rest of his group would say. And the knight could see the other men were finally starting to get it, the way their eyes had grown wide as they shared looks. The facts that he had just laid out for them was sliding into place so neatly, it could actually be a possible conclusion. It was outlandish but…outlandish didn't have to mean it wasn't true. Some of the far crazier stories they had heard about the Consort-warnings to the king about a man made out of snakes, cutting off the head of a creature powerful enough to knock kingdoms to their very knees-had turned out to be true. So why was this not just one more story to add to the pile?
"…Do you really think Arthur did this?" The third knight would be the one to break the silence that had befallen them. He was the most serious and yet, even he found it hard to wrap around his head such an idea. "I mean, their love story sounds like it is the stuff of legends, why would he let him drink poison had he known it was in there. And why…I thought Camelot, the heir of the kingdom especially, would want peace between the lands…so why come up with this whole elaborate plan to try starting a war? Those are the questions we need answers too before we try and start something against the kingdom's next ruler. This is not something we can risk being wrong about."
Nobody knew exactly how much worse their situation could get if they tried starting something like this, but each of the men in the group could feel the weight of those words trying to make a home in their shoulders. And as if the others in the group were watching a particularly engaging tournament, they all turned back to the first knight to see what response he was going to give back. At first, the first knight didn't speak at all, looking deep in thought as he brought a hand up to tap slowly against his lips. They could clearly see the gears inside of his head were turning and turning and turning, until finally…
"Unless this wasn't about starting a war at all." Said the first of the knights in a low murmur that had the other men straining in an effort to hear him. But when they did, they all shared similar confused looks. It took a moment before the first knight noted this, and he quickly filled them in. "Just think about this being a scenario. Let's say, none of this was about starting a war. Let say it's the most elaborate plan ever to get rid of his consort! I mean, it wouldn't be too hard for a prince to pay somebody off to make Merlin think the goblet was poisoned. And maybe the prince also knows his consort well enough to know he'd drink the poison in an effort to stop needless bloodshed. It's like you said," he gestured to the knight sitting in front of him. "Consort Merlin and Prince's Arthur's love story has been passed all the way to Mercia by word alone, it sounds like the stuff one hears in legends! What if there's a reason for that. I mean…things are not right in this kingdom. And I know I'm not the only one who has felt it since we've been here, right?"
Once again, none of the men had to answer him…they all knew what he was talking about. It was something they hadn't been able to quite put their fingers on, something that had been far too easy to ignore in the excitement of the celebrations. But it was as if the entire city held some sort of underlaying tensions brewing about. It hadn't been anything in particularly that any one person had done. Nobody had been short with them, and nobody had looked as if they were more stressed out than was expected with so many foreigners visiting. But still…there was just something in the air. Something that told them something was wrong…if only they hadn't brushed it aside as nothing but the expected nerves that came with forming new allies and not sure if they were making a huge mistake or not.
Apparently, that had been.
"And it isn't entirely a stretch to think Prince Arthur would want to get rid of his consort for some ungodly reason." spoke the first knight after a moment, and a shadow seemed to suddenly cross his face, giving him a solemn demeanor, making his own voice so low, it had to be carried in the air, "We all saw the odd markings o his face. Those bruises were impossible to miss, so I don't care what lie Consort Merlin was peddling. Bruises that bad don't come from a fall down the stairs. That's the oldest of excuses in the entire book to cover up abuse."
Abuse…abuse…abuse…Stephen ducked his head further down into the cloak. It was such an ugly and vile word, but it was the one word that somebody needed to say. Nobody liked to think about somebody being hurt right under their noses, but it was not like any of them were able to get involved with those kinds of affairs without causing a national incident. But it seemed as if the incident had already occurred, and Stephen wished he'd been brave enough to tell off Prince Arthur when he had taken their drinks. But he hadn't been, and Consort Merlin had been brave enough to still smile at him despite being sat near a man who had hurt him…
But maybe he could be brave now…among his people.
"Consort Merlin wasn't allowed to have any wine when we had the feast. Not a single drop." Stephen's words rung out among their small group. And though he had clearly been a part of the conversations, this was the first thing he had actually said. He wasn't ashamed to admit he ducked himself into the cloak and tried hiding his face that was staining in embarrassment. It did not stop him from continuing, "Prince Arthur was controlling at the feast, extremely. He wouldn't allow the Consort to have the wine. And I had to give Consort Merlin just plain water. Should Prince Arthur be so controlling over a simple drink, then I don't want to imagine what else he might be strict about. If Consort Merlin really drunk the poison to stop a war, if he had to face a husband like that to do it…then I think he's a hero."
The other three knights shared an identical look on their ruddy faces, straightening up a bit…the servant had been the one to say the most powerful line, had been the one to point out what everybody should know…Merlin was a hero. And not just to his own people, but to Mercia as well. And they might never get a chance to thank him for the sacrifice he had made to save the two kingdoms…a loud clanging sound busted up their party as each of the men reached up to cover their ears. Trying to force the sharp pains echoing in their eardrums away.
"SHUT UP IN THERE! I don't want to hear a single word out of any of you, only god knows what you people are talking about in there! Probably planning an escape like a bunch of savages in there." Knight Markus of Camelot finished off, grumbling to himself under his breath as he stepped away from the bars of the cell, ignoring the glares coming from Mercia. They were of no importance to him, as he turned back to the other knight he had been talking with before the Mercia Knights little whispers had caught his attention. "Can you believe them? You'd think a group of knights would be smart enough not to cause troubles when they are at a disadvantage. Still can't believe I have to be the one guarding them…"
Knight Markus had been complaining to anybody who'd been willing to listen-and several knights who were not-about how unfair it was that he had been reduced to guarding the cells. It had been a first call situation, and the first ten knights in front of the king were handpicked to guard the Mercian Knights just to make sure there was no attempted escapes. But Markus for some reason, thought he was more special than the rest, and should have been given a duty that was a bit more exciting and adrenaline inducing. Perhaps scouring the castle for any extra Mercian's still hanging around or giving the King ideas on what he could do with the Mercian's in custody. Not standing in the dungeons where nothing ever happened.
"You do realize you aren't the only one that is stuck here with guard duty, right? Nobody wanted to hear it the first time and nobody wants to hear it now." Knight Derrick, Markus' victim of the hour said in a particularly vicious tone. There was only so much a man could take, and Knight Derrick had already gotten to a breaking point long ago when it came to Markus. "Besides
I do hope you realize these men are prisoners. It's not like they are slaves, you can't yell at them like that. It's not as if they are going anywhere."
Knight Derrick himself hadn't been particularly pleased with a duty like this landing on his shoulders. But he had presence of mind to not complain as if he was stuck watching the gates of the kingdom-arguably the most boring job within the kingdom-for months and months on end. A single night watching men in the cells was hardly going to kill any of them. So Knight Derick only wanted to get through this night as painlessly as possible, which Knight Markus was making impossible. One would have thought Markus' entire world was crumbling in shambles right across his feet, with the way he was going on.
"And that is why you shouldn't even be down here! You are far too soft on these people! They would've done caused a riot or escaped if you were the sole man responsible for all of them." Markus sneered, his face turning a blistering red. "Besides, in case you've forgotten, these knights are in here because they tried to poison our prince and got the consort instead. I'm not going to speak to them as if we are old friends or something." And then there was a moment of silence, pure sweet relief that gave Derrick false hope, his shoulders relaxing and thinking he was finally getting a chance to rest. But it was as if the knight just couldn't help himself, and Markus started up again just as frantically and annoyingly high pitched as he had the first time, "I mean! Honestly! What did Merlin think he was going to do with such a boneheaded move! Save the day? Be the hero? It was the most ridiculous display I have seen of him yet!"
Knight Derrick brought his hand up, and pinched harshly along the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut to starve away the impending headache this was causing him. This seemed to be just one more thing Markus couldn't seem to let go of since he kept returning the conversation back around on Merlin. The Knight thought Markus was probably jealous of all the sudden attention Merlin was getting, because not even reminding him they should focus on their duties and not on whatever'd been going on upstairs, had been enough to shut this man up. It was like he couldn't even stop long enough for air, and it only made Derrick wish he could strangle the man. Surely he would finally shut up then, if Derrick had his hands wrapped around his own meaty little throat.
"For the last and final time, Merlin saved Arthur's life, I cannot understand why you don't seem to realize that. Considering no body else knew the cup had been tampered with." Derrick was repeating for what had to be the umpteenth time, lowering his hand from his face as the exhaustion leaked out of his voice as he silently contemplated the values of pulling out one of his far tinier daggers hidden in the sole of his boot. He wasn't above using intimidation to get somebody to back off. "I mean, I even spit my wine all down my front when he came in yelling about a poison. I thought all the wines had been tampered with."
Knight Derrick gave Knight Markus a very deadpan look as he opened up his arms, dragging his red cloak open so the Knight could see the large reddish stain coating the chest plate of his armor. His manservant was going to have a field day trying his hardest to get it out…but that was hardly the point. He wanted to just rub Markus' face in it a little, though…if Markus wasted his time by being a jealous cow, then Derrick was going to give him something to be jealous about. Like Merlin being the topic coming off everybody's lips as if he was the one and only thing in this world. But Derrick's words seemed to have the opposite effect, as a vindictive light appeared in Markus' brown eyes.
"You're right! Nobody knew about the poison besides Merlin or his mystery informant. You know what I think, I think that these knights probably didn't even do it. I mean, I think they need to still be punished since it was their goblet that started all of this but I think it was somebody else." Markus said, lips curling in a violent sneer, as Derrick dropped his cloak back to shield away his ruined chest plate from view. "Consort Merlin probably had a chance to slip the poison in the cup himself! He was right by Arthur the entire time, it would only take a split second for him to drop it in, and if he distracted the prince, then Arthur would have never known. Merlin probably just did this whole charade thing to make himself a hero again. His other exploits seem to finally be dying down and he got used to the hero worship that surely came afterwards. He needed something fresh and new to keep himself on everybody's mind. Absolutely disgusting, if you ask me."
Derrick immediately pushed himself off the wall, and wishing more than anything that he had already taken the dagger in his boot and shoved it up Markus' backside. This would have been nothing less than what he deserved. Derrick actually 'liked' the consort a fair bit…probably more than he should, but the only thing he found disgusting was Markus' appealing behavior. To be jealous and spiteful was one thing, but to make accusations like that…it could be enough to cripple a man if they were used right or reached the wrong person. Merlin was already hanging onto life by a thread, did Markus really have to dishonor him by making up lies as well?
"You are truly sick in the head if you think the Consort has got nothing better to do than poisoning himself for the fun of it? It is abhorrent for such vile things to be even thought about, but then you go and say it out loud? What is wrong with you?" The Knight demanded in a gruff tone as his hands went rigid at his sides. "You really think Consort Merlin is that desperate to get some attention. He's the bloody Consort! He just has to take a step outside and get all the attention he wants! The only thing Merlin's got out of this, is being laid out on his death bed! I do not think anybody would go that far for 'attention!"
Markus hissed something inaudible under his breath, and this knight pushed himself off the wall, face growing steadily more red with anger, pushing his shoulders back and looking as if he were gearing up for a fight. Derrick's eyes narrowed into sharp little slits, lowering a hand to rest on the hilt of his blade. Then a smirk rose to his face when he saw Markus' eyes follow…that was good. If Markus wanted to start a fight with him, then he'd be forewarned that Derrick wouldn't hesitate to cut him down where he stood. Derrick might be considered one of the more laid back kind of knights, but he could afford to be. He was not anywhere near Prince Arthur's level, but he was more skilled in swordsmanship than the average knight.
"I think you are right, Derrick. Merlin wouldn't go that far to go and get attention. But that's exactly what Markus here says he did." A lone voice rang out from the shadows, calm but creepy and menacing made all the more disturbing by how the newest knight hid halfway in the shadows, leaving the two men unable to recognize him. Markus had opened his mouth to argue and hiss something particularly scathing at Derrick, but he closed it back up, sending a defiant glare towards the man. "He seem to be under the delusions that Merlin not only sabotaged this most important event, but orchestrated this whole poisoning in order for what…be more known than he already is? That's what you are really going with, Knight Markus?"
Knight Markus clenched his teeth, but there was movement in front of them that had the knight stopping before he was able to make the biggest mistake of his knightly career. Out of the shadows stepped the lone knight, the light shining in through a small barred window just enough to light up his face…Leon. He was arguably one of the highest rankings of knights, resting in the lineup beneath only the royal family themselves. This duty was far below his station, and it was shocking to see the other knight at all. He also must've been unfortunate enough to have been standing near the king when he started sending them all down here. But Leon was staring at him, with this arched brow high above his forehead, and Markus swallowed down what he had been prepared to say, and corrected himself.
"Yes…I suppose I am saying that." Markus said gruffly, since a knight could hardly go back on their word without looking as if they were indecisive. A knight couldn't go up in the ranks if he showed he was incapable of sticking to his word…but Derrick and Leon were still watching him, as well as the other seven or so men that had been chosen for this duty. Markus pushed his shoulders back, a little spike of courage going through him…he was going to milk his little fifteen minutes of fame. And he may just get a few men to agree with him. "I even have a theory for why Merlin might have done this. I am sure by now, everybody here has heard what Consort Merlin did, and what Arthur did to punish him."
Markus paused for a moment, waiting to see if anybody would ask questions, but nobody seemed surprised. There was very little to do now other than gossip, everybody must've heard of Merlin cheating by now. And what Arthur had done to him…not even a poisoning could get in the way of a cheating scandal in the royal family. Some people might even say Merlin drunk the poison in order to make amends to Arthur…a sacrifice because he was unworthy of bearing the crest and name that had been generously given to him by the Royal family. But Markus had a different idea completely…
"It's so obvious, isn't it? Prince Arthur humiliated him in front of everybody. Embarrassed him to the core, and we all know he is a former peasant. And peasants just cannot handle being embarrassed like that. They could combust or something." The knight drawled out exaggeratedly. Leon's eyebrow moved even higher up his forehead, but that only encouraged Markus into continuing. "This whole thing is probably some horrid revenge scheme concocted into making Arthur look back in front of the other kingdom. Hell, mark my words, Merlin probably won't die from this. I bet this 'informant', whoever they are, is waiting on standby with an antidote to give him after enough time's gone by."
Markus' theory sounded pretty good to him and he could even see a few of the other knights nodding their head, agreeing to his theory. This made Markus smirk, straightening himself up even more than before. But Leon said nothing for the longest of time, staring at him with swirling pools of darkness that got Markus' anxiety racking up. Why would Leon be looking at him as if he wanted to eat him, as if he was this lion about to jump and take a bite out of his juicy flesh. It was disturbing, ruining what good feeling Markus had been banking on.
"…I suppose," Leon finally spoke, his voice hovering in the air like the wisps of a ghost haunting all of them. "I could give you a thousand and one reasons for why that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life. But I do not think you would be willing to listen to a single word I said, would you?" And the knight's already red face deepened until it resembled the color of bricks, but he didn't rebuff him either. They both knew that it was true, and Leon simply nodded, looking as calm and cold and collected as a beautiful summer's day. "I suppose I'll just have to ask you a simple question instead then…do you really think so little of Merlin?"
There was a collected pause in the room, everybody-even the Mercian knights watching this exchange happening in front of their very eyes-not daring to break this up. There was a single spark in the air that spoke of danger spreading, but there was no telling who was the one in danger. Markus, who wanted to race forward and assert his false dominance over a higher up knight. Or Leon, who looked down his nose at Markus as if he was nothing more than a riled up child disappointing him. This was infuriating to Markus, who once again allowed his mouth to get away from him before he could think twice about it.
"Of course I don't like him! Nobody around here likes him! And if you are about to tell me anything different, then you are only fooling yourself!" Markus sneered, glancing towards his fellow knights-Leon did not follow his gaze, having no interest in any thing the small gnats posing as knights behind him were doing right now-as if expecting for them to jump in and join him with his crucifying of Merlin. But even the knights who had nodded their heads with him earlier, were looking in different directions as nobody cared enough to get into a fight with Leon. This had a dark and ugly effect on Markus, his face twisting into disgust and loathing, before turning back to Leon, "Merlin Pendragon is nothing but a moron. And nothing he ever does will be able to change that perception of him. And I rue the day our prince chose him, of all people, to marry." Markus spoke in a low and condescending tone, as if he had forgotten who it was he was speaking too. "He has already dug himself in too deep, nothing but a disgrace to our entire kingdom and our way of life. Arthur should have thrown him out at his very first mistake. And hey if I am right and this really is a trick and Merlin wakes up, maybe we will finally see Arthur doing something about him."
Markus held his arms out, as if silently telling Leon to continue and tell him he was wrong. He knew he wasn't wrong, anybody off the street could have said Merlin did nothing but stir things up since none of this had started happening before he showed up. Witches in the castle, and magical artifacts, and plagues of death…if Markus didn't know any better, then he would've said Merlin was drawing them towards the castle somehow. But this was a ridiculous thought, even for him. And Leon made a slow, low hum in the back of his throat.
"Oh…the consort is a moron, you say? That's a strange thing to say about the husband of the man who will rule all of us one of these days." Leon said, in a carefully deceptive tone. Being all light hearted and curious, looking towards the ceiling as he tapped his fingers against his jawline. "You know, I never knew a Consort could be a moron. I mean, I know he's different from all the other royals that have came before, and sat above us in the last few generations. But is that necessarily a bad thing…I think I would call Merlin 'eccentric', before I called him out as a moron. But are you really sure he's one? Really, really sure."
Leon leveled his eyes back onto Markus as the last word left his lips, and Markus was so baffled, it briefly felt as if he had just been knocked off his feet. He frowned heavily, needing to double check that he was still on the ground, but he was. And Leon was behaving strangely. He didn't usually stand around playing mind games like this. Leon had always been a strict by the books kind of knight. Always did his duty well and not once tried to get out of what needed to be done. Rather that was an important mission trusted to him, or doing the grunt work like they were now. But no matter, Markus thought, confident with himself as he straightened back up.
"Yes."
That one word should have been the end of things, because as Markus had said earlier, anybody who tried thinking anything different was only fooling themselves. But somehow, when he met Leon's cold eyes, Markus felt some of his confidence was starting to falter. The man could have shaken entire worlds till they knelt directly at their feet, with eyes like that. And Markus one word suddenly felt more like it was leading him to his own damnation. Where Leon was the one holding the leash of the pesky hellhounds-bloodthirsty, giant dogs, with deep growls and heavy sprays of spit coming off their fangs thick enough to mask themselves as rope-that were meant to rip through his body as if he was nothing more than their chew toy.
"So, I suppose the question I ask you changes. It is no longer a simple 'do you think Merlin is a moron." Leon continued and he slid his hands behind his back, starting to pace slowly in front of Markus. Like a general about to scold their subordinate, or a parent who had reached the end of their rope with the unruly thing they called an offspring. Markus followed his slow walk back and forth, somehow feeling as if he was back in his basic training days and was being mocked in front of their peers by the instructor for not being as good at hand to hand combat as he was with long range attacks. "But now the question seems to become …which is it? You seem to have gone contradicting yourself, and I am not entirely sure you even realize it. I'm sure you do though. Since not everybody can be as moronic as our consort apparently is."
Leon's tongue twisted around the word 'moronic' as if he was mocking it, or mocking Markus. And this foreboding feeling in the knight's gut started to take over, even as he tilted his head to try understanding what Leon was getting at. And he was not the only one, the others were now staring openly at Leon as if they were also trying to understand. But Leon didn't break and the silence of the room only seemed to make the drip drip drip of the water leaking into the room even louder. Echoing until it was a sound engrained into their heads, a symphony of music to accompany the tragedy that was Markus.
"Either Consort Merlin is a moron," Leon suddenly said, and his light voice was gone completely, sharpening into something he could have mistaken for razor wire. His eyes just the same cold emptiness that promised retribution, as he spun himself out of his pace and into attention in front of Markus. He looked like a general or commander, the sudden change was so disorienting that Markus flinched back before he could stop himself, a cold sweat breaking out against the nape of his neck. Even the way Leon had his feet pressed against the other from heel to toe in equal measure suddenly seemed intimidating. "Or he is smart enough to pull off this whole elaborate revenge scheme as you claim it to be. So, which is it? Is he a moron or is he far smarter than you wish to give him credit for."
Markus' mouth dropped open wordlessly, pools of sweat going down his backside, forming under his pits, between his legs….. and he was sure even cracks he didn't know he had was now becoming a sweaty pile of skin. He didn't know how he should respond back, several half aborted sounds that could've been words trying to emerge from his lips only to die off before the first syllable could be breached. He did this again and again as Leon watched him almost sadistically, which made it felt even harder for Markus to get a single word out. Until finally, he was able to force a half complete sentence out of himself.
"He-he-he…it doesn't matter which one he is!" Markus said as if he was screaming, just happy he managed to get something out. He refused to commit to either one of the options he had been given…if Markus said that Merlin was a moron then it was saying his whole revenge scheme theory didn't have any basis and could be thrown out the window. But he refused to believe or admit that Merlin was smart enough to come up with such a genius plan in the first place. "The only thing that matters is he being on death's door, leaving our prince alive. We should just be thankful he was good for something, if he couldn't be good at anything else."
The only thing Merlin was good for, as far as Markus seemed to be concerned, was being a fill in for Arthur. The one meant to stand in the line of fire and take whatever was being thrown at him, because at least that meant the prince was alive. And it was Arthur's safety that came above all else…Markus would've had absolutely no trouble leaving Merlin behind should the day had come where they were attacked by bandits or something on a trip out of the city. Markus might've even been tempted to shove Merlin directly in the line of fire, a distraction against their foes, as the knight rode away with Arthur on horseback to escape. But if anything Leon's eyes only looked colder with his response, though he didn't look surprised by it either.
"…I will be the first one to admit that I don't know what's really gone on tonight, but I do know I would rather facts than going about wasting my time on pointless theories that doesn't hold any weight to it." Leon spoke in that cold and quiet insufferable way of his that was meant to incite a fear that burrowed under the skin. And Markus was feeling every bit of the fear rolling its way down his spine until he felt sick with it. "And you can rest assure, if I do find out that Merlin had anything to do with this, then the problem will be dealt with swiftly and immediately." A collection of goosebumps broke out along Markus' biceps, just imagining Leon taking his blade against his own neck as if he'd been the one personally threatened. When Leon made this odd clicking sound with his tongue, Markus fell backwards as if this was an unexpected explosion. "But somehow…I do not suspect Merlin had any involvement with these events."
Leon adopted this far away look in his eyes, the knight in front of him disappearing as he thought back to the last time he had paid any real attention to Merlin. It was many weeks ago, back when the tourney had still been big…the consort had came to his first council meeting and immediately accused a knight of using magic! Leon had been shocked and horrified by the bold proclamation, even more so when he realized Arthur appeared to believe him. But then Uther had dismissed these claims and Leon was comfortable with whatever the king decided. It was also the day Leon had decided Merlin was never going to make it as their consort…
The kingdom doomed before the next king-Arthur-could take a seat on his throne.
But then Merlin had been right about this knight.
And then he had been right about the monster in the water.
And then he had stood in front of everybody, denied Uther to his face, dismissed Arthur to his, and spat death in the eye by drinking it…
He had seen something in Merlin…he didn't know what he had seen exactly. But it was something that sparked an interest in Leon, made him want to know just what else the boy would do for their kingdom in the future. If he had a future…
"You know…I suppose I was just like you not that lone ago." the knight said, voice sounding as far away as his eyes were, even as he spoke sorely to Markus. "I dismissed Merlin as well, have not considered him a compatible person for our prince the first moment I saw him-" and damn, did Leon remember seeing him for the first time in his mother's rundown hut. All arms and leg and elbows and knobby knees…not exactly the proud image of a consort. But as he had said earlier…why should that be a bad thing? "I saw Merlin making a fool out of himself time and time again, and made a split second decision that our kingdom was on the brink of ruin and would never prosper with him being so close to the helm that steers us. But things have changed, and I can see things are changing…like a storm on the horizon that is nearing. With Merlin directly in the eye of it…I can see it now that Merlin lays dying. I can see how every fool mistake he has made has only ever been in the interest of the kingdom. And a man who's willing to step out of line in order to keep people in this kingdom safe, well…what more could you ask for a consort to do?"
Leon would never admit it, since it was quite strange, but he'd always liked storms. The hum and electricity in the air that said something big was coming, warning people to find a safe spot to hunker down before it hit. And then re-emerging afterwards, breathing in the lingering scent of electricity before setting out to fix any damage the storm may have caused. It always felt as if it was a new chance to start fresh, shift things around till the next storm hit. Merlin felt more like the storm, than he did the sacrificial lamb that needed to be murdered at the altar just to appease the gods, like Markus seemed to think he should be.
"Merlin only got lucky with everything he's done. He doesn't exactly have the skill set needed to actually deal with any of it, that's why he kept dragging Arthur into his problems." Markus insisted desperately, that little spark of jealously starting to try scratching away at his insides. Leon had spoken as if he was in awe of Merlin, as if he was the next greatest thing to happen to this kingdom and all Markus could think about was the time his consort had had tried putting him in his place when he told the boy to go fetch him a meal after a long day of searching home after home for witch items. Merlin was a brat who couldn't do what he was told and thought he was better than everybody in the kingdom. He didn't deserve to have such admiration being aimed at him. "I'm surprised he hasn't gotten Arthur killed with everything that's happened. But like I said it's only luck that he has lived long enough to even be poisoned. I bet I could've did all those things if I was standing at the right place at the right time. And I could've fixed it without our prince being at risk or in danger."
Markus truly believed with his whole heart that he could have done things differently had he ended up in half the situations the consort had found himself entangled with. He could have been the hero of the kingdom, because he would know how to address things without making the public mistakes Merlin had done that had ruined him. He wouldn't be put on guard duty as if he was a slum-forgetting Leon, better then them all, had also been put on guard duty as if he was as low as the rest of them were, only Leon knew to work where he was needed and felt it wasn't right to complain when the kingdom needed every hand working round the clock right now-and expected to just waste away his life and skills doing nothing but standing here. A hero of the kingdom would be more valued than that, and probably expected to be at Uther's-or at least Arthur's-right hand.
"It's more than luck that boy has that's kept him alive so far. I think should Merlin survive, we can expect great things out of him one of these days." Leon said, blinking once and returning his cold stare with intense focus back onto Markus. The small bits of bravery-encouraged by jealousy-seemed to shrink into the knight now that Leon was focused on him again. He almost felt as if he had just swallowed his own tongue. "Since it looks like Merlin has done more for this kingdom in the three months he's been here, then you have done in your entire five years of service." And Markus' face flamed in embarrassment, aware of being dressed down in front of every witness there. "You have to face facts…Consort Merlin is a hero to our kingdom. And our prince still breaths because of him. I think that alone means he deserves our kingdom's respect and admiration more than any other."
Markus' entire body was almost shaking, trying to vibrate out of his own skin…it wasn't his fault he didn't have an impressive record as a knight! Times were peaceful nowadays, no wars to keep throwing people into life changing situations that may've broken or made a man's reputation. He'd been on a few Druid raids now and again, but that was hardly something worth him being noticed by, since their population was so small and with no real fighters to challenge him and his blade. The job mainly seemed to be keeping drunken peasants in line, patrolling for any threats, taking unskilled prisoners to the cells…if he'd got the same opportunities Merlin had just stumbled into, then he definitely could've done things more impressively. It would've been 'him' who Leon was worshipping at the moment…
"Wait, wait, wait!" Markus called out in a moment of panic, as Leon turned on his heel and started storming out of the room, seemingly abandoning his duty to guard the Mercia knights in favor of leaving now that he had said his piece. As if it was just a waste of time to argue anymore with Markus. But Leon really did pause at the door with a courtesy glance and nothing more cast over his shoulder towards him, and Markus took a chance to ruin Merlin while he still could, to make Leon see how horrid he was like the rest of them. "Are you really going to stand and defend him? Surely you have heard the things being spread all about him…surely you have heard they are calling him a whore. You said you knew earlier, so why would you defend somebody with a reputation like that."
As far as Markus was concerned, Merlin deserved whatever he got. He wanted to cause problems, he got to be called out as a whore. He wanted to give Arthur issues, he deserved to be laid out on his deathbed. He denied Markus his one request, he did not deserve a noble knight of Camelot defending him. Markus' would rather see Merlin behind the bars of these cells-and he would be glad to take on the duty of watching him, if only as a free access to scorn him whenever he wanted-then ever try to defend such an uncultured…unnatural…boy. Why would a man like Leon even waste his time on somebody as awful as Merlin was…
"Maybe it's because I don't see reputations instead of people themselves. I don't see the stories about them, when I can just watch for myself and form my own opinions on the matter." the knight spoke, eerily soft but calm, as he placed a hand against the door in preparation for shoving it open. "And now that I can see Merlin clearly, I don't see a whore standing there. I see just a boy, braver than any of the rest of us, fighting for his life and asking for nothing in return. How can you not respect a person like that?"
And then Leon was gone, disappearing through the crack he'd made in the door, leaving Markus desperate to grab onto the edges of his cloak that fluttered out behind him before it was gone as well. Markus sucked in a ragged breath that only got drowned out by the heavy door slamming shut in the knight's wake…and the 'drip drip drip' of the water leaking in suddenly felt too loud. As if it was trying to crack his head open to crawl inside of him and turn his brain into mush…how…why…a knight of Leon's caliber should have never been scampering around in order to appease a boy who whored himself to the prince in order to become their consort…Markus didn't understand how Leon could not see that. And he feared he never would…
A loud snort echoed throughout the chambers, Markus glared out the corner of his eye when a heavy hand landed on top of his shoulder, "He just told you off, didn't he?" Derrick asked of him, the chortle in his voice showing his amusement. It caused a low grow to emit from Markus' throat, shaking the other man off before he stormed off into a far corner of the hallway to lick at his wounded pride in peace. Away from the wondering eyes of the other knights who should've been looking up to him…he was unfortunately not high enough in the ranks to pull off just leaving dramatically like Leon did.
Markus and Derrick and none of the other guards noticed the Mercian knights inside their cells, exchanging looks of awe and amazement…not even Merlin being the one to put them down here was enough to cure their excitement. Not when even from the cells, the Mercian men could feel the beginning's of Merlin and his power starting to take root. Starting to fester among all of his own people, even if they insisted on denying it. Maybe… maybe all hope for Merlin was not yet lost. A man who'd been able to change the tides of his own knights…
Power like that could be felt even long after the man who had wielded it had passed on.
Power like that…was remembered for eons after all was said or done.
X
Arthur Pendragon stormed into his chambers, throwing open his bedroom doors so hard that they slammed against the wall, after his devastating argument with his father. The man didn't bother with closing them back, slamming the doors shut only to hear their loud crashing would not do anything to heal the aching in his chest. It wouldn't alleviate it…though that did not stop Arthur from jerking the scabbard holding his blade off his side. And throwing the useless hunk of metal as hard and fast as he could, a short yell escaping him, onto his table. The very same table Merlin-why did it feel as if Merlin and the very few times he had actually been in Arthur's chambers, was enough to permeated the air. As if his stench was touching everything and Arthur was unable to escape the memories-had kicked his chairs over. As Arthur chased him through the chambers while knocking things out of their way before finally cornering Merlin near his wardrobe where Merlin would drag hangers from the racks before finally surrendering when Arthur had jerked him away by his ankles and climbed on top of him.
But he hadn't surrendered, had he.
Not truly…
Arthur snarled under his breath, gnashing his teeth together painfully as he threw himself forward, grabbing onto the shelf lining the top of his fireplace. Bending over so that the top of his head was brushing against the wood, wishing for nothing more than to bash his own skull against it. To rid himself from these painful memories of Merlin, to pretend as if he could not still feel the phantom ache of Merlin wiggling between his legs and trying to escape like he had been then. He hadn't allowed it back then, and he felt helpless with the longing and loathing at the mere idea of Merlin finding a permanent way to escape him.
None of the was right…
What right did he have to criticize Merlin on how he talked with the council when he hadn't been smart enough to convince his own father to let him go…
What right did he have to complain about Merlin getting things done, when Arthur was always sitting on the sidelines and only waiting for his cue to be needed…
What right did he have to hurt Merlin, when the other had not truly done anything to earn his hatred. Everything that irritated Arthur in the past suddenly seemed so insignificant. So little in comparison to the big picture. Arthur wasn't even able to force his usual hatred for Merlin to the surface…not even thinking of Merlin debasing himself with the knights of his kingdom felt as if it was enough for that usual spark of hatred to ignite.
Because at least if he hated Merlin…maybe he wouldn't feel so guilty about doing nothing now.
"So…" the distinctly feminine voice coming from Arthur's open door made the muscles in his shoulderblades bunch up and he dug his nails straight through his riding gloves, clamping them painfully around the wooden planes of the shelf. He regretted not closing his doors behind him now, leaving them wide open for anybody to just come wondering in. But not just anybody in the world had…Arthur didn't need to turn around to know that the voice belonged to Morgana. Arthur bowed his head a little bit more, pressing his skull more firmly against the shelf…it did not take a genius to know why Morgana was here, thought the prince, as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. She had came to yell at him, just like Gwen had yelled at him…and he could not even defend himself this time. Everything Morgana would say to him would be right…he was a monster, and a cowardly one as well. "Gwen has seen fit to inform me that Merlin still lives, though it's uncertain how long he will survive without help. But I suppose he is getting all the help he can get, I'm sure that his uncle is doing everything he can for him right this very minute. That's something, at least…"
Arthur opened his eyes just a crack, feeling the straining in his back from being in this position for too long. But he didn't care one wit…he wanted to feel the pain. And he wanted to spit out at Morgana that Merlin only had five days, not even a full week of life still left in him, but he couldn't will himself to get drawn into Morgana's games. If she wanted to yell at him, then she'd have to do it while he was here…he would take everything she threw at him. He would…wait…Arthur's teeth ached something fierce when Morgana's words caught up to him. Now, Arthur'd figured already that Morgana must know about Merlin and his relation to Gaius…there was no way Gwen would've known and not told her. But having it bluntly stated as if it was this known fact stung something inside of Arthur…making him very much aware-and not for the first time this night-how out of touch he was with Merlin. How unaware he was, compared to the others who knew him far better than he did…
Arthur should have been the one to know these little details…
He should have been the one to notice Merlin floundering…
He should have seen the mutilations before it had gotten this far…
But Arthur couldn't bring himself to hate Merlin for not sharing with him these things. It wasn't as if Arthur was asking for the boy to speak more with him. Quite the opposite, actually. And wasn't that his biggest regret right now…how many times he'd told Merlin to shut up. Only to goad him into madness because Arthur couldn't stand being in the quiet solidarity for even one moment…
How could Arthur push his own issues onto Merlin when Arthur should have been shielding Merlin from anything he faced…
"But I'm going to guess since you have already finished having that horrid argument with Uther-" Arthur flinched, and forced his eyes closed as if to try blocking her out. But he didn't have a right to behave like she was just stirring up trouble for him…it was another fault of his. He was so wound up about Merlin, he hadn't noticed the audience creeping in on the show. Maybe it was lucky only Morgana had been there to witness his shame, she already thought him a failure. "And since it seems you are hanging out in your room like an antsy teenager whose father won't let you out to play with the other boys, I'm guessing you have made your choice. And are allowing Merlin to die."
Morgana's voice sounded deceptively calm, no trace of anger or yelling in them. Only quiet disappointment, as if everything happening had also drain the fight out of her. But Morgana had been so blunt with her words, Arthur's flinch was more violent than before. As if he had been stabbed through the side and it left behind a gaping wound bleeding out and festering with an ugly puss that would kill him. Morgana hummed slowly under his breath, and Arthur could hear her tinkering with one of the random items he had lying around the room. He would usually yell at her for touching his stuff, but he didn't care. She could keep whatever the damn thing was, throw it at the back of his head if it made her feel better. Arthur already knew nothing in the world was going to make him feel better…not after he had to light the funeral pyre-as was his duty as Merlin's husband-to say fair well. He didn't deserve to be the one doing it, Gaius should do it since he was Merlin's next of kin. Even Morgana is a better option, seeing that she knew Merlin so well. He didn't think Merlin would be very pleased if Arthur played the part of mourning husband…
And all Arthur wanted to do in this moment was please Merlin.
If only to see those blue eyes crack open a bit and stare at him with the same wonderment Arthur'd been staring at him since the day they met.
"Though I do say while not many people will be talking about the decorations and the food Merlin hand picked for himself, I am sure this night will be one for the records. People will talk about this night for many years to come, mark my words." The lady said calmly, and Arthur could hear Morgana placing what she had been playing around with back on his table…the man's shoulders shook a little. People shouldn't be talking about the night Merlin died…they should've been talking about how he'd lived. And Arthur really only wanted to march down to the hall where everything had gone down, and start gathering each of the banners hanging throughout the room. Keep them as some kind of memento from the boy-folded neatly inside a chest the prince would keep beneath his bed-so he would always have a reminder of the boy who'd both ruined him and changed him…in what ways though, Arthur didn't know yet. "I mean, tonight held danger and adrenaline and life or death…the only thing in the world missing to make it the perfect story is the whole true love conquers all cliche."
Morgana wasn't going to leave, Arthur seemed to realize as he blinked his eyes rapidly…his frustration was building inside him now. He knew he had already decided the lady had every right to come at him, and that he would do nothing to stop her. But that had also been when Arthur assumed she would just come at him like she usually did. Morgana was never calm, and she'd never hid how displeased she was by him. It set Arthur's teeth on edge, and made him want to do something outrageous just to let out some of his anger…maybe snatch up whatever she'd been playing with and shatter it across the ground.
Rip this entire room to shreds until nothing was left behind but the bare amenities. To destroy and break and watch glass slide across the floor…destroying his room felt as if it was starting to become his 'go to' move. Something he did whenever it felt as if things were becoming too overwhelming for him. But he felt as if that wasn't the worse part…no. Arthur wanted to actually 'hurt' Morgana. Each ragged breath he took only seemed to be acting like fuel to the fire in his veins, and it wasn't because of anything Morgana had done. It was simply because she stood there, and Arthur wanted to hear somebody squeal whenever his fist hit them…
But this was Morgana.
And Merlin's cold stare haunted him in the deepest recesses of his mind. He was sure, if Merlin knew what he was tempted to do…he would hate him. And Arthur would hate himself…but he couldn't…he needed to…Arthur shut down completely. His face shuddering until it fell into cold indifference, and forcing himself to harden against the ache. Arthur had a feeling that if Merlin already hated him-how could he not-then he would try to kill Arthur if he tried anything. Come back from the grave to kill him…Arthur swallowed hard and pushed himself away from the shelf. He turned to face Morgana, no life in his eyes.
"I'm sorry Morgana, you are right. That situation was incredibly dangerous. I should have checked in on you to make sure you were okay. It must have been terrifying, so many men going for their blades like that." Arthur said dully, his hair hanging limply in his eyes. He ignored Morgana's 'true love conquers all' little comment. True love…such a ridiculous notion, Arthur was not sure if such a thing existed at all. But…he probably would have sold his ability to ever find out, if it meant making up for any of the sins he had caused Merlin. "I am sorry if you got scared for your life. As you can imagine, the banquet wasn't meant to go like that. And I was occupied-"
Arthur cut himself off abruptly, because he could finish saying 'occupied with Merlin.' Something in his face flickered and the cold expression on his face faltered. Merlin…Arthur was being strong now for Merlin. But Morgana must have seen, because the dark haired girl raised an eyebrow as she rested her hand on the back of Arthur's chair at the table. Arthur shut down to hide himself from her…he was protecting himself as much as he was protecting her. Arthur knew he didn't really want to go hurting Morgana, knew he would regret it for the rest of his life if he ever raised a hand to her…just like Merlin…but he couldn't allow her to see him either. Not the real him. Not the one inside that screamed and kicked and clawed in an effort to be let out on the outside.
"Oh, you didn't have to worry about me. I am sure seeing one's husband going to their death can cause a man to worry about no other. Quite romantic, I'm sure the masses will eat up that part of the relationship. So congratulations, you have managed to pull off one more great act to prove you carry this great and undying love for your consort. Job well done." Morgana said as she clapped her hands slowly. Once, twice, three times…each one made Arthur feel as if his ears were ringing. He winced at her cruel mocking words. "I'm only disappointed because I did not have a chance to clump a couple of knights over the head with the ladle I had. I'm sure Merlin would have joined me if he wasn't, you know…too busy dying."
Arthur's chest pulsed with a renewed ache and his hands went into tight fists at his side. Morgana had no idea of the monster she was playing with, but at least Arthur was finally starting to understand what Morgana was doing. She didn't need to start yelling at him. All she needed to do was stand back and rub a bit of salt into his wound. Making it sting…he hadn't thought once about the masses. Or how desperate he must've looked as he carted Merlin out of the hall. Morgana was right though, and it was an angel that would certainly please his father. But it wouldn't please Arthur…he hadn't cared about them. All he'd wanted to do was get Merlin the best help he could get. But it turned out not even that was enough.
"I'm sure you didn't need to lift a hand. The guards assigned to take care of you could have easily handled Bayard and his men." Arthur said, voice completely detached. He tried not to think of Morgana and Merlin side by side, armed with nothing more than ladles against an army. Merlin probably would have looked beautiful though. So full of life, cheeks flushed with all of the exertion, swinging himself around with surprising grace as he took down more people than Arthur would've suspected he would. Merlin always did have a way of surprising him with everything… "There was never any reason for you to lift up one hand to defend yourself. That is why the guards were there to begin with."
Arthur tried not to think about what Merlin would have done in these circumstances if he was alive. Would he have taken up arms against the Mercia Knights….most likely. Or would Merlin had allowed the Camelot Knights surrounding him to do what their job was, and protect him. Doubt it…Merlin hadn't seemed too pleased when the Camelot Knights had initially surrounded him when he had first announced the poisoned. But it hurt him too much…thinking about narrow eyes Merlin would've shot at him if Arthur had been the one to order those men to protect Merlin specifically. He hadn't even thought about it…since the banquet was supposed to be safe. A safe space! Where not a soul would get hurt other than Merlin, but only by his hand as the night ended…
Arthur's stomach lurched at the reminder of what he had been planning to do, and how Merlin was in no fit state for it…
"Yeah, but do you seriously think I am just going to stand off to the sidelines and let you boys have all the fun. I need just a bit of action in my life too, every now and again." Morgana spoke, as if she had the skill set necessary to take on trained knights without even a proper weapon. When Arthur knew full well she would be lucky to take out a rouge bandit or two with the very little self defense Uther had allowed him to teach her a fair few years ago. "But you think I should just sit on the sides and get all the big, strong men to take care of me, don't you? I bet you don't even know Merlin would've hated that. He wouldn't want anybody to save him. Not when he's so used to doing all of the saving on his own."
And Arthur could feel his carefully contained mask when this small crack formed. He wanted to flinch violently again, but he forced himself still. Morgana rubbing salt in the wound started to feel as if it was being set on fire. Merlin shouldn't have been used to doing 'any' saving. He shouldn't have been handling a single situation that put him in harm's way. And Morgana also should not have been the one to know Merlin would absolutely hate it if Arthur tried putting him on lockdown to keep him safe as could be. Arthur had already tried that once by having one of his knights follow him around during the plague-and it had not gone well at all. Arthur should have been the only one who knew of Merlin's deep seated hatred of being watched over…
"Morgana, you know you shouldn't get involved with things like this. It's dangerous, and you could get more than hurt. You can get killed just like-" Arthur's throat closed up on him before he could say that dreaded name. He could hardly think about this awful scenario…being helpless while Morgana laid right beside his consort in the healing rooms, both of them struggling with the simple act of breathing. Arthur swallowed hard past a large lump in his throat before correcting himself, "You know as well as I do that my father would be greatly upset if anything were to happen to you. Bayard would not still be breathing if it were you."
Bayard…Arthur thought as he dug his nails into the palm of his hand…Bayard would not still be breathing if Arthur had a say in what happened to his fate. He wanted the king to feel the sting of his blade, to get his revenge on Merlin's behalf. But he had no say-his carefully contained mask starting to fray a bit more around the edges-because he was stuck in here. Because his father and king had ordered him to stay put in his chambers till this whole matter was resolved. Arthur couldn't even sit down at Merlin's bedside, hold his hand, and whisper soft sorrys into his ear when nobody was looking. He was here and Morgana's here, and…Merlin was never going to burst into his rooms like a crazed lunatic again…
"Oh, so he still breaths because Merlin was the unfortunate one to be the victim. I suppose that makes sense, since your father is the only reason Merlin's here, and yet he won't lift one finger to help the boy that played your games and lasted much longer than I would have if it was me." Morgana said and there was a noticeable crack in her voice that Arthur could hear…and maybe he wasn't the only one trying to hold everything behind an impenetrable mask. Merlin wouldn't have bothered holding one thing back, Arthur thought grimly. Maybe this was a price they paid for being raised by royalty, having to hide what they were really feeling because emotions didn't make a good show for those beneath them. But Merlin hadn't been raised by any royalty, he would have screamed until he was heard. "But if I'm just here wasting my time because you want to lecture me and not talk about the real issue at hand, then done bother. I have already had my lecture from Uther before he let me leave from the grand hall tonight."
It was a strange thought, Arthur considered as he looked away from Morgana…how he would have probably never met Merlin if his father hadn't been so insistent on the contract. Like she had said…Merlin was only here because his father demanded it to be so. Arthur wouldn't be feeling this guilt if he didn't know Merlin existed. He wouldn't be feeling all this guilt if Merlin and his blue eyes and sharp tongue didn't do something strange to his insides. But Merlin also wouldn't be dying if Uther had left him where he was, in that no name village stationed away from here. Arthur didn't know what was worse…the idea of living in a world of mediocrity where he had never met Merlin, nothing ever changing or growing or making Arthur feel 'things'. Or the idea of Merlin being here and dying because Arthur had been far too selfish and possessive to let him go do his own things.
Maybe he wouldn't have felt the need to drink poison if Arthur had allowed him more freedom…
"If it makes you feel any better, you already know you were not the only one that had to listen to one of his lectures." Said the prince, making sure to keep his eyes averted from Morgana on the off chance that he would do something stupid. Arthur was holding onto his carefully contained mask by his fingertips, the mask starting to slip from his fingers. And he didn't know what he would do if he allowed Morgana to see the raw openness of what Merlin's presence in his life had done to him. Didn't know if he would be able to live with himself, in somebody else saw how vulnerable he was right now. His father would have called this a weakness. But Merlin would have poked and prodded just to get Arthur to react properly. "My father has a way with words…does he not? Able to make you feel guilty for wanting to do the right thing, making you feel like what you want is wrong…"
Arthur chanced a glance towards Morgana, and saw the way her eyebrow had rose high…Arthur immediately turned away from her again, his cheeks reddening. He had been too casual, had allowed too much of himself to leak through…he just felt…so defeated. Arthur wanting to hurt Morgana-hurt anybody in front of him-seemed to ebb away. There was a deep and dark sorrow feeling that space now. As if a piece of his soul longed to do what he wanted. But it would mean disobeying his father and Arthur…Arthur 'couldn't' do that. He had spent too many years of his life dedicated to doing anything he could to make his father proud of him. Be the perfect prince so his father was not worried about leaving the kingdom in his hands. He'd even married Merlin in the first place because of his duty to his king and his people. And yet…it didn't stop Arthur's intense longing to do things his own way…like Merlin would've done.
"Well, it's not as if I ever listen to him. You and I both know that I have a knack for getting exactly what I want, and getting your father to agree with me." Morgana finally drawled out, and the prince still didn't look back at her, raising a hand to rest on the wooden shelf above his fireplace to keep him steady. He knew exactly what Morgana meant…his father had been wrapped all around Morgana's little finger since the day she had arrived at their doorstep. It had been a great pain for Arthur as a boy just watching this stranger coming into his home and getting Uther to soften up in a way Arthur had never been able to. Hell, he is pretty sure the only thing Morgana had never changed Uther's mind on was how he dealt with sorcerer's…Morgana spoke up again when Arthur didn't answer her, any pretenses about why she was here gone. "Are you really just going to stand there as Merlin breaths his last. Your own husband…your consort. After the way you raced to Merlin's side when he fell, one may have thought your priorities had shifted a little. One may have even thought protecting your consort-who saved your life-was the honorable thing to do. Instead of catering to the father who'd allow an innocent boy to die. An innocent boy whose one and only crime has ever only been trying to do the right thing."
Morgana wasn't yelling at him, and she wasn't fussing or even lecturing. She was just saying it how it was, this cold and awful disappointment that drew her face tight, her green eyes could have been glowing. Arthur would have preferred for her to yell at him, because at least he was prepared for that. He was not prepared for her disappointment…as if she actually-even after everything they've fought about in the past-thought he might still change his mind. And whatever carefully controlled mask Arthur had been holding onto by his fingertips, felt as if it had just shattered into a million pieces.
"What would you have me do Morgana! Would you have me doom the entire kingdom for the sake of one boy. Leave the kingdom without single thought on rather or not I'll be able to return in one piece! Merlin drunk the poison knowing full well what it was going to do to him!" Arthur screamed like his entire world was crashing down around him. As if the ground started moving and Arthur was powerless to do anything but hold onto something and wait for it to be over. But this gap in his chest is something that felt like it would never be over…never close like it had been before Merlin. Arthur jerked his head so he could glare daggers at the floor, as if it had somehow caused Arthur personal offense for not offering Merlin-alive and well-into his arms. He growled lowly, "Merlin made his choice. And now I've got to make mine."
Arthur only hoped he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life.
