Sprinkle Some Sand In Your Eyes
"You are not leaving this castle until the Peace Treaty is over!" The King shouted, his angry voice carrying through the halls. "And I will hear no more from you!"
The prince stomped from the Council Chambers with a glower upon his face, servants jumping out of his way as he stormed to his room. Merlyn numbly followed in his wake, acknowledging his atypical behaviour with a detached sort of interest. The Peace Talks of the Five Kingdoms was to begin the next day and convoys could be arriving anytime between now and then. Arthur wasn't one to disregard politics this important, so his desire to leave on the eve of such an event was uncharacteristic.
"I'm fine, Merlyn," he said shortly when she slipped inside his chambers to find him pulling on his gambeson in preparation to don his armour.
She said nothing, sliding closer quietly to tie the collar together. The armour was in the armoury, but he didn't order her to fetch it; instead, moving to the wall by the hearth where his burnished sword hung, anger draining away. He touched the hilt with a new thoughtfulness, caressing the deceptively simple design inscribed into the cross-guard. After a moment, he glanced to where she lingered by his changing screen, watching passively.
"I know of what this sword is capable," he said, and she blinked at the unexpected information. "And I remember when you bestowed it upon me. The danger we were facing." He smiled, hollow. "You saved many lives that day."
She reached for a response, but the emotions slipped through her fingers like smoke. She wasn't even sure for what she should be feeling. Shock? Surprise? Gratification?
He left the sword where it hung and turned to her fully. "I will repay what you have done for me," he vowed. "I will become a man worthy of your sacrifices."
Her lips parted, mind scrabbling for words, even as anything she could say fell short. He took several measured steps in her direction, earnestness and resolve etched deep into his features.
"I will undo my mistake if it is the only deed I accomplish."
"I don't want you to hurt yourself," she said; a fact, firm and solid, regardless of emotion.
"And I want you to be yourself again," he returned, taking the last step into her space and cupping her cheek with unexpected tenderness. She stayed still, eyes flicking over his features in search of answers. "I can handle a little pain for something like that."
Her cheeks warmed, and her belly squeezed, but the reaction was barely an echo of what she yearned to experience, desperately diving through space for the real feeling. She lost momentum quickly, drawn back into her shell like a dog tethered to a kennel, so she settled, instead, for closing her eyes and leaning into his touch. If nothing else, his palm was warmer than her chilled skin.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
The negotiations between kings kicked off with the arrival of the envoy from Deorham to the south. King Alined, who Arthur called greedy and cowardly, was also rather cruel to his servants, rendering Merlyn immediately wary. Thankfully, she didn't have to settle any of his men into their rooms, exempt from true servant duties until Gaius approved her recovery.
Lord Bayard from Mercia arrived next, jovial and relaxed. His camaraderie with King Uther had blossomed from the fiasco of the poisoned cup eighteen months ago, his honest desire for peace making him a strong ally for Camelot.
King Rodor of Nemeth arrived alongside King Olaf, just before the feast was set to begin. Arthur told Merlyn it was probably intentional on King Rodor's part as tensions had arisen between Nemeth and Camelot regarding the province of Gedref. Ancient rights dictated it belonged to Camelot but for many decades Nemeth had occupied it peacefully, protecting the land from attack. Now there was argument to whom the land truly belonged.
Despite that, the aging king seemed to be a good man, polite to the servants who rushed out to tend to his men and clapping Uther's arm in greeting before nodding respectfully to Arthur when introduced. The kings headed towards the Council Chambers while Arthur guided Olaf's daughter, the fussy Princess Vivian, to her chambers to prepare for the feast. The wide-eyed glance he shot back to Merlyn before they disappeared down the hall told her the young blonde was every bit as unpleasant as rumour suggested.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
The celebration in the Banquet Hall was rather spectacular, King Alined's mistreated servant – in actuality a jester named Trickler – put on a brilliant display of daring and pranks, exhibiting great sleight of hand in his release of gorgeous blue butterflies. Merlyn couldn't help glancing at Morgana when they appeared, but the highborn decidedly ignored her presence, green eyes ghosting over her form as if she was little more than a piece of the décor. If Merlyn could feel pain, she was sure it would be digging deep into her gut, but, as it was, she turned her own impassive gaze back to Arthur, wine-filled flagon held securely in her hands. The prince had requested her presence for the night in place of George, and Merlyn bore no aversion to the idea. She fell back into her role with ease, little more expected of her than to refill his cup and mutely ponder his plea.
At his sides sat Lancelot and Sir Leon, chatting and laughing in the warmth of the hall. They were part of the lucky handful chosen by Arthur to represent Camelot during the feast – because, of course the numbers of delegates had to be equal across the board. Geoffrey of Monmouth, his apprentice, Margery, and a couple of other stuffy old men rounded out the group evenly. The young apprentice stood behind Geoffrey's chair as her novice status dictated but Merlyn was pleased to see the old Genealogist was studious in his care of her, making sure she was fed and watered, and beckoning her close to share things Merlyn assumed were important for her to know.
Merlyn wondered if Morgana was seeing the young girl, pulled from the lowest rung of peasantry to be given the gift of opportunity, and felt pride in her part of making it possible. Merlyn and Morgana's proposal to build a communal teaching hall within the city had stalled not long after they had discussed it, but she wondered now if the highborn would scrap the scheme to spite Merlyn, or if she would persevere regardless. The life of a child had been saved by a simple idea and a mention to the right person; would Morgana see Margery raised from poverty and think progress, or anomaly?
Somehow, it seemed important to know. Was Morgana hopeful or hopeless? Benevolent or vindictive? Was she moving beyond Merlyn's abandonment to help those less fortunate, or was she letting her despair smother her compassion?
Arthur glanced over his shoulder to check on her and she stepped forward to replenish his goblet, leaning over to refill Lancelot's also. He graced her with a kind smile while Arthur pushed a plate of pre-cut morsels closer for her to pick at. The distraction allowed her musings on Morgana to fade from her thoughts, and she settled in for the long night ahead.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
The next morning, something was very clearly wrong with Arthur.
"Proclamation of love?" Merlyn repeated blandly, watching him stare dreamily out of the window by his bed. She touched her belt where the smelling salts used to lie and wished she had them on hand. It seemed a conversation requiring full mental faculties. "To whom are you proclaiming?"
"The Lady Vivian, of course!" he exclaimed, as if it should have been obvious.
Should it be? Merlyn glanced at George for her cue, but his wide eyes and frozen stature revealed he hadn't been expecting the declaration either. However, he hadn't been present at the feast, so perhaps she had drifted during a pivotal moment the night before; missed a crucial scene changing Arthur's opinion towards the fussy princess so strongly.
She didn't think so, but this turnabout was undeniably contrary to his previous sentiments.
She looked back at the prince and found him turned to her expectantly, though for what, she knew not.
"You are a girl," he stated. She waited for him to continue.
"How shall I express myself?" he asked.
She blinked.
"I need to see Gaius," she said, and strode from the room.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
The smelling salts hit her nose like sharp needles shoved into the tender flesh of her sinuses. She shook her head and blinked the sensation away, panting a little at the buzz spreading throughout her body. Gaius had left the flask upon a shelf bearing an assortment of other medicine, not at all hard to find. He was busy in the lower town, so she felt safe tying the salts to her belt while reviewing the recent scene in her mind.
Arthur was infatuated with Princess Vivian? Enough to call it love. Yet, the previous night, he had belittled her attitude to that of a spoiled brat.
There was a tight coil of something knotting her gut, and she wavered over the objectivity of her own assumptions.
Arthur and Merlyn… they'd never… their flirting had been a mix of innocent innuendo and heavy possibility, but they'd always retreated from anything more. She'd assumed it was because she was a commoner and he a prince – something he had mentioned after their first kiss in the Labyrinth of Gedref. She didn't think such a thing was insurmountable, but it had clearly weighed on Arthur's mind. Then, after his discovery of her magic and the utter decimation of their friendship, romance was the last thing on her mind.
She still felt silly tingles in her belly when he paid her particular attention or when he looked at her a certain way, but she didn't know she could ever trust him again to search for more as she had once wanted. Still… she wasn't sure how to feel now he seemed to have moved on to someone new.
She decided she needed to speak with him again.
Merlyn trotted down the stairwell leading to the courtyard, planning to cut across it to the Council Chambers where Arthur would be aiding his father. Instead, she found Arthur bouncing down the grand staircase and come to a halt before Princess Vivian, who was red in the face from shouting at the guard holding her horse. Vivian turned unimpressed eyes upon the grinning prince, who seemed wholly unaffected by her attitude, and Merlyn hurried closer to hear what was being said.
Arthur took Vivian's lax hand and bowed to kiss the back of it. "Allow me to fix this saddle for you if, in return, you will allow me to be your guide. I know of a glade that grows the most fragrant and beautiful flowers in the forest, though it pales in comparison to your own loveliness."
Merlyn stared with bafflement (and possibly a smidgeon of annoyance too). Firstly, Arthur did not know where any glades were beyond the small clearings to be used for patrols, so she didn't know how he planned to show such places to the princess and, secondly… what?
Princess Vivian wrenched her hand back from Arthur, who still hadn't let it go, and snapped, "Are you mad? My father will have your head if he heard you talking as you are!"
"Your father does not worry me," he replied, a dopey grin on his face and Merlyn exchanged a wide-eyed look with the red-faced guard holding the horse. The young man looked as if he was regretting ever getting out of bed that morning.
The princess scoffed and stepped away, very clearly unmoved by Arthur's flirting. "You won't be saying that when he's running at you with a knife in his hand. I've seen it before."
"Really?"
"Yes." She flapped her hands at him. "Now, go away."
Arthur looked so crestfallen when he turned around, like a scolded puppy, and Merlyn had the sudden, irrational idea he was playing a prank. How else could she explain his peculiar behaviour?
But no. No wink, or smirk, or anything to indicate playacting. He seemed sincere in his disappointment as he trudged back up the stairs, his heavy footfalls a blunt contrast to how he'd skipped down them moments ago.
What on earth was going on?
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
She knocked on Arthur's door, having followed him up to his room. He was supposed to be in the Council Chambers with the kings, supporting his father and forming his own connections, but it seemed he cared not for duty right now.
"Come in," Arthur's voice called, and she slipped around the door to see him sitting against the headboard of his bed, blankets spread over his lap as he pouted. If she wasn't so confused, she'd be more amused by the expression.
"Merlyn," he said then sighed dramatically. "Come to tell me I should not pursue my love?"
"Well," she said slowly, creeping closer as a perplexed frown pinched her brow. My love? "I think the princess did rather well herself."
"Do not remind me!" he groaned, flinging himself onto his side and pulling the sheets up to his chin. He added, voice muffled and whining, "I've never been so humiliated in my life!"
Merlyn scrunched her nose in disagreement. "Mm, I can think of a couple of times to match it."
Arthur just grumbled to himself, his shape little more than a lump atop the mattress. She peered around the side of the bed to observe his face, seeing his lips pushed out like an overtired toddler. She curled her arms around the bedpost and cocked her head at him curiously.
"So your advances on the Lady Vivian were sincere?"
He looked at her incredulously. "I would never fake my devotion to one as lovely as the princess." He sat up suddenly, eyes wild with hope. "Does she not believe my intentions to be true? Is that why she turned me away? Does she need proof? I'll – I'll do anything she wants – I'll slay a monster and bring her back its head – I'll find the most exquisite gem in the lands if only to see its beauty pale in comparison –"
"Whoa, whoa! Hold your horses," she said, releasing her hold on the bedpost to wave down his mania. Suspicion was bleeding into her mind at his uncharacteristic attitude and she crept closer to study him more thoroughly. "When did you start waxing poetic about things like a lovesick bard? I didn't even know you could speak this romantically."
"Vivian is worth it," he breathed as if that was answer enough. Contrarily, it only made Merlyn more concerned. This wasn't the mark of someone infatuated – Gwen and Lancelot were cutesy, but they weren't obsessed. And Merlyn's own crush on Arthur hadn't debilitated her like it appeared his thoughts of Princess Vivian were doing to him.
"Are you… have you been drinking, sire?" she asked, lowering herself tentatively onto the edge of his bed but not reaching to check his temperature like she wanted to. Perhaps he was feverish?
He flopped back onto his pillows like a fanciful maiden, back of his hand pressed to his forehead. "I need only to drink in the visage of Vivian!" he declared. "Is she not the loveliest thing you've ever seen? Hair as golden as the sun. Eyes… eyes as stormy as, er, a storm. And her voice… like a siren luring me with the promise to taste those sweet lips." He sighed dreamily.
As worried as she was, Merlyn couldn't help her amusement. He was acting like a silly girl with her first crush. She put a hand over her mouth to hide her laugh and asked, somewhat rhetorically; "You know sirens lead sailors to their death, do you not?"
"Vivian would never leave me to drown in the waves."
"Uh huh," she said, then sighed in resignation, shaking the humour away. His actions reminded her vividly of when he had been beguiled by Sophia Tir-Mòr for sacrifice to the Sidhe. If Princess Vivian hadn't been so unappreciative of Arthur's advances, she'd suspect the blonde of interference, but, as it were, she seemed entirely unimpressed by anything to do with Camelot. And it seemed foolish for the Sidhe to attempt the same tactic twice.
So then… a love spell? But why? And whom, if not Princess Vivian, since she was the target of his fixation?
Arthur released a slow, yearning sigh, eyes turned towards the window across the room to watch the clouds skitter across the sky outside. Gods, he was barely functional. She didn't want to leave him in this state since the last time, he'd fled the city to be willingly sacrificed, but she needed to fetch Gaius, and there was no way she was hauling a besotted prince all the way through the lower town to find him.
"I, er, I must find Gaius – but, um, you stay here. Don't go anywhere. I'll, er, I'll try to talk the princess around, but I need you to stay here while I do that, alright?"
He sat up again, leaning forward like a child offered their favourite sweet. "You will?" he asked, sounding so relieved. "Oh – you are the best servant I could ever hope for!"
"Sure, sure," she said, pushing herself off the mattress and not bothering to correct him on her status. If she knew where George was, she'd set him as sentinel, but Arthur preferred him out of sight instead of dogging his heels as she had done. "But I'll only do it if you stay here and refuse anyone else entrance. Tell them you are ill."
"Yes, fine, just go. Tell her I think of her every second we're apart. That I will walk barefoot over hot coals to gain her favour if I must."
"Yes, alright, whatever," she said, waving an arm over her head in acknowledgement as she rolled her eyes.
Once the door had sealed between them, Merlyn let her amusement fade. What a cheap trick to be played. Enchantments to befuddle emotions were notoriously potent and shoddy. Whoever did this was a pathetic excuse of a sorcerer. Stripping someone of their right to act under their own power was something deserving punishment, no matter if magic was legal or not. It was foul, and she would not stand for it.
She just needed to work out what, who, and why. And then how to break it without magic.
And then smack the culprit in the face for daring to toy with Arthur as they had.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
"Arthur's been enchanted?" Gaius repeated, eyebrow raised as he absorbed her words.
"Yes, some sort of love spell, I think. But how and why elude me." She paced within the Physician Chambers, skin too tight and clothes too scratchy, and agitation gnawing at her patience, but she refused the idea of withholding the smelling salts until she calmed. She fiddled with the old medallion hanging about her neck as she tried to settle her mind.
"Any advance by Arthur towards Lady Vivian would be a sure-fire way to ruin the peace conference," the old man commented.
Merlyn stopped and stared at him. "So one of the visiting kings wishes for war? Not Uther or Olaf – it is their children being targeted."
"Rodor would never stoop to these measures and Bayard wants peace as much as Uther. Alined is the only logical option."
"Arthur called Alined cowardly and cruel when we ventured through his territory," Merlyn recalled, then realised – "Trickler! His skills as jester – it must be sorcery! He created butterflies from nothing. Urgh! I'm so blind!"
"Alined took great risk in bringing a sorcerer to Camelot," Gaius muttered disapprovingly. "But it is a rather clever plot to create war without landing blame."
"We must tell the kings," Merlyn decided but Gaius threw out an arm to stop her approach to the door.
"No! If Uther realises one of the kings is using magic, there will most certainly be a war. And Olaf will slay any man who tries to use his daughter this way. The only way out of this peacefully is to un-enchant Arthur."
"But how?" Merlyn demanded, throwing her hands into the air as she resumed pacing. Tension worsened her restlessness. "I have no magic. I know not what spell was even used! I'm – I'm useless!"
"Just because you do not have magic does not mean you are worth any less than before, Merlyn," Gaius scolded. "But we do not have time to be doubtful; I need you focused."
"Right," she said, shaking her head and then her hands, using the movement to snap herself to attention. "Of course. Sorry, Gaius."
"Perfectly alright, dear girl," he said more gently, stepping closer to touch her arm reassuringly. "We will revisit the issue of you thinking you're useless after Arthur is no longer liable to start a war."
Merlyn winced, not keen to have such a chat, and jested to lighten the atmosphere, "I'm not sure that day will ever come. Arthur can be a walking disaster sometimes."
"Said the kettle to the pot," he returned pointedly, and Merlyn gaped at him, hand to her heart.
"I'm wounded, Gaius. Right here."
The old man shot her a look, eyebrow creeping up his forehead, so she sighed and conceded, "Alright. I guess I deserved it."
"Indeed," he hummed, turning away to sort some papers. "I suggest asking the dragon for his opinion. If anyone has knowledge of ways to circumvent enchantments without magic, it would be he."
"Yeah…" she dragged out reluctantly. "About that. I can't… exactly visit him anymore."
Gaius slowly turned back around. "Merlyn?" he drawled, and she was mildly insulted by the accusation in his tone.
"I didn't do anything!" she defended. "It's this – thing!" she shook her arm where the Cuff was hidden beneath her sleeve, slowly destroying her body. Morbidly, she wondered how long she had left before the skin around the band started putrefying.
She took a breath and explained, dropping her hand back out of sight; "Last I visited, I could barely enter his chamber before the Cuff incapacitated me. It – it sensed Kilgarrah's magic and reacted as if it were my own. I cannot… I cannot go back down there and be coherent enough to ask what we need. I'll not risk Arthur's safety that way."
Gaius' expression was alarmed as he shuffled closer and reached for her arm, but she tucked it behind her back and shook her head. "I'm fine, Gaius," she said warningly. "But I need you to do this task for me. I need you to speak to the Great Dragon."
"The dragon and I are not friends, Merlyn. He holds great anger for anyone who submitted to Uther's laws during the Purge."
"This goes beyond personal preferences," she argued. "If Arthur is not released from his enchantment, one way or the other, Camelot will fall into war and our quest for Albion will fail."
The old physician sighed heavily but bowed his head in acquiescence. "I hope he is as lenient as you believe. He and I do not share pleasant history."
Merlyn blinked in surprise. "You have met him before," she realised, and Gaius pursed his lips.
"That is a story for another day, dear girl. For now, I believe you have a prince to tend."
Merlyn conceded with a grimace. "He's probably left his room by now."
"Then you'd best find him and stop him from starting a war."
She headed for the door but pointed at him before she exited. "See him as soon as you can. Tell him his bid for freedom will take even longer to accomplish if he does not help – and that is not a threat; it is a reminder his release relies on Camelot's welfare." She took another step then turned once more as another thought occurred to her; "Just – there is usually a pair of sentries guarding the tunnel. They're ill attentive but you will need to distract them to pass safely."
Gaius graced her with a look. "Merlyn, I am a highly skilled physician with extensive medical knowledge. I am sure I can think of something."
She smiled sheepishly. "Right. Good luck."
"Hmm," he replied noncommittally, turning away to prepare whatever it was he was planning. Merlyn hurried out, hoping Arthur had listened to her for once in his life and remained within his chambers. The last thing she needed was an irate foreign king demanding his blood.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
Merlyn didn't expect Arthur to stay away from the princess forever, but she had hoped she'd have more time. As it was, she intercepted him on the way to the Lady's chamber, his strides purposeful and his features set, stopping only when she skidded to a halt directly before him.
"Let me pass, Merlyn. I wish to see Lady Vivian."
"No, no, no, wait!" she said desperately, glancing around to be sure they were alone and scrambling for an excuse. "Wait – sh-she doesn't want to see you until you have brought back a bouquet of flowers from the forest!"
Arthur paused, brow furrowed at her words. "A bouquet of flowers?"
"Yes!"
"From the forest?"
"Yes. Only from the forest."
He thought about it a moment then waved a hand imperiously at her. "Then fetch me some immediately. The best you can find. I don't want to keep her waiting longer than necessary."
"No – hang on –" she fumbled, pushing him back as he went to move passed. "She said only you can gather them. Or she'll not accept them."
"Me? Well… then, we must depart at once! You will show me the best meadow."
"Why would I know the best meadow?"
"You often tried to lure me out to them remember? And you used to return almost daily with some form of blossom wound through your hair. You will take me to the place where you picked them."
Merlyn shook her head. "I cannot. I, er, I am aiding Farah in tending to the princess. Surely you would not leave her unattended?"
"Never," he breathed, sounding horrified at the thought. "But I would like to fulfil her wish."
"You know, on second thought, I think she said she liked roses, no matter where they were from. Perhaps pick some from the royal garden. But, er, she likes them to sit a while before receiving them. So, um, so her suitor has time to whisper words of devotion into the petals. Poems. She loves poems – especially ones personally designed. Go write a poem."
Arthur looked overwhelmed at her commands but nodded solemnly, soaking in her commands like they were gospel. She had to dig her nails into her palm to withhold a hysterical giggle. She could not wait until he was in his own mind again so she could tease him for his witlessness. His puppy love was such a nice contrast to the previous uncompromising devotion he gave to Sophia. This time, he puttered like a toddler, wanting to show his affection but utterly confused as to how, whereas before he had brandished arms on command. This was annoying but much more manageable.
"Take your time," she said as he turned away, watching him leave to be sure he was actually going. He paused once and glanced back wistfully but she waved him on and he continued.
To her relief, dinner was announced before he returned and, as Arthur was required to attend with the kings, she trusted the night to be free and clear. She hurried through the quiet halls to the Physician's Chambers, anxious for an update on how to free Arthur.
She found Gaius musing at the table, fingertips pressed into a steeple over an untouched cup of tea. He moved only when the squeak of the door drew his attention.
"Merlyn," he greeted, straightening up and fixing his craggy face into a polite expression. "It's late."
"So it is," she agreed, his solemn bearing making her wary. She approached slowly, reaching out to touch the side of the teacup, finding it cold beneath her fingers. "And you've been sitting a while. What is weighing on your mind, Uncle?" she picked up the cool tea and stepped over to the window to pour it on the small tray of herbs below the sill before closing the shutters against the cool breeze. She turned to the fireplace and was happy to see the kettle sitting warm on the red coals, ready for another brew.
It was silent for a short while as she prepped another drink for the two of them, the wind outside moaning against the stone. Gaius spoke as she settled across from him. "Only one thing will release Arthur from his enchantment."
His voice was heavy, and Merlyn felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. If there was a solution, why was Gaius so grave?
"It can be done without magic?"
"It is a force beyond sorcery."
Merlyn's eyebrows raised in amazement, not having heard of such a thing, but he said no more, and she ducked her head to catch his gaze. "What? What is it, Gaius? What can be so terrible you fear to speak it?"
"Love," he said, and she stared at him blankly. What? Love what? "Only love will break Arthur's enchantment."
"Alright," she dragged out. "So we fetch the King and –"
"True love," Gaius interrupted but pursed his lips instead of saying more. Merlyn felt as if she was missing something.
"Is not the love between a parent and child the purest of all?" she asked, thinking of her mother. Hunith's love for her scared Merlyn sometimes because the black-haired girl knew she wasn't exactly safe to love. It was a terrifying fact her mother would not hesitate to take an arrow if it protected her, since the possibility was very real that, one day, it might be. What was that if not true love?
Her mentor bobbed his head, eyes telling her he knew where her thoughts had led. "Not all love is pure Merlyn. Sometimes it is unbelievably selfish, taking without giving, demanding without conceding… Uther loves his son, I believe that, but neither you nor I can trust his love is pure. Not in the way we need."
"Then…" she held out her hands in supplication. "Who?"
Gaius raised an eyebrow at her. "I think we both know the answer to that one, Merlyn."
She blinked at him then realised what he meant. Her cheeks flamed at the idea, and she denied it; "Me? That's ridiculous! Arthur and I aren't-aren't courting."
"Love is not bound by structure, dear girl," he lectured wisely. "And I may be old, but I am not yet blind. I have seen the way you two are with each other." His glare dared her to deny it.
Merlyn snorted, refusing to entertain the idea. She cared for him – of course she did – but True Love? "Our… friendship is not pure, Gaius. We have hurt, and lied, and deceived each other. He-he beat me down with his words for so long I almost started to believe what he was saying." Gaius looked mournful, but Merlyn pressed on, pity not her intention. "He… he broke my trust. I do not think… I do not think I can ever rely on him the same way again." She whispered, both guilty and not, "I-I think I may be able to forgive him… given time, but I do not know if I will trust him again."
"That is your right, dear girl," he murmured, reaching forward to pat her hand kindly. "Hardly enough time has passed for the damage to settle, let alone for the wounds to heal. He may be changed now, but it does not erase what has been done. You are allowed to be angry and mistrustful."
Hearing him say it eased Merlyn's guilt, for even if she knew, logically, she was allowed to be unhappy about the things he'd done, shame always surged when she let bitterness invade her thoughts. Her whole life, she had trained herself not to let the judgement of others cast her down, but never had she been cut so deep by a close friend. The betrayal stirred a chaotic jumble of anger and doubt and loneliness and defiance, which confused and exhausted in equal measures.
"But you still stand by his side."
Gaius' voice drew her back to the real world, and she took a moment to digest his comment.
Her eyes dropped ashamedly. "I do not know why I stay," she confessed, feeling like a charlatan with his assumptions. "Sometimes I believe it is because I still see him as a man worthy to rule, and then, in others, I fear I only stay because I was told he is the one who will lead and I must do my part as prophesised. Still more, I wonder if I stay because I am afraid, like a child sticking to a mother's leg in an unfamiliar place."
"You are in pain, my dear girl, and suffering a cruelty to change anyone, but I know you well enough by now to trust you will never do things only out of fear or duty. Just as you ever were, you are ruled, first and foremost, by your heart. Your compassion and your empathy are what make you special, Merlyn, far more than your magic ever will, which is why I know your motivations remain pure."
"But it cannot be True Love," Merlyn replied desperately. "We have been so unkind to each other, Gaius. You said it yourself: pure, true love is not demanding or selfish."
"Purity is not the untainted innocence of an untempered love, Merlyn. It is the ability to weather the darkness without letting it seep into the soul; to separate one's pain from themselves and see the truth without bias. To… to love unselfishly – deeply, purely, generously."
She blinked at him, his passionate words possessing the surety of one who had experience, not knowledge. She asked tentatively, "Have you ever been in love, Gaius?"
He looked away, his intensity fading into a ragged sort of exhaustion. She noticed he still hadn't touched his tea, this brew growing cold just as his first.
"I did once, a long time ago. She crept in like a thief and settled within my heart before I even knew she was there." He smiled, eyes distant with memories, and Merlyn leaned forward, captivated by his history. "I was a scholar, you see, I did not seek romance or family. I was content with my pursuit of higher knowledge. And then, there she was, just as scholarly as I, but much more adventurous. It was her mind that drew me in; she was passionate about healing, but innovative. She did not let herself be bound by the strictures of current conjecture."
"What happened?" Merlyn whispered, heart already aching for what she knew to be a sad ending one way or another.
"The Purge," he sighed, meeting her gaze with a jaded blue stare. "To stay would be to die. So I smuggled her from the city and we parted ways forever."
"Why did you not follow?" she asked, aghast.
He smiled sadly. "I was the only one within the city who was close enough to Uther to alert his targets without being discovered myself. I could not turn my back on that – not even for love. And… I was afraid."
"That's… that's awful. I'm so sorry Gaius."
"No," he corrected gently. "That's life. But she is alive somewhere, helping people; perhaps she has found new love. I can only hope she is happy, whatever she is doing." He picked up his cool tea and took a sip.
"What if Arthur has no True Love?" she asked, unable to believe she filled such a portrayal after the last few months.
"Then he will remain as he is, a danger to himself and everyone around him."
It was said simply, a statement of fact, but the pressure it put on her shoulders had her bowing forward with the weight.
The physician's tone was much softer when he saw the stress on her face; "You can only try, dear girl. Whether it works or not is up to the Fates."
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
The dawn shone bright upon the castle, wispy clouds stained in shades of colour Merlyn's eyes couldn't discern. She watched the sun rise lethargically, curled loosely on her side with a hand tucked beneath the thin pillow as she stared through the open shutters of the window. It had been too late to venture back to Arthur's chambers last night, so she'd spent the night trying to rest for the day to come. Today, soon, she was going to march into Arthur's room and forcibly kiss him in the hopes it broke the enchantment clouding his mind. If it didn't, she might probably, possibly, be sent to the dungeons or stocks. And if it did work…
She didn't know.
Despite all their dancing and hinting and spontaneous kisses in the first few months, they'd never said they loved each other. They'd never even said they liked each other. And with everything to happen, pushing for more would be wrong for so many reasons. But if it worked, what did it mean?
And if it didn't… what did that mean?
She didn't know. She just… she didn't know.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
She was a hallway from his rooms when the rug beneath her feet slipped and she fell backwards with enough force to be airborne for several seconds. Her yelp of surprise ended with an, "Oomph!" as the air knocked from her lungs, tailbone and skull cracking against the flagstone. She coughed in pain, curling onto her side pathetically when an ominous creak of unstable metal drew her attention upwards.
An empty suit of armour loomed above her, rocking dangerously from its place against the wall, as if disturbed by her fall. It tipped forward, hanging perilously on its hollow, steel toes, before gravity won and it continued towards the floor – and Merlyn. She managed to roll away from the sharp axe slipping from the gauntlet fingers, but the rest of the heavy metal rained upon her body. It was all she could do to curl into a ball and protect her head.
When it finally settled, her ears were ringing and her shoulder throbbing from taking the brunt of the impact. She took a moment to breathe before pushing pieces out of the way to sit upright.
"Ouch," she grumbled as she rubbed her arm.
"Miss, are you alright?"
The racket had garnered the attention of a patrolling pair of guards, and they wasted no time picking her up from the wreckage like a child. They tried to usher her towards the Physician's Chamber to be examined, but she brushed them off as politely as she could.
"Thank you, no," she insisted, scrambling to pick up the pieces of armour and shove them back into the nook whence it came. She'd have to come back and rebuild it properly, but she had more important things to tend at that moment. "I am well."
"Are you sure, miss?" one asked, John, she thought was his name.
She smiled at him appreciatively and nodded. "Yes, thank you."
He helped her lean the weighty axe against the wall and then she hurried away, rubbing marks she was sure would later bruise.
She paused before Arthur's door and took a deep fortifying breath, embarrassed when the stray worry of how her breath smelled darted through her mind. She shook it off and shoved through the entrance before she could scare herself any more.
"Urgh!" she cried, automatically covering her eyes when she saw Arthur and Princess Vivian kneeling upon the bed, sucking each other's face. Quickly, she spun and closed the door behind her, not wanting any onlookers, before turning to stare at them in disgusted fascination. Goodness, she hoped she didn't look like a leech when she kissed people.
"Princess Vivian," she called, unsure how to break them apart without forcibly climbing between and pushing them away. The princess was latched onto Arthur like a barnacle, her legs creeping up to straddle his waist. Arthur, meanwhile, had one hand fisted in Princess Vivian's hair and the other squeezing her behind, urging her closer. Merlyn blushed to imagine what they might be leading to. "Princess! Arthur! Hey, stop! Arthur! My Lady! Prat! Gah."
She was going to have to get physical.
"Alright," she told them, rolling her shoulders. "You asked for it."
She grabbed Arthur's leg, tucked underneath him as he sat on his haunches with Vivian's knees either side of his own, then planted her foot against the mattress for leverage and heaved.
Princess Vivian squeaked as Arthur lurched forward, driving her into the mattress as his mouth removed from hers with a wet pop. His face fell into her cleavage, but he was quickly dragged down her body as Merlyn hauled him forcibly from the bed. He floundered like a beached fish, free leg kicking the air beside her head, before he dropped between Vivian's parted feet and face-planted the hard floor with a grunt of pain. Merlyn released him with a satisfied puff.
"My love?" the princess cried, leaping towards the edge of the mattress and Arthur pushed himself up with adoration painting his features.
"Always!" he declared, but Merlyn leapt between them before they could latch back together.
"Arthur – stop!"
The prince drew back, blinking up at her in confusion. "Merlyn? What are you doing here?"
She fortified herself, shoulder's squaring with determination. "Saving you," she declared.
And she grabbed his face and kissed him.
It wasn't the most impressive kiss they'd shared. He was passive at first, their lips mashed together clumsily and his hands hovering awkwardly in the air by his side, but Merlyn pushed everything she had ever felt for him into the action, letting her lips curve around his as their noses brushed together gently. And quickly, Arthur seemed to melt into her ministrations. His head tilted as to better seal his mouth over her own, hands moving to cradle her waist like she was as delicate as a porcelain doll.
Then her wrist seared with pain and her legs buckled in shock. She didn't even have time to suck in a breath to scream before blackness slammed into her skull and consciousness fled.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
TBC...
Commemorating ANZAC Day and all those who lost their lives to war. War brings countries together, but it also tears countries apart. Let us hope one day we can all live in peace and negotiate our differences instead of raising weapons in the farce of "us vs them".
Be kind to each other
