The Golden Effect

Le morte d'arthur

I have to say, I think I enjoyed writing this one a lot. I really did.

This was one of my favourites to actually morph into my own image, and I hope you love it just as much as I do. . ..

It was three-and-a-half-week before Arthur decided to go on a hunting trip. Immediately, Merlynn had pouted. She hated hunting, as Arthur probably knew, but didn't necessarily care. Every other hunt they had ever gone on had ended in disaster and/or mortal peril, so why, she pondered, would this one be any different?

Despite this, Arthur had a cocky flair about his movements as he slid through the forest, stealthy and quiet, amongst the entire hunting party following after him. Merylnn kept by his side with all of his equipment. She was not as stealthy as the others, stumbling and dropping the weapons as she ventured deeper.

It was not her strong suit.

"Merlynn, spear," the pratty prince ordered in a hushed tone. Rolling her eyes, she attempted to skillfully draw the spear from the pile, but instead dropped the thick weapon at his feet. He gave her the look - her look, the irritated, tight expression he only reserved for his barely competant servant. "Do you have any natural, useful gifts, Merlynn?"

Magic. "Well, now that you think about it - ah! I'm not naturally rude or insensitive, unlike another man that I know," she responded pointedly, raising a brow in his direction.

"No. You're just naturally irritating," Arthur corrected. And distracting. He didn't know why the vision of her in her masculine clothes was such a desirable look on her to him, but it was. He wished she wasn't attractive in any way, so that he wouldn't have these taboo thoughts about her.

"Well, you - you are a clotpole," she hissed quietly.

He rolled his eyes. "You've used that insult already, I'm afraid. Would you like some ice for that incredible burn of yours?"

"No, because that will just make the burn worse. Using cold water is more effective," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Shut up, Merlynn," he retorted and picked the spear up.

As they continued forward into the forest, loud, menacing growls echoed through the thick trees and foggy atmosphere. Arthur glanced back to his party and noticed Merlynn cower back slightly, eyes flickering uncertaintly toward the mist.

"It's probably more scared of you than you are of it," he reassured softly, and she nodded, thankful for the comforting words. He signalled his knights in a circled formation to cut whatever creature lay in the forest.

A monster of massive size leaped out from the shadows; it had the body of a leopard and the head of a snake. Merlynn gasped. The beast snarled viciously at them, which in turn the party halted and bolted away from it. She found that, even when faced with a creature that could kill her, her clumsiness had not left her until she had arrived in a safe environment.

Instead, her foot caught on a branch and she tumbled to the ground, then turned to see how far away the beast was from her. Merlynn was paralysed with fear. The beast was only a few feet away, venom dripping from the ivory fangs set in it's and Sir Bedivere had come back to rescue her, and pulled her up from the dirty ground. When she was finally on two feet, the prince grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the beast.

They had been running for a good ten minutes. Arthur had called for them to stop for a break, reassured that they were far away from the beast for the time being. He would shout at Merlynn for her stupidity later. The servant slowly, even reluctantly, pulled her hand away from his and clenched her fist when it was free.

"Have we lost it?" she asked worriedly.

He glanced back at her then toward the hunting party, who held the unbridled fear on all their faces. Arthur frowned and counted his knights once more, realising there was one missing. "Who's missing?"