Merlyn's Only Hope

A Remedy to Cure All Ills P1

Merlyn was in Morgana's chambers, stroking Galahad's newly washed fur, chatting about nothing in particular. Sitting on the ward's bed, she admired how comfortable it was, wishing that she could afford something like it for her own room. Perhaps there was a spell which would turn straw into goose feathers...

Shaking her head in an attempt to distract her thoughts, she smiled up at Gwen who, armed with a number of delicate, white flowers, entered the room, a large smile on her face. Merlyn was glad to see her so happy: since Lancelot had left, she'd seemed a little dejected, saddened by the loss of something she was yet to know. Still, the witch had a hunch that the blacksmith's daughter and the hopeful knight would, someday, be reunited.

"Look what just came for you." Gwen presented the flowers to Morgana, exchanging a knowing look with her fellow servant. This was hardly the first trinket that the ward had recieved from a secret admirer, although usually there was some hopeless note attached to the gift. Morgana kept a collection, finding solice between the awful attempts of poetry when she was feeling particularly dismal.

"Who are they from?" Merlyn asked, bemused.

"I don't know, maybe Arthur." Gwen contemplated, too wrapped up in thoughts of potential suitors to notice the slight stiffening of Merlyn's shoulders at the mention of the prince.

Merlyn and Arthur hadn't spoken of the kiss they'd shared, both of them knowing nothing could come of it. That first morning, when she'd woken Arthur with a cheery "Rise and shine!", had been the hardest. She'd seen a longing in her prince's eyes, a desire she felt in her heart, one that could never truly be fulfilled. It had been foolish of her to allow her feelings to grow, but there was no point chiding herself about it now. She would move on. She had to.

"How disappointing." Morgana smirked, whisking the witch away from her self-pitying thoughts.

"Why? Who would you like them to be from?" Merlyn asked, raising her eyebrow, forgetting, for a moment, about her own troubles.

"Oh, I don't know. A tall, dark stranger." Morgana replied, causing Gwen to giggle. She put them in a vase, admiring how the light shone through the pale petals. If she didn't know any better, she'd say that they were almost magical.

∆

The relationship between Arthur and Merlyn hadn't changed much. They still acted the same; their strange normality generally managed to keep both of their minds off what could never be. When Morgana was struck with a sudden illness, however, it was considered Merlyn's duty to keep the prince sane. After an attempt at her usual prattle, which, for once, didn't result in an object sailing over her head, she knew that Arthur's mood was serious. He needed a distraction.

"Come with me." she beckoned, praying that the prince would move from the edge of the ward's bed. Arthur had been staring at Morgana for hours. He'd neglected his duties, choosing instead, to watch the life recede from the woman he'd always thought of as a sister, wishing upon every ounce of his being that, by some miracle, Gaius could cure the sleeping beauty.

"No." he answered, not even looking at his servant.

Merlyn sighed wearily. It would be easier to give in, to leave him be, but she could see the way that Arthur was tearing himself up inside. He needed a moment of respite. "Come on, Arthur. If you aren't going to train your knights, you can at least train yourself. I hear Sir Leon has boasted that his footwork is now far superior to yours. You wouldn't want to prove him right."

It didn't really matter that Sir Leon had certainly never said such a thing, nor that, if he did, nobody would believe him: the taunt had the desired affect. Arthur glared up at her, tearing his eyes away from Morgana for the first time in hours. Merlyn returned his gaze fiercely, trying to ignore the way her heart dropped at the pain, the anger, the anguish visible in his eyes. Gaius had forbidden her from using magic to help the ward, meaning that she too had to watch her friend waste away knowing that, surely, if she tried, she could save her. She needed a distraction. Arthur needed a distraction. Luckily, over the past few weeks, she had become an expert.