Lost in Albion 1 (Merlin) - Completed

10

Chapter 10

The Quarterfinals knock out a large group of contestants, including Torj who had a drawn-out round, seemingly as equally skilled as his competitor but became restless leading to the mistake of being imbalanced in the saddle. Leon and Arthur are two of the four that make it to the finals.

Arthur is to compete against one of the well-known Knights of Asgorath, a kingdom west of Camelot, who we traded with frequently. I have no worries for Arthur in my mind, instead, being concentrated on Leon, for he was put against Greasy. Apparently, his actual name is Sir Lorcan. My nose crinkles as his name is announced next to Leon's, not trusting the slimy git. (I'm imagining Crispin Glover here if you want a visual.)

I excuse myself from the crowd as the semi-finals are being prepared, intending to get some fresh air to calm myself down. There is just something about that man and it's not his lack of shampoo.

I enter the knight's tent, knowing they wouldn't be here, but a place for me nearby that I could escape from the sound of the crowd's chatter. I run my hands through my hair, sitting on the table. My head falls into my knees, overwhelmed. Today has been going so well, I don't even know why I am worried. It's like this force is just making me sick.

I hear the tent flap open but I ignore it, hoping it was just a servant who would leave me be.

"You must be Elena," the voice addresses. The voice is unfamiliar to me, making me spin my body around to inspect its owner. To my utter dread, it was Sir Lorcan, looking horrid as ever.

I don't reply, just staring at him as he begins to circle me like a predator entrapping their prey. His feet are slow but steady, yet light even though his armour appears heavier than Camelot's. My breathing increases, each breathable to be heard in the stillness of the tent. I dare not take my eyes off him, as though he is indeed a lion about to pounce on me.

He stops moving, just standing there as we watch each other. "It's impolite not to answer," he chides, clicking his tongue.

"Shouldn't you be out there getting ready for the next round," I growl, hiding the impact of his intimidation. Lorcan lets out a short breath.

"Against that oaf, they put me with. No need to prepare, he'll be easy."

I feel offended for my friend, scowling at the man. "He's a better man than you'll ever be."

An uncharacteristic smile arrives on his face. "Oh, I know that. But it's that weakness, that loyalty that will get you killed. If you give it to the wrong man that is." He holds out a hand, "Why don't you be with me. I can be your master?"

Master? What the hell is the man going on about? I thought he is was just generally weird but now, now - he is creepy and calling himself a master. Like a slave to him? Confusion mixes with fear, the two battling for dominance as I stay seating on the table, still not daring to move, as Lorcan's hand still floats in the air waiting for my response. Finally, I splutter a response.

"I don't know what in the world you are going on about mister," I spit, jumping off the table, pointing my finger at him. "But I don't want you to be my 'master', I am happy here and you will not threaten me or my friends." The demanding tone of my voice is lost on the man who drops his hand.

"You don't even know what you are, do you?" he ponders, scanning me from head to toe. "How sad that you don't even know your own potential, or rather the potential you could give me." His eyebrow quirks in his thought. This was the most his face has moved since I have met him. His words don't make sense and this conversation has gone out of hand, so I don't even bother trying to understand him anymore. Rather, I glance behind him, at the exit to the tent.