chapter three!
003. a dragon's call
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"HOW COULD you be so foolish?!"
Merlin stormed through the door into the physician's chambers, throwing his jacket onto the nearby table without little care of where it ended up. He heaved, trying to push back the tears that burned at his eyes and the aching lump in his throat. His back throbbed from each hit Arthur made with the broom, leaving bruises he was sure were black and blue, scarring him for a good week at least.
Gaius followed him, closing the door harshly behind him with a slam! Merlin gritted his teeth at his words, hands clenching tight at his side. He didn't understand▬no one understood what it was like to be him. Gaius said it himself: he was a mystery no one could answer, a boy who could manipulate the very magic around them without an utterance of any word. Pure, powerful, instinctual ability and all anyone would ever see him to be would be nothing more than a green boy who couldn't handle himself in a fight. He could take anyone down, he was sure of it, and yet he couldn't! Gaius just expected him to accept that?
"He needed to be taught a lesson," grumbled the sorcerer, slowly coming to a stop by the foot of the steps leading up to his room. He glowered at the door, hearing Gaius's footsteps storm up to him.
"Magic must be studied!" stated the Court Physician. "Mastered and used for good, not for idiotic pranks!"
Idiotic▬Merlin was sick of that word. He heard it all his life. He was nothing to everyone, and yet he knew deep down he was something far more▬and no one could ever know. It tore him up inside. Spinning on his boots, Merlin pointed a seething finger at his guardian, "What is there to master?!" he demanded him, and he didn't want to admit how desperate he was for Gaius to hold an answer. "I could move objects like that before I could talk."
"Then by now you should know how to control yourself!"
"I don't want to!" Merlin raised his voice, flushed at the cheeks in his anger. "If I can't use magic, what have I got?"
He watched Gaius falter at those words, and he hated it. He wanted him to tell him: here, this is what you've got, but the physician was tongue-tied▬not even he could understand Merlin's fate. And perhaps that was it: it'll forever be Merlin's destiny to be alone.
The tears brewed again, and the young warlock's anger fell away. What replaced it was a weak choke: "I'm just a nobody ... and I always will be. If I can't use magic ..." Merlin set his jaw and had to look away, turning to march his way up the stairs into his chambers, "... I might as well die."
He didn't wait to hear Gaius say anything else▬he didn't even glance over his shoulder to see the look on his face. He could feel it; Merlin could feel his sympathy like a cloud weighing heavy over his head, turning the sky grey. He didn't want sympathy. Merlin wanted answers▬from the moment he could understand what he could do was different than anyone else's. From the moment he was told to hide who he truly was from the people he grew up with, from the villagers that he thought he could trust with his life for the fear of each and every one of them turning on him just because he was thrusted a power upon him he never got the choice to have.
He threw himself onto his bed, lying down to scowl at the wall opposite. He stared at the candles that had burnt down to the bottom, grinding his teeth in livid fury▬over Arthur, over Gaius, over himself, over Uther and his stupid law surrounding magic ... he often wondered why. Out of everyone, why had Merlin been chosen this destiny? Why had he'd been given something so lonesome, so heavy on his heart▬a death sentence constantly hunching him down, whispering fearful taunts in his ears.
Fate seemed to be so kind to most, and terrible to others. He wondered what made him different then everyone else that as a babe, the Lord decided to curse him with this life. Why couldn't he just be a real nobody? A simpleton like everyone thought him to be, instead of someone far more powerful than any man and yet had no other choice but to live in the shadows. Nothing more than a ghost.
Merlin didn't hear the door open until Gaius hovered over him, sighing with a sad slump of his shoulders. At his side, he balanced a round physician's bag. The warlock gazed up at him, glum.
Gaius pursed his lips and nodded, "Sit up. Take your shirt off▬" he set down his equipment onto the crate beside Merlin's bed. The warlock did as he told, no energy left to argue, and instead all he felt was the pain of Arthur's skilful blows.
As he tugged his tunic off over his shoulders, Gaius readied a remedy of alcohol upon a clean cloth. As soon as it touched the grazes and bruises on his shoulder blades, Merlin winced.
An awkward silence settled between them. He knew he should apologise, but the words didn't leave his lips. But it was okay, because while Gaius held none on his either, Merlin could sense the regret and the forgiveness like it was a type of instinctive magic, too.
So, he mumbled, "You don't know why I was born like this, do you?"
Gaius gently tended to his wounds. At each touch, Merlin hissed as the concoction burned against the tender skin. "No," he admitted eventually.
The sorcerer chewed on his bottom lip. He chuckled through the ache swelling in both his chest and his throat, like he was trying to swallow an entire toad. "I'm not a monster, am I?"
Because deep down, all this time ... Merlin had sort of started to believe he was.
Gaius pulled the cloth away. He frowned at Merlin with thin, sharp brows and stern eyes. "Don't ever think that," he told him and the swelling in the warlock's chest sagged with slight relief. At least someone believed so.
"But then why am I like this?" pleaded Merlin. "Please, I need to know why."
The physician set down the cloth. He brushed his fingers over many potions, thoughtful. Merlin watched him, admittedly waiting for his reply with bated breath. Then, with a vague, wise breath, Gaius said, "Maybe ... there's someone with more knowledge than me."
Merlin didn't want that. He didn't want some far-fetched riddle. He shook his head, fixing his gaze upon his fingers that fiddled with the loose thread of his shirt. "If you can't tell me, no one can."
The conversation ended there.
The afternoon turned into a dusky pink. Merlin watched it glow through the ajar door of his window as he waited for the remedy Gaius gave him to take affect. Counting the seconds as the peach turned into dark salmons, dark purples until it finally descended into the velvet of night, lit only by the glow of the Moon and its army of stars. The only guide within the dark; when all else failed, when all the shadows enveloped and overwhelmed him, the Moon and the stars were still there, fighting for a pathway through to morning.
If only the Moon and the stars could show him the way now. He spent hours at night staring up at the light through the leaves of the trees on his way to Camelot, praying for a better life▬a better opportunity across the kingdoms. He left his home, his life for more questions than answers. His mother told him he was meant for great things ...
He had believed her with everything he had▬there was nothing else left but that; that hope and promise.
Now, Merlin didn't even have that.
Eventually, under the comfort of the Moon's silver gaze, the young warlock drifted off to sleep.
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THE NIGHT had yet made passage into day when the young warlock's slumber was slowly pulled away from him. He frowned, turning▬restless, in his bed and wincing at the tender bruises of his back when he heard that voice yet again; louder this time, whispering right into his ears as if it stood right above him. Merlin...
His gaze shot open. A sharp breath hitched through his nose. The voice wouldn't leave him alone▬it was haunting him, since the first night he arrived in Camelot. He knew now; he knew it deep within him, like the roots of an old oak tree, that he wasn't imagining this voice. It resonated within him, vibrating; calling to him with the breathless, ancient murmur of a name belonging to no one except him: Merlin.
He couldn't ignore it. Not only did he want to get rid of it and have a good night's sleep, Merlin felt drawn to it▬like fish to bait. It held the same magic sewn inside him; he could feel it like everything else. He had to know who it belonged to, where it came from, and why it knew his name; why it was calling to him ... just as much as he demanded to know the questions of himself.
Part of him wondered ... could those questions and this mysterious voice be intertwined?
He sat up in his bed, shifting uncomfortable as his night clothes brushed the still fresh wounds on his shoulder blades. Merlin sighed a few, steady breathes, his ears piqued, his limbs buzzing with pure energy▬anticipating the voices next murmur with a pounding heart. And it did not fail: Merlin!
The young warlock swung his legs from his bed. With effort, he tugged his boots onto his feet and stood up. Throwing his jacket over his itchy night tunic, Merlin marched to his bedroom door with fresh determination. If he didn't have answers to his own questions, if Gaius didn't have answers ... this voice must have them all. He could feel it.
Carefully, he pushed open the rickety old wooden door. Merlin winced as it creaked, hunching up as he waited for Gaius to wake ... there was no movement from the chamber outside.
Sucking in his chest▬as if it were to help his stealth and agility▬Merlin slipped through the ajar entrance to his room and tiptoed down the stone steps. Gaius's snores echoed against the walls▬pounding worse than a church bell in the early hours of the morning▬
Clang!
Merlin froze in his place. He hunched up, squinting through hesitant eyes as Gaius stirred in his sleep. The jug he nudged off the table rolled around at his feet▬he waited, eyes fixed on the physicians incoherent, tired mumblings as he turned over ... but he did not move from there.
He hefted out a long, relieved sigh, thankful to the heavens that Gaius was not a light sleeper. Merlin went to continue on, but at the discarded blanket down the physician's back, he faltered. Something in him softened, and despite Gaius's harsh words, there was gratitude that warmed Merlin in his chest. These past three days, Merlin would've sure lost himself (and possibly been headless) if it weren't for Gaius ... already, he owed him more than what a verbal 'thank you' could ever give.
Eyes flashed gold in the dark, and with the slide of his gaze, followed the thin blanket back up Gaius's body until it settled comfortably just past his shoulders. Merlin nodded, breathing out a small smile.
Merlin ... the voice reminded him, and the smile on his face fell.
Setting his jaw, Merlin strode out of the Court Physician's chambers and into the dark hours before the dawn.
In the glow of nothing but torches and the stars, the Camelot citadel became a ghostly maze▬it was so silent, Merlin could hear the wind whistle through the cracks in the stone walls, the scurry of rodents deep within the shadows and the sound of the creatures of the night, rustling their wings together and calling to each other in the comfort of the dark.
He didn't particularly know where he was going. Merlin's mind seemed to shut off, and the voice calling to the magical being inside him took control of his steps. They traveled across the courtyard and into the back servant entrances, twisting him down many corridors and staircases until he found himself back to a place he did not wish to visit so soon:
The dungeons.
Merlin wondered why this voice would lead him here, but he did not argue it now▬not when he had been drawn in this far; he wouldn't be able to resit its call even if he tried. Merlin...
He stopped just above the entrance, fingers grasping the iron of the wrought staircase that led below to the cells. Merlin peered down at the flickering flames that lit the board upon which a dice game was in full swing. A pair of guards took turns to shake the dice within their empty cups of water before tossing it out, betting upon which number the dice would land on in comparison to what they guessed.
He waited for the right moment. As the guard with his back facing him tossed the dice from his cup, Merlin willed the world to slow down around him▬and without even a breath of a whisper, the dice bounced up from the table lagged ... he darted his eyes to the left and they followed, shooting off the table and skidding across the stone floor down the dark hallway opposite.
The two guards shared a dumbfounded look. Slowly, the one closest to Merlin stood up. He wandered over to the wayward dice and crouched down to pick it up▬but before his fingers could even brush them, Merlin nodded his head and the dice skittered further like pebbles across water.
His friend was quickly on his feet, wondering why it was taking so long to pick up a pair of dice. When Merlin was sure they wouldn't see him, he rushed down the stairs and slipped off down the darkest corridor, away from the bewildered guards tottering away behind him.
He grabbed a torch and lit it in the bracket as the corridor lost all light. Merlin held it up, barely able to see two steps in front of him. The corridor started to slope downwards, and the prestige upkeep of the dungeons he had left behind him started to disappear. The stone became cracked at his feet, the ceiling lowered▬soon, Merlin was ducking his head to avoid low hanging spiderwebs, stepping around rat bones and following this haunting voice that somehow seemed to be the only familiar thing here.
Merlin... The young warlock reached an old, rusted gate that wasn't even cared to be locked. Swung wide open, the dark, gaping descent below seemed to welcome him with freakish wide arms, and he was scared if he stepped down, he'd be swallowed within the shadows and never able to come back up.
Merlin...!
The voice was down there. He knew it. This was where he was supposed to be.
Merlin took a deep, courageous breath and descended into the dark abyss. His torch lit a ghostly, luminous shadow, flickering above his head as he slowly walked down the long staircase. The brick around him started to turn to jagged stone. He could smell the musty scent of the underground▬lost and forgotten, tickling his throat and making him want to sneeze.
MERLIN▬he could hear the voice shouting now in his mind, calling with a deep and powerful bellow that almost sent him stumbling the rest of the way down into the darkness.
But eventually, he made it. His feet touched rocky ground▬slippery and wet with cold, cave dew. Another grate door lied open in front of him, webbed to the cave wall like it had never moved an inch from the first moment its hinges had been pushed. A large, hairy spider was spinning its web in the centre. It scurried away when Merlin brushed his light across it.
MERLIN!
He flinched, but finally, he knew he had arrived when he stepped into a cavernous void. Merlin's heart fluttered in pure awe▬he gaped, eyes wide as he gazed upon the large underground chamber. He couldn't see where it started, and where it ended, straining his neck to peer up at the jagged ceiling like he had stepped right into the mouth of a large dragon. To his side, a set of small, narrow steps led down further into the dark cavern, but Merlin couldn't find anymore bravery in him to follow and see what lied deep within its crevices.
He narrowed his eyes, trying to see what the owner of the voice. So far, he saw nothing▬no body, no shadow, no ancient magical being sitting in the centre rock of the cavern. It was empty.
Until he heard the chuckles▬echoing back and forth, from everywhere and yet from nowhere. Merlin spun around, searching for the beholder of the call, "Where are you?!" he demanded, his own voice weak in comparison as it bounced off the cave walls.
The deep throat growl startled him. Merlin gasped, staggering back as ... something emerged from the darkness. Scales of golden and ochre hues flashed in the firelight, a great gale of wind gushed against him▬the cavern shuddered and loose rocks crumbled overhead. Merlin ducked, and slowly, his gaze wandered over his arm▬breathless▬as a colossal, great dragon landed in the cavern's centre.
He folded his wings and held his head up high, gazing down at Merlin with an intelligent curiosity that was filled with a mirthful glimmer at the same time, like he couldn't believe that this was who stood before him.
Merlin couldn't speak. He lost the feeling in his legs. He thought he had blacked out then and there, unable to comprehend what stood before him▬he didn't know whether he was terrified, shocked or amazed, or a strange combination of all three. He stammered, grip around his torch trembling.
The Great Dragon, Gaius's words bypassed him absent-mindedly. The last of his kind, tapped here as a lesson under Uther's command.
Merlin was standing right in front of the greatest beast of all time▬a creature; a being of magic so powerful and so ancient, he wondered whether he was supposed to be on his knees, begging for mercy.
"I'm here," stated the Great Dragon calmly▬the same voice that had plagued Merlin's mind from the very first night here in Camelot.
Once the initial fear passed, Merlin realised that he had made no move to kill him▬no fiery breath left his scaled maw. And what travelled down him, like a warmth from his head to his toes, was a sense of familiarity. They were two magical beings standing before each other beneath a city who prayed upon their kind ... they were one and the same; kin.
The Great Dragon watched Merlin coyly, "How small you are ..." he mused, "... for such a great destiny."
Merlin's breath hitched. It took a second for him to find his voice. He took a hesitant step forward, unable to stop the sheer tug his entire being made at the very word of destiny▬toying at his dozens of questions surrounding his cruel fate. "Why?" he breathed, voice cracking as he still couldn't quite believe the sight he was seeing. "What do you mean?" the warlock asked the dragon. "What destiny?"
The golden dragon settled his slender legs against the rock, talons scraping stone as he lowered himself closer to Merlin's level▬but never quite to match. He stood upon a throne, and Merlin was nothing more than a pupil to the religion he was created▬made from magic's very soul and foundation, like the earth trees grew their roots amongst to feed.
Minuscule, Merlin stared up at him, breathless and dying for information like roots begging for water.
"Your gift, Merlin," said the Great Dragon, "was given to you for a reason."
The relief that washed through him at those words almost made him tear up. "So there is a reason?" he whispered.
The dragon chuckled at his eagerness, knowing far more than he could ever muster. He was every riddle, every book, every single feeling that as so someone out there knew exactly where Merlin would begin, and where he would end up▬and never mention a single word. This creature knew the past, the present and the future, and he toyed with it like the Sphinx before a maze. And Merlin waited on the edge of his toes to even get a glimpse into what his future may hold.
Finally, the Great Dragon decided to say, "Arthur is the Once and Future King who will unite the land of Albion."
Merlin frowned. He wasn't expecting that. "... Right."
"But he faces many threats from friend and foe alike."
The young warlock shook his head, not sure where this was going▬he wasn't even sure whether the dragon even had mentioned the right person. Arthur? The Arthur he met throwing dagger's at servants and teaching people to walk on their knees? That Arthur? "I▬I don't see what this has to do me with me."
"Everything!" said the beast. Merlin blinked, taken aback. "Without you, Arthur will never succeed." He leaned forward and Merlin felt a hot breath burn at his cheeks. "Without you, there will be no Albion."
Slowly, it began to dawn on him what the Great Dragon meant. Slowly, Merlin started to realise why fate had drawn him to Camelot in the first place▬why out of all places, his mother decided to send him here.
And it was the worst▬most disgusting (revolting even▬yes, definitely revolting)▬realisation ever. His fate will not be intertwined with Prince Prat Arthur of Camelot. Merlin refused to look after his arrogant, idiotic backside so he could become the worst king this place will ever become to know. He'd rather let himself be seen to the gallows.
"No," Merlin immediately shook his head. "No. You've got this wrong."
"There is no right or wrong," said the dragon, "only what is and what isn't."
"I'm serious!" let out the young warlock. "If anyone wants to go and kill him, they can go ahead! In fact, I'll give them a hand!"
The beast's laughter made him set his jaw. Yet again, Merlin had no choice what faced him▬he was thrown into the deep end and expected to fight his way back to the surface; to accept the fate he was given, like a pawn on a chessboard. Prince Arthur's pawn. Used as a mere sacrifice to reach the other end.
As if knowing exactly what he was thinking, the beast chained to the rock said: "None of us can choose our destiny, Merlin. And none of us can escape it."
"No." Merlin was stubborn. If anyone had the power to choose their own destiny, it should be him. And he will not spend the rest of his life boot-licking some arrogant, flaxen-haired, condescending▬ "No way, no. No. There must be another Arthur because this one's an idiot."
"Perhaps it's your destiny to change that."
His wings shifted. His mighty legs rose▬Merlin was too late, unable to stop the dragon as he launched into the air with such strong gusts of wind he nearly fell.
"Wait▬WAIT!" Merlin yelled after him, covering his gaze as the dragon's wings sent a gale force down. "WAIT! STOP! I NEED TO KNOW MORE!"
But no matter his pleading cries, the dragon did not return.
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AS THE SUN set behind the castle turrets, the feast bubbling at the hearts of every servant, lord and lady inside Camelot in esteemed excitement arose. Those who held a place as members of the court laughed in their pretty dresses and rich doublets, chatting with wine filled to the brim out of golden rimmed cups. They hovered around tables as long as the hall in itself, wrapping around to face the risen stage upon which the anticipated Lady Helen was to entice them with her beautiful voice Odette has only heard tales of.
In comparison to the beauty of the lords, ladies, princes and kings, Odette was merely nothing more than an ugly ducking. Dressed in her servants' garb and holding a jug filled with the wine everyone else got to drink. She filled their thirst, attended to their hunger and held no luxury to chat, to laugh and to laze around on a chair before a table. She was plain in a room filled with gorgeous swans.
But she still played with her hair, gently brushing it away from her eyes as she let it fall gently around her shoulders. She filtered around guests, lit candle-sticks and tapestries▬stitched stories of battles, crownings and the lost legends of the first king of Camelot; the first Pendragon who sat upon a throne that united a peace amongst all five kingdoms; a peace not one king since has managed to keep.
Odette stared up, momentarily stopping in her rounds to memorise the sight of him standing before a round table where each king sat▬not one more important than the other; each and every one that sat at that table was equal ... exactly the same.
The sudden, "Cuckoo!" made Odette gasp. She jumped▬startled▬so abruptly that the tips of her jug of wine spilt, staining the edge of her skirts and her slippers. The handmaiden stabilised the rest of her platter, hunched up and spinning around to find who had been responsible, until her gaze landed upon the laughing figure of Sir Owain. Odette faltered, feeling her cheeks burn with shame as she watched him turn to fellow knights, in hysterics over her reaction.
"Still daydreaming, girl?" he jeered at her, raising his cup in a mock toast. "My, we ought to rid of you!"
Odette ignored him. Even if she wished she had the power within her to stand up for herself, to fight back, she knew it was fruitless. All she could do was turn away, to keep her head down, to not say a word and stay as hidden as she could▬trouble was the last thing a servant needed.
She moved along, trying hard not to focus on how she'll never quite get the wine stains out of her skirts and her shoes, and instead getting back to her job▬hoping that Morgana would arrive soon, or Guinevere and Merlin, so she'd have some way to keep herself busy and yet comfortable with someone she knew she could enjoy the feast with.
But when she hoped▬she hadn't planned on hoping for Arthur.
But the Prince swept past her nonetheless, choosing her out of the many servants working that night near his joust over Merlin with his friends. He almost startled her, also, standing tall beside her with a long, royal Pendragon cloak over broad shoulders and his jewelled band across his forehead. Regal, handsome▬a prince in every way, except true humility.
He stood by her, so subtly behind that even if he could, Sir Owain wouldn't dare try something so foolish with the Prince▬the leader of the Knights and the future sovereign▬so close to judge his immaturity.
"More wine, please," said the Prince, holding out his goblet with little courtesy. Odette eyed him from the corner of her gaze. Arthur leaned in a little to add curtly, "and try not to spill it this time would you, Odette?"
She set her jaw, not at all surprised. "Of course not, My Lord," she gently filled his jewelled goblet, being sure to add a slight smug bounce of her brows as she finished without a drop astray.
"Shouldn't you be with Morgana?" Arthur didn't leave. He peered at her steely, in a way she couldn't quite decipher; like he was unable to decide whether to be nice, or as annoying as he was when they were kids. "Doing whatever you girls do before a feast?"
"I was with her earlier," said Odette softly. "But Daisy in the kitchens fell unwell so I promised her I'd also work the feast so she could rest."
"What's taking her so long, then?" grumbled the Prince.
Odette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "She's finishing getting ready, My Lord."
She knew he'd make a face, incredulous and disgusted at the same time. "How is she still▬?" He stopped, shaking his head. "You girls are all confusing," he decided to say before leaving her finally, setting off towards Owain. "Get back to work."
When Odette was sure his back was turned, she mocked him silently to herself before heading the opposite direction.
The moment she saw Merlin sift through the small crowd with Gaius, Odette lit up. Forgetting her recent annoyance, she hurried her way across the floor towards the physician and his ward. Small and silent, Merlin didn't even notice she was beside him until she said, "Hello, Merlin!"
He jumped, startled. Spinning to her, the warlock let out a long heave of disbelief to see her grinning at him. She quickly blushed, "Sorry to startle you," she added, though Odette found it very hard to hide her want to laugh at the look on his face.
Merlin made a face. He stood up straighter, "I wasn't startled."
Odette frowned at him. "You sure?" she arched a brow. "Because ... you jumped, you know▬" she bit back a smile, "▬like you were startled."
The warlock scoffed and she chuckled, holding her tray with the jug of wine close to her chest, "No," he said and Odette giggled softly, nudging her new friend softly; she was glad when she heard him laugh quietly back.
Slowly, the chatter around them started to fall away into a breathless silence. Eyes turned away from their platters, their companions and their goblets as the well-loved late arrival swept her way into the hall.
Odette swelled with pride to see Morgana. Her mistress was the most stunning lady in the room▬there was no argument to be had. In a deep red tease that cascaded around her long legs, she was a prized jewel that everyone wanted to feast their eyes upon, but could never own. No matter their payments, no matter their titles and their lands, Morgana held herself above them all▬not just stunning with skin as pale as snow, hair as black as night and lips as red as a freshly-picked rose, but just as powerful▬just as elegant. Even more so.
As she passed her, Morgana sent Odette a bounce of her brows in greeting and she beamed, subtly replying with a thumbs up. Beside her, Merlin gazed after the King's Ward, unable to look away.
"Merlin," Gaius scolded him in a hushed whisper. He jumped yet again, blinking the dazed look from his eyes. Odette hid her amusement one more. "Remember, you're here to work."
With a sigh, the warlock mumbled an, "Aye," and the two young friends were left alone.
Odette glanced down at her jug and mischievous, passed it into Merlin's arms who took it, still rather dumbfounded after Morgana who quirked a curious brow as Arthur wandered his way over. The two conversed, and the young handmaiden nodded, satisfied▬the Prince and the King's Ward looked very much the pair; very much the beautiful, glamorous and sophisticated sight. They stood out in the entire room in their matching colours of scarlet.
Another servant decided to join them, grinning with delight at the sight, too. Guinevere shuffled in next to Odette, taking a deep breath that was filled with happiness, "She looks great, doesn't she?" she stated.
Merlin scoffed▬the word great was not even half the meaning upon which the sight of the Lady Morgana was. "Yeah..."
Odette clasped her hands together, holding them to her lips as the smile on her face grew. "Yes," she agreed, loving the way her hairstyle had mastered the King Ward's look, "she looks like the perfect future queen."
Merlin spun to her, suddenly horrified. "No!" he whispered like this was something terrible.
Odette and Gwen both stared at him, a little incredulous by his abrupt outburst. They shared a glance▬until all three of them yet again set their gazes upon the Lady Morgana and her Prince.
"We hope so ..." said Guinevere, smiling. "One day."
"Not that I'd want to be her," quickly mumbled Odette, her eyes moving from her mistress to the future king, and there was a bitterness on her tongue to see that smug smirk upon his lips. She snorted to herself, adding in a low voice to make sure that no one but the three of them could hear: "Who'd want to marry Arthur?"
Guinevere smacked her lightly at her words, but even she covered her burst of laughter▬Lord Ronyn a couple paces away glanced over, dubious in hearing their snickers as he chatted with Sir Geoffrey Monmouth, the keeper of the royal library.
"Oh, come on, Odette," mused Merlin as his chuckles faded away, "didn't you say you used to chase Prince Arthur around as a kid? Sounds like you quite love those condescending, save-the-world, idiotic kind of men."
"No," she rushed out, burning at the cheeks over her embarrassing childhood endeavours, "of course, not! I like much more ordinary men like you."
Odette froze up, bright at the cheeks as she realised just what she had said. Guinevere bit her bottom lip, looking down to her hands as she stifled her want to laugh. Merlin didn't realise, he chuckled to himself, murmuring, "Odette, believe me, you know I'm not ordinary."
"No, no, no, no▬" she was quick to try and fix her mistake, not that Merlin even recognised a breath of her flustered state, gathering some food to add onto the platter she had given him, "▬of course I didn't mean you ... obviously. Not you." He frowned at her, bewildered. "I▬I mean, not that you aren't someone I'd like, I just ... you know ... I meant that I like much more ordinary men ... like you ..."
The stare he gave her was becoming uncomfortable▬or perhaps she, herself, made her feel such, realising just how embarrassing and awkward her flustered words had become. Merlin pursed his lips, azure gaze both a little suspicious and a little incredulous, not too sure how to take Odette's ramblings▬neither of which seemed close to a insult nor a compliment.
"Thanks..." he said slowly.
Soon the awkward, tense silence became too much and the two teens pulled their gazes away, swallowing dry tongues and cursing at how horrible that conversation went▬though Odette couldn't believe it could have gone any worse ... she elbowed Guinevere's stifling self in passing as she grabbed yet another jug, this time filled with water to continue her night of work.
But when the horns blew, the joyful laughter and chatter came to an end. The groups of lords and ladies all parted a way, bowing their heads low as the King finally entered. Odette curtsied as low as it was required in between Gwen and Merlin, watching him pass with a hesitant gaze, following the trail of his royal purple robes wrapped over a doublet covered in rich jewels. His crown sat heavy upon an ageing head.
They stood again as it was deemed polite so, now bypassed back into the shadows without another thought. The King turned to face his lords and ladies of the court and the Upper Town, the smile on his face nothing genuine of kindness, but of arrogant victory.
"We have enjoyed twenty years of peace and prosperity," said King Uther Pendragon. "It has brought the kingdom and myself many pleasures. But few can compare with the honour of introducing ..." he bowed his head towards the stage standing opposite, "... Lady Helen of Mora."
Only once the King was seated, could they all follow his example. The lords and ladies sat down by their plates and goblets along the slender tables on either side of the room. Lord Ronyn fixed his celebratory belt around a freshly washed tunic, looking freakishly similar to his late father▬so much that for a moment, Odette thought that it was really him. That he had possessed the mind of his only son that took the seat beside his mother and younger sister, Lady Adelynn who looked eager to reach for the grapes piled in a gorgeous fruit platter right before her eyes. Ronyn never looked much like the Lord Vecentia until he did; leader of a household almost as rich and as ancient as the Pendragons; their most loyal ally and servant since before Camelot's first living breath.
They resided the closest to the royal family because of this. Right by the turn in the tables to the head, where King Uther sat accompanied by his son, and his welcomed guest who smiled in their applause of the singer each and every face had anticipated the moment of the feasts' announcement.
When they all became silent, and they settled in their seats, did she take a breath to herself. Odette's brows lifted, a smile tugging at her lips as she awaited for the singer to open her mouth. And when she did, the voice that followed was truly as how they said: an angel's that had decided to walk the land.
Her gaze was fixed on the singer as she continued, singing a sweet, solemn song that kissed Odette's ears like a lullaby. She frowned a little, rubbing at her eyes start started to grow irritated and tired▬she never realised exactly how exhausted she was after the feast preparations until now, and Lady Helen's song seemed to wrap her up in a blanket and set a pillow under her head, telling her it was okay to rest ... she should rest ... she deserved it.
Odette's lids fluttered close, and that was the last thing she remembered▬the feeling of her jug of water crashing to the ground as she slumped against the dining hall windows.
The next moment, she was being shaken awake. Odette mumbled, wanting to turn over and continue to sleep▬she couldn't remember the last time she felt so deeply entranced in her own head. She swiped the hands away.
"Odette," muttered Guinevere, a bit annoyed by her dear friend's response. "Odette, wake up▬wake up!" she flushed a little after her harsh words escaped a bit louder than she wanted them in the quiet room.
She did this time, and Odette's brows furrowed to find herself not wrapped up in woollen fabric, but instead a blanket of ancient spider webs. Her heart hammered painfully▬thinking that for a moment, years had passed and somehow she had woken up after a long, uninterrupted sleep that lasted centuries.
But as she started to swipe the cobwebs away, she was met with Gwen's startled face. She helped her before tugging her back up onto her feet, their platters of food and drink were discarded on the floor. Odette glanced around, the entire hall was covered in webs, spreading across the corners, over the snuffed out flames and curling around the stirring figures of lords and ladies, and servants, all confused as to what had happened.
They had all fallen into a deep, forgotten sleep.
Odette then noticed the fallen chandelier. The king, who had fallen prey to the sleeping spell much like the rest of them, shook off the remainder of the webs and stood up, staring down at the limp figure of Lady Helen in her beautiful yellow dress underneath the chandelier ... except it wasn't Lady Helen of Mora.
A gasp hitched in the back of Odette's throat as she saw the frail struggle of Mary Collins▬Thomas James Collins's mother▬raised her head. Odette had forgotten about her threat three days before▬completely forgotten until she pushed herself up by her feeble hands and brandished a dagger▬
With all her remaining strength, Mary Collins threw the dagger with a striking accuracy straight for the Prince of Camelot who was still dazed as he woke up from his slumber. He didn't have the time to move as fast as he knew he could▬he stared, horrified as the blade spun closer and closer at the hand of a grieving, furious mother.
Beside Odette, Merlin didn't have any time to waste▬and so he slowed it. The gasps of the lords and ladies became frozen, the reactions of the king to his son sluggish, and the travelling dagger lagged in its ferocity towards Arthur who lied directly in its deadly path.
Merlin couldn't quite describe it▬call it destiny, call it intuitive, call it the kindness out of his heart to be unable to see even the most condescending Prince of them all fall prey to such a (embarrassing) death, but he surged forwards before he had twice a moment to think. His hands stretched towards the Princes shoulder, and with a grunt, he tugged the lumbering oaf away from his chair.
Time jolted back into place as they hit the floor, and the dagger lodged itself deep within the Prince's chair.
Both Merlin and Arthur spun on their backs to stare at it▬stunned to think that could have been the Prince's heart it pierced instead of the polished wood.
Around them, the guests of the glorious feast all stared, just as shocked. Lord Ronyn swallowed harshly down at the dying sorceress▬who with a final gasp, perished on the cobwebs of her own creation. Odette and Gwen stumbled away from the windows, terror frozen into a breathless silence on their faces. Morgana had her hands to her lips, all excitement now fallen away and replaced with horror.
The prince and the young warlock stumbled to their feet. Arthur stared, incredulous at Merlin▬not sure whether to be thankful, or surprised that someone as clumsy as him could manage to save his life. He briefly met his gaze and had to look away, massaging the blow on the back of his head from hitting the stone.
The King rushed forward to them, tripping over his own feet to reach his son's side. He clasped a hand on his shoulder, beyond grateful that he had survived. The stone cold gaze of Uther Pendragon landed upon Merlin, and for the first time, the warlock saw something else: a kind, relieved and vulnerable gratitude. "You saved my boy's life," he gasped. "A dept must be repaid."
Merlin blushed. He quickly shook his head, for once hating all the stares fixed on him. "Oh, well▬"
"Don't be so modest," said the King, "you shall be rewarded."
The young warlock bowed his head, finding it very hard to meet the Prince and his father in the eye. He flushed. "No▬honestly▬you don't have to, Your Highness."
"No, absolutely!" argued Uther Pendragon, something of perhaps▬Merlin couldn't quite believe it▬but the ghost of a smile upon his face. "This merits something quite special."
Merlin shrugged, awkwardly wringing his hands. He glanced back at Odette and Guinevere who both nodded, shooting him gestures of encouragement. So, he pursed his lips and muttered a shy, "Well ..."
Uther nodded, satisfied he will be grateful towards his gift, "You shall be awarded with a position in the royal household," he stated and Merlin's brows shot up in surprise. He gave Arthur another shake on his shoulders, proud. "You shall be Prince Arthur's manservant!"
The applause that followed shouldn't have been applause at all. Merlin gaped, unable to believe his bad luck. What sort of award was that? He could have wanted anything else▬even nothing!▬than to be appointed the manservant to the Prince. But at least he wasn't the only one with such displeasure. Arthur's face contorted with horror, gaze following the King as he left with an exclaim of disbelief: "Father!"
When neither got their way, the Prince and his manservant shared a brief glance. They turned up their noses, looking away in absolute disgust.
It would seem like the Great Dragon was right. No matter how hard Merlin tried, no matter what he wished for and what he wanted, no one▬not even him▬could choose the path of his destiny.
And little did he know what a great destiny it will be.
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a/n: arthur trina be sweet and go over to protect odette from owain's jokes and attention. then goes ahead and chides her for spilling the drink. baby, that's not how you help her but you're trying your best its okay you have development.
arthur and morgana: *playfully flirting*
uther in the background knowing it's incest: ://///
anyway there you go! first episode done!! onto valiant next! i think it'll be usually be three chapters per episodes, sometimes two - i don't like spreading them out too much because I usually do episode per chapter, but these are just way too long to do that lol.
be sure to comment and vote! I love reading comments and replying to them cos I'm nothing if not a chatterbox.
(lol odette being like pffft who'd want to marry arthur- gIRL U GOTTA BIG STORM COMING-)
btw, some fun arthurian story knowledge. guinevere has a sister named gwenhwyfach (or guinevak) and then merlin marries gwendolen while he's off being mad in the woods and being turned into trees. then, historically, one of the figures merlin is possibly based upon: myrddin wyllt had a SISTER named gwenydd and served as a bard to gwenddoleu ap ceidio. a lot of gwens.
perks of your merlin fanfic writer growing up with a mother who was an arthurian nerd and got arthurian books as presents and hence now is also a somewhat arthurian nerd.