Where Legends Begin

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Well, at least there hadn't been a lecture. Merlin watches Arthur go, somewhat amazed that they'd managed to have a half-semi civil conversation and she tilts her head, thoughtful before looking back to the four Knights who are leaving. She would have hurt them for what they'd done, her judgement would have been harsher, but somehow she found herself actually grateful for Arthur for handling the situation. It was strange, feeling something even remotely positive for the blond-haired man but Merlin didn't mind. She didn't hate Arthur....she just hadn't had a reason to like him either is all.

He was looking forward to talking to her tonight? Interesting. Well, if he decided to perhaps LISTEN to what she told him instead of assuming he knew it all and let her ask questions without throwing a prideful fit about it...she might actually enjoy that conversation with him. So thinking, Merlin turned her eyes up to the giant of a man behind her, smiling a little. Bors looked back at her with a curious expression, frowning a little as if he were trying to figure something out.

"What language was that, Merlin?"

Galahad, Bors and Guinevere were the only three people that called her by her NAME and it always brought a smile to her lips and it didn't fail now. Merlin looked back up at the sky and then back at the Knight. "It's....well, it's called Dracon. It's an ancient dialect belonging to another species."

"And how did you learn it?" the black-haired man asked and Merlin shrugged a little. "I don't know how I learned it. I just...have always known it. My father said it ran in our blood." The male looked like he was going to speak, but someone was running toward them and Merlin was abruptly called away on a healing emergency. She bid Bors a quick farewell and once again immersed herself into her work. It was a long day after that and Merlin finally made her way to dinner in clean clothes, but not a dress. She was in the ones she preferred and as she entered the dining hall that contained only the Royal Family and a few trusted Nobles, she gave a quick bow in the King and Queen's direction and then looked quickly for where she was supposed to be sitting. It varied from meal to meal that she was invited to and Merlin's eyebrows shot up into her hairline to see she'd been placed by Arthur and across from Morgana.

She took her seat, feeling instantly ill-at-ease. This was going to be an interesting night.
 
The smoky air of the room vents up to the ceiling where the large vents in the roof lead off to the various chimney exits. Along with the smell of fat dripping from the kill of the day, comes the chatter from the Lords and Ladies. King Uther, along with many other Kings across the land, always have visitors to his castle. He shows them superb hospitality, always showing them the grand tour when they arrive and a secret when they leave. Whether this "secret" is actually of importance, is up to Uther but his untrusting nature deems the same tale over and over. He boasts about secret passageways underneath the castle, leading into the forests or mountains around them. Or on rare occasion inflicts fear upon his guests by telling them of the mythical creatures he has seen lurking in the dense forests.

But since this dinner isn't quite a large banquet, only two or three families of Nobles along with the Royal family, Uther sets his children down below him. The King and Queen still dine on their small wooden platform, overlooking the rows of empty benches that are to be filled with spirits once the weekend come and the tournament begins. For now, he is content with the calm chatter. By the looks of it, so is Arthur. He is pouring a glass of wine for his sister, a large smile spreading across his face when she lifts a brow and makes a snarky comment.

"Oh you could say that, my dear sister, but I'll have to protest. I don't believe that--" but the Prince cuts himself off when Merlin slowly approaches his side and settles down next to him, "Ah, Lady Merlin, come sit," he scoots over a little bit, his second glass of wine already half empty from the looks of it, "Has a day in Camelot suited you?" he questions next in quite a civil tongue, Morgana's eyes immediately rolling, "Oh hush you," Arthur mutters, shooting a spiteful look at his sister before taking Merlin's glass from her and pouring some wine into it from the jug. His attention turns to Morgana once he pours Merlin her drink, if she wants it or not, "But really, that feat is impossible. Think about it and I mean really think about it."

Arthur goes on to defend his case that in the scenario of two knights fighting, one with an axe and the other with a two handed sword, that the axe would ultimately beat the other weapon out. He starts talking about the symmetry of the weapon and the amount of force it takes when bearing down on the enemy from above one's head compared to the nonsensical slashing of a two handed sword. Morgana is less than pleased with his pursuit of thought. Her explanation is that the sword gives the bearer the key of agility, something the axeman doesn't have. And so the two argue and argue, more wine being poured into both of their goblets before the food arrives. Maybe while their eyes are turned to the fresh ducks, Merlin can finally squeeze a word or two in. She never did get to answer his question about her day.
 
Merlin is as much surprised - and wary, but that she can't yet help - by Arthur's question as she is by his filling of her cup. Normally that is a servant's task, but she makes no comment on it. Nor does she drink the wine, subtly pushing it away so she doesn't even take a little be accident and she twirls her water glass, looking between the two siblings, listening to their debate. It was not her field of expertise - broad swords and battle axes - but she knew enough to keep up with their argument. Well, it was more like playful banter on Arthur's part, but Merlin could see Morgana did not feel the same way, though, she tried to make it seem like it was only a friendly rivalry with her elder brother.

When the food arrives, there is a lull in the debate and Merlin looks down at a recently acquired cut along her wrist. It's crusted over, not needing to be bandaged anymore, but it's still sore. "To answer your question upon my arrival, Prince Arthur, a day in Camelot strikes me as very little different from a day anywhere else." When she knows she has his attention - and probably Morgana's glare since the woman can't do much else but show hostility around her - Merlin looks up and smiles just a little. There is no sarcasm or provocation in the expression, just simple sincerity.

"It is not my intention to insult your Kingdom, but seeing as my duties have not changed since my leave of Camiliard and I still spend the majority of my day elbow deep in blood and sickness, I do not see the difference between the two places as of yet."

Well, unless one counted the fact that she was far busier and had to dress up more, and deal with people who didn't use her name and were constantly scrutinizing her and waiting for her to do something wrong...then no, not much had changed. And even that change was not better in Merlin's opinion. The brunette frowned at the thought and looked back down at the cut she'd acquired today from a patient only half-lucid before shaking her head and reaching to take some food from a platter. Yes, things were not better here, not for someone like her, but she'd made a commitment and she'd stay.
 
Arthur starts to laugh once Merlin tells him that things in Camelot are not so different from Camilliard. In Arthur's eyes, he sees only change and for the better in Merlin's life. She has come from a place where dirt and grime plague the streets. Old houses stand on the last of their legs, practically falling down when Arthur's men rode near. They had rotting vegetables and month old meats cooking on merely half stoked fires. Here, she has a castle and a view that can lift a person's soul right from their body. Smooth ashlar walls for protection, not silly sticks that are easily pushed aside with the proper tools.

Lifting up a hand, Arthur ceases to speak before his mind has rightfully plucked the right words from his mind. He takes his opportunity to pick at some of the duck, allowing his mouth to be full with the juicy meat so that he -can- think. Lords and Ladies expect a Prince to speak as swiftly as a whip lash, his mind to magically think up all and every answer within a blink of an eye. Arthur, however, has found loopholes to this system by conveniently taking a sip or bite right when a question is asked so that he chews before even attempting to speak. Nobility frowns at people who speak with half chewed food. They find it vile and lowly.

"No, no, you haven't insulted my Kingdom. Camelot stands proud," Arthur starts to tell Merlin but Uther's voice booms across the room, causing the man to catch his words in his throat.

"And you have been doing a fine job, Lady Merlin. You have helped this Kingdom in ways that I could barely have imagined from a woman of your status. Alas, you have surprised me and I am delighted to have you underneath the Pendragon wing." Uther chuckles, taking a sip of his wine before beaming down at Merlin, a fatherly love starting to form ever so gently in his heart for the woman, "You are the finest healer in all the land and its an honor to have you in Camelot. But!" he pauses for effect, lifting one of his various ringed fingers, "You must see the Kingdom you are a part of now. It's been long enough, Lady Merlin, and you, by order of the King, shall see Camelot."

By this point, Arthur has turned back to his food, starting to carve the rest of his duck clean off the bone. The knife in his hand is more... stabbing than cutting as any normal man should. His goateed jaw is clenched, a small vein popping near his temple. He knows where his father is going with this. An afternoon with Lady Merlin to show her the Kingdom. Uther has been slacking as of late, bestowing his duties upon Arthur because of his sickened health. While his father slumped in his chair and sweated out of every single pour of his body, Arthur happily complied. But now he is healthy again, Arthur is still completing Uther's responsibilities and its taking its toll. He barely sleeps and takes naps in the middle of the day to rejuvenate. Still, no one can say no to the King. Not even Arthur so he complies, bows, and says nothing more.
 
Well, at least laughter is a better reaction than cold indifference. She raises a brow, wondering what his words might be to her, and she finds the slightest of smiles twitching at her mouth as he chews before answering. Clever. At least he is thinking this time and so long as he's not doing it to come up with a scathing remark, she can respect the care he takes with his words and she waits with genuine patience, sipping at her water and turning her dark blue eyes back to Arthur when the Prince starts to speak.

The interruption makes her sigh subtly as she looks up at the King and Merlin dips her head respectfully at his words. She feels a slight sting at his first words - a woman of her status? No one even knows her status; they have not asked - but she doesn't let it linger as the older man is just trying to be nice and in truth he is not all that bad. He's treated her well, far better than King Lot ever did, but she still knows he's a King and she is nothing but something useful to him at this point. One wrong move and all benevolence might flee from him and she could find herself in a great deal of trouble.

Such has been Merlin's experience with Nobles and Royalty in her life and she's not ready to trust that such things are different here.

She smiles back because she feels she must, but she is not oblivious to the tension coming from the blond beside her. He is tense, radiating irritation and seething rebellion that he's too smart to voice or give face to. He's intelligent, Merlin will give him that. She sighs softly and speaks even more-so, not looking at him as she cut into her own food, giving no indication to the King and Queen that she's speaking to their son about anything at all. "I am sorry. It was not my intention to force you into doing something you do not want to do."

It was hardly her fault, but Merlin figured that in this case...she could apologize even if she had no reason to. Last thing she wanted was to have to be stuck all day with a grumpy Arthur.
 
Gripping his hand around the fork, Arthur's knuckles turn white. Once Uther sits back down in his seat and starts to nibble again at his luke warm duck, Arthur turns his back to his father and simply looks at Merlin. His stare gives away nothing he wouldn't wish to share anyway. His eyes, those deep brown spheres, tell her that its another task on his grueling list for it awaits a check mark or a clear black line to show it has been done. Uther, wanting to see Arthur daily as an evaluation of the Prince's work, must assert his authority.

Before Arthur can speak, his father calls across the space to his son, "Won't that be magnificent, Arthur? You know so much about these lands for you ride them every morning, hm? Well, practically," Uther chuckles, the wine going straight to his head after the goblet, looking like a mere toy in his hand, is placed on the table, "every single day for you do get up to train as well," Queen Igraine places a tender finger on her husbands arm, a single brow of hers rising as if to put the King in his place for he speaks too much. Uther clears his throat and pats Igraine's hand with his free one, "Of course, my dear," he whispers, turning back to Arthur, "Anyway, Prince Arthur, you will escort Lady Merlin around all of Camelot. Show her the fields, mountains, forests, lakes, and rivers."

The blonde haired man turns around in his seat before stepping over the bench. A proper bow is administered and its just the proper dose for King Uther to keep his mouth to his own table for the rest of the evening. Taking a seat, a servant coming over his shoulder to ask if he is properly satisfied with his meal and, more importantly, with his drink. Heaving in a deep breath, the Prince waves the servant away, saying nothing. But his sour face doesn't last long for Lady Merlin apologizes to him and he has to be civil.

A smile etches itself upon his face, small and cracking, "Do not be sorry for something that isn't under your control," he informs her, a large part of him knowing that she is saying such words only to comfort him. Yet the Prince is irritable once more and the carefree and trivial Prince she met before, his smile wide with his eyes grinning, is gone. Arthur simply shrugs, "You heard the orders, Lady Merlin. I shall meet you when the bell tolls thrice in the square before the bridge. Make sure you're dressed in the appropriate attire to be seen next to Prince Pendragon. My King would want nothing less." finally looking to Merlin, he dips his head slightly, "I'm sure you'll do just fine," and so he turns back to destroying the duck in front of him, leaving nothing to scrap.
 
And this is why she hates this lifestyle. Moods change like the wind in this place, bonds are difficult to form - as far as she can see - and everyone is always so...on edge. Merlin merely nods a bit stiffly to Arthur, but she doesn't speak again. She's lost the desire to and when the timing is appropriate, she bids those present a good night, pleading her case by saying she is exhausted from a days work of healing. No one questions it. They know what she can do, what she does around Camelot now and Merlin leaves with the bow to the Royal Family and her food nearly untouched, the wine glass full.

This time she does head back to her room and nearly collapses into bed after dismissing Elwyn. Her body is telling her it hates her and Merlin ignores it because that is what she often does as she drifts off into blackness that soon gives way to haunting, terrifying dreams of a certain Crown Prince.

--

Merlin got up a good hour before the bell was to toll. She'd slept fitfully and had only been dozing for the last two hours. She probably looked as exhausted as she felt even if her hair was brushed out to a sheen and kept loose and she was in new pants, shirt and a dark green corset. Elwyn had put in the order to the seamstress and while Arthur had said to dress in 'appropriate attire' she was not about to go traipsing about in the woods in a damn dress, thankyouverymuch! She was clean, modestly covered and this time on a horse she wouldn't embarrass herself or him. That would have to be good enough for even Arthur Pendragon and if it wasn't, she didn't much give a rat's arse.

She got to the bridge right as the bell tolled for the third time and gave a respectful inclination of her head to the Prince where he waited next to two horses. One of them she recognized as Cobalt and that coaxed a smile out of Merlin as the horse moved his large head down to greet her with the softest of nickers. She pet his head for a moment and spoke softly. "Wux re gethrisjir ekess qe bensvelk ihk ve, axun?" You are going to be good for me, yes?

The war horse snorted and his head bobbed in a way that could have been human, making Merlin smile a bit more before she moved to the stallion's side and mounted up far more smoothly than she had her first...or second...heck, even fifth time during their journey to Camelot. Once situated in the saddle, Merlin looked to Arthur and raised a brow, almost tempted to ask him if he was going to be surly today or if perhaps he could at least try to relax for even a moment in her presence....but Merlin didn't speak such things.

"Where are we going first?"
 
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Dressed in a light, short sleeved chainmail shirt along with high boots and a leather boots and tabard, the Prince actually looks quite normal. His midnight blue cape is, of course, lined with a thickly woven pattern along the edge. People won't take him for any old peasant for he has a small and ethereal silver band around his head. The metal has stones, such as rubies, sapphire, and amethyst, encrusted in the thin plate in an patterned ring around his head. Surely he won't be mistaken for any old villager. The red Pendragon covers the back of his cloak for its thought to protect those who wear it well.

Arthur had Cobalt taken from the stables for Merlin. Even though he made no inclination of his observations, Arthur realized that Lady Merlin isn't quite the expert when it comes to riding. Her eyes gave her away for they went as wide as the mouth of a river when she first set eyes upon the great warhorse. Still, the Prince insists that Cobalt must be her steed for she is comfortable with him. The last thing Arthur needs is a horse with a thorn up his rear. It would only cause unneeded trouble and cause the Prince to grumble and growl. His day, that was teemingly planned for his own relaxation, is all for naught. At least he isn't behind his desk, his fingers black from the ink well.

"Wouldn't that ruin the excitement of an adventure?" Arthur questions, his stare lessening when the gates open and the knights move out of the Prince's way. "Oh, here," the Prince tosses the same colored cloak as his over to Merlin. Assuming that she can't possibly catch an object flying through the air, he aims it to drape over the horse's neck. The bright red dragon head on the back flicks its tongue at Merlin, an open mouth showing rows of razor sharp teeth. The Pendragons are, after all, not a force to be reckoned with. At least that's what their cloaks wish to say.

"If you don't mind dawning the cloak then we shall be off." She would find two brass knobs that link together and attach to the clothing around her collarbone. Once satisfied, Arthur turns back to the gate. Clicking his tongue, he jabs his heels into his palomino colored steed. Halcyon responds with a light purring sound from his enlarged nostrils, a huff of air coming out before he heeds to Arthur's wishes. Arthur doesn't move too fast through the village but once they reach the rolling hills, he puts all his cards on the table. A sharp whistle echoes through the hills and Halcyon, or Hal, starts to bolt. Dirt flies up from his hooves, Arthur heading towards the small winding path through the forest.
 
He's barely spoken and already Merlin feels insulted, but she grits her teeth and says nothing. Oh, she might have plenty to say later, but not in front of his people, his Knights. Not when such things could get back to his father and she'd have no way of knowing who told the King. No, if she's going to have a verbal debate with Arthur, it's going to be in private where she will KNOW he is the only one who could inform the King of her behavior. It would definitely tell her what kind of man Arthur Pendragon was. For the moment she simply dons the cloak and follows after the Prince, ignoring the looks she gets from people for riding with Royalty.

When they get out into the hills and he heads into a gallop, she is so very, very tempted to stay exactly where she is and watch him go, to find her own way through this land for she is not helpless about such things, but she knows that would be childish. He's being childish enough for the both of them and besides, she feels an almost irrational need to keep him in sight and it's not for her own comfort but something stronger. Ugh.

"Sjek yth re thurirli jaka, cobalt, tir ti origato ve wielg." If we are friends now, Cobalt, do not let me fall. She whispers the deep and guttural language against the black horse's neck and the look the animal gives her speaks volumes to Merlin, making her smile as the stallion kicks up his feet into a gallop without being told. Merlin hangs on to both mane and reigns, bending low over Cobalt's neck as they catch up to Arthur. She's a far deal lighter than him and so her horse is able to travel with swifter speed with the weight of armor.

When they come alongside the Prince, Merlin flashes him a grin and a raised brow. If he was challenging her, she's not all that impressed and her look says as much before a screech renders the air and Merlin looks up, grinning as Nyina swoops down and the bird's talons make a playful grab for her wild dark hair before the bird of prey gives another shriek and goes up into the sky once more, following the two riders faithfully.

And despite the speed and her inexperience, Merlin doesn't feel scared this time. Cobalt beneath her is speaking to her this time in a way Merlin knows no one else would understand. He's found her worthy as a rider and now he lets her know what he needs; tighter reigns when he feels he might stumble, his head when he knows the land is safe, for her to shift when he must avoid a rock in the path, a steady seat and her trust when they finally enter the trees.

The winding path is much more narrow and Merlin must pay far more attention than she did on the rolling hills. Sharp twists and turns, low-hanging branches and logs, she is white knuckled soon enough. A short neigh from Cobalt, however, is a protest to this, an admonishment and Merlin eases her grip a bit, making herself breathe until Arthur finally slows, first to a canter and then a trot and finally to a fast walk, giving the animals time to catch their breath without completely overheating.

It is only then that Merlin speaks. What she wants to say is thus; So, is it just me you don't like, or are you that much of an a** with everyone?, but what she actually says is far different as she gathers her wild hair and pulls it behind her back, content to deal with the tangles later. Her voice is verging on the edges of polite. "To answer your question; since I know nothing about this land, telling me where we are going wouldn't be that much of a reveal. However, seeing as how you're not going to tell me, if you don't want me to decide that I'm not following you anymore, you might want to give some warning before you decide to take off, your Highness. I understand you don't want me here, but it's not like I asked the King to be by your side either, so we're both in a position we don't want."

Merlin raises a brow. "Perhaps we might make the best of it?"
 
Merlin may see a challenge in the way Arthur dug his heels into his steed and bounded off towards the nearest swaying crest of hilltop but Arthur didn't intend such thoughts in his own cranium. Camelot is his land as much as it is his father's and so he wishes to know all of it, or at least as much as he can, before he is crowned. The excitement bubbling up inside of him is too much, a large smile creasing over his face. Before Merlin could see it though, he is bounding away towards the tree line. The old branches lean down towards the ground, their bark knotted and tired like old men who cannot hear well. Still, this ancient forest is teeming with wildlife, the calm chattering or loud squealing are heard around the sound of galloping hooves from the two riders.

The birds around them greet the two riders once they slow down, the crunch of autumn leaves finally heard underneath the two horses. Arthur takes a deep breath, sucking in all the harvest has to offer. The apple green color of the deciduous trees have faded into arching fans of yellow, red, brown, and orange. Then there is the smell that overwhelms the two riders, much like the smell of cut grass. It's not a stench for Arthur himself adores such a unique blend of earth and a chilly, yet comfortable, waves of wind. The crispy wood trails attract many viewers until most of the leaves have fallen down to the floor below. Knowing one's way around is key for the aura of a forest all looks the same without the direct lines of a compressed dirt path. It's fairly simple to learn for the banks on either sides of the path are always filled with pooling water or mud from a seasons past.

"Lady Merlin, do you ever think that a part of an adventure is -not- knowing where you're going? Take a day out of your life and just wonder freely through this world. Hm?" Arthur's voice is still calm, a small smirk peaking at the corners of his lips, "It's not that I don't want to tell you where but rather that I don't even know." he pulls on the reigns, Halcyon stopping with a small sound, a little protest to not bounding off once more through the woods. He adores the wind splashing upon his face, the muscles of his legs bounding onwards with the satisfaction of his rider. Hal will always be up for any adventure Arthur wishes. His hand comes up, signaling Merlin to stop as well while his brown eyes scan the terrain before him.

Leaping from his saddle, the Prince finds a small rise of land above the decaying leaves and steps over the small riverine. Once he is safely across without falling on his arse, Arthur turns back to Merlin and offers his hand for her to step across the muddy water. "The horses won't move anywhere, they know better," he assures Merlin before opening his fingers more before helping her across with ease. The cloak he gave her trails on the ground as if she were borrowing it from a giant. It is, after all, his father's cloak and even Uther Pendragon is taller and bulkier than his son. "So let me show you Camelot. No eye rolling. No complaining. Simply another tour," he nods as if to assure himself, dropping his hand from hers once she is safely over the gasp as well, "But I'm still calling you Lady Merlin."

He simply kicks himself into gear, the saucy smile returning to his lips for he knows how much she hates her title. The branches here hang low but he holds them back until she is safely past him. Then he lets go and they snap back with enough force to give someone a bloody nose. It's great bow wood, as bendable as rubber.
 
Merlin follows him across the muddy water - not that she needs his help, but she lets him be polite if he wishes it - and as she ducks under the trees, she growls softly before straightening to look at the Prince again and the words that come to her lips are not thought out, they just come. "Fine, then I shall call you 'Prat'. Just so we both know how the other feels." She returns his cheeky smile and reaches up to unclasp the cloak on her, not bothered by the slight nip in the air. She's endured far, far worse. She hangs it neatly over a branch, knowing they will come back this way to get the horses and finally she is able to move with some real speed and grace. Without the bright color of the cloak around her shoulders, the brunette nearly blends into the forest even as she's in plain sight.

She knows the woods, knows how to move silently like the wild animals that dwell here and while these lands are new to her, they are not the first unfamiliar territory she's explored. Granted, she's never done it as a 'tour', though, and as she keeps up with Arthur's longer strides with relative ease, Merlin soon grows bored following the trail. She keeps quiet for about another half hour before she decides she's done. She didn't wish to spend her day like this, especially not with someone who didn't like her. Bored and disliked...Merlin had reached a limit.

They've come to a thicker part of the forest when the brunette stops and she waits until Arthur realizes she's not following before she uncrosses her arms. "Prat, I don't know who you usually bring out here, but let me enlighten you on a little secret; I'm not a lady. I'm not some fragile flower that needs constant protecting or safe routes. You have no idea what I've been through or what I can handle, and that's fair, but you don't ask either. You don't care to know, but I'm more than tired of you assuming you know my limits or anything about me."

Merlin grinned and the expression could have been described as wolfish. "So, let me show you. You are the one who said you wanted an adventure, right?"

On that last word, she darts away, as swift as a deer in the brush and far more intelligent as she leaves the path entirely and lets experience and instinct take over. Her feet are sure and fleet on the ground and her body lithe, dodging obstacles as easily as she does people in the healing ward. Laughter escapes her as she hears the sound of rushing water in the distance and aims for that. Not once does she look back to see if Arthur follows and part of her doesn't care if he does or not.

More of her, oddly enough - and it IS odd - hopes he does.
 
Arthur's jaw drops to the floor once she decides upon his nickname. He can't believe, nor has ever heard, such an insult to his face before. The Prince isn't stupid for he knows the gist of what people whisper in the back alley's of Camelot but to his face... Merlin is in for a bumpy ride. How dare she though! The thoughts make his face nearly bubble with heat, no trace of any smile, or emotion for that matter, besides his dark stare and clenched jaw. Didn't he just say that they would have a "nice" evening together and he wouldn't spit comments or jest at her people? Well, now Arthur is thinking of taking back his promise. It's degrading to hear such words directed at him even when no one is around to witness them.

"You're right," Arthur growls, "I don't know anything about you BUT I call you Lady out of respect you... blithering... you... stupid cow! Don't you know the privilege of being called as such? It's an honor, not a demotion. Can't you see that? Don't you understand that?" But by the time Arthur's words leave his throat like molten rock spilling from a volcano, Merlin is already bounding through the forest. She leaps over fallen limbs and rounds trunk after trunk as if she were a rabbit. Arthur, wanting to put her right where she belongs, immediately starts to chase her. His heart rate is already skyrocketing so a run might just be the thing to match it.

He doesn't call after her, wanting her to stop for he knows that she might be fast but he knows these forests. Sure she can learn with a blink of an eye but knowing one's terrain is always an advantage. Looking up towards the hilly rocks, Arthur spins off Merlin's trail, waiting for an opportune moment to jump from the trees and possibly stop this ricocheting bullet before she does any more damage to his pride. So he trails her from above, immediately finding his open spot. With his cape wildly flapping behind him, he jumps from the hill and tries to grab Merlin around the waist. Hoping that he can catch her slithery shape in his grasp. Maybe, just maybe, they might take a tumble if he isn't careful.
 
Merlin gives a brief scream as she is grabbed, but as they tumble to the forest floor, she twists out of Arthur's grasp, straddles him for a moment and then rolls off once again as their momentum hasn't stopped. When it finally does, she's on her side, hair all around her head and laughter is spilling from her lips. Her heart is racing as she scrambles to her feet, face flushed with adrenaline and a smile still on her lips.

"Come Prince, that's no way to treat a 'lady'." It's a clear tease as she lopes away again, this time looking back at him with challenge in her dark blue eyes before she picks up speed and races once again toward the water. Oh, she knows he's mad at her, perhaps furious, but really, the man needs to let loose and he's done that. Blithering, stupid cow? Ha. She's been called worse and really, it was nice to see that he loses his temper. Really, she'd rather be insulted by him directly than with subtle jabs.

The brunette skids to a halt, a rather abrupt one as the tree-line opens up and a sheer cliff is revealed to her. She slides to her side, feet going over the edge before she stops and Merlin takes a few deep breaths, moving back carefully and then moving forward again, looking down at the misty waters below. The roaring of a waterfall is loud in her ears and Merlin stands, smiling as she takes in the breathtaking sight. Water comes streaming over jagged and ancient rocks from the river that comes from the mountain in the distance and the light from the sun cast shimmering rainbows here and there where it touches the water.

There is a path - though, not a safe looking one - leading down to the pool below and Merlin looks back at Arthur who she knows will have followed her, dark blue eyes serene. "It's beautiful." It's a compliment to his land and she moves toward the path that leads down to the lake below. She doesn't mind if the Prince follows her or not. She's no longer mad at him. The run did her some good and seeing that he can keep up with her, that he does have some 'play' in him has made Merlin more inclined to not bristle if he decides he's going to hold on his anger.

Perhaps this outing wasn't so bad an idea after all. If it could get their prejudices out of the way, let them speak and act plainly, then it might be worth it.
 
The forest floor is littered with twigs, leaves, and rocks, especially rocks. Luckily for Merlin with the way they fell, he made contact with most of the hurtful objects. Luckily his chainmail and leather armor absorb most of the blows but still, a rock is a rock no matter how small. He finds himself hugging Merlin, trying to do all he can to protect her but once he feels their bodies slow, he lets go. She can't get any ideas now because, after all she did call him a prat. A what? A bloody prat and in both respects of the words meaning, he is highly offended. Then the girl just gets up and starts to dash off again. Arthur was certain, so certain, that such a fall would slow any woman down.

"I have another game for us, hm?" Before she can get too far away from him, Arthur literally scoops her up from the ground. She'll squirm and hit him, most likely, but he doesn't care. The small cliff below, he is well aware, isn't rocky. It's a flat face of stone and there are no jagged rocks around the place where Merlin started to run down to the shimmering water. The waterfall splashes downwards, the white water tumbling and tumbling downwards to collide with the light blue pool. Arthur looks proudly out before stepping to the edge, some of the dirt crumbling off the edge.

Within a moment, Merlin will find herself being thrown over the edge into the deep water below. She won't hurt herself but she will make one hell of a splash. When Arthur hears the shower of clear water springing from the water upon her impact, all he can do is laugh. Tilting his head up to the sky, he breathes in, his rumbling laughter crossing the crescent shaped basin like thunder over a farmyard. "How about that for a game?" He calls from his lofty perch, brushing his hair back before fixing his crown. Keeping his eyes on the water, he makes sure she comes up to surface or else he might be in for a long haul.

Uther would never forgive him if she drowned and his mother, oh his dear mother, would be heartbroken. The excited laughter in his eyes suddenly fades at the thought. Bending over the basin, he tries to see if her body is simply swimming underneath the water's cool surface or if the girl has had such a shock, she has sunk to the bottom to spend the rest of her days. Arthur's hands move to his cape clasp, those brown eyes searching and searching the now calm water.
 
Merlin had indeed struggled in his grip, but she hadn't fought as hard as she could. She didn't...want to hurt him. Oh, she had her moments of wanting to smack him or humiliate him, but...she didn't actually want to hurt Arthur. No, just the thought made her stomach clench in the most strange of ways and for a moment when he'd picked her up, claiming a game, she'd been ready for anything, but she hadn't felt fear. In fact, she'd almost been laughing while trying to get away from him because for a moment she'd felt...well, almost safe.

It didn't last long, not long at all as she felt her body cast out into open air and Merlin didn't even have the time, nor the willpower to scream before she hit the water and plunged below. Not screaming saved her some air and the brunette immediately closed her mouth to preserve it, the nearly fridge waters wanting to suck even the breath she had out of her lungs. Merlin tries not to panic, tries to make her body move, but the shock she feels and the fact that she can't actually swim hinders her greatly and she feels nearly hysterical as she tries to claws her way to the surface. Only...she doesn't even know where the surface is anymore. Her hair floats about her like a curtain and there is a roaring in her ears, her lungs screaming at her and she's beyond thinking clearly. All she can see now is memories of being held underwater, of choking and nearly suffocating, terror that no one cares about and when Merlin suddenly feels hands upon her, she struggles.

She doesn't have the strength though, her vision going black around the edges and when Arthur finally pulls her to the surface, Merlin chokes and coughs, finally realizing that she's being helped. When her body meets the shore, she does nothing but shake and cough, lungs expelling the water they've consumed. It's only when she can breathe again, albeit with pain, that she moves and it's to get away from Arthur as if he's the enemy until she hits a protruding rock and presses back against it. Her eyes are as wide and dark as the pool had been while underwater and Merlin trembles uncontrollably, but not only from cold.

She looks very young, very scared and yet, very angry. If Arthur so much as tries to touch her, she will hurt him and not regret doing so.
 
His stomach drops, plunges downwards into his intestines one he sees her arms flailing about in the water. For those who swim, this certain gesture is meant for those who, well, cannot. His cape falls to the ground and he dives into the water next to her. Chainmail and all, he grabs her and lifts her as far up as he can, making sure she is only breathing in the fresh mountain air. He, on the other hand, starts to cough, some water splashing into his mouth once Merlin starts to struggle against him once they reach the shallower waters. Try as he might, the prince orders Merlin to stop her flailing for it will only get them both killed but by the time they reach the shore and she has coughed up as much water as she can, the woman is already moving away from him.

Realizing quickly that Merlin has undergone some sort of shock, Arthur stands before her, his eyes large with a tinge of worry for her safety but mostly worry for what she might do next. There are plenty of small stones around the sandy beach or fallen branches from the trees above. Still, the Prince stands before her, his chainmail glinting even more now that the water drips from his blonde hair. The man isn't a god, quickly collapsing to catch his own breath. Never had he thought rescuing someone would be so tedious, especially when they don't quite cooperate in the best of ways. Looking back at Merlin, he hesitates shuffling forward in the sand.

"Well," he checks to see if the crown is still secure on his cranium, "that is a game that we can cross right off the list." His words are lighthearted for he never really worried too frantically that the girl would drown. It's not like it was his intention to kill her or anything - just to have a bit of fun. And this kind of enjoyment comes with a learning experience. Merlin cannot swim. If Arthur throws her in water, she will most likely drown without his help. Deep in his gut, he knows he shouldn't have, he felt such a pull as soon as her body left his arms. Looking down towards the ground, he sucks in a deep breath before standing.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I have threatened your life and am truly sorry to have to put you through," brown hues turn to the water, remembering the way she splashed about. Helpless flailing of limbs slapping the water but hardly holding her above the lip of the water. "So very sorry," his tone is sincere but he is soon walking -away- from Merlin, knowing she will scream at him and call him names he just doesn't want to deal with. Climbing his way back to the departure edge, he plucks his cape from the receding grass and makes his way back down to her, offering the warm cotton over to her shivering body. If she accepts it or not, he drapes it over her.
 
She wants to scream at him with every fiber of her being, wants to pick up a few stones and chuck them at his head, to call him every nasty thing her mind can come up with and they are numerous, but the words lodge in her throat and her limbs refuse to move. Through the rage she feels, she knows he's sincere. Hell, it's the first apology he's ever given her and Merlin already knows that such a thing is rare from Arthur Pendragon, but she still wants to lash out at him until the fear leaves her and she feels stable again.

Unfortunately, she knows that striking out at Arthur isn't going to work this time, it's not going to make her feel better because it's not really HIM that she's so mad at - well, she is a bit miffed with him, but not to this degree - and when he leaves, it is an eerie silence that follows in his wake. His departure gives Merlin the chance she needs to try and regain her equilibrium, but before she can tears slip down her face and her body shudders with silent sobs she works desperately to choke back. She can't show anymore weakness than she already has to this man, but the now vivid and painful memories make it hard, so very hard to take control of her body and especially her mind again.

He wasn't them. She had to remember that. He hadn't been trying to hurt her, to kill her and though Merlin has her knees drawn up and her arms around them when Arthur comes back, she doesn't lash out at him even then, still uncharacteristically silent as she accepts the cloak. It's warm from the sun and from Arthur's own heat and Merlin notes in an absent way that it smells like him too, but also the wilderness around them and horse. It's oddly comforting and she sniffles, hoping she can pass it off as simply having a runny nose from being cold. The wetness on her cheeks easily looks like the water that slides down her face from her wet hair.

Her dark eyes look over into his brown finally and Merlin's voice is quiet. "I forgive you, Prince Arthur." He has used her name, so she shall call him what he wishes to be called by her and Merlin takes a deep breath that makes her lungs hurt, but it's a good hurt now. It means she's alive. "I know you did not mean to threaten me and I did goad you into it." She feels the anger start to drain away and closes her eyes as she rests her forehead against her knees. She doesn't quite understand why she hasn't ripped his head off by this point - she would have anyone else - but somehow Arthur has done the right thing this time in handling her. An apology went a long way with Merlin. When she next speaks, her words are slightly muffled and she doesn't look up as if she can't look at him and speak what she says at the same time.

"I...I was almost purposefully drowned when I was younger. Deep water, it...I..I never learned to swim." She'd been too scared to even attempt it after that. Merlin took another deep breath and looked up, her gaze locking on to Arthur's again, trailing over his dripping form and finally the smallest hint of a smirk comes over her lips. "Well, even if you did almost kill me, at least you look like a drowned rat, too. It's a consolation I'll take."
 
Arthur barely realizes he didn't put "Lady" in front of her name for his mind is too jumbled with apologies and righting what he has done. How was he to know that she, along with not swimming, has had a fright in the waters. Arthur has heard of parents literally throwing their children into a lake the ocean just to see if they have natural talent to swim or not. Of course the parent's don't let their children drown, well, most of them don't. Sometimes there are mistakes made - especially in an ocean or riverbed. There is a current and an undertow that can easily drag a child down if they don't flail as fast as Merlin just demonstrated. If Arthur didn't jump in to save her, she would have definitely have drowned.

Perhaps Arthur using her name is reason for her to act so kindly to him? He quietly has to admit he likes calling her just Merlin instead of Lady Merlin. It's a drag to have titles but, as he said before, it's a matter of dedication and honor. Perhaps when they're outside of court, he can call her by just her flawless name. Merlin. Maybe then, she won't spit so much fire at him. Arthur supposes so since he hasn't been threatened by any large or small rocks thus far. He smiles just a little because of that fact even though he seriously doubts she can hurt him with the linked chainmail covering his body. Maybe his head, yes, definitely his head if he doesn't shield it with his arms properly. Then Arthur just takes his time looking at Merlin, trying to formulate what he will say to such a personal story.

"It's really not that hard once you learn how to," Arthur explains in his matter-of-factly voice, "But," his finger rises, his tone going back to its normal deepness, "If you stop calling me that ghastly nickname I despise then perhaps I can," he strokes his wet chin with his bare fingers, a toothy grin to his lips, "Well, that is if you wanted me to," he shrugs, "I can teach you how to swim. Right here in this very lake." He offers, his arm stretching out to the water, "No currents, no pulls, just a calm, placid, area where you can paddle and move where you please. You won't have to fear of drowning ever again. I promise you that." Arthur finishes with a nod before pushing his thick clumps of hair from his face.
 
Merlin blinks at the Prince incredulously. Is he....offering to...teach her something? Wait....maybe she's dead. The brunette looks away and down at her arm and very purposely she pinches herself before frowning and looking back up at Arthur. "Well...not dead. Hmm..." She hardly realizes she's spoken aloud, voice faint and she tilts her head, wet hair clinging to her face before she sighs and pushes it away, gathering it up and wringing it out to the side for lack of something better to do. She's glad her hands don't shake nearly as badly as they should. Perhaps talking to Arthur is actually helping in that regard. Strange.

She has to smile just a bit at his reference to her nickname for him and when she turns that smile to Arthur, it's not so hard-edged anymore. Her eyes watch him, finding that she might be starting to see that glimmer of something that's drawn her here. It's emerging in this place, as they speak and rant at each other, torment each other and Merlin finds that she's not so irritated with Arthur anymore as she's looking forward to the next time they can exasperate the other into doing something stupid. If she gets to see him looking less than perfect again - though, damn him he still looks really good even ruffled - it will be worth it.

"Very well. No more ghastly nickname, BUT if you call me Lady at any other time than court, I shall think of another and believe me, I have many." Merlin smiles in a deviant way, but a moment later she meets Arthur's eyes rather seriously. "I gave up that title a long time ago and I have no wish to have bestowed on me again because while you see it as a title of honor, and I am not saying you shouldn't, I see it as chains and as something that was always oppressive for me. I much prefer blithering, stupid cow."

There is a chuckle after that and Merlin finally works her way to her feet and she looks back out at the lake with a sigh before shaking her head. "I'll let you teach me how to swim, but...not today." She turns away from the water then and takes the cape off, tossing it back to its owner as she moves toward the ledge that will take them back up to the top. "Right now, perhaps staying away from water would be wiser. Camelot has mountain paths, right?"
 
"But there ought to be a grace period," Arthur pauses before the smile graces his face, "Merlin," telling her slowly as if trying to mold his mouth around such a simple word. The "Lady" title is an attachment and without it her name almost -tastes- strange in his mouth, let alone be a bit harder on his ears. It's so simple! Merlin. Merlin. Merlin. And Arthur has to admit that she has a lovely name. Sure there are plenty of girls named Deanna, Eleanor, or Allecia, but Merlin? That name, her name, is fresh to his ears even though her tongue digs spiky bars into his chest. But the prince is noticing a pattern. He is civil and Merlin mirrors him as much as she can.

So Arthur stares at her for a good long moment, blinking once her words about the mountain pass comes between them. The wires connect in his mind, his mouth opening to both answer her question and refinish his earlier half-of-a statement or whatever that might have been. A few strands of hair fall from his temple and Arthur immediately twitches, the wet hairs flipping back into place.

"It will take me a few weeks in order to push the 'Lady Merlin' but out of my system. So around court, you shall be dubbed as such but along with whatever private affairs of ours we might have, you shall be Merlin." Arthur only smiles a little bit this time, turning back to grab their horses before riding once more to the pass.

Snow is only found on the tip ropes of the mountains, large and bare rock faces staring down at the two as they ascend the staircase of flat ground cutting into the rocky cliffs. The horses have no problem climbing up the slopes. Arthur proudly looks across his soon-to-be kingdom even though he wouldn't dare speak or think ill-ly of his father or his turbulent state. He once looked upon these same curving edges, their bellies filled with rich deposits of gold, silver, and copper, with fear but now it's a very different feeling. A clenching in his chest to remind him of his heartbeat. His purpose.

The road widens, revealing a small shrine in the middle of the path. The hooves kick some rocks over the edge, the echoes like that of tumbling water down a hillside. Arthur dismounts, taking his sword from its resting place, the leather dry from being dropped by his cape when Merlin nearly drowned.

"This is Dank'ker Lavori, the shrine of the energy spirits. They give those who travel an extra leg to make it through the challenges of high peaks travel. Come and let's pray to them. Respect the spirits, Merlin. But I don't have to tell you that." Kneeling down before the raised platform of smooth slabs of stone. Four pillars, each for the cardinal directions, skyrockets to hold a triangle of stone above the two. His cape fans out behind him, flapping in the wind, as he holds his sword out in front of him. Looking at the pommel, Arthur waits for Merlin to kneel next to him before he starts to chant softly, matching the wind.
 
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