Where Legends Begin

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At his actions, Merlin laughs. She has to stop, resorting to chuckles and even half-giggles as the motion of full-blown laughter makes her side flare something fierce, but she's still full of mirth as Arthur comments and she merely grins as she watches him. She notes what his eyes take in, but Merlin doesn't particularly care. She's covered modestly enough and she's never been a stickler for layers upon layers of clothing anyway. When he scoots closer, she straightens a little, the smile still pulling at her lips and before she can comment on his question, the Prince speaks again and Merlin snorts softly, giving him a raised brow.

"Don't blame me. You're the one who chose to sleep in my chambers." She almost sounds poised and ladylike in that moment before the grin is back and Merlin shatters that image rather quickly. "I feel leeched, which I guess is accurate considering I was bleeding out. I feel alive, does that count for anything?" In truth she's sore and tired and a bit shaken, but she's hardly going to admit it. Would a Knight reveal how exhausted he is or a Prince how heavy the burden on his shoulders to a stranger? They both know the answer to that question even if it's an unasked one.

Merlin unconsciously brings her hand up to her throat, as if she can trace the bruising there and a grimace comes over her mottled face. "I wouldn't call it sleep when you pass out, but I suppose my wake-up was better than yours." Here her eyes twinkle with mischief, but it fades again as she looks Arthur over, taking in his appearance a bit more carefully now. He is exhausted and that is not surprising, but her dark blue eyes look for injury, but all she finds is the scratch on his face and Merlin, very single-minded, reaches out and lets her fingertips brush across his jaw, feeling the bristly hair there as a small tendril of gold caresses his skin with warmth. The cut disappears and Merlin pulls back immediately afterward, looking satisfied.

"There. Now you're as good-looking as ever again." She pretends to pause after that, looking him up and down again and speaks slowly. "Then again..." There is clear teasing in her voice and Merlin hopes that Arthur won't pick up the fact that she's trying to avoid speaking of what happened and why she needed to be rescued in the first place. She knows it will come up eventually, though. Maybe she can just...cheat Fate...just for a little while?
 
"I wasn't looking to fall asleep here, Merlin." Arthur sighs, shaking his head, still waking up from his night of turbulent sleep, "All I did was just sit down for a moment and the next thing I remember is you throwing a damn pillow at me." Arthur grunts a bit, adding on, "You really ought to exercise different means to waking someone up. Perhaps lightly shaking their shoulder and whispering their name? That would be my preferred method rather than simply heaving something as heavy as this," he bends down to pick up the pillow. Smacking the fluff of the pillow, Arthur smiles, glad that she at least isn't resting her head on a stone while residing in Camelot. Why he cares about that, he is clueless to but at least Merlin is safe.

Arthur nods after she heals him, his body staying perfectly still while her fingers slowly slide across his itchy stubble. "I have a question for you," he asks abruptly, seeming to pass right over the whole good-looking bits of her own speech. This has been bothering him ever since he was informed of Merlin's injuries. "Why can't you heal yourself? I mean, you mend bones, sew up skin without so much as a drop of blood being lost that doesn't have to be. It's a truly ground rattling sight to see you use the magic of old. But why do you simply lie here in bed, bleeding out," his arm jabs in the direction of her bandages, "When you can easily just trickle your fingers over yourself and all will be healed?" Raising a brow, Arthur's face is serious, a true question for her coming from the Prince.

"And I am only just beginning," Arthur breathes, the lines of his face acting as traffic lights for Merlin on what to say and what to keep to herself. The Prince, of course, wants his answers, "Who was the knight who had you so ruthlessly strangled? I'm guessing he is no friend of yours and no ally to Camelot." chewing on his lip, Arthur leans back and throws his arm across the back of the chair, huffing out an aggravated breath, "He is the one who took you from here, yes?" Hardly waiting for an answer, his words continue to grow louder throughout her room, "When you should have been in the healing tents while the tournament is ongoing. Why did you leave the arena? Not even that but without an escort. You just thought you would take a little walk? A stroll? You could have been killed!"
 
Merlin lets him rave and it's a true testament to how tired she actually is that she doesn't cut him off and then proceed to slice him into ribbons with words alone. She merely watches him and when he seems that he's finished - for now - she calmly starts to speak. "You know, if you want someone to answer a question, you should wait for the answer itself." She holds up a hand to stall any words, dark blue eyes holding his brown. "Just shut up for two seconds and I will speak with you. Can you manage that?"

The brunette doesn't wait for a reply because she doesn't really want one and looks down at her side with a pensive expression. "First off, I won't wake you with sweet words so don't ever expect it. Seeing you jump is far too entertaining. Second, I can heal myself...I think." She frowns, fingers picking at the blanket over her lap and Merlin sighs, shaking her head before she looks up and meets Arthur's eyes again, her own sheathed in steel. "I choose not to. The Ancient Power always comes with a price. For me, it's exhaustion. If I use too much, too fast, it will start eating the very marrow of my bones if it has to. It will kill me if I push it too far. I am careful with it, though, and I train, build up my tolerance and know my limits so it only drains me and I can handle that. And all this happens when I use it on others. To use it on myself..."

Merlin looked down at her side again. "The price of another life to heal my own body is too great and I refuse to pay it." She sighs again and leans back, looking at the ceiling as she brings a hand through her dark brown hair, absently noting the tangles and even the presence of a twig that she then pulls out and twirls between thumb and forefinger. "Yes, Arthur, I thought I would take a little walk. I was thinking, I drifted off into my own mind and I strayed further than I was supposed to. I was stupid. Is that what you want to hear? Does that make it all better for you?" she snapped back at him, but she refused to look at the blond Prince, jaw clenching as she forced herself to inhale deeply through her nose, exhaling through her teeth.

"The Knight" There is clear sarcasm in the word. "is Sir Jarin of Walweitha, Sworn Guard to King Lot of Northern Britain. A pig of a man. I know not if it was his hands that bore me away or someone else that bore me to him, but it hardly matters."

Merlin glared at the ceiling and finally sat back up, hissing lightly at the unexpected pain before she steadied again and finally looked to Arthur, a grim smile spreading over her lips. "Don't worry. They wouldn't have killed me. Not yet."
 
Arthur tries to wrap his head around what Merlin is telling him. If she uses too much of her power, her marrow, whatever that might be, of her bones will deplete. He has to use too much willpower to stop himself from screaming right at that moment. His nostrils flare though, the loud breathing sucking itself into his lungs, his lips tight together. It's her turn to talk as she pleases and although the Prince doesn't like to be talked down to, he allows her to do it. She mocks him and his worry, something which Arthur doesn't find pleasure in. He ought to just knock her right over the head and be done with the snappy healer all together. Still, he doesn't move. Instead, he rests his head between his legs and simply listens.

"What is too much?" he asks, wanting to know her exact breaking point. That way, if a moment ever comes where she is pushed to the edge, hopefully he can stop her before she kills herself. Squinting at her, he rests his arms on his legs, hands clasped in the middle as he leans over in her direction. Heaving a great sigh, she finishes and Arthur simply sits back in his chair. Stroking the stubble of a beard he has, the Prince simply observes her, taking in every light flickering on her face from the rising sun and the way her eyes pop against her skin. Oddly enough, he finds himself unable to look away even though he would want to. Eventually, he grasps the words he needs from the air and slowly tells them to Rose.

"I'll inform my father of your condition. No longer will you have to heal tournaments. That is, of course, unless the injuries are so grave the knights will die. They've dealt with pain before, they'll easily manage bandages again. You'll only be called up for dire purposes. We don't want to use too much of your power at once now, do we?" Arthur shakes his head at his own question, his finger running over the spot she just healed, "As for you, Merlin, you only heal me when its necessary," he points to his jaw, "Not when its a tiny little scratch."

Those words get the man thinking, his eyes narrowing from his deep thoughts. Why did she heal him? It was only a small, insignificant mark. Not deep at all. Yet, she reached out, despite her condition, to touch her skin against his. Her fingers to his cheek. Blinking, Arthur's mind tells him something that he doesn't want to hear. Standing from the chair, he adjusts his cape before lifting the back of the furniture and propping it against the wall where he knows it goes. "My father needs to know immediately, Merlin." and suddenly, just like that, the whole issue with the Knight has faded from Arthur's mind completely. Once Merlin mentioned her own risk of health, Arthur's mind never left that very place.
 
(( Rose? Wrong RP, buddy. :P ))

"To much is...well, I don't know. It changes as I get older, as I learn more, as I train more. The last time I went too far was when I healed seven broken bones in a man's leg, but I was only thirteen. Now I can do bones without a problem." Merlin shrugs a bit, unworried about it, or at least not so worried that she'll discuss it with Arthur. She watches him as he watches her, but her own mind is puzzled as to what he's thinking. She doesn't mind his staring because she figures he's in thought, but what he's contemplating she can not yet guess at and it's frustrating. And that frustration only grows when he finally speaks.

"What?" She nearly gasps it and she watches him with wide eyes and when he stands, Merlin looks absolutely furious in a way he will never have seen. If she could spit fire, she would and Merlin doesn't think as she flips the blankets back and rises, anger and adrenaline giving her strength as she comes to face the Prince. "No! You will not tell me who I can and can not heal or how I may you use my power to help others! You have NO right! I know my limits, not you, and I have no death wish so I won't push them! I'm not going to stop helping those around me over a scratch that I can't heal instantly! If I did that I'd have stopped long ago! And I'll heal you whenever I damn well please! I can't not heal you!"

Okay, she hadn't really meant to blurt that out, but maybe he wouldn't....notice?

Merlin is outright shouting now and her eyes have darkened, her body trembling with the pent up anger she feels, though, to be fair, not all of it is actually aimed at Arthur - though, he won't know that, or maybe he will - and there is fear in her that she won't actually give voice to either. She holds the brown gaze that looks back at her with unyielding will and conviction, though. "I have lived with this power all my life and I have lived for six years without restriction. I ran and hid from the last King who tried to control me and I damn well am not going to be told what I can and can not do with my healing power by a Prince, no matter how well-meaning he is."

The healer can at least recognize that much, no matter how frustrated she is with him. Still, she'd not opened up and told him what she had so that he might give her unreasonable orders and she won't stand for them.
 
"Then explain to me again," Arthur shouts back at her, "the problem with your ... your marrow? You confuse me, Merlin. Confuse me!" he huffs out, his chest rising and falling with an unsteady grace, "One moment you're telling me something that sounds life threatening and then the next moment you're yelling, yelling Merlin, at me when I try and look out for you." clamping his teeth together, Arthur breathes heavily and tries not to cause himself a brain hemorrhage. All this yelling might wake up the whole damn castle if they're not careful. Both their voices ricochet off the walls, vibrating in this stone encasement they call Merlin's room. Now that Arthur hears Merlin out, for she explained it well with all that screaming, he places his arms across his chest.

"Why did you heal my face?" Arthur asks, changing the subject completely now that he has the time to stare into those beautifully crafted eyes of hers. He is curious, the straight face of his suddenly raising a brow. Every fiber in his body wishes to know what exactly her reasons were. It wasn't a big gash. It could have easily healed on its own. Arthur looks away from Merlin as if he were memorizing where everything is in the room, "You're only wasting your energy with small favors like that," then he thinks of what she said about having to heal him. His brow rises again, this time his eyes narrowing, "I thank you but they're really unnecessary even if you must heal me for whatever damn reason. I'm only a Prince. I joust and ride into battle like any other knight. If I die, I die." he shrugs, not understanding the importance of his life. A sigh crosses through his lips, remembering and feeling guilty for not going over what they were talking about before, "I wasn't trying to control you, Merlin..."

Immediately retracting his statement, Arthur waves his hand almost violently in front of her face as if he were wiping his words from the air, "Well, I was, but it was for your own good. This bone thing. The marrow. I just don't want you to lose the gift that you have. It's a talent like nothing else I have ever seen and it's truly amazing both to watch and to feel the warmth sink int my body, repairing all and every ache or scratch." Arthur slowly smiles but then realizes what he must sound like. Blinking, he clears his throat and looks to the tapestry on the wall, "And it's because of your talent that you're here for my father. And thus, I must protect you. If you were hurting yourself with every heal, I figured it was best you heal as less as possible. But now I see that its an endurance situation."
 
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"I confuse you!? Well, that makes two of us!" It's the only thing she yells back before things seem to settle just a little and Merlin is thrown off her furious trail at his impromptu question. She blinks, the anger fading slowly for her dark blue eyes as she watches him again and every breath she takes now reminds her how much her side still hurts, and as Arthur speaks, she slowly backs up and sinks down on the edge of the bed. She snorts softly when he comments that he wasn't trying to control her but lets him speak and when he's finished Merlin shakes her head and she looks up, her own brows raise as she answers him, somehow knowing she has to say the words that bubble around in her mind. "That is where you are wrong, Arthur Pendragon. You are not just another Prince or a Knight and I...I can't let you die. Damn if I know what you ARE, but I know that I can't let you stay injured, even a scratch. It...I...ugh..." Merlin groaned, putting her head in her hands, her finger delving into the chocolate mess that is her hair at this precise moment.

"I don't...I can't explain it. Not even to myself. Would you believe that's what made me wander away and get bloody captured? Thinking about this compulsive need to make sure you aren't hurt? We're not even true friends! But I can't...I can't not heal you. I just don't know why yet."

She growls softly to herself and has to smile a little as she moves on to the next topic, more than ready to get away from this one as it's far too confusing and personal and...yeah. "Marrow is the soft, fatty substance that you suck out of a bone, Arthur. Every human has marrow in their bones and mine will only be taken in extreme cases. I don't plan on going that far and I can't lose my gift. It's...well, it's part of me and it can't be taken away." She tilts her head and gives him a look, thinking over his words. Protect her. Huh. And here she felt the need to protect him. Odd.

"I am not hurting myself when I heal, Arthur...well, not every time. And it's not really hurt, it's just...exhaustion. As long as I sleep and eat, I will be fine." she assures him and then wonders why she is taking the time to do so. It's not really like her to explain herself so thoroughly and Merlin sighs, pushing back on the bed and scooting with her arms and legs until she's back against the pillows. Her side screams at her now and she presses a hand to it gingerly with bared teeth as if that might help it stop throbbing. Well, since it already hurts...

"Arthur, I know we've been yelling at each other and whatnot, but could you get me another healer?"
 
"Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot, the Once and Future King; many times have you come here and long have you been watched, your birth awaited. Your words have been heard, your prayers will be answered. You shall have the strength to protect your people, to be the King Britain needs. You have already been appointed a Protector and your destiny approaches."

Those very words, have spilled from her throat and Arthur witnessed them back up on the mountain pass. Arthur closes his eyes and recites them internally, well, a strain of what was said for he can't remember the whole thing clearly, not know what the hell the mean but only feeling some attachment, some importance, to them. Breathing in, he feels the heat from both their bodies be slurped into his awaiting lungs. It all comes barreling out of his nostrils. They flare up in response. He hates, despises, not having the answer. What did Merlin mean on top of that steep cliff? Why does she need to keep him alive? He has seen knights who are excellent at what they do and he, in comparison, is hardly adept to their level.

"Then silence your words," Arthur announces, not as if he is ordering her to shut up but simply wishing for Merlin to collect her thoughts until she has the answer she seeks when it comes to exactly why she has to heal him, "Until you know what you wish to say, silence shall ensue. It won't be right now nor in a few minutes. You may take as much time as you wish fabricating this answer from deep within your mind. When you are ready with your answer, come and find me. I will be awaiting your response."

Instead of moving closer to Merlin, when she explains all about the marrow, he simply paces. The cleave marks from needly branches giving her a momentary glimpse into the portal around his legs. "Mmhm," he reflects, understanding, or at least making it seem like he understands, all that she is saying. When he looks up, he sees her attempting to lean back against the pillows and the Prince swiftly moves to her side and assists. He pushes the pillows against the backboard, making her back a little nest to nuzzle into. Resting a hand on her shoulder, Arthur nods, understanding her plea at needing an apothecary and a nurse. He isn't going to take any chances.

So the warm spot left on her shoulder stays once the tails of Arthur's cape round the corner of her door and move from sight. He isn't sure how long it lasts but the Prince doesn't return when the three women come scurrying into the room to help dear Merlin with her dressings. There is no way he would watch, out of respect and societal reasons. There would be exposure that he, as a gentleman, would only be able to see if she were his wife. To Merlin's surprise, Arthur doesn't return to her chambers for the whole day, even in the evening, his voice can be heard booming in the courtyard as he instructs younger knights on the training grounds. When the moon rises, Arthur heads to his own chambers, falling into bed for a restful sleep of peaceful dreams. What he didn't expect is to have Merlin in one of them.
 
Merlin watched Arthur leave with a thoughtful expression and her shoulder does indeed radiate a warmth from his touch, but it does more than that; it relaxes her in a way she'd not been expecting and the healer is still in thought when the three women enter her room. She is swiftly brought out of her musings and though it takes some time and both demands and cajoling she finally gets them to get her what she wants; a needle, horse hair and boiling water. Once she had what she wants, Merlin proceeds to sew up her side with the help of the three healers who protest and fret the entire time, but they let her do as she pleases.

They leave Merlin after a time to sleep and Elwyn comes to watch over her. The brunette is not aware of who comes and goes as she drifts in and out of consciousness. A fever develops as the night approaches, but it breaks soon after and there is no alarm over it and soon Merlin stabilizes into deep, regular sleep and those checking up on her stop, letting her rest and the next morning Merlin wakes early. She dresses herself, pleased to see that her stitching has held and that she feels more normal now. She takes the poppy seed that will dull some of the pain and escapes her room long before Elwyn comes to check on her. It's very early yet, the sun not even hinting at making the sky blush as the healer makes her way to the place she knows best. She is greeted in the Healing Wing by those that she knows and Merlin assures them that she's fine as she makes her way to patients.

The day hasn't even really started but she knows she's going to be busy regardless as she looks at those from the tournament still laid up in bed. The sight of amputated limbs make her feel sick with guilt and Merlin braces herself to meet those men head on. She can't change their fate now, but...perhaps she can do something for their pain, for sickness, apologize at least. And then there are those who's limbs and lives can be saved still.

Merlin rolls her sleeves up and with a determined air, she gets to work because in truth she can't stay up in her room - where she should be - knowing that people are in need.
 
Arthur finally gets the chance to breathe throughout the day. He fights with the trainees, making sure that they all work to the best of their ability. Secretly, although he would never admit it, he works them until their arms are about to fall off and their legs crumble because of Merlin. Prince Arthur worries about her if he knows it or not. Will she truly heal up the proper way? He is certain that she will but in that same instance, he is devastated internally.

In the evening, after dinner, Arthur resides in the garden with one of the Ladies he had been talking to all of dinner. She is a blonde like himself with bright green eyes that seem to ground dear Arthur to the conversation. Whatever they're talking about on that bench must be of some importance. They're rather close together, the whispers only reaching their own ears. Arthur leans back against the wood, the woman following his movements. She leans against the crook of his arm, her long hair spilling against his shoulder.

When her maid shows up, clearing her throat promptly to break up the two. Arthur, as many of the girls know around the castle, likes to fool around as much as he can when a good mood strikes him. "No, that's unnecessary." Placing his hand on her thigh, Arthur squeezes and the girl leaps in shock. Winking, he nods his head at the shocked maid. She stutters a bit before nodding and listening to the Prince but before she goes, the girl stops her.

" I will be sleeping in my own bed, thank you. Ill be up momentarily." Nodding, the maiden simply sits up straighter and then smiles to Arthur, leaning in to kiss him once the maid has gone. They both smile, their lips meeting like many times before. It's an old feeling, one that they both love, Arthur's hand staying on her thigh. Once they break away, she bids him goodnight and he tries to convince her to stay but she insists on leaving. With one more kiss, Arthur lets her leave and stays on the bench.
 
Merlin is bone-weary by the time she comes back to the castle- having skipped dinner, not that she will tell anyone that - but it doesn't stop the smirk that comes over her face as she leans against a pillar, arms folded and watches the maiden leave. Oh, she hasn't been here the whole time, but long enough and the brunette moves forward once all is quiet. "And here I thought I was the only one who could refuse you."

Where the woman who's just left was clean and proper, beautiful, Merlin is the complete opposite at the moment. There are bloodstains and other such things on her simple linen dress, the sleeves are still rolled up past her elbows, her hair is pulled back in a messing, practical way and there are lines of fatigue around her face and darkness under her eyes. She's a bit pale, too, but Merlin's dark eyes dance with the same mischief they always do - or fiery anger - and her smile is as readily apparent as ever as she approaches the Prince. Her movement speaks of being tired, but not of the ache in her side or the fact that she knows she should change her bandages as they feel slightly damp.

She doesn't sit on the bench but instead trails her fingers over a few yellow flowers and looks back over at the blond with a raised brow. "You know, abstinence is a virtue. Or so the priests say." Merlin chuckles and releases the flower she holds, looking around for a moment out of habit alone before she looks back at Arthur and her dark blue storms meet his earthy brown. "I never did thank you for rescuing me and much as I hate being rescued...I am glad it was your and your Knights." The words are sincere, but Merlin doesn't dwell on them, her eyes narrowing a little, sharpening and they flash gold before she looks toward the banquet hall.

"Something...something has happened to your sister. She's...cut herself...it's rather deep." Merlin says the words even as the image comes to her and she is relieved to note it's just a cut from a knife, accidental, but the fact that she's seeing it at all.....is strange. Still, when she's done, she starts moving to where she knows Morgana is whether the woman is going to want to see her or not.
 
Arthur, leaning back against the bench, throws his arm over the lip of the backrest, his fingers dancing along the wood. When she draws nearer to him, he doesn't shift his position. His purple tunic lined with a deep orange lace around all the edges stays still, his breath slow and steady even after moments of ravenous kisses. Licking his lips, he can still taste the maiden, his eyes naturally looking towards the staircase she ascended slowly. It's true that she -did- want to sleep with him tonight but alas, it is late and she needs her rest for the ride tomorrow. Her father and her will be visiting their uncle in Cantia by the water. Arthur wishes he can go and see the ocean but he will have to make due with the river that cuts around Camelot.

"Chastity is something that woman always waves in my face, Merlin," Arthur glances at the staircase then runs his fingers through the messy locks of hair that were played with by Lady Larakore. He still feels warm from her kisses, his mind considering sneaking into her bedroom once the castle has grown quiet. There, in the company of only one another, she will not refuse him. No matter how tired she is, at least she will be satisfied. Thinking upon this, like any man would, Arthur's attention is ripped back to reality when Merlin thanks him. At first, he blinks, mouth opening but saying nothing. Merlin, the woman with the fire in her temper and snag in her voice, has thanked him. Thanked him! Arthur supposes he deserves it so he stands up and gives her a low bow.

When he straightens himself, brown eyes meet her blue, his muscles stiffen and he doesn't quite know why. He has already made an impression on the girl, there is no need to act too prim and proper. They are only in the company of one another. Yet, he bows and stands with no slouch present. "I could say that it's all in a days work but it's not daily that a healer of your caliber becomes a toy for our enemy." Slowly, Arthur teasingly tisks her, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. Then the news of his sister comes barreling from her lips, Arthur's eyes moving to them as she speaks. The Prince raises a brow, not seeming too concerned for his sister's well being.

"Then go heal her, Merlin," he waves her off, moving to sit back on the bench, "It doesn't matter if I go or stay. It's Morgana's stupid fault either way if she allowed herself to be sliced. That girl never keeps track of where a blade is and where she is. She cuts herself all the time. It's nothing a bit of bandaging can't fix."
 
Merlin is not sure why she pauses, but she does know why the next words come from her lips. She's not stayed in the shadows so long without seeing things, without being able to read people and to understand where certain behaviors can lead to and her dark blue eyes now go back to the Prince's brown and her gaze pierces him whether he will like that or not. There is something more to Merlin then, something that echos their time at the shrine and the words she spoke to him there even if her voice is her own this time around. A sudden heaviness seems to fall on the air and it's as if they are the only two people in the world in that moment.

"It might very well matter if you go or stay, Arthur Pendragon. Morgana is an unstable force in the world, much as I was, but she has not yet been claimed to a side as I have. If you would not make an enemy of your sister, do not treat her as one or I fear you will regret it." It is all Merlin has to say on the matter, all she feels she can say and she leaves then, taking the heavy force of her words on the atmosphere with her. She does not know if Arthur will follow or not and knows she can't change what will happen between his sister and himself. She doesn't KNOW what will happen, but Merlin is starting to guess. Arthur had told her to still her mind and come to him when she had an answer to the questions she could not give voice to yet. The healer is not sure when she will be able to give him a real answer like he wants, but she's starting to unravel the puzzle or at least feels like she's getting closer.

She already knows she is the merlin. The dragon...must be the Pendragon line...maybe. The bear...Uther? Or maybe Arthur himself... The latter seemed more likely. The lion and swan, though...those she did not know and the wolf and fox....Merlin wanted more than anything to know who they were, but she didn't yet and it chaffed at her. She frowned, still deep in thought as she came to Morgana's chambers and Merlin shook herself out of it as she knocked gently. A lady-in-waiting answered and looked immensely relieved to see her.

"Lady Merlin! Oh, thank goodness. The Princess Morgana has cut herself." She moved back from the door and Merlin, knowing that she was not going to be met with welcome from Morgana - and she was sure the Princess would be as snarky as ever and take Merlin's very appearance as an opportunity to mock her - braced herself and entered. She bowed as was expected of her and then moved forward, seeing the blood running from the redhead's skin.

"Princess, will you allow me to help you?" She wasn't about to touch Morgana without knowing she could. She didn't want to give the other woman a reason to bring charges against her.
 
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"No, I like to bleed out uncontrollably!" Morgana bellows, clearly mocking Merlin's question with a quick gusto of words mumbled underneath her snarky breath. When Merlin is hesitant, the Princess' eyes go wide and she moves the injured section towards Merlin, nearly shaking it in anticipation for what may come. Unlike Arthur, she doesn't know how Merlin's healing hands feel like. Being such a pessimist, the young woman squeezes her eyes shut and knows that it will be painful when it's the exact opposite. She can tell that Merlin would love to give the girl a piece of her mind but to combat the Princess now will only cause hell for the healer.

Merlin's hands move over the slash mark, a clean cut with a smooth blade. She won't answer how she obtained such a gash but instead looks to her brother when he enters the room. Arthur looks displeased, shaking his head at Morgana's stupidity but she just tilts her head back and cackles. "You enjoying yourself brother? I could have nearly killed myself," she utters, raising a brow but Arthur stays stationary and silent. His arms fold over his chest and he simply stares. Morgana's confidence melts away from her body, the smile turning into an angry frown. "You always look at me that way, Arthur! One day, you'll regret it!" she spits violently, shaking her head, the red mass of hair swinging this way and that way. Pulling her hand from Merlin once she is healed, Morgana orders them both out of the room. She doesn't even thank Merlin for her trouble.

Arthur doesn't move, only adding to Morgana's spite. She flings curses at her brother, threatening to tell their father that it was actually him who had tried to slice open Morgana in a fit of rage. At such a proposition, Arthur throws back his head and laughs, telling his sister that she sees the world in a very twisted manner. "Do you really think father will believe that? After all, I have the lady-in-waiting as well as Merlin as my witness." At the mention of Merlin's name, the Princess nearly smacks him, her wrist now being held tightly in Arthur's grasp. "You must contain yourself, sister." he breathes, "I worry for your health, you know. If you keep accidentally slicing your hand open with the letter opener, I don't know how we will be able to help you." Little does Arthur know, Morgana -wants- her own blood and slicing her hand open is no accident.
 
Merlin bites her tongue against speaking to Morgana and instead simply takes her hand. They've never made contact before and Merlin feels as though she's holding a venomous snake. Her power, her very being shrinks away from the woman before her, but Merlin forces it to heal Morgana. The other woman is right to think it won't be pleasant because Merlin's power is not warm and friendly with the Princess. It is a cold rush, quick and impersonal and only when the cut is healed does it draw back and then Merlin nearly jerks back as Morgana does the same and the healer puts distance between them, not wanting to be anywhere near the red-haired beauty. When Morgana tells her to leave, Merlin does, fleeing really and she only stops when she is far down the hall, moving out onto a balcony that is open for the night air it brings in, cool and crisp.

Dark blue eyes, wide in a pale face looks out blindly at the land and Merlin's fingers grip the railing with a tight-grip, enough to leave impressions on her hands when she eventually opens them. Her body trembles with the ancient power that roils inside her. It's uneasy and violent from Morgana's touch and Merlin looks down at her hand, feeling the chill that makes her fingers stiff. It only stays in her hand, not creeping up her arm and over her body, but still, she knows this feeling. She's come across it before and Merlin feels tears slip down her face as her heart clenches painfully.

"Why? Why am I always too late?" she whispers to the night and Merlin licks the salt water from her lips and takes a deep breath, sniffing as she wipes the tears away roughly before she looks back the way she's come. How is she to tell...anyone of what Morgana is becoming? What she has? These people were so amazed and suspicious of Merlin's power, but they've had it around them all along. Morgana is also touched by the Ancient Power, though, Merlin wonders if the other woman even knows it yet. Perhaps if she does not know that is for the best right now seeing as all Merlin can sense is malevolence and hurt and resentment from Morgana. Oh, there are some good things, but they are eclipsed in shadow and Merlin suddenly understands who the red fox is.

Dark blue eyes look back at her hand and Merlin calls her power forward, letting the gold come over her fingers and she grits her teeth to see it tainted with shadowy tendrils. They won't last, but it only confirms what she already knows and the brunette looks back at the hallway. She won't leave until she sees Arthur and knows he's left his sister. Merlin now has someone tangible to guard him against and this time...she's not so sure he can do it himself even if Morgana does not know what she can do yet.
 
Arthur finishes up with Morgana, their yelling being heard throughout the castle, he slams the door behind him when entering the hallway. The burning torches on either side of the hallway illuminate the Prince on either side, dark creases following the bright lights. "She'll never really learn, will she?" Arthur sighs, glancing over to the balcony and finding the figure of Merlin over there. Breathing in, he walks over next to Merlin and immediately sees that she is troubled in some way. Of course the healer tries to hide it the second Arthur shows his face but the Prince smirks. Leaning up against the edge of the stone, Arthur crosses his arms in a relaxed manner despite his fighting earlier.

"Everything alright there, Merlin? Saving lives as usual I see," he chuckles but its half lived. The Prince rubs his eyes before looking back at Merlin, his back up against the stone. "I feel the need to apologize for my sister but we both know that she ... her ways..." Arthur shakes his head, "Well, you know how she is. I doubt she will ever be changed. Not that I want to change her... I would just like her to see who she truly is in the world. I know that she isn't as cruel as she acts. Frankly, I remember us as children. I try to see what exactly--" Arthur stops talking, grinning a bit, almost getting too personal with his story. They've never actually had a personal conversation and that's why he stops. Will she be judging of who he is and his past?

"Never mind, you don't want to hear about what Morgana was. What's important is what she is now, hm? There is no way of changing a woman who has already made up her mind at every single turn possible. Wouldn't you agree? I hate to think that I have done something to make her this way. I don't think I treated her at all wrongly as a kid... Why is she so... such a..." Arthur grips his hands into fists, shaking his head and turning to look over the view. Leaning into the stone, Arthur taps his hands on the stone one after one. "Is it bad that I blame myself for who she is?" Arthur asks very seriously, not caring what Merlin might think but wanting to know what she might say.
 
Merlin did indeed try to hide what she felt when Arthur came by, but like she was beginning to read him, he was growing better at reading her. Normally that would have made Merlin uneasy, but with this Prince...it seemed normal, like this was supposed to happen and maybe it was. She had been dreaming about the male for nearly sixteen years and now that she was here, there had to be a purpose. Maybe protecting Arthur and becoming his friend was all she had to do? Not exactly an easy task anyway, but...Merlin felt she might - MIGHT - be up to it. Maybe.

She watches and listens to the blond now and Merlin looks away from him often, not out of judgement, but out of indecision. She knows more about Morgana from that brief contact than she can ever truly explain to Arthur and much as he's frustrated by his sister, he does still love her and Merlin knows that. Would he trust her if she told him what she knew or would it drive a wedge between them? How open can she be with Arthur at this time? Merlin is not sure they are good enough friends yet, but....unless she took chances like this, how was she to know how much they could trust each other?

It was like walking on a narrow shelf, raging seas on one side and pit of stakes on the other. No real options and only brief interludes of safety.

Merlin turns back to see Arthur looking out over the railing and for a moment she wants to settle her hand on his shoulder, to tell him all will be well, but she feels like he will laugh it off or withdraw and so she doesn't touch him, merely coming to his side and mimicking his pose as she gives a deep sigh, looking out onto the land that is starting to endear itself to her. It's dark now, hardly able to be seen past the torches and fires of the town, but still beautiful nonetheless. She weighs her words carefully before she finally speaks, just as serious and even quieter. Arthur will come to find that she gets this way only when she's uncertain about telling him something.

"I do not believe you are to blame for how your sister is. There are...moments and events that can define us, but how we let them shape our futures is up to us. Some events are harder to overcome than others, but...that does not mean they can't be overcome, that you can't choose to do and be the right thing." Merlin looked down at her fingers, curling them as she thought over her next words in the quiet of the night.

"Morgana will always try to blame others and justify her choices, but that does not mean her words ring true. It is not bad that you blame yourself, but it's not truthful, nor is it beneficial. If you blame yourself for what is happening to her, then it absolves her of responsibility for her own actions and choices and that is not your burden to bear, but her own. Whether you doted on her as a brother or were a complete bane to her existence, Morgana is what she is and what she will be because of her own choices, not yours."
 
"I know I shouldn't blame myself for the way she turned out but I do, Merlin. Every time she steps out of line, I want to be the one to take the blame and it truly unsettles me to see her unwind in such a tainted way. My own sister is lost in this world and her own brother doesn't even know what caused it." Arthur shuts his eyes when Merlin speaks, his mind painting a picture of reassurance and letting it sink down into the back of his mind. I'm not to blame he thinks internally, opening eye after eye and looking to Merlin. "You speak as if you know her, healer." Then he remembers her commemoration dinner when she asked why he had been so distraught and unwelcoming towards the guests. Perhaps now he is a finer idea that he worries for the sake of protecting those he loves much like a father would his children.

Looking down at her dirty and half washed hands, quickly rinsed in basin after basin when treating the sick and dying, Arthur finds himself scoffing slightly. Not in contempt but rather an amazement that he is allowing her words to influence him as such. He thinks of Guinevere and her words before leaving Camelot about trusting those who are kind to him or something along those lines. Merlin, he is now starting to piece together, has a good heart like nothing he has seen in his life. She has healed and healed, not worrying about her own conditions but rather about the sake of human life. It doesn't matter if they're cruel to the healer, she knows it's her duty to bring them back into this world they live in with the best of their abilities attached and functional. Arthur thinks about all of this while simply looking at the woman, drinking her features in without any shame while his mind busily calculates who she truly is.

Blinking, the tired Prince believes he has been staring at her for too long. If she hasn't playfully smacked him by now, he returns from his daze as if he had been. "Sorry," he mumbles, turning to the landscape with an oddly warm feeling spreading across his lungs from his heart. She has made an impact on him, he is certain but the Prince would never allow her to know it. They hardly know one another and Arthur knows he must sustain a professional relationship with his father's healer. "I'm going to retire for the night, I think. Soon, that is. I'm quite beaten from training. Thank you for your kind words. Your thoughtful words. And.. um." Arthur backs away from the ledge, "Unless you would like to continue talking, I will bid my goodbyes." Strange... he is asking what she wants instead of forcing his own way upon her as usual. The Prince does what the Prince wants when he wants it. Except for right now.
 
She hurts for him and it surprises Merlin somewhat for she can't remember the last time she felt such a strong emotion on someone else's behalf. Arthur has somehow become that important to her and Merlin knows its because of some Fate, some link between them that she can't yet see clearly but knows exists and she doesn't want to fight Fate this time because...she actually likes Arthur on his own. Oh, it didn't come immediately, but she is starting to see who he is and that something that everyone has seemed to sense before her and Merlin doesn't want to lose that, to lose him and she's starting to think that for once in her life, her desires match up with what Fate demands of her. It's an odd notion.

Merlin wishes she could reassure him that Morgana will be fine, that she will grow out of it or repent, but the healer knows it's not true and she won't lie to him about such a thing. She looks back at him steadily, not knowing why he stares at her, but not minding it either as her dark blue eyes only study him as he is her. Or maybe not in the same way as Merlin is noting his fatigue and the soreness of his movements. She is watching his emotions and the busy mind behind those brown eyes.

When he finally looks away and apologizes, she smiles softly, in a way that is almost sweet as she shakes her head as he thanks her and she only turns around from her own position as he pulls away from the stone railing. Merlin raises a brow at his words, but a warmth ignites in her eyes that he will have never seen and it's like a milestone has been achieved as the healer laughs softly and shakes her head again, her tangled brown hair falling a bit from confinement with the movement. "No, I think I shall retire as well, but thank you for your consideration. I am sure we can talk later when both of us are less tired." she replies sincerely, starting to move past the Prince.

Merlin takes a small risk then - or perhaps not, she's not sure - and she brushes her fingers against the back of his hand. The gold seeps into him before he can protest and the soreness of his limbs leaves, the warmth of her power more than happy to be in contact with the blond male. Merlin smiles in a purely cheeky way, dark blue eyes twinkling like the stars themselves in the darkness as she slips away, voice floating back over her shoulder.

"Goodnight, Pendragon."

Merlin is still feeling happy when she finally collapses in bed, clean and ready for true sleep. She ignores her stomach as she drifts into sweet darkness.
 
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After that night of such acceptance from Merlin, her gaze staying steady against his own, Arthur finds that he is thinking of the woman more often than not. Purposely, he leaves his curtains open as they face her tower, hoping for whatever reason that she will be able to see him busily working at his desk or out on his own balcony. More often than not, he finds himself glancing at the back of his right hand. Those very fingers twitched all that time ago when she brushed her own roughened fingers against his in a moment of healing. A month ago, on that balcony, they were civil to one another. No snappy comments or snarky growls. Just simply speaking. Arthur has to admit that he kind of liked it to be as such. Throughout his days, he reverts more to areas he think she will be, wanting a quick word here and there as he passes through.

Her words "Goodnight Pendragon" sound in his head every night before he falls asleep, a connection that he has yet to understand or realize. Merlin speaks wisely about the world so Arthur figures that 'when it is his time' he will 'know what it means'. But those thoughts only make him aggravated. She truly does confuse him in more ways than he could ever imagine. So when King Uther says that his son must take Merlin out on a hunt, a true hunt that feeds all of Camelot, Arthur is quick to agree. Past requests had to have been carefully thought of on Arthur's part and daunted when it actually came time to execute them.

Now he is riding through the fields of Camelot, nodding to each and every farmer they pass along their way. A strong pack of dogs lead the way, the trampling sound of horse hooves quickly following. The Prince sits high in his saddle, wearing a sleeveless tunic with simple boots and platoons. It's the day for hunting and Arthur loves the energy his pack receives while riding closer and closer to the tree line. He is sure that whatever is in store for them can easily be combated and even if men shall fall, Merlin will be here as their personal healer. It's the whole idea for her coming along. Heal those who are injured while on the hunt. Although.. that shouldn't happen if they are careful.
 
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