Where Legends Begin

[Kaisaan]

Guinevere knows better than to argue with Arthur when he's in this state. Perhaps that is for another woman to do someday, to shout right back and him and challenge him, but it's not her task and so the Lady merely lets him speak and rant as he will. In the end, most of what he says is right anyway. Merlin should not heal until she is well again, but Guinevere doesn't point out that they've seen her power do more than heal and that does not even require that she touch them. How are they to stop Merlin is she decides to do something? None of them have a power to combat her, no means of which to suppress her ability. No, the auburn-haired woman does not point this out because Arthur is distressed enough already.

No, she simply breaks the bread with him and she practically force-feeds the Prince, smiles and soft laughter in-between for his attempts to make her stop. Finally she wins and makes Arthur promise to eat more when offered later. She won't have him starving himself. And for the next few days, she visits often and usually with food, listening to all he will say and taking note on what he does. She is not blind to his growing affection and worry for Merlin and Guinevere is coming to a conclusion she doesn't yet speak of to Arthur as he's not in the best state of mind to receive it. Now is not the time, but when Merlin is well, she will be drawing his attention to it.

And Merlin is getting better. She hasn't woken, but she's not so pale and she's warm again, but not with fever. She merely appears to sleep and as she's not woken in fits or thrashed around with nightmares, when Arthur insists she be moved, she is and without restraints this time. Arthur has spoken to her on and off many times in the last three days, but this time Merlin seems to respond, a slight frown coming over her face, eyes flickering beneath her lids. Finally, slowly, those lids open and deep red eyes swirling with gold look into brown, searing the Prince with the pain and fear and knowledge in their depths before they look away and Merlin starts to scream. Her body convulses, arching and thrashing as agony boils through her blood and bone, her power trying to right itself, to find balance and the healer shrieks until her throat is raw and then just as suddenly as it started, it stops and she stills again.

Merlin breathes raggedly and she moves even more slowly to her side, curling her body impossibly small as she trembles and tries to find something stable to latch on to after the inferno that has swept over her. When her eyes finally open, they are stormy, but a familiar dark blue again and for a moment they stare at nothing before flickering, life, a consciousness coming back into them and Merlin looks straight to Arthur.

A smile touches her lips with the lightest brush at simply seeing his face and relief springs to Merlin's gaze as her body relaxes. "Y-you...are well." she rasps out and it's clear that is all Merlin cares about; that Arthur is safe and in good health.

 

[Vacyr]

"M-Merlin..." Arthur gasps when she starts to shake and quiver on his bed, the sheets sprawling outwards in whatever direction they like. Arthur immediately comes to her side, attempting to pin her down to the mattress. For whatever reasons, he is not sure of, it feels like the right thing to do. She can feel his hands sweaty with worry for her, his own fingers shaking slightly upon holding the poor girl down. When she stops, he releases his fingers from her shoulders, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. The Prince's voice sounds relieved to say the least and yet overjoyed that Merlin has joined them back in the living world. It has taken death to make these two friends and Arthur won't let her sink into that hole again and he is certain that she will do the same. It's a mutual guardian agreement - their eyes telling all they need to know.

"And you are safe, you are safe, you are safe," he whispers, reaching up to remove the heavy tendrils of hair from her face with his fingertips, "so do not worry. I am alive, thanks to you but I fear about your marrow, Merlin." chewing on his lip, the Prince clears his throat and pulls away immediately from her warmth, "You see, when you woke up, you insisted coming here to help me heal. It took me another two days to actually awaken. But you came here and you settled yourself ... you..." he takes a gulp, not wanting to reveal that she had been so close to him and he had allowed it. In his eyes, it will show weakness. "You healed me nearly for two days straight. Your... your hands were pale. Cold. And the magic ... that ancient power of yours turned red, Merlin. Much like a drop of blood in a goblet of water."

Removing himself from the bed, it creaks in response to the shift in weight. Arthur moves to his own glass sitting at his desk. For a quick moment, he stops by the empty parchment, his fingers running across it. He knows he still has to write the letter one way or another. Now that Merlin is at least awake, he might find the inspiration to scribble down the importances to Lady Lynet. Princess Lynet. But such work is far from the Prince's mind, "Here, drink some water," lifting the chalice to her lips, he waits for her to take a tender sip, not removing the rim until she has had her belly full of hydration.

 

[Kaisaan]

Merlin's stormy eyes settle into more tranquil seas at his words. She trusts them, she trusts him and even if she doesn't quite know when that happened, it has and if Arthur says she's safe, then she is. Her face leans lightly into his touch, completely opposite to how she'd flinched away from Guinevere's same action, but Merlin doesn't know this, having been asleep at the time and she feels a stab of mourning when the blond's touch leaves. She says nothing of it, though, and the feeling fades, leaving her to focus on what the Prince is telling her. It's hard to focus on so many words at a time, but she manages and finally she understands why she feels like utter crap and why Arthur appears so uncharacteristically - at least as she knows him - worried about her, and she knows now why he drew away from touching her.

After drinking, smiling gratefully when the chalice is pulled away, Merlin swallows carefully and attempts speaking, finding its a bit easier now. A bit. She's torn her throat raw with screaming and that's going to take some time to stop hurting. "I...remember r-running here...and healing the...the infection and fever in y-you, but....I don't remember the rest....not..not clearly." Merlin looks at her hands, flexing her fingers slowly and grimacing at the stiffness in her entire body, the weak feeling that she hates to very much. He'd been worried about her marrow? The healer doesn't have the heart to tell the Prince that it wasn't just her marrow her power was stealing. When the gold grew pale, that's when it was taking marrow...when it turned red...it was taking her very life-essence.

It would appear she needs to build up more tolerance if she is to treat Arthur in the future. He's not going to make it easy to be his Protector, she can already see that even now. Of course, Merlin does not speak of this either and instead she reassures as she curls in the bed again - and it hasn't sunk in WHO'S bed she's in - voice soft for different reasons now, soothing. "I'll be...fine, Arthur. This is nothing..nothing rest and food can't fix. My marrow will replenish itself, just...well, just like...everyone's does."

The healer smiles again, her lids growing heavy, too heavy to keep open anymore and she yawns before burying her face in the pillows below her, unconsciously inhaling deeply Arthur's scent, her body relaxing further at taking in the familiar smell. "Guess...guess I'll..hafta practice...more, get stronger, to...to keep up with you." It's a tease of her own, but one Merlin means, too, whether Arthur realizes that yet or not.

 

[Vacyr]

The twisting coils of fear that wrap themselves around Arthur's stomach slowly unravel themselves. Merlin is fine. She will live. All is well. Just as he comforted her with his words, she is doing the same. Arthur doesn't care what secrets Merlin is keeping from him such as the red tendrils sucking life force from her own body to heal the Prince. She is safe and is somewhere where she can have eyes watching her. Arthur's eyes will watch her until she is well enough to get out of his bed and walk out of that door without any signs of fatigue or struggle. He considers having Merlin walk so she regains the muscle in her legs but he knows that such tasks will have to wait. Maybe tomorrow, for Merlin is falling fast asleep before him, he can drag her out of that stinking bed. For now, Arthur smiles and lets her rest.

"Yeah," the Prince breathes, "I guess you will have to." a small chuckle even emits itself from him then Arthur looks to the tapestries and woven quilts hanging from the walls, adding comfort to his room. "But for now just sleep. When you wake next, I will order some soup and bread to this room and you can drink and eat as much as you like. For now your stomach needs to reacquaint itself with food for we both have been out for so long," Arthur knows that Merlin is hardly listening to him but just speaking to her sleeping form helps him cope with what has happened, "and then, only then, will you be able to feast. I am certain my father will want another celebration in order. The castle has gone through enough emotional dips in the past week than in the last year alone. A celebration would do everyone well."

Once she is fast asleep, Arthur's mind pokes him with a shocking thought. The Prince nearly jumps at such a prospect, his eyes narrowing just from merely considering it. Looking back at Merlin though, such an idea seems so valid and he is certain she will accept him. His fingers shake a little and even sweat sponges itself to his brow, "Be well, Merlin," he whispers, leaning over her curled up form and planting an estimated kiss on her cheek. Of course his mind wished for it to be a peck but Arthur holds his arm over her body for a moment, lips pressed to her soft skin. Despite the cold sweat that lies there, he finds his stomach fluttering at how smooth her cheeks are compared to the roughness of her hands. If she were a lady like Guinevere, Arthur is sure her hands would be as smooth as running water.

Dammit. He thinks, pulling away, his lips wanting her to kiss him back. Licking them, Arthur quickly pulls away, regretting his decision almost immediately after progressing through with it. In a wave of anxious thought, he springs from the bed, nearly collapsing over the wooden chair that rests there and makes his way to his desk. Sitting down, he drums his fingers on the sturdy wood, unable to keep his eyes off Merlin. He should be writing his letter to that Princess but a pattern is emerging. Every thought breathes for Merlin until she is well again.

 

[Kaisaan]

---

It is a good three weeks before Merlin starts to truly feel like herself again. In the first few days she was content to eat, to have help standing, to sit and soak in the sun. As far as patients went during that first week, she was a perfect one, doing exactly as she was commanded, knowing almost before the healers did what they'd want her to do and how far her limits were. She'd done this before, once and she knew the consequences of pushing her body too fast. It wasn't an experience she wanted to repeat and so Merlin only did what she was allowed, what her body deemed her able to do. But the second week she was out of Arthur's room - and she'd been plenty embarrassed by that even if she hadn't said a great deal about it for both their sake - and back in her own, but someone was always with her, mainly Elwyn, and Merlin finds that she's starting to strain a bit at her restrictions. By the end of the second week she's more or less ignoring them.

The healers don't want her roaming the halls - so that is where she is most mornings until someone drags her back to her room or the garden and sits her down for a while. Merlin manages to slip her babysitters rather easily, though, and by the third week they've pretty much given up. She hasn't healed anyone, though, and that's what is making Merlin antsy, snappish now at the end of the third week. When no one is watching she uses her power to move small things, just to keep it working like one would a muscle, but it tires her out more quickly than she likes and Guinevere, so observant seems to know when she's done something she shouldn't for she always makes Merlin come and sit with her, eat something and talk.

Merlin checks in on Arthur every day as well and he almost seems to do the same for her, often they meet in the corridor and always they exchange words about the other's health and what they are up to that day. The Prince is a great deal busier than Merlin for he is fully healed by now. The healer still feels a pang of regret that she could not take away the scarring that has resulted from the bear's claws, but Arthur doesn't seem to mind them and so she says nothing more after the first mention of such a thing. What Merlin also doesn't speak of yet is what happened that day in the woods. She is not sure Arthur remembers her giving him the bear's spirit, its life and she is unsure how it's effected him as of yet. The time will come to tell him of such a thing or explain it to him, but she doesn't think that time has come just yet.

It's now entering the fourth week, nearly a month after both of them nearly died and Merlin wakes with a purpose. Elwyn can tell that much as she helps the healer and though the maid wants to deter her Lady, she knows she can't and merely wishes her luck and safety silently as the brunette leaves the room. Merlin heads straight to the Healing Wing and a few find themselves on the end of her scorching tongue when they try to tell her she can't be there. Eventually they back off because Merlin is not going to and leave her in peace....a watchful peace, but they don't hinder her.

And Merlin is not stupid. She doesn't go for those extremely injured much as she wants to. No, she goes to those who have cuts and bruises, simple things that will tire her nonetheless, but will give her something to do and will strengthen her power once more. When she starts to use it, the glow of the gold is healthy and rich and for the first time in a week, Merlin truly smiles.

 

[Vacyr]

Arthur, despite openly worrying about Merlin while she had been underneath the tides of her own foolishness, acts as if everything is fine. She is walking around without needing his or anyone else's arm for a crutch. It pleases the Prince to know that she is recovering at such a quick pace despite having the elements of ancient power withheld from her. On those days where they will bump into, nearly quite literally, one another in the hallway, he attempts to keep the conversations short. Mumbling this and that about having to write this or read that, Arthur never keeps their eye contact for long. It's not his intentions to be antisocial towards the healer but he figures the less they talk, the less likely she is to find out about their sleeping cuddle.

How the forces of this world are cruel to dear Arthur. Every night he sleeps alone in his bed, remembering the warmth of Merlin's hand upon his bandaged chest. If he thinks hard enough about it, her fingers still twitch to his heartbeat. Even though, of course, they aren't really there, Arthur can swear in the dead of night, he still feels her warmth radiating into him. The Prince wonders why he feels such ghosts pressing upon his skin for at first he doesn't think of it as Merlin but simply other worldly creatures mending his wounds as she did. But the more it happens, especially after seeing her in the hallways, he feels that same heart lifting moment rise up in his chest. She is the one who causes it, not spirits.

Now Arthur stares at the wooden panels of Merlin's door. They stretch down to the floor like the iron bars forbidding any and all opposition to Camelot. Except this is her room where she resides day and night, well, mostly at night. Unlike Arthur's own room, Merlin is hardly in there during the day and she is out and using her powers for the better of their nation. If he had the strength, he would tell her just how he feels. All the world is a better place because of her. Arthur's stomach tightens just thinking about it, a sharp breath coming into his lungs as he lifts his healed knuckles to the door and raps on it thrice.

Hearing some shuffling and the panicked whisper of the ladies in waiting, Arthur smiles, practically hearing their own hearts jump at the impromptu visit from the Prince. When the door opens, Arthur bows his head to the shy woman who immediately starts to curtsy in the presence of such a man. Turning back to Merlin, who is finishing brushing her hair, she announces the Prince and Arthur immediately invites himself into the room. Looking around, he realizes that this might be only the third or fourth time he has been in Merlin's room. Actually in her room. The Camiliardian has certainly made herself at home to say the least. Smiling, he clomps his way towards the open window and looks outward onto the grassy fields yawning towards the horizon.

"I hope you're feeling quite well, Merlin. The King has asked for a family feast tonight. No Lords or Ladies. Simply you, me," Arthur pauses for a moment to smile, finishing his sentence quickly, "and, you know, Morgana, mother, and father. It will be a quiet night just for our spoils. Maybe if you're really lucky," taking his mind off of having to look casual, Arthur finally allows himself to close his eyes and simply smell the scents before him. Lavender is among the most potent perhaps in the oils she pats to her neck, or at least thats what most ladies do, or poured in the bath for an entire bodily scent. Blinking, he turns away from the window and into those eyes he has grown to accept into his life.

 

[Kaisaan]

Sure, invite yourself in. is what runs through Merlin's mind as Arthur comes into her room and moves toward the window, but she doesn't voice it because as she watches him, she notes that he is happy and for once she doesn't want to tease him about that. She shakes her head, turning back to the mirror and pulling the last tangle out of her dark locks before she sets the brush down and gathers her hair back with her finger, swinging the long strands over her shoulder to trail down to her mid-back, the movement releasing more lavender scent into the air as it is her hair that has been soaked in such a fragrance. The hair curls slightly near the bottom of its own volition and Merlin leaves it be as she turns her face to Arthur only to see him looking straight back at her.

A smile comes to her lips and is reflected in her stormy hues as she raises a brow at him. "I feel fine, Arthur, though, I am glad that dinner won't be a grand event." she admits easily as she moves toward him and Elwyn's jaw nearly drops at Merlin's easy use of the Prince's name and then still further when Merlin, now before Arthur, frowns and reaches up to fix some of his wayward hair. The healer pays her serving lady no mind as she gives the Prince a slight smirk.

"There, now you're presentable. Sort of."

A laugh escapes the healer who is in much better spirits after being able to use her power and she links her arm in Arthur's own, pulling him to the door. "Come along, Princeling. We don't want to keep your family waiting now, do we? Why did you come to get me anyway?" It's not like him to escort her anywhere and Merlin gives Arthur a suspicious look, dark blue eyes running down his body in a calculating way. "You aren't sick, are you?"

Of course her mind immediately jumps to what might be wrong with Arthur and what help she might need to give him.

 

[Vacyr]

Arthur stiffens once Merlin gets up from her chair, puffing his chest out just a little bit as she draws closer and closer to him. It's not quite noticeable, well at least he hopes, to her since she is focused on his hair but if she happens go glance down, at least she can see his carved pecks from beneath his rucked collared shirt. Its sleeves come down to his wrists, a gentle puff to the arms but nothing too fancy for his own tastes. Merlin might have heard him arguing with his mother about the growing style and Arthurs displeasure in the whole area. Simply enough, all his clothes are tailored to his very needs and thus they are appropriate to his taste. The knight even has on some leather pants, something he rarely desires to wear. But, Merlin would have to admit, both the dark black and tan yellow of his clothing make him quite dashing.

"N-no," Arthur practically stutters when Merlin loops her arm around his, pulling as needs be to bring his own feet from their planted position. Hardly hearing a word of what she said while fixing his hair, Arthur simply smiles a small crest of a smile. Anything too drastic, he is certain, would make Merlin think too much about him coming to her room to escort her down to dinner. "Well, Merlin, its been nearly a month since our adventure in the forest and I have only run into you at such ... inopportune moments that I figured the best way to actually see how you were doing is to bring you down to dinner. We can walk as slow or as fast as you desire since you, after all, are the one who is still healing."

Smiling over at her, Arthur allows Merlin to take the few first steps, his long legs easily matching her steps as best he can. Nodding to Elwyn that all is well and he is not offended or put off by any of Merlin's actions. By now her touch should be instinctual and as much a part of him as the ancient magic is a part of her. Slowly, the two wind down the steps of the keep, Arthur both asking and answering questions in vague terms. If she asks how he is doing, he simply replies that all is well and mended, thanks to her. When she starts to question him on his duties of the castle, he gives her a brief overview. Writing, reading, sparring, training... all the works. But he is holding something back and he is certain Merlin knows just that.

 

[Kaisaan]

Oh, she hears that stutter and Merlin has to grin at it. Something has got Arthur worked up, - she doesn't remember him smiling so much - but seeing as he doesn't seem to be in distress, she doesn't comment on it - yet - and instead she measures her steps down to something reasonable, but she has no need to go more slowly than needed for while she is healing, she's not fragile and Merlin refuses to be treated as such unless her actions truly call for it. And they haven't for two weeks now. She questions him as he expects, but Merlin starts to frown at his sparse replies. They are not clipped like he is irritated or distracted like he has a great many things on his mind...they are just....small, without substance and she notes it immediately because that is not like Arthur. No, he is a man who will go on about nothing if he feels like it and often does.

Merlin has told him to shut up more than once, just as he's called her stupid more times than she can count. It's almost expected now.

So why is he so quiet now? She doesn't like it and as they near the doors that will lead to the dining hall, she stops and inevitably pulls Arthur to a stop as well. She pulls her arm out of his and crosses them, dark blue eyes narrowing in a potentially dangerous way as she searches his face and then speaks. "Something is wrong with you or you're not telling me something. What is it? I despise guessing games, Pendragon and you've been playing one for the last few weeks. What has got you stirred up?"

This is not the Arthur she recognizes and Merlin is not above admitting that she IS starting to know Arthur as she's not understood anyone else in her life. But then again, that seems to be why she's here and now the healer is entirely fed up with this dancing around a bush she is not even able to see. Has she done something? Has something happened? He doesn't act wary around her or unhappy, he's just...off. And Merlin doesn't like it in the least.

 

[Vacyr]

It's not the first time Arthur has been stopped by a beautiful woman, let alone sternly talked to by one. Sure, plenty of the Lords' daughters have fooled around with the Prince and once he starts becoming moody or acting in odd manners, they take matters into their own hands. Arthur, mostly just becoming angry at such a question, dismisses them without a second thought. Since they're only Ladies, they go with a furrowed brow. The Prince simply ignores them for a while until they apologize to him. To him for their wrongdoing. It's Arthur's life and how dare they take such a high matter in his affairs. But Merlin is no Lady. She has specifically said as such plenty of times.

So when she pulls him off to the side of the hallway, Arthur's body willingly follows. He has melted in her arm, a single touch from her skin creating buzzing in his own ears. She thinks he won't notice his rise in temperature, an increase in heartbeat, but all of his usual tactics cannot work on a healer. A simple look in his dark eyes and she will see the secret wrapped up like a gift that she cannot unravel. No. His tongue must do that in order for her to understand. When her arms cross her chest, so does his, the dark lines of his muscles shifting beneath the rougher feeling fabric than the silks he normally dawns.

"How --" Arthur almost says "dare you" but as soon as the words come to the tip of his tongue, he only knows that such a formal speech will only add an angry red to her lips and a deep fire to her eyes. That's not what his family will desire when eating dinner. "How do you know something is wrong with me, Merlin? We hardly know one another," turning form her, he tries to walk away but finds the lack of strength to do so. The harder he pushes against the air, the stronger this invisible steel becomes to his hands. "What have you done?" he sneers at her, turning around, his head tilted to the side, "Maybe, just maybe, I'm having a GOOD day!" his hands fly up above them both, baffled by her insisting nature that the way he is acting is negative, "You ever think about that?"

 

[Kaisaan]

Merlin knows she's in for a fight as soon as his arms cross to mimic her own, but Merlin is not daunted, nor is she scared of the consequences of arguing with the Crown Prince of Camelot and when he starts to speak, she arches a brow, giving him an almost warning look because she can practically HEAR the words he would say. When he doesn't, she gives him small points for learning something along the way in their fluctuating friendship. His arrogance is not so huge that he can't maneuver around his past mistakes and it is such moments like that, even in the midst of a heated debate or argument, even when she wants to strangle him, that gives Merlin hope for the Arthur she is starting to glimpse for the future.

"Oh, I know far more about you than you can guess at, Arthur Pendragon. I've known you before you even knew me!" Okay, so maybe wrong time to reveal that, but maybe the right time too since he most likely won't dwell on it considering she's not done speaking yet and his ire is up, his defenses high and only focusing on that anger and why he's angry. That might work to her advantage. Or not.

Merlin feels her own frustration spike as he moves to walk away from her and without thinking she throws up a telekinetic shield that blocks his exit, her expression hardening with a stubborn light in her gold eyes as he pushes against it and then turns back to her. The gold fades back to dark blue and she glares right back at him. "I've stopped a child from throwing a tantrum and stomping away. Answer my question! Do you honestly think I would bother you or risk making you angry if all you were was HAPPY?! Do you think that poorly of me!?" Merlin spat and she took a step toward the Prince, dark eyes smoldering with fire.

"Of course I think about your happiness! Is there anyone in this bloody Kingdom who doesn't!? But you're not happy. You're confused and troubled and fighting yourself and you haven't gotten a decent night of sleep in days! You're distracted and you hardly speak! That is not the annoying, full of himself, talkative, clotpole I've come to know! You don't want to tell me what's wrong, fine, but don't insult my intelligence by claiming that I don't know you well enough to see something has agitated you."

 

[Vacyr]

Arthur raises his head at the mention of Merlin knowing him for longer than he could ever know. For a short moment, he thinks that she is simply just spitting out random information her mind makes up and it doesn't count as anything. But then, he knows in his heart, that these words are true. He is adamant in finding out what exactly she means, no matter what his mind is whispering into his ear. Merlin is always angry, so very angry, when she uses his whole name. Not just Arthur or Pendragon but Arthur Pendragon. Never the less, Arthur's eyes turn quickly from the shock that flutters through his core to an angrier one. She has crossed a line.

"Have you just called me a child? Tell me how I'm being a child right now? How do you know I was even walking away, Merlin? I could have just been ... been..." he flicks his wrist to the ground, "making a circle to collect my thoughts. But you, oh you, Merlin, have forced your magic upon me and I do not and will not be taken as a fool. You and all that you are," he points in her direction, simply speaking as calmly as he can, "beauty and all, have teeth to your words. They bite and they snap at me, ripping my flesh that you heal so well with your gentle ancient talent. But I was happy today. So happy I escorted you from your own room only to be thrust into this. Whatever this might be."

"You may have healed my outside, Merlin, but you cannot and will never heal my insides. I don't sleep at night because every single time I close my eyes I see big, reddened teeth ripping apart my flesh. My body burns, not nearly as intense as when I first got them, but these scars taunt me so. Will you understand that? It's the price I have to pay for saving," oh how he emphasizes that word, "saved you from a sure death. Do you think I would mock your intelligence after nearly dying for you?" Stepping closer, Arthur still raises his voice but keeps nearly all of his anger at bay. He cannot grow too flushed even though his ears are already red hot with unexpressed anger, "And you don't know me, Merlin. No matter what fantasy you might live in. You do not know me."

 

[Kaisaan]

She's lost him to the anger. Merlin now knows he's not going to answer her and a great deal of her feels regret for even asking as it has come to this argument, but another part of her is adamant that she's done the right thing. He was NOT himself! She needed him to be the Arthur she knew, everyone needed that and if she didn't know what was wrong, she couldn't help! The fact that he was getting so defensive and worked up over her asking proved that something was wrong and she was not about to give up on finding out what it was. Not even if it made him pissed with her for months to come. Merlin resolved that to herself right then and there and her dark eyes gained a new stubbornness to them, a fiercer determination as she looked up at Arthur.

Still, his words hurt because she knows there is truth in some of what he says. Her words are so quick to lash out, she knows that. She has a fire-tongue as her father used to call it and Merlin knows that there are times she should dampen it before she speaks. The healer has not meant to hurt him and THAT she regrets. She remains stoically quiet as he speaks and only when he's done does she reply in turn but her voice is soft. The anger has suddenly, very suddenly died out of her words and the brunette looks down, but it's not in meekness. No, it's to collect her thoughts and when she finally has, she raises her eyes again, unafraid.

"You're right." Those words are sure to throw him off balance. "I shouldn't have called you a child and I shouldn't have stopped you when you tried to leave, because we both know that's what you were doing. I am sorry for that. I am sorry that my words have hurt you as that is not always my intention." Oh, sometimes it was, she would admit that. She wasn't a saint. Merlin takes a deep breath and continues and there is a hard set to her jaw as she forces herself to speak logically and not with the wild emotions running under her skin. There are many; anger, worry, frustration, fondness, fear and still more concern than she can convey into words.

"This is me being worried for you. Whether you choose to believe that or not is your choice. This is me wanting to do anything I can to make sure you are happy, truly so. I know what you see at night. I know the fear you feel. I know and see, and haunts me that I couldn't get to you in time, that I can't heal your mind and your heart as easily as I heal your body. I understand far more than you can yet comprehend and I don't even know how to explain to you. I do know you. I know you better than I know myself, better than I have ever known anyone in my life. You are the friend I never expected and I can't bear to see you suffer, Arthur."

Merlin is horrified to feel the wetness that trails down her skin and she raises her hand, brushing the tears away roughly. No, she won't cry. She won't have him thinking she's trying to manipulate him that way because she's not.

 

[Vacyr]

Arthur is ready for a spitfire of a fight, knowing how Merlin can be when she gets riled up. At least he assumes he knows what she will do. So when she agrees with him, Arthur actually continues on with his growling, "Oh yeah right, Merlin," he starts off, cutting himself off after his brain concludes what Merlin has said. She isn't fighting against him? His face sinks, much like a sinking ship heading towards the horizon, his mind suddenly becoming far away again. He stares once again, this new part of Merlin, the part of her agreeing with him, throwing him into the stars with his thoughts, unable to gain any barring on reality. It's like he has been drugged, her words spilling form herself in intricate patterns. Then her tears show to be on the verge of spilling down her face.

"You're worried for me?" Of course Arthur knows this, the way she rushes to his side whenever he is injured, wishing for everyone and everything to stand clear while she deals with him personally. She even walked, or stumbled, to his room after the bear incident, eager to heal him even though it could have very well meant her own death. If Arthur hadn't seen the pale gold becoming red, she might not be here right now. He, certainly, would still be crippled in that bed of his, warding off both injury, infection, and fever. But Merlin came to his side and now, now he has made her cry. His heart hardens in his chest, not wanting to show weakness for her tears. He hates it when women cry. But this is no ordinary woman.

Reaching out for her wet cheeks, Arthur cups her face in his palm, smiling gently. Any anger has dissipated from his persona, even his feet carrying him higher into the world. "Then I suppose I should thank you, Merlin. You're... I..." he removes his hand from her cheek, not knowing what to think of the way the tears fall. Is she indeed one of those women who can cry upon command just to get their way? Well, she is a commoner and no noble woman. The nobles manipulate but the commoners have been known to be quite honest in everything they do. And, of course, it's Merlin they're talking about so what reasons would she... well she would have plenty of reasons to manipulate the querulous Prince. "No, I should be apologizing, Merlin. I was being childish so lets agree to just drop the whole stupid manner. At least for right now. My parents are waiting for us."

 

[Kaisaan]

Merlin snorts softly at his words and when he moves his hand away, her face warm from the heat of such a gesture, she shakes her head. "Of course I am worried for you, you clotpole." She mumbles it and though a few more tears slide down her cheeks, Merlin pays them no heed anymore and her eyes glitter fiercely once more when she looks back into his brown ones. No, she's not manipulating. She's the same spitfire Merlin he knows and she's not nearly ready to just let him think she won't pursue this. She will. "It's not stupid for me to want to know what plagues you so much, but I will let the topic alone for the night as you wish, Prince Arthur."

And like that she slips into the role everyone here wants from her, her dark blue eyes dulling and her expression becoming neutral. It's not a transition Arthur's ever actually witnessed first-hand. She will be polite and gracious and smile when she's supposed to and answer as she's supposed to. She will call everyone by their royal names and she will stay as much in the background as she can....though, now that she thinks about it, WHY has SHE been invited to a family dinner? Merlin looks away from Arthur and even as she carefully wipes the last of the wetness from her face, she frowns.

She walks toward the door, but doesn't ask what she wants to; had she done something wrong? Was someone ill? Why would she be called to a Royal Dinner?

Now Merlin is nervous as she and Arthur enter and her eyes flicker around at those at the table. She avoids Morgana's gaze because she knows she will find nothing comforting there, but looks to the King and Queen with a question burning in her eyes that she can't hide all that well even as she takes her seat after bowing respectfully to both of them. She won't speak until spoken to, though, as is protocol of someone of her standing.

 

[Vacyr]

Leading Merlin through the double doors, Arthur keeps a steady eye on her, making sure that all of the tears are wiped from her face before she moves into the line of noticeable sight for his father, mother, and sister. Luckily for the Prince, Merlin has made sure that all evidence has been removed from her face and Arthur can finally stop glancing her way for he too is assured that nothing will go wrong. The last thing he wishes is for any member of his family to think the worst when it comes to seeing tears on a woman's face. So with the King's good graces, aimed at Merlin for her healing abilities for herself and Arthur, King Uther makes a toast before Merlin even has the chance to settle into her chair, Arthur waiting to push it in once she is ready.

"...so raise your goblets to Merlin." Uther ends his speech, the stone cup within his hand bringing itself to his lips so that he may take a long drink from it. It will, for one, clear his mind, and two, make himself more honest. Uther has a horrible habit of twisting his words so that his Kingly manner rules over all. But sometimes, even a King just wants to sit back and get to know one of his subjects. High spirits are felt on this night, Arthur's eyes more than once glancing over to Merlin's. Perhaps he is just making sure she won't cry again or they just happen to catch one another at the most opportune of times. Arthur doesn't think too hard on it, him and Morgana quickly fusing into another small argument.

This night is dedicated to Merlin and Uther is certain he will have it no other way. Since, although it will put a damper on his plans, this letter sitting next to his plate must be read. When he is ready and all the family has eaten and chattered their fill, Uther snaps his fingers, calling over the orator and handing the boy the parchment. The red haired boy clears his throat and opens up the scrolled letter, reading it quickly to himself before the attention of the room settles itself back to him.

 

[Kaisaan]

Merlin relaxes a bit when the reason for the dinner makes itself apparent in Uther's speech and while color comes to her cheeks as she studies everything but the family members, her embarrassment isn't crippling and she simply smiles a bit and thanks the King politely before sitting. The rest of dinner is uneventful, though Merlin does have to wonder WHY Arthur keeps looking her way like he expects something each time, but he eventually stops and she lets it go as unimportant, instead speaking with the King and Queen both about a few questions she has regarding Camelot and they wish to know more about Camiliard.

The tranquil atmosphere drops, though, as King Uther draws attention to a letter that he hands to a boy to read and Merlin feels a cold trepidation creep over her before the boy even opens his mouth, but when he starts to speak, that feeling turns to an icy dread, fear deep within her and she sits completely still, nails digging into her palms under the table and her complexion having gone nearly as pale as the snow that has been sprinkling the grounds of Camelot in the last few days.

"Greetings to Uther Pendragon of Camelot, King of all Southern Britain,

I write to you this day on a grave and important matter concerning one Emrysia Wyllt harbored within your great walls. I would caution you against trusting such a woman around your Royal Family. I knew the maiden as a child and it pains me greatly to say that she was never a trustworthy girl; always lying and stealing, coming and going like a wild thing and refusing correction or proper training. After her parents, the Lord Balan Wyllt, the Hand of the King and Lady Eylsa, died and I took her into my home, she continued her rebellious ways, causing great grief to my own family, my son especially who regarded her as a dear friend before she disappeared.

She has been missing for six years now and I was greatly relieved to hear she had been found, but I regret that my letter to you can not be of happier tiding, for though I care for this young woman greatly as I did her father before her, she must return to her home as a prisoner.

The Lady Emrysia has been charged with crimes against the Northern Kingdom of Britain. Failure to keep an oath sworn to the Crown and further failure in her healing duties in Walweitha, abandonment of her people have made her guilty of disobedience to her King and for this she must face the charges set against her back in her native land. I would entreat the King of the South to heed my request that Lady Emrysia be given over to her own people.

I await your wise judgement and reply to this query. May your family be blessed.

Lot Wolfsbane of Walweitha, King of all Northern Britain."

The boy went silent, stepping back respectfully and the silence in the room couldn't have been more oppressive if they'd been in a tomb. Merlin felt each breath she took rattle in her lungs when she remembered to breathe and the healer, usually so full of fiery passion, merely stayed seated, paler than a spirit, trembling like a leaf and her mind spinning. She felt anger, such intense anger that it made her eyes nearly black with the rage, but the rest of her felt terror and it was that fear that kept her pinned, that kept her silent.

 

[Vacyr]

King Uther stays silent for a long moment, a hand carefully stroking his beard as his mind whirs out of control on what exactly to say to King Lot, King of all Northern Britain. Uther knew that this letter would bring bad news, his son telling him of the Knight who had stolen Merlin from them as soon as he was well enough to do so. King Uther hates to ruin the festivities of the night but how was he to know what the letter pertained to? It was simply addressed to him and stamped with a seal of another King, the Northern seal. For all the southern King knows, it could have been an invitation or a hand of alliance from those who are rebellious under the throne of Pendragon. Even though the two Kings never quite saw eye to eye, Uther was hoping for a signal of peace but alas, any hopes of such festivities aren't coming to life. If anything, war will ensue.

Throughout the reading of the letter, Arthur doesn't even look to Merlin, not even once. He remembers the feeling he had gotten when he first realized that it was a woman, a mere woman, who had healed him in the most spectacular of ways. Yet she is a woman and Arthur returns to those gut feelings of distrust and even anger for all this King Lot has said. He is, after all, royalty and from one King or Prince to another King, it's a matter of honorable trust when looking at these words. Will Camelot believe a peasant over her King? No. And when Arthur looks to his father, he sees that one vein pop out of Uther's head, deep thought following the suffocating silence of the room. Even Morgana doesn't spit out any of her words, her hands simply folding upon her lap and her eyes looking to her mother. Igraine takes Uther's palm underneath the table, linking her fingers with her husbands, a comfort that Arthur has yet to feel with the hand of any woman who cares for him as much as his parents care for one another.

"My family, Lady Merlin, you are all dismissed from dinner. But before you leave, Merlin, I would like a word about this letter," he places his open palm in the air so that the boy can place those written words there. His fingers wrap around it, "Simply tell me of its... weight in your life." placing his chin on his hands, the King waits patiently for Merlin to speak, "Do any of these words ring true?" the sound of scraping chairs rings through the hall, Igraine is the first to get up, followed by Morgana. But Arthur, dear Arthur, stays seated for a moment after his father speaks to Merlin. He doesn't want to hear whether these words are lies or truth. His life, he knows, will be better off not knowing. So he stands too, bowing to his father before starting to exit the room. Stopping at the doorway, he listens to what Merlin has to say, a good portion, before frowning and knowing that it might as well be a lie. All of it. Every single moment. But what is she after?

 

[Kaisaan]

Merlin feels like she can't breathe past the weight in her chest and she doesn't watch the other members of the Royal Family leave. No, no, she doesn't watch Arthur leave because she can already feel the curling rejection settle inside her, the distrust that exudes from him in waves and she can't stand to see it on his face yet, deep in his brown eyes. So she focuses on Uther because in the end, it's him she has to convince...and yet, even if she does, it might all be for naught and she knows it. She might be sent back anyway and this time she won't be escaping again, of that she is sure. She is also certain that if she goes back, it will be a dead Northern King Uther and his family hear word of sooner than later, that she silently vows. She won't go back to him willingly, nor be subject to his whims.

"King Uther, the weight of those words hold my life or death, though, perhaps not in the context you would think." The healer takes a deep breath and she forces herself to uncurl her fists, to stop shaking and look the King in the eye. She doesn't have anything to lie about, she never has. She just hasn't volunteered information either, but that is not the same as lying. "Some of them are true, your Highness. It is true that I ran from King Lot and in his eyes I abandoned my people, but that is only a half-truth. My mother was a druid and therefore her people are mine as well just as my father's people were. I chose to go with my mother's people when I was seventeen, hardly a child, and for that King Lot brands me a traitor. I came to the King of the North when I was fifteen, still not a child, and I swore no oath to him. That is a lie."

It was still her word against his and Merlin closed her eyes, knowing this was getting her nowhere. She could tell them anything she liked and there was no proof of who was lying and who was truthful. King Lot had played his hand cleverly, but perhaps not cunningly enough. Only time would tell. "King Uther...nothing I say can prove that I am innocent of most of the charges set before me. I did lie to King Lot. I lied to him when I helped someone he'd not told me I could. I stole the herbs and bandages I needed to treat the people he didn't care for. I came and went as I pleased just as I do here and...and I didn't take correction or training from him because it was abuse."

The healer looked far more determined now, anger bubbling just below the surface and she suddenly realized that no matter what was decided here, SHE knew the truth and she knew she'd never be subject to Lot again. She'd die first...hell, she'd run from Camelot if she had to before she'd go back. "I was not a ward in King Lot's household. I was a slave, I was a prisoner. I hold more power than just that which heals, King Uther. I have not made it public in your Kingdom for fear of the same treatment I received in Walweitha, and the only grief I caused King Lot was when I fled and took my power with me."

 

[Vacyr]

"Say no more, Merlin," Uther instructs her much like a professor would his student, his hand even coming out in front of him to silence any more words that may flow from her mouth, "but do not stop thinking about your past. I calmly beseech you to remove yourself from my hall. But," his finger rises, "Not from my castle -just- yet," his head tilts down and a shadow of a smile comes across his face for a quick moment. Stroking his beard, Uther pauses before continuing onwards, "for I wish you to write me a letter in your own hand that pertains to why you are innocent in this case. I do not wish to elicit judgement just yet for you, I am certain, have quite the story to tell. And only half of it has just flown from your mouth. With that said, I dismiss your from my halls for once I have both parchments only then will I proceed in my thoughts upon whether Camelot shall still be your home or not."

Leaning back against his chair, King Uther has her take three steps of uncertainty before he speaks again, "But!" his finger rises yet again, sprinkling imaginary truth upon the table, "I'll have you know that even though King Lot is a brother of mine, of course not by blood but of status, I should be seen to listen to his... dialogue here," he pats the scrolled letter, "but if you bring me evidence of your words, then my judgement shall be swift upon your old King than you. So think carefully upon what you wish to say to me for it can be the difference between life and death. If you wish it, I will even allow you to return to Camiliard and bring back those who will speak in your defense. Alas, you shall be escorted by my men, naturally, but you will gain way to your side of the argument. Will that satisfy you, Lady Merlin?"

If her answer is yes or no, King Uther nods his head in a regal manner, his eyes not leaving the healer. "I have trusted you with my life over and over again. I don't see why you would fail me now." well, perhaps thats his little way of telling her he hopes she can bring him the written response as soon as possible so that he may approve hers instead of King Lot's. After all, the other King hardly has enough sway as it is with revolts up near Camelot's upper regions. Though, socially, he has to at least look as if he is considering this decision a great deal. When his mind is made up, they will all have their answer to whether Merlin stays or goes. It could be weeks, minutes, or months, after receiving her letter.