Where Legends Begin

[Kaisaan]

She wanted to feel hope. Uther was being more than gracious in this matter, with such a charge placed against her, but the healer could feel nothing but the cold numbness of panic and dread as it curled through her like an old friend.

Merlin accepts the King's word quietly and when she is excused, she exits calmly, but it doesn't last for as soon as she is out of sight the King's eyes, she flees. Her swift feet tear down the halls and the brunette doesn't stop until she gets to her room - is it hers? Did "halls" mean she was to stay in the city now? - sliding down against the door as she shuts it, sobs pulling at her chest, wracking her frame as she curls around her knees. Rage and fear battled for dominance within her and her power lashed out with it, shattering the vases in the room, spilling water and flowers all over the floor and tables. She curled her fingers into her arms, teeth grit when she looks up and then stands abruptly, starting to pace.

No, no she couldn't fall apart. That wouldn't help. She wouldn't let herself become helpless again. She wasn't fifteen anymore. It had been a long time since her father's death, even longer since her mother's. She was not helpless anymore and she refused to be so ever again. There was always a way out, something she could do, an escape.

Merlin's dark blue eyes searched the room as if it would give her answers, but she knew she'd have to settle her thoughts before she'd come up with anything useful. It was hard, though, so hard when she was so angry. She knew. She KNEW coming here, giving them her real name, staying had been a bad idea. She'd stayed hidden for six years - SIX - and now she'd been found, she was going to be dragged back into the very hell she'd fled and hid from all those years ago. King Uther was correct, she'd not even told half the story and she wasn't sure she could, not anymore. If she wrote the letter...then what?

It was still her word against a King's. And what if Uther did believe her? Would he want her in the same way that Lot had? Would he crave to control what she could do if only he knew of it? Would they ever truly trust her again? And Arthur... Merlin bit her hand to hold back a sob, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Stars above, why did the thought of him hating her, distrusting her hurt so very much? No, no she already knew the answer. Because she was his. To what extent, for how long or why...she didn't know, but her heart beat in rhythm with his, her power cooperated fully for no sake but his and she didn't know why, but such was the fact since her coming her. And the thought that he wouldn't want her near him...

Merlin closed her eyes, head resting against the bedpost and when she opened them again, it was to stare into space, something becoming clear to her in her panic. She had to leave. No matter what it made her look like, no matter how it hurt...she had to leave.

 

[Vacyr]

Throughout the walk back to his room, Arthur mumbles to himself, his arms flying up in the air at this thought and that. She had manipulated him and he was certain of it from the very beginning. She made the whole of Camelot fall into her hands, smiling as she healed this man and mended that wrist or ankle with ease. Merlin, in everyone else's eyes just seemed to be doing her job. But in her eyes, Arthur is certain, she was scheming to even take down this Kingdom herself if she had to. Yes, his thoughts do get a little crazy and that's the extent of it - Merlin being an assassin, her job to gain the trust and then slaughter the entire royal family. Arthur stiffens at the idea, the prospect of such a plan. She had the perfect opportunities throughout the months she has stayed in Camelot.

On the mountain, she could have pushed Arthur off the rocky cliff, his eyes closed and in prayer to the higher spirits. Did she? No... she didn't. But once that thought, the defending factors, start to flood in, Arthur feels himself betray his initial emotions. King Uther always told him to trust his instincts and, clearly marked as so, he distrusted Merlin from the very beginning. Was it all fabled that he could have made a connection to this healer that he has never made with any other woman? When she draws near, he feels her warmth settle underneath his skin like liquid vapor from sizzling pans. Did Merlin have any idea of how Arthur feels towards her? Being overly protective and even more so now that she has come into contact with, well they both have come into contact with, the bear? Oh how his mind is doing summersaults in his skull.

"I just need to sleep this off," he ponders aloud, reaching his own door but stopping before he enters. Looking down the dimly lit hallway and past the two pairs of guards around his door, Arthur feels a pull in that direction. Merlin needs him. He can feel something calling out to him as if he were a cloud in the sky and she were a bird. Instead of listening, Arthur tries to shut that small song down, simply shaking his head and moving through the door into his own room. Once there, he sits at his desk for a while, a finger tapping at his chin and stroking the neatly cut hairs that are there. But soon enough he grows tired of sitting and stands, pacing around his room. His mind never, for a moment, leaves Merlin and all he has observed from her time present in Camelot. When he has had enough of the dull air of his room, he moves out onto his own little balcony, the side of his body able to be seen from Merlin's window. Leaning his arms against the stone, Arthur just stares off into the starry night.

 

[Kaisaan]

She's not taking anything but that which she came with. The clothes on her back, another change of them in her pack, her bow, a few odds and ends that came with her from Camiliard - she's not even taking food. She will not steal from these people, from Arthur's family because no matter what they will say about her, she doesn't want them to be able to say that she stole from them, that she did anything to harm them or shame their hospitality to her. No, when Merlin goes out to her balcony, she looks as she does when she arrived, but contrary to how she arrived, she plans to depart in secret. When she gets to the railing, Merlin climbs up, perched for a moment like her namesake before she simply jumps.

The fall could kill her - would kill her if she were anything but abnormal - and as it is, when Merlin comes rushing up toward the ground, she slows her own descent and her feet touch down as if she were a fairy alighting upon a flower petal. Her hair falls all around her and for a moment she doesn't see her surroundings as her eyes burn gold, the energy it took to do such a thing making her breath heavily. Once she pushes past the tiredness and pushes her hair back as well, her gold eyes take in the courtyard carefully and then a nagging feeling makes her look up. Her eyes immediately find Arthur and Merlin inwardly curses even as their eyes meet across the distance. Hers are full of regret, fear, apology and a cloying sadness that will not soon leave.

And then she is leaving, darting away under his very gaze because now that she's started, she can't think to stop. Maybe it's better that he sees her. That he will hate her. If he made the dislike known loud enough, then she couldn't ever be used against him, he wouldn't be used against her. Not if King Lot thought there was nothing between them. Yes, this is what Merlin tries to comfort herself with as she flees, unworried about guards or gates or walls.

She did say she could do much more with her power than heal, did she not?

 

[Vacyr]

Whatever thoughts the Prince is having are interrupted by the pitter patter of shoes, or more likely boots, upon the cobble of the courtyard. Looking in that direction, giving it a small glance, the Prince merely shrugs, thinking that its just another person moving from the castle to the outer ring of Camelot. But after a short moment, his eyes moving to the stars, Arthur feels the urge to look again at the shadowed image walking to the gatehouse. Yes, thats when their eyes meet. Brown and gold colliding into one another and reveling in the baths they bathe in. The Prince simply stares until she breaks eye contact all the way from across the starry skylit courtyard. In a moment, a tumble of feelings come through his body.

He immediately knows what she is doing and he can't really blame her. If he were in her treacherous position, he too would break free from the confines that were around him. But can she really survive in the forest all alone? Does she have the skill set needed to hunt and fend herself from the creatures of the wood? Arthur worries for her safety as he did hours before the thought of dinner popped into his mind and his choice of bringing Merlin down himself. What was he thinking? Truly something, or an array of something's, have pressed into him, causing him to act so foolishly. But now seeing her slip from his sights, Arthur feels his engines start and before he can think upon it, he is running to his desk.

Pulling his quill from the inkwell, he finds and scribbles down on a sheet of parchment - Finding Merlin - so that his family will know where he has gone to. Pulling his cloak from the back of his chair, he skids over to his wardrobe, looping his sword around his hip as he darts from the room. The large wooden door slams back on metal hinges, the sound of clattering footsteps in the hallways from his large boots. Dodging servants and bypassing guards is the easy part, Arthur darting out into the courtyard with a flag of red following his sprint, but finding her will be the trouble. He isn't thinking of why he is stopping her from leaving but just acting upon instinct like a bear would. Logic is too complex and it would only slow him down. He needs Merlin here. That's all he is certain of.

 

[Kaisaan]

Getting past the guards is rather easy. They know her and when she gets close to them in greeting, all it takes a simple touch and she sends them into sleep. No harm is done to either of them and she's allowed to slip into the outer ring. This one is where the Nobles stay, where most of the guards stay and Merlin is very careful where she turns. She's knows this place, though, these streets by now and she clings to the shadows like a wraith. Anyone who does happen to see her - guards - are put to sleep like the others and Merlin knows she's leaving behind a small trail of slumbering bodies, but it's not something she can help at the moment.

The only thing she has to worry about right now is whether or not Arthur has already sent guards after her, alerted the Kingdom and she keeps glancing over her shoulder for that reason, dreading the possibility of discovery.

Camelot's Knights are the best at protecting their monarchs from enemies and they are far more observant than Lot's men ever were. Still, they aren't looking for an enemy in Merlin so when she approaches, they don't treat her like one. Lucky for them, she means them no harm and merely goes on her way, once again making it out another ring, into the town. Here she can relax just a little as there are late night walkers about and Merlin simply blends in with them, pulling her cloak up and walking with some purpose down the streets. Just another person on an errand. No notice is paid to her until, nearly an hour later, she comes upon the very last wall of Camelot. It's towering and massive, thick and nearly impenetrable. And it doesn't let anyone in or out at night...unless it be a member of the Royal Family. Merlin doesn't need to break it down, though and she doesn't need to go to the guards either.

Her eyes glow gold again and she searches outward, moving along the wall until she finds a place least guarded, the night-watch changing shifts. Mustering energy she doesn't really feel she has, the brunette does the reverse effect of what she'd accomplished on her balcony. Instead of going down, though, she goes up and lands on the rampart in a crouch. It's a simple matter of running across the stone then and to the other side before she jumps. Her landing is a bit less graceful this time as she stumbles, exhaustion kicking in, but Merlin doesn't stop to catch her breath...not until she comes to the river that acts as a moat.

Her dark blue eyes take it in with a groan and Merlin feels like crying again as she observes the distance, biting her lip hard enough that she nearly draws blood. By the heavens, she hates water. The bridge is not too far away, but the guards manning it...she's not sure she can get past them now, not when she can already feel how depleted she is. The last thing she wants to do is undo all the work nearly a month of healing has done her. She can't afford to push to far right now and it's frustrating.

Perhaps she should just find the narrowest part of the river and go from there...

 

[Vacyr]

Arthur, hearing the clatter of plated greaves against their poleyne's, turns around to find more guards than he is comfortable with. Seeing their Prince in such a state of distress, he curses himself for not realizing they would follow him until he shoos them away. Turning tail, he lifts his hands up to them, plastering a fake smile to his lips as he tries to convince them that all will be fine. "I just require a ride around Camelot's green," the Prince frantically says, stepping backwards as if he were fending of a sick dog, "I'm fine. Just remove yourselves from me and return to your posts." They surround him, unmoving. Arthur lets out an exhausted breath, the wheels turning in his head, "Do as I say or else you all will be eating out of the sewers before dawn." If that doesn't stick in their skulls, he isn't sure what will. One by one, the guards fall away from the crescent around Arthur.

Smiling, the Prince starts up his dash once more. He feels as free as a bird, not having the clatter of heavy plated sheets behind him to weigh him down. Moving to the stables, Arthur thinks about strapping on a saddle but figures if he is going to catch Merlin - he better start gaining on her. Moving to any old warhorse, he pats the head of the chocolate mare before leaping up and clambering on to the bare backed beast. Without reigns or a proper saddle to keep him there, Arthur buries himself against the muscle, holding on tight against its belly and mane. "Yah!" he commands, the mare responding with excellency to the Crown Prince of Camelot and together they barrel from the gates in what seems like fifteen minutes since he had seen her. She could be anywhere!

Groaning to himself, Arthur passes the moat and finds nothing but the solitude of swaying grasses. It's going to be impossible to find her. Dammit. His teeth bar against his lips, that strong jaw of his becoming tight with an unspent rage or perhaps a sheltered worry for her and her safety. "Come on, Merlin. Where the hell are you?" The mare underneath him bobs her head in one direction, making her way up to a gallop. Fraction after fraction they ride, Arthur knowing that they are traveling in the right direction. He has always been one to listen to his gut and right now, things are looking positive. It's like he can smell that lavender on her from her preparation for dinner. But surely that was so long ago the smell must have faded by now. It's simply his imagination. That's all.

 

[Kaisaan]

Merlin had indeed found the narrowest part of the river and while she's made her nose bleed and the gold of her power grow paler than it should, she's now across the moat and making her way toward the forest. Crossing at the narrowest part of the river has set her closer to the treeline than going over the bridge would have done and unbeknownst to Merlin, she hits the forest as Arthur is galloping over the grasses toward the same destination. Once the healer hits the woodland, she feels relief, feels as if the nature around her is welcoming her back into its folds like a mother would a child returning home from a long, tedious journey. This is a home to her, as it is to her mother's people and Merlin is more than capable of looking after herself in this environment - far better than she ever did in a courtly one.

She moves through the trees and the underbrush with relative ease despite the darkness that shrouds everything and though most would call her stupid for doing so, Merlin decides to stop for awhile. She knows very well that most would say she's risking being caught, but Merlin knows the opposite is true. Pursuers think that a human on the run is like an animal; going and going and hiding in fear until they drop from exhaustion. The druids had taught her to retrain intelligence and humanity even on the run. If she climbed a tree right now and stayed there until the Knights below passed her by, they'd think she was long gone by now.

And hounds? It paid to be able to control animals, especially domesticated ones and those hounds were far more responsive to her than they were their own trainers. Merlin spoke to them as one of them and dogs were loyal to pack members, of which they saw the healer as one. No, Merlin wasn't especially worried anymore as she climbed the oak tree, going into the thickest of the branches and letting them cradle her as she caught her breath. She was exhausted, but that sheer tiredness was keeping her from thinking of things she'd rather not and for that she was grateful.

The last thing she wanted was to think about Arthur right now. Her chest already hurt enough as it was.

 

[Vacyr]

"We're never going to find her," Arthur breathes, his pulse shallowing as they trot into the trees and away from the castle. The flickering lights of various lanterns or torches fades and fades the further they explore the forest. A whispering wind caresses Arthur's bare face, kissing his cheek and giving him the strength he needs. He, for one, never likes the forest at night. It's a dangerous place to be for many bandits lurk in the shadows, waiting for their chance at a pretty penny for ransom. He knows his knights won't simply return to their posts, they'll ready themselves for a night ride, coming after Merlin and Arthur. Their lives, after all, rely on ensuring the Prince's safety. For some, those chosen few, it also covers Merlin's life too.

With his hand defensively on his sword, knuckles wrapped around the handle until they grow white, Arthur keeps trekking his way through the dense trees. All the leaves have fallen from the trees at this point, not giving Merlin nearly as much cover as she may wish. But Arthur is sure that she will work with her surroundings. She, after all, used to live in a crappy little village in the middle of no where. But can she survive the winter cold? Arthur wraps his cloak closer to his warm center, heart starting to race when he hears a rustling in the brush off to the side of the pathway he now walks on. Swallowing, the Prince scans the scene in front of him. He will be thankful if he sees a pair of yellow eyes, a wolf? Bear? Anything other than a band of humans. Sure, he might be able to take one or two out but he will fall if there are too many of them. Not even he can fend off an entire army.

When his steed starts to become a bit antsy, Arthur smooths his hand over her mane, shushing her gently. "All will be well, all will be well," he whispers, trying to convince himself at the same time. Then he catches onto that special scent - lavender. The Prince's head snaps up quickly, his tired eyes being jolted back to life, flickering quickly and he stops the mare below him. "Steady..." he breathes again, the water vapor from his warm body spilling outwards to greet the chilly air in wafts of thick white clouds. "Come on, Merlin, where are you," Arthur mutters, hand still on his sword.

 

[Kaisaan]

Merlin becomes aware of the clopping of hooves on the dirt, a subtle sound, but pretty loud in the quiet of the night forest and she moves very slowly to rearrange her limbs so that she's looking down. Sudden movement could attract as much attention as a loud noise or an odd shape, the druids have taught her that as well and so Merlin draws on the things she'd learned from them now as she searches the forest floor, waiting to see if the lone rider comes toward her or not. She's just about ready to relax, seeing nothing, but the sudden appearance of a horse and a man atop makes her still, eyes narrowing as she works through the darkness to try and see if she recognizes him.

Wait. That sword. Oh, no. She knows that sword, that frame, that hair and then he looks up and the moonlight through the trees hits his face and Merlin feels mind sink even as her heart soars. It's an odd contradiction and such a strange feeling that she tries not to think of it and instead debates what she should do now. She can't just...leave him here! She has friends, allies among the trees. She belongs here like he never will and this place welcomes her, cradles her and will do so even in the harshness of the changing seasons. This place will not be kind to Arthur, though, and she feels that protective instinct, the overwhelming urge to make sure he's safe come over her again. The healer bites her lip, debating, trying to determine what she can actually do without revealing herself and getting dragged back to Camelot.

Such thoughts are cut short, though, when a faint snarl reaches her ears and Merlin looks down again, focusing to see gray shapes slinking out of the underbrush. One snarls again, teeth gleaming, fur silver in the moonlight as it advances on the agitated mare and the Prince. Merlin curses as the wolves bristle and growl horribly, knowing exactly why they are here. Yeah, she'd appreciate their protection, but not against Arthur! Knowing she can't help him unless she draws attention to herself, the brunette rolls her eyes to the heavens and then leaps down from the tree. She lands between the two parties in a crouch with a snarl at her lips.

"Jaseve jacion." Leave him.

The command leaves her in a rumble and the wolves pin their ears back, displeased, but they slink back into the forest with nary another sound and Merlin is left to stand slowly and turn even more slowly toward Arthur. She crosses her arms in a defensive manner already and gives him a glare. "Why in the world are you out here without an escort?"

 

[Vacyr]

The wolves know to protect Merlin for she has done them, nor ever will, do them any harm if she can help it. Sure, if she kills one of them for food, they might hold a grudge for a bit but soon they, just like a big family, shall forgive her. If she hunted for game ruthlessly, well, that would be a different story. But they know, as all good animals do, that acceptance of the Druids are key. They are a collected society of people, unlike the ruthless knights who come barreling through this forest, hacking down trees so that they can build their catapults or frames for their lofty homes. Some animals try and live in the comfort of the warm walls but those humans beat them out with brooms or sticks, screaming at them such unkindly words that the animals run, fearing for their very lives.

But Merlin is not like that so the wolves close in on Arthur, knowing he is looking for her. They can smell his fear radiate off of him although it has staled from first entering these trees. The Prince stands lofted in his saddle and when he hears a howl, the sword unleashes itself from his sheathe, holding it at the ready for any moving figures jumping up to take him down. His poor heart has skyrocketed by this point and his old wounds, although all healed, burn like the radiation from the sun. Arthur knows that Merlin is close so he raises his sword, the steed underneath him neighing in her own freight. "Woah there," Arthur tries to calm the beast, her hooves stomping into the ground, knowing she too must save Arthur.

Then, suddenly, the blackened howls of the wolves, ready for an attack, cease and scampering from his spot can be heard. But what could have made them turn tail so fast? Arthur rolls his eyes at such an internal question. Merlin. He breathes for he vaguely remembers her talking to her bird, the one who signaled Arthur himself to where she had been captured. She has more powers than just healing - he has heard that plenty of times. So when she shows up in front of him, Arthur nearly throws himself from the saddle. All his time worrying and Merlin was lofted up in the trees, enjoying the breeze? He huffs as such a prospect, wanting to be angry but knowing if he were in her shoes, he would have done the same.

"What are you doing out here?" he yells, replacing his sword at his hip, the sound of the silver blade shushing the forest with a steely whisper so that the two may speak. The ground shakes underneath Arthur's boots, his eyes wide with frustration for what Merlin as done on this night. "Running away?" he reflects quietly, his tone growing once more, "Running away? Do you know that you could have been killed in these woods by yourself? I'm not just talking about the bloody animals? What if that letter was a trap, Merlin? Huh?" Arthur doesn't stop his rampage of thoughts, a cascade of worry from his tongue, "I'm talking about bandits and slavers. You could have been captured! Killed! Don't you scare me like that again, do you hear? Never!" By the end of his rant, Arthur looks halfheartedly concerned, his chest heaving up and down and a hand between the two of them, palm facing him.

 

[Kaisaan]

Merlin watches Arthur warily, like a skittish dog, unsure if it will be struck. Arthur has never raised a hand to her, but he also has never chased her down in the middle of the night as she fled his home and his family. It's a new situation and while Merlin is usually stoic in the face of any new challenge, for some particular reason she can't muster up the same indifference with the Prince. He is different, has always been different and if he raises a hand to her this night...she won't stop him for she's broken her own spirit trying to leave him, she realizes that now, but also knows she can't go back on what she's chosen. For his sake, she has to leave. She does and she has to make him see that.

He's angry and he has right to be, but what Merlin doesn't expect is the concern and his words at the end...she feels her entire being flinch at having caused him that distress, but Merlin tries to steel herself and her dark blue eyes meet his brown with a weary, but stubborn expression. There is no anger, though and no beguile. Somehow her calm stubbornness should be more alarming for when Merlin argues while angry, she usually comes to her senses soon after and can cool down and admit she's wrong or the other person is right. But when she argues dispassionately... It's a different story.

"Arthur, the animals wouldn't have hurt me. You just witnessed that with the wolves. The bear wasn't after me, he was after you. Bandits don't worry me, I know how to avoid them and fight them, and slavers don't run this close to Camelot thanks to your father's ruling. I was hardly in danger from them." She addressed each reason for his coming to find her calmly, eerily so and then finally got to what she felt was important. "And the letter is a trap, I know that very well, but it's a trap that can capture in more ways than one."

Her jaw tightened, eyes flashing with the first hints of anger - actually a good sign in this instance - as Merlin continued. "I am running away, but it's not because I am guilty. It's because I know what Lot is capable of and I won't let him hurt me again or anyone else I care about. I HAVE to leave."

 

[Vacyr]

"You are doing no such thing, Merlin," Arthur sneers, his voice unforgiving for what he might do next. The bear inside of him, that angry rage that he can't just shake off like water off of a dogs fur, burns red hot. It's as if his body is his own cage, the shackles of reason trying to hold him back from striking her. If she were any other woman and not the one who has effected him so damn deeply, Arthur would already be laying down the law with them, a slap or two aimed that their face. His father is offering Merlin protection and she would rather die out in the forest than take it. Camelot can deal with King Lot, Arthur is sure of it. Sure, that might be a little self centered but it might as well be true. Arthur, Merlin knows, would fight for his Kingdom until his dying breath and that's what will make him a great King. No compromises.

Grabbing her wrist, Arthur sets down his own chains upon her body, the grip hot to her skin. Sweat has formed on his brow, causing the blonde strands to stick to his face from the long ride into the forest. "You'll damn well stay right here. I don't care if slavers don't run this close to Camelot. If you kept running, Merlin, you -would- run into their territory. If you keep moving North where the wild things lie, you will confront a gryphon out of all creatures or a golem! Something that won't listen to your precious power. You don't have to leave!" Arthur is shouting again, his grip unwavering and his feet planted into the ground just like the trees roots around him. "We can protect you. I can protect you."

Attempting to grab her by the shoulder, Arthur wants her to look at him. He gives her a good shake, remembering all that was said in that letter, "How much of it was true? You're not a spy are you? I mean... after all you have done, Merlin. I would be heartbroken to find that you, all this time, were playing us as if we were puppets. But that is something you would do, right? Amazing everyone with your powers and then fleeing from us like you always wanted. You never wanted to come to Camelot." right now he doesn't hear anything Merlin is saying, his own head spinning out of control, his grip tight still, muscles flexing through his clothing, "Don't you see that we can protect you? Do you think us that weak that we can't find a different way? You don't have to go," Arthur nearly pleads, his chest growing tighter than his grip, therefore his hands loosening ever so slightly on her biceps, "Not until you explain yourself. Properly. I'm not letting you go anywhere."

 

[Kaisaan]

He is wrong. Perhaps not about the slavers, but about the wild things, he is wrong and he doesn't even know it because she hasn't told him everything and Merlin feels sick with that knowledge. His grip on her wrist angers her, stabilizes her, frustrates her, comforts her and the world spins because she can't make sense of it. He's waking her, though, waking the anger and the fear instead of this numbness she'd been presenting and while it will make her spew fire at him, in the long run, that will be good, not bad for them both for there has not been a time since they've met that they haven't been at each other's throats in some way or another. And every time they come out better for it.

Still, the wild things is not what she addresses. He's not making anymore sense than she is and Merlin will speak of that, her ire rising because, dammit, he won't even let her speak! He says he can protect her and she feels her heart give a strange twist, but it doesn't deter Merlin from her self-imposed path. She opens her mouth to speak and then he shakes her and she sees red instantly, her patience snapping. When she speaks, it's in a raised tone and she will soon be yelling as he has done. "I am not a damn spy! How have I played you!? What I have asked for?! What I have tried to get from you that you would think I came seeking something?! YOU asked ME to come to Camelot! YOUR Knights wanted the best healer! I didn't volunteer! I told them to find someone else! I didn't want to come to Camelot! How does that add up to spy in your mind, Arthur Pendragon?! What point would there be for me to come, do what I have, save your life, help countless and then just leave!? What gain would I get from that!?" Does he even HEAR himself! Merlin is so furious she can hardly see straight and she wrenches against Arthur's hold, tears not of sadness, but rage and frustration and betrayal running down her face as she struggles to get free.

"You can't protect me! No one can! Don't you understand? I will not be the cause of a war! He will go to war for me, do you know that?" She stops struggling then as suddenly as she started, just staring at Arthur with wide eyes full of sudden terror and one has to wonder what can make the frequently fearless woman so scared.

"He won't stop until he has me again. I don't think you weak and I don't want to leave, but I have to. If I don't, he will hurt you and I can't bear that. I will not let him hurt you as he hurt me. I won't, so you must let me go. Please."

It is Merlin who is pleading at the end as she looks at Arthur and her biggest fears in that moment are that he won't release her...and he won't believe her.

 

[Vacyr]

"Don't give me that crap!" Arthur yells over her, his nose crinkling heavily from his tight jaw, "You, Merlin, are running from something here at Camelot. Why can't you just stay here and live in-instead of going out there like a fool and getting yourself killed?" Arthur growls, yanking her closer to him, his face mere inches from her own, his hot breath spilling over her like a desert wind. It's unrelenting though, this time around, not calming like it was in his bed those nights she healed him when they both fought death, "Yes, I had given you an option," he shakes his head, "but if you really didn't want to join us, why the hell did you say yes?" shaking his head, Arthur bars his teeth, showing them to Merlin just like a bear would, the guttural vibrations surfacing from his throat.

"You're playing us, I was certain of it from the beginning and I am even more certain now," he huffs out, his face pulling away from hers to look around him, finding inspiration in the trees, "You've found what you're looking for, Merlin!" and it all seems to fall in place for the Prince. Of course he has the wrong ideas but even those who are in the wrong don't realize it until after a conflict has been resolved. Or at least put on hold. When she asks him to let go, Arthur shakes his head sternly, "You've gotten whatever information you came to get. You had to play hard to get though," he nods at his own fabrication, "and now that you have it... you're fleeing. This letter of yours is showing you for the stowaway you are. You stole from King Lot, isn't that what the letter said?" its true that Arthur doesn't quite remember the specifics but he remembers something about her betraying that King, "storing yourself in the countryside. And you had the perfect opportunity to steal something else from another King."

He doesn't even realize that she has no bags on her. Arthur figures that she is hiding whatever she took, whatever information she now carries in the bookshelves of her mind, stored elsewhere. She is not stupid and he knows that. "Where is it?" he asks, half politely before seeing her confusion, "What did you take?!" is what he yells next, the birds flying from the trees at his projection, "What have you taken from Camelot?! Of course you healed us, you took care of us just so that you could get your hands on it. Jewels? Secrets? Layouts?"

 

[Kaisaan]

Certain from the beginning. Has he never trusted her then? The thought hurts in a way she never knew mere words could hurt and Merlin stares at the Prince she has grown so fond of, so devoted to with a stricken expression before it morphs to confusion and then anger, a fury that she no longer wants to contain. When her hands reach out this time and she shoves away from Arthur, it's with true power behind it, her eyes flashing gold as she rips herself from his grasp and then steps away, her voice like the hiss of snakes to match his bear-like growl.

"You are a fool." Her words are cold and vicious, and Merlin doesn't care what damage they cause anymore. At least her mind does not care. Her heart screams at her to stop, but it also hurts with the worst kind of ache and she's not willing to listen anymore. "You the biggest fool I have ever met! You can't even see what is right in front of you! You don't have the ears to hear the truth when it is spoken to you!" she screams at him and she's very careful that he not get near her again. Her body shakes with fear and adrenaline, and Merlin is like a creature ready to bolt if he should try to approach her again. Manhandling had never been the way to communicate with her and Arthur's gone too far.

Dark blue eyes sear into his brown, furious and hurt and raging like a storm. "I did find what I wanted when I came to Camelot. I found you, after searching for you for so long. But I didn't take you Arthur. You're here because you want to be. The only thing I have ever taken from you was your time and the only thing I have ever taken from your family and your people was their gratitude and words, their time and hospitality. In what way have I wronged you that you despise me so?" It's spat at him and Merlin shakes her head, fists clenched by her side, nearly ready to stop listening to him all together because it is not like he's listening to her either.

"I have taken nothing from you. I wanted nothing from you. I have not lied to you. I have not harmed you or yours in any way. That letter...if you would but listen to me and trust me, I could tell you what that letter means, but you have not the ears to hear."

 

[Vacyr]

"I am only protecting my Kingdom, Merlin!" Arthur retorts when she tags him a fool. He is a Prince, highly educated from the very beginning of life, a privileged Pendragon in the world. Surely if anyone here is a fool, it's the pagan woman. Has she grown up in the safety and comfort of Camelot's walls? Having the best minds come to his aid in assuring that he, the future King of Britain, has the smartest minds of them all? From childhood he has been taught the proper etiquette when at a feast both on his own turf or while residing at another Kingdom. What can Merlin defend herself with? The answer, at least in Arthur's angry mind, is nothing. Nothing! She has no rank and no status and therefore she is nothing but the dirt beneath his feet. No matter if she holds ancient powers or not.

But then again, angry people are not always wise ones. Arthur feels his eyes be burnt by Merlin's, crumbling like a leaf under a flame. Now only the crispy remains are left to be scooped up. They may lie in Arthur's hands, his pride stabbed deep, but he comes to the conclusion that, much like the creatures of the wood, he has lost this battle. The Prince turns his eyes away from her, not having any idea what to counter her words with. His hands are now empty, no flesh gripped between his fingers and his palms. Arthur stacks his arms on top of one another, his frown still against his lips but, for a moment, there is the hope that she will at least explain herself. It's small but he is sure that Merlin can see it.

"And how am I to believe you?" he asks her, his tone still sharp but at least he isn't screaming loud enough to send the birds into the sky. "For all I know, Merlin, this could just be another lie, another trick. How am I to know that you, all those times in the castle, all those times healing me, weren't just waiting for the right moment to strike. You could have pushed me off a damn mountain," his arm points to the higher ground to their left, "But you didn't and I started to think that maybe, just maybe, it was because you started to become a part of Camelot's family but now King Lot has informed us that you're a trickster. A thief. A liar," there is a pause, his his mouth flatlining before he breaks their eye contact, "How am I to trust your word, a woman I have barely known for half a year, over a King's word?" Arthur whispers, troubled to know his words are true. "Tell me that, Merlin. What the hell did you do?"

 

[Kaisaan]

Merlin senses the shift in atmosphere before Arthur even speaks and she settles just slightly, not trusting, but not ready to bolt at the slightest movement either. She might still run, but it's not such an intense desire right now as she listens to Arthur, seeing the beginning of a willingness to listen in his eyes. Now it is up to her to say something, anything that will make him believe the truth, to make him doubt a King who has never done anything but lie in Merlin's experience. Sure, Uther might pardon her, offer protection, but it's Arthur Merlin cares for, that she feels she must keep the trust with. He is why she's here and she wants to stay...but even if he believes her, she has to leave.

It hurts.

"You can believe me because deep down you know I wouldn't lie to you. I can't explain that instinct to you, though. You have to figure that out for yourself, just as I have and that has nothing to do with ancient power. It could be a lie, but it's not and it can't be another lie, because I have never lied to you." She shook her head, giving Arthur both an exasperated and yet fond look all rolled in one confusing tangle. "You contradict yourself, Pendragon. Either I am out to get you or I am not. As you said, I have had many opportunities and if I was going to harm you, what have I been waiting for? If I wanted to steal information, why wouldn't I have stayed with Jarin when I was captured? If I was a spy, I'd already have all I needed within a week of staying in your home. No, Arthur, I have never wished you or yours any ill will and I never will."

She knows this is not going to convince him and Merlin moves on. "Why does him being a King have anything to do with it? Is not a King a man, flesh and blood, faults and weaknesses just like any man? Is not a King capable of lying and manipulating and lusting and doing wrong? It is not a woman's word against a King's, Arthur. It's a woman's word against a man's. And how long have you known Lot? Have you ever met him? Spoken with him? From what I know he's been an unease neighbor who attacks your borders on a whim. You know me better than you know him, of that I am sure." the healer points out and then she shakes her head, running a hand back through her hair, fighting an inner demon as she pauses for a long moment, holding up a finger for quiet for she knows Arthur is prone to speaking when she does not, but she's not done and he's going to listen to her even if she has to scream over him.

"King Lot has informed you of many things in his letter, but where is his proof? You are so quick to accuse me over something he said, but it is no more than his word against me. Should you be so easily turned by mere words? You want to know what I did? I defied him." she hisses the word and smiles wryly, hurt and remembered pain, anger in her storm-ravaged eyes. "He wanted my power under his control, he wanted to make me into a killer, Arthur and I told him no. So this is what he did."

She's made up her mind and Merlin pulls her quiver from her back, dropping it and her bow to the ground. Heedless of the cold or of propriety, she reaches down and pulls her over-layer shirt off, leaving her in her nearly sheer undershirt and breast-band before she turns around and removes the undershirt as well, pulling her hair over her shoulder. There, in the moonlight, the whip scars covering her back from shoulders to lower back, dipping into her pants and wrapping around her rib-cage and stomach are clearly visible. They are layered upon each other, evidence of far more than one beating and in the middle of her back, right over her spine, is a brand mark of a wolf's head. Merlin's voice is far steadier than she feels as she shivers and trembles from more than just cold. "This is what Lot does to people who disobey him. He says that he took me in after my parents died, but that is a lie. He imprisoned me after he had my father killed."

 

[Vacyr]

"It has everything to do with him being a King, Merlin! You don't understand because you weren't brought up in civilization. A proper household with proper servants and teachings. You have it all wrong, Merlin," Arthur growls, shoving a finger in her direction but not daring to step too close to those who have venom. "Don't you understand what a King is? Who a King is? They're simply not just flesh, blood, and bone. No. They're so much more than just that. You don't know that because you weren't born where knowledge exactly thrives," Arthur sneers, flipping his cape so that it folds over his shoulder, the fur lining collecting soft flecks of snow from the treetops, "unlike a Prince of Camelot." Hearing some heavier snow fall in the distance, Arthur quickly is distracted, his hand releasing his sword from his hip, the strong steel shouting to the dense forest.

All the anger and frustration of their fight fades, Arthur's teeth barring as he tries to quickly scan the tree line. Any movement at all and he might very well strike. But thirty seconds pass and nothing jumps out at the two of them. Merlin, knowing full well that it was just some unloading of snow, had started to counter Arthur with her words of proof. With his sword by his side, Arthur turns back to Merlin. Keeping his jaw tight, he listens, his heart sinking in his chest. This battle, he knows full well right now, is lost. Completely lost. But it only grows worse from here when Merlin starts to take off her quiver. For a moment, Arthur's adrenaline peaks and he lifts his sword, ready to run at her if she tried to shoot him with an arrow. It's only defense on his part but once the leather quiver drops into the thin snow, Arthur lowers his sword again. The moon catches the light, making the silver look almost watery as he removes it from his readied stance.

Any words that were about to surface, perhaps a simple "stop" or "don't" flowing from his lips, become trapped in the Prince's throat. It's true that he has had plenty of women, both rounded and skeleton-like, de-robe in front of the Prince, much to his own pleasure, but this time, in the middle of the forest, he has a different reaction. "Put those back on!" he demands ruthlessly. Sure, a knight would look the other way out of respect for the temple of her body but Arthur, being the young adult he is, cannot take his eyes away. Is she really doing this? Is he just dreaming? Are those really the starting curves to her hips? Her ribs? Her... well, at least those are covered but now they're a bit more shown. Arthur's jaw drops a little, his face already pale. A shiver travels up his spine, shocking him back into reality. Then he sees the scars.

Deep red scars, the skin now pink lined with a raised bump of white signifying the process of healing. She will carry those marks for the rest of her life, much hair used to symbolize a man's strength back in the days of old. Cutting ones hair meant disgrace and defeat. And that's when Arthur turns away, seeing the charred skin from the brand marks, the deep red of her back never quite healing from exposure to hot, orange, iron. Feeling his stomachs liquid creep up the back of his throat, Arthur tightens his entire face. Luckily for him, he forces himself to be strong once more, seeing a lot worse in the lines of battle, and setting his eyes back on Merlin's figure and trying not to think too much about what exactly he is seeing.

"Put your damn clothes back on, Merlin. Fine, you win, you win. You've proven yourself. Happy? Dear gods, those scars are horrid," Arthur's palm moves to his face, covering his lips before he spits out more words he knows aren't helping keep Merlin here. "You'll catch a damn cold and kill yourself. It's the damn winter for heavens sake." And in a moment, he has forgotten that he himself told her to reveal such markings for he did ask to be informed of why he should believe her word over King Lots. Arthur has seen torture of that manner before and far worse. Sucking in a deep breath, he now notes that he has never seen it on a woman before. They were normally burned or drowned. Still, Arthur steps forward, wanting to help Merlin but she backs away from him. He understands why.

 

[Kaisaan]

She had ignored his protest while taking her shirts off, but Merlin doesn't ignore Arthur this time when he tells her to dress and she shudders again despite her best efforts to keep such reactions contained when he notes how bad the scarring is. She says nothing as she puts her undershirt back on, turning just in time for Arthur to catch a glimpse of the burn-scars, streaks across her stomach before the sheer fabric descends and she's putting on her over-shirt soon after. Her dark blue eyes refuse to meet his brown now and she backs away instinctively, something she's not done for anyone in a long time, but right now she feels exposed and raw, vulnerable and Merlin doesn't like it in the least. She refuses to cry, though, or wrap her arms around herself and instead semi-calmly bends down to pick up her quiver and bow, replacing both back where they belong.

She has won her case, but it doesn't feel like a victory to Merlin and when she finally looks up at Arthur, she doesn't address the scars at all, as if she simply wants to forget them or that she's shown him a part of herself very few have ever seen. Her eyes are hard and cold, though, and she glares at the Prince, her words very calm and factual, but containing a bite to them that he can't avoid. "I'm nobility, you prat."

The healer lets her anger rise just a little because it keeps the fear and vulnerability and instability at bay. It's easier to push it away than deal with it. "I was brought up as the daughter of the Hand of the King. My father, Lord Balan Wyllt, was second only to King Lot himself in the chain of command! I was born in Selice, a Kingdom rich in history and lore, taught by the finest of teachers used by the Prince Mordred himself! I wanted for nothing and I learned anything I wished! I lived in a fortress nearly as grand as the castle of the Northern King himself! Don't you tell me what I can and can not understand! What I did and did not learn! You know NOTHING of me for you have not taken the time to ask, you don't listen! I understand perfectly well what some Kings are and what a King can be! A King can be a tyrant and a monster! He can be full of arrogance and lies! He can be hateful and weak and cruel!" she spits at him and the rage in her voice and eyes, every line of her body is nearly tangible, crackling in the air as her eyes flare gold.

She doesn't lash out physically at Arthur, though, and Merlin's voice lowers just a little again. "And I know that a King can rise above all that. He can be kind and fair, merciful. He can seek justice and rule wisely. He can recognize his own strengths, not to lord them over others but to benefit those around him. He can understand his weaknesses and be humble enough to seek those who might be better able in that which he lacks. He can listen and learn and never close his mind to discovering the new around him. A King can be all this and more, but he is not born this way. It is not a right. It is earned."

 

[Vacyr]

Even though the issue of Merlin being nobility has come up in Camelot's court itself, more than once, Arthur doesn't recall such words. His mind yells at him that she is just making it up but her words - her thoughts and prospects of what a true and just King is is far too ripened with deep thought to simply spew from a peasants mouth. He feels his legs grow weak and the Prince, all high and mighty, fears that he might crumble to the ground like a strong oceans wave crashing upon his body. All in all, he will be dragged into the undertow of his own fictitious pathway he himself had chosen. Merlin is right, she was always right. Why did he allow himself to turn against her after all she has done to him. Oh yes, he feels like an ass now more than he has ever felt in his entire life. Lowering his head, the shame is thrown at him like pebbles from a beach. He is the son of King Uther and as such, he should make his own decisions - not listen to the way the old folk do business.

His mouth opens, the words wanting to say a single word, phrase, sentence, that will make Merlin's anger simmer down so that he can try to understand all the wrong he has caused her. The Prince falls, his knees slamming into the ground as if he were stabbed with a blade through the heart, his body slowly dying before Merlin. The sword, a family heirloom, drops into the snow as if it were an insignificant bead in comparison to what power it really does hold. "I..." She has put him in his place and what a well deserved prison he has entered. Right now, Arthur won't fight back, he can't. All this time he thought he was speaking to a snotty peasant when, in reality, it has been one of his own, a noble, this whole time. She really is a Lady and ought to have more of Arthur's respect than he has shown this whole time.

"I'm..." he tries yet again to speak, his brown eyes shutting before Merlin. How how she had twisted the dagger inside of his heart, making him powerless and foolish, "I am," his hand fans over his chest, feeling his own shallow heartbeat, the anger long dissipated from his body, "a fool." Nodding, his indignation torn to pieces, Arthur finally gains the strength to look up at Merlin. A quick thought about her nearly naked body slips its way into his head but, like a breath of air, he has accepted it and moved on. Perhaps at a less crucial time, those thoughts will come back to rattle his brain. "I am a figure of derision. Say what you must say, Merlin and I will listen." Arthur lowers his head, much like a priest would before an alter, wishing for her judgement.