Weep You No More Sad Fountains - Chapter 5
Weep You No More Sad Fountains
Chapter 5
Loyalty
"And it's not theirs to speculate
If it's wrong and
Your hands are tough
But they are where mine belong and
I'll fight their doubt and give you faith
With this song for you"
Ours, Taylor Swift
The forest was peaceful at night.
The moon shone with all her brilliance, there to dazzle and bewitch those who gazed at the stars, enchanting her admirers to see a world full of beauty. The purples and the inks flowed through the sky, in waves of mass. Each and every star was a promise of heaven; the All Mighty’s light twinkling down to his mortal children. The trees’ greens were now indigo, the ferns and plants mythical hands of spirits.
The air was still.
Too still, Merlin thought, as he was picking herbs for Gaius. In the servant’s opinion, such tasks were futile in darkness; however his guardian was adamant that only such rare and the most obliging plants flowered at night.
A fool’s errand in other words.
Merlin’s magic awaked within him, suddenly alarmed at a presence -- he turned and saw Morgana.
How fast did his heart stammer in fear! Her aura was most dominant and confident, assured she won all that she needed to, and obtained all she wanted. Her hair, straw-like but black, no longer beautiful, but a bush of wires now found root in her skull. Her eyes were wild, like that of a deer; however, any innocence had been stripped off by experience. No rich silks covered her skin, only onyx lace, something to match her darker heart, a sickly contrast to her porcelain flesh.
She smiled, however it was not happy or to inspire happiness; it was to enthuse terror and stir his nerves.
‘Hello, Merlin,’ it pained him to hear her speak, a sadness that comes with always seeing one’s friends fall beneath themselves.
Morgana had fallen so low.
She looked malnourished: a waxwork skeleton of the forest.
Merlin felt his nerves collapse, not in fright of her power, but in guilt of how she accomplished it.
Despite this, he remained cautious, as if approaching a wounded beast.
‘What are you doing here?’
She stepped forward.
He stepped back.
She smiled again, however it lacked its pretended warmth, something sinister taking the place, ‘Why do you doubt my motives so, Merlin?’ and here, her face fell, her brow cracking in bided disdain ‘We were friends once.’
Such mention of happy days should not be spoken with such secret contempt! They were friends once. And Merlin hated, abhorred the ways in which she manipulated those around her.
‘Unfortunately,’ Merlin spoke, and he knew that his sadness was evident, ‘those days are passed.’
She seemed to sigh, lighted her eyebrows for a moment as to remove the lines that adorned it, before being back down to a lowered level of scorn.
She hummed a noise of agreement, then sought his eye and pierced him where he stood, ‘Quite right.’
Silence.
When Merlin was able to be master of the chills and shakes in his body, did she reveal her true purpose for this night’s encounter.
‘I offer you a place at my side, Merlin.’
No matter what Morgana offered, it could not be justified in any way. No matter what Morgana offered, could hold any goodness. Indeed he was shocked by the proposal, but he knew what she was now: with the appearance of a tainted rose, she was the snake beneath it. With her fangs drawn, poison purified, did she bit into him.
‘With your power, Merlin,’ and now, dear reader, be not mistaken: Merlin was not frightened of her, and did not shiver from lack of control; he was more horrified with how successful the world had been with taking her heart away, and putting ice in its place, ‘and my resources, we could rule the world, or at least our portion of it. Think about it, Camelot yours for the taking, magic restored to the Earth and flowing through every branch, every river, every element that binds us in flesh. No-one would stand in our way, Merlin.’ And here, with an uncanny likeness to Uther when hatred had gleamed his eyes, did she step forward, believing Merlin was in her trap. ‘And the King would be on his knees Merlin, begging you for mercy.’
Caught in his reverie of how he had failed her and not prevented her descent was he now brought out of it. His body was now still, fixed in pitying anger of this great lady.
But how dare she mention Arthur in such a tone.
‘What made you so unkind, Morgana?’ and with every ounce of being he had left, tried to pour as much of his pity into those words as compassion would allow.
Now, her features boiled in anger, ‘Kind?’ she screamed, ‘Who am I to be kind? I have suffered at Uther’s hand, that Castle has been my cage and now my wings are free to spread,’ she stretched out her arms in mock of her plea, ‘and it feels,’ turning her hands into fists, breathing with intensity, closed eyes skyward, suddenly crashing down back to him with a madness so black, ‘and it feels glorious!’
Shame, Merlin believed, crept into his body and made such a secure residence, he was afraid of this permanent lodger.
He looked at her with a melancholy so vehement.
Such feelings of how he did dearly sympathise with this woman, however found her conduct so self-perpetuating that it led her to destruction, a soul corrupted; hatred taking her by the hand and guiding her downwards, did he now understand he could not offer his.
‘I feel sorry for you, Morgana.’ With this statement unleashed, did she stand normally and look like a human being, capable of happiness and sadness like others. She gazed at him with something akin to disbelief, eyes maybe pleading or shocked, the irids with sheen of moisture from exertion or misery, Merlin didn’t know; mouth slightly agape as if wounded, lips twisted.
He walked past her. Their business was done.
She thought otherwise.
Turning to face him, recovering from her discomposure, upon realising that she couldn’t win him, therefore must beat him, tainting her sweet voice.
‘Why are you with him? Why do you stay?’
Here he stopped, not a conscience thought, but an instinct.
There was almost something like curiosity in her voice, however not to replenish lack of knowledge, but to mock what she found. She must have seen the way his muscles tensed under the weight of the words, for she smiled and laughed with her lips closed.
When he turned back to gaze at her to answer, he found no lady, but a wounded predator having found the weakness of her prey, instead of showing the creature mercy, deciding to rip it out and make them bleed like she had done.
Yet she still looked like a lost girl, the tired lines of her face conveying this silent message.
‘Why do you ask?’ Merlin remarked, voice hoarse.
‘Oh come now, Merlin,’ she raised her voice in fake sympathy, turned up lips and saddened eyes to accompany her tone, ‘I’ve seen the way you look at him, honestly, you’re like his pet, always running after something for him. I admit, he shows a strange fondness for you --’ now having grappled his heartstrings, did he fear her daring to tug, ‘but did you honestly believe that it extends to “friendship”?’
Merlin swallowed, closing his eyes as a last resort to the tensing behind his eyes.
He opened them resolved. She smirked as if she won a prize.
‘I stay, because I know that he will be a great king, more than he already is.’ His voice was firm and decisive, something she found most disagreeable, and it showed in her fury.
‘He’ll kill you as soon as he finds out what you are Merlin. Face it; you’re living a dangerous game, betting on the losing side; the ban of magic still stands sentinel on the law!’
She’d dared to tug, and in retaliation, was his communication thus: he tried to be reasonable, and have some sense while portraying his sensibilities, for not only had she insulted his destiny, but someone who was indeed his friend.
‘If you truly believe that, then you don’t know him like I do.’ His voice was damp, maybe wavering under the pressure she emitted, but he stood still like any other, ‘He has only known suffering from magic, and yet I believe there is a part of him that will accept its goodness. He is willing to try. And what do you do, Morgana?’ He found his current conduct highly dislikeable in the way this may cause her grief, but the justice in defending his friend was more important than the pain he may be inflicting, her features showed a girl reprimanded, ‘You do not encourage him, you do not help him. Instead you would have him classed as “evil” when he shows discipline; “unjust” when he is doing what is right for a wider peace,’
She was silent.
‘You stand here, Morgana, selfish and cruel, lost to your emotions and loathing any rebuke towards our kind. You wish for magic to return, yet you try to obliterate his influence in restoring it by your self-centred actions in removing him. Yes, the ban on magic is still in place,’ He prepared himself for what was to come, for he himself found no pleasure in this,
‘But it is to protect his people from creatures like you.’
And now, she seemed thoroughly distressed, for no fire did he see in her eyes. It pained him to address her so, in such a passionate manner. Whatever she did, he would forgive her, for she knew not what she did.
Tired himself, and wishing to end this conversation, he gave her a parting gift of enlightenment, he knew to be their last words to each other.
‘You gave up on him, Morgana, but that is something I cannot do.’
He turned and left, forgetting about the herbs, they could wait, and not caring for her cries that followed him in echoes; upon realising his departure, she screamed his name, but he refused to put fuel on a fire that was beyond his control.
He did however; look back in the sake of hope, when he was at the castle wall...
The forest was peaceful at night.
XxXxX
Merlin walked the castle’s corridors with an uneven step.
It hurt, more than any sensation he believed, when someone close wouldn’t see something so good through his eyes.
As the torches flicked and flared in their sockets, blazing heat and light alike, he was well on his way to Gaius’ rooms, when he passed the King’s and remembered his duties.
He sighed, paused, and breathed before entering the chambers, trying to calm his shaken nerves.
‘Sire,’ he proclaimed. But, instead of seeing the King maybe at his desk reviewing reports, or standing proudly, angrily at Merlin’s punctuality, a condescending and reluctantly endearing demeanour in his eyes; he found the King leaning heavily by the fire, left arm outstretched along the hearth, his right dead at his side, red shirt hanging loosely on his broad, toned frame.
He seemed deep in thought, considering.
But this was broken of course, by Merlin’s entrance, and the servant expected a shout at his impertinence, however he was met with a knowing look of amusement.
Merlin was confused as for why the expression was placed so significantly on him, but then he remembered their earlier discussion and proceeded to correct himself; realisation fresh and daunting.
‘Arthur, sorry, sire. Arthur.’ He said again, eyes wide in self-irritation.
The King smirked and looked, momentarily, without any troubles: his shoulders slightly moving, a heavy breath escaping in laughter, and his arm joining the right.
However, this was a momentary moment, as opposed to one that might have been prolonged, and the King returned with his conduct of solemn reflection, gazing back into the fire as if the flames had answers.
Merlin didn’t understand why the King was acting this way, but felt inclined to move the subject on, as to bring forth that smile once more.
‘Do you need anything, Arthur?’
The King paused, ‘No, Merlin.’ But then, did not give Merlin leave, but curved his watch on him, as if suddenly realising something special, but it gave him great pain; a glint portraying this in his eye, something Merlin believed was not a reflection of firelight.
‘Do you think I was right Merlin? In what I did today?’
Suddenly, Merlin understood. The King must have been having second thoughts on sentencing a sorcerer to death for treason, however Merlin felt strongly tended to answer him truthfully, and remove all doubt and sombre seldom thinking from his master’s mind.
‘Yes, Arthur,’ he answered with no hesitation, praying his features portrayed his earnest thoughts, ‘he was using magic for evil purposes, you even gave him a second chance and yet he still abused his power.’ Merlin stepped towards Arthur, as if a closer distance would communicate a stronger message.
Arthur nodded and accepted his reasons; however he still seemed disturbed, once again watching the flames.
‘Do you think me a good King, Merlin?’
‘Of course,’ Merlin thought these words might be perceived as being spoken too quickly, for the King looked up, his eyes questioning.
Merlin continued, slightly fluttered and voice rough, but it was steady, ‘You share your money with the poor, you’ve made taxes so that they are proportional to someone’s income, you’ve established fairness among your knights and have given equal opportunity as far as you can.’ Merlin nodded, as if speaking these accomplishments made their worth more understood, ‘yes, you are a great King, somewhat bewildered at times maybe, but you always make the right decision.’
Merlin felt then an increasing gravity towards his master: his pains felt as greatly as his own.
But what he said next was mostly unexpected.
‘After all our time together, Merlin,’ and here, the intense blue eyes were once again in him, permeating under emotion, ‘you still manage to surprise me. I think I know you at times; then you do something to prove me wrong.’
Merlin blushed at his low voice and the words it spoke. He didn’t know how to reply, and with Arthur’s eyes locked with his, words were most unattainable.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to find them.
‘If I were to be banished from these lands, Merlin,’ he started, ’and my crown taken from me, my riches stripped: what would you do?’
The seriousness of the situation was one that Merlin was not expecting; however, he found it within himself that he was not unprepared.
‘I would go wherever you went, Arthur.’
Never were words spoken with more earnest sight.
‘But I would have failed you, and yet you’d still follow me?’
Merlin smiled a happy smile.
‘There and back again.’
The King chuckled, finally his brow relaxing after their tedious day, and Merlin felt a warm glow that his words had created such raptures.
The King nodded with a shining look, turned and spoke one last time, ‘You’re a good manservant, Merlin. Now go, it’s late.’
Chapter 6