Weep You No More Sad Fountains - Chapter 2
Weep You No More Sad Fountains
Chapter 2
Pride
‘“Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”
Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen
Several weeks had pasted since the encounter with the Forest Spirit and no change in schedule did Merlin find in his work or motions of life. Arthur was forever the river that freezes in winter: on the surface cold and unyielding and even more of a blessed chill within.
Merlin wondered if it would melt in summer.
When news emerged that King Olaf would be visiting Camelot on a tour of the country, the city was fresh with exhilaration and excitement at the idea of such a procession entering the walls of Camelot and thus to stay within such a sanctuary was a great honour on both sides.
Merlin assumed that Arthur would, too, be happy at this future happening, since a peace treaty summary and review would be the main foundation for the coming. However the news struck Arthur into a distracted man; his flowers were closed to all and his thorns protruded - to ward or warn, threaten or provoke, would be the perceivers will of vision and thinking. But Merlin liked to think he knew Arthur, or at least as well as his station allowed, and, with greater gusto and felicity then his usual nature permitted, tried to soothe the unknown wound this visit would cause Arthur.
Arthur told Merlin the meaning on the next day.
‘What do you know of the Lady Vivian?’ Arthur asked aloof as he gazed out of the window, lips pursed and brow shallow in thought.
Merlin looked up from the sheets of the bed, pressed and cleaned now ready for rearrangement, and thought the best he could of an appropriate reply. He knew not of her much as a person; Chance had not allowed their paths to cross, therefore time to study her Ladyship was demolished.
‘I know nothing of her, sire,’ Merlin put quite simply for no other view could be pretence.
Arthur took the reply with silent consideration and spoke again, a heavy pause on his body.
‘The King expects me to marry her, or at least win her affection.’
Merlin knew enough about royalty now that as the Crown Prince to Camelot’s throne: Arthur would need a Queen and heir by duty to help him govern the country and continue the bloodline, lest the issue of succession lead to chaos in the neighbouring, distant relations upon his death; for Arthur was the only male in legitimate line.
Merlin looked at Arthur and studied him with a hidden eye.
He saw guarded Sadness, Confusion between the conflict of Will and Obedience and a Spirit, full of life and light, forced to darken and subside. And yet Arthur still held his features with greater Pride than most would allow themselves to show. Merlin thought, although some may see it as arrogance and disagreeable at times, Arthur did have the right to portray himself as thus.
Upon his wondering if only he could see Arthur’s inner core, and if that core were as he expected, Merlin remembered he needed to reply to the question that was not asked.
Merlin thought for a bit longer, maybe longer than was due, finishing the final creases in the sheets and turned to give the Prince his full attention, closing the feeling of warmth that Arthur would trust him to converse on such a case as this -- one that could potentially change Camelot’s future; and Arthur’s happiness.
He had never seen such eyes.
‘You must do what your heart tells you to, sire,’ Merlin spoke with lack of hesitation and a flow of confidence that surprised even him.
Arthur looked close to breaking in his eye, the lid seemed heavy and the iris tortured, contracting around the pupil to give such an expression as one does when Hope is lost and Despair is gaining its favour on the falling nerves that go under.
In all his time of knowing the Prince, never had he seen him more human.
Merlin silently tried to exhale his stolen breath and treasured these moments in which he truly believed Society and Wealth did not part them.
‘But what if I don’t know what that is? From birth we are told what we must do, but what if our Nature finds our Nurturing disagreeable and wrong; are we to accept such fates or change our stars?’
Merlin, for a moment in its entirety, felt special and needed. The Prince was seeking his guidance, his opinion, his wisdom, and for Merlin to disappoint, he knew not how, but to find himself thus wanted in such intimate measures, Merlin dared not break the chain that had slowly wrapped around his heart like a snake on its prey, nor move in fear of breaking crystal. Only now did he feel Arthur’s full intensity, his forehead deepening, and Merlin could not breathe.
Speechless however, he was not, because he couldn’t be if it hindered Arthur’s mind.
‘You must do what makes you happy, sire. You are the future. The people will want to see a Prince who is independent and thoughtful, not proud yet malleable to the wills of others.’
With one final pensive pierce, Arthur retracted his knife and the air was given back.
Merlin left.
XxXxX
The entrance of the family was grand and opulent. They were welcomed with all the civility of hidden rivals and given affection of tired acquaintances.
Genius is said to be self-conscious; Merlin could not tell whether Lady Vivian was a genius, but she was self-conscious. She entered into a discourse with her features: she was pleasant in grace. She was tall and straight, giving her the advantage to look down on others in a double meaning her conscience seemed to find highly amusing. She conveyed this in her accent of character and the way she spoke to Camelot’s family. She played; her execution was brilliant; she saw her prize and devised plans as to achieve it.
Her surface was favourable yet her substance was truly lacking. Merlin felt every sympathy for Arthur, who looked forlorn under his proud posture, that he was pre-destined to be forever attached to such a partner as this.
XxXxX
A private dinner was to be served in intimate celebration of the known match, followed by a banquet the next day in honour of the nobles. Merlin’s presence was required to attend his master with fluency and flawlessness.
The table in the hall was long and dark, polished to demonstrate perfection. The candles were numerous and yet their shine cast a glow low and heavy. King Uther was to be seated at the head of the table, the Prince on his right. King Olaf would reside on the left hand of Uther, a privileged seat moreover, with Lady Vivian next to Arthur, the Lady Morgana with King Olaf and the rest of their court placed in order of rank down the table. Foods of luscious fruit and tender meats seemed to cascade down the table, to which even Merlin was impressed.
The Lady Morgana, a beautiful woman by no means unworthy of many admirers. She had a kind heart, however frozen at times, with a kinder look. Everything about her was by no degree half-hearted; her lips two blushing rose petals, her skin snow white, her hair raven’s feathers and a sharp nose that the dagger would envy. If her beauty overwhelmed your fear of her, then prepare for winter’s lust.
With such people attending this private dinner, all Merlin desired was for Arthur to proceed with dignity of his self.
The party entered and their seats placed, food before them and the games began.
Arthur came in last. Merlin had dressed him in his finest clothes, the Prince’s circlet demanding respect, his frame envy, and the folds and flows of blood red and gold oozed such importance and manner.
Merlin was to look straight ahead, seem disinterested and mechanic, yet he saw the Prince enter. Merlin persisted in vain to concentrate on his line of vision, only worry about how to present himself; to bring honour to the castle without rising above himself; whereas, he distinctly beheld Arthur’s figure, and inevitably recalled the moment when he last saw it properly -- just after with eyes that revealed a heart full and eager to overflow, in whose emotions Merlin believed he had a part in provoking, Arthur bore a piece of himself.
How near Merlin had approached him at that moment!
What could have occurred since, to be the master of voids and gorges? Little but as the movement of the day now placed them here, in the hours kissing goodbye to twilight. Yet now, in the presence of others and escaping such moments, how distant and estranged they were. How far apart they truly were was put into light under the candles’ glow to Merlin; however he understood the placement of their fortunes, thus was not surprised when Arthur walked past him without a word, sat with Merlin’s help and proceeded to converse with the ladies while Merlin had no need to fill his goblet, wine already present for his fancy.
Unlike most meals, Merlin was free to move amongst the guests to serve and attend them, however the Prince was his priority and first to be considered.
No sooner did Merlin see that his attention was riveted on them, and that Merlin might gaze without being observed, then Merlin’s eyes were drawn involuntarily to the Prince’s face; he could not keep their lids under control: they would rise, and the iris would fix on him. Merlin saw and looked both in the meaning, finding great pleasure in it -- a precious yet poignant pleasure; pure gold, with a steely point of agony: a pleasure like what the thirsty man might feel who knows the well to which he has crept is poisoned, yet stoops and drinks divine draughts despite his death.
Most true is it that "beauty is in the eye of the beholder”.
Merlin’s master's full and flushed face; square, massive brow; broad and profound eyebrows, deep eyes, strong bones; firm, grim, plump, yet prim, mouth were most handsome and possibly beautiful at first glance. And yet, Arthur was without lovers.
Merlin pondered on this fact and came to the conclusion that people’s perception of his master was that they might see him and believe him great, his bodily gifts brilliant, but would only see his wealth, power and what they could gain from such an advantageous connection.
But they were more than beautiful to Merlin; they were full of an interest, an influence that quite mastered him, restrained all control of Merlin’s feelings in his own mind and fettered them to Arthur’s heart. Merlin was able to look closer and find Will, Decision and Spirit; however trapped, Merlin found them and was awed, however dared not place the Prince the position of an idol.
Merlin had not intended to feel such sensations as these looking at the Prince, and yet here they were; strong and green and monstrously powerful.
The Prince forced such a reaction in his victims, and was able to disregard all others if his influence spread to the unworthy.
Merlin compared him with his guests.
What was the gallant grace of King Uther, the languid elegance of King Olaf, contrasted with his look of native pith and genuine presence?
And yet people could not look and find their true nature.
Merlin had no sympathy in their appearance or their expression - yet he could imagine that most observers would call them seductive, handsome, and imposing; while they would pronounce the Prince beautiful however too carved from marble to be of any true personality.
Merlin turned his eye and studied the Lady Vivian in full. Merlin wondered if her colour would fall, her cheeks become clammy and her body to tremble as was what he dreaded. Her smile and laugh were nothing to Merlin. Her smile did not lighten with the sun nor did her laugh carry any great significance compared to the bells of a Church. She started her courting of endeavours to warp the Prince - smiles and laughs and bright eyes all in one doe faced harpy.
The former actions were performed to entice Arthur into her favour, yet he burned her library of all favourable material. Whenever she would start a conversation and pursue an interest of his, Merlin was amazed and somewhat stunned by his brilliant ability to answer curtly, monotonously and yet with all decorum that society demanded. His air never changed from the obvious pride and disgust he felt from having to share a room with his Lady Distain.
Despite the King’s many looks of ice and penetrating vehemence, a blunt command that the Prince behave himself, and chase the rewards of such a match for him and Camelot; he was ever steadfast as the stars above.
Merlin could not help to contain a ravishing smile that he tried to mask by turning inwardly.
However, he was overcome by a great sense of what was to come.
XxXxX
The Lady Vivian left with the King: the treaty satisfied, their goals left parched. It was evident in the ways in which the King then carried out his duties the following days: filled with a manner of hurt pride and almost loathing disappointment at the rejection from his son. Merlin was in his room, getting ready to attend the Prince and wondered what he’d find there. Many harsh and whispered words had been spoken between the King and the Prince; however the relationship that was to be forced upon them like a cloak of chains was slashed back with even greater power with a devastating effect. On the surface was there no more than the Lady subduing herself in spitefulness and animosity, the Kings stern faced; but the true destruction lay beneath the growth of new plans and unhopeful alternation.
The Prince, if one were to believe it, was the most vulnerable in this situation. He had willingly (yet cunningly) put on the guise of ignorance to strangers, defied a dynasty.
His punishment was quiet, as to avoid the people’s notification to his disposition, to not leave the castle unattended; outside Camelot’s walls a forbidden liberty that if he were to dare chase, would result in immediate imprisonment.
Merlin left his room for the evening and went to the chambers of said Prince.
XxXxX
Once the hostility and pain of Lady Vivian’s refusal had been left to die -- like a fire suddenly fed so high on expectation, it screams to an ember that, abandoned to time, finds itself wanting silently, then is heard no more -- another event was soon to replace even this one.
Merlin was standing in the throne room, the magnificent hall both daunting in its beauty as well as bewitching; the great space gave the impression of a holy purpose and the decoration something that promised everything as long as one kept desire to one’s self.
He was quietly remarking on Arthur’s character, being placed at his side gave great opportunity for such a pass time, when a woman in rags of the greyish kind started to desperately hobble toward them.
Today was the day in which the people were able to voice what they wanted to the family. If their cause was truly believable, their character truly hopeless and their prospects truly helpless; a hand of salvation could be offered.
This woman, old in complexion and withered in spirit, such the kind that inspired pity and sympathy in all your human heart, stood before the judgement of the raised King and his disciples; short and thin, the contrast was extreme to the healthy build of the statures just beyond reach.
Merlin, being a kind and gentle soul, liked to believe he’d try to help all others even if this meant to sacrifice one’s own happiness; he immediately felt this woman worthy of at least a few silver pieces, no questions asked.
However it was not his place to give such judgement much less speak of it and confess his thoughts.
The King’s vote would be paramount amongst the others.
Arthur gazed on her with a firm feature, but his eyes broke mercy.
‘Please,’ already, the woman was straining from lack of water and nutrition. Merlin thought her most ill and in need of medicine.
‘Our village has been attacked,’ she broke, but the way she descended to the ground resembled that of bones being distorted so much that the structure could no longer support itself.
Merlin called out to this woman in his thoughts, prayed she’d be shown some kindness; her scars were obvious from travel that her age could not permit and took revenge from the work in scratching her in grazes and blot in fine boils.
However, the King was unmoved and unmoving.
‘Where is your village?’ He showed obvious distaste at her lack of control and her uncouth forgetfulness at who she was addressing; however this was soothed by the pleasure of being in such a high position. Merlin thought however insufferable the King was, he might aid her to establish his authority.
His pride was loud and unbearable.
Now, the woman looked shaken and her entire being was twisted in misery.
‘It is in Cenred’s kingdom, sire,’ she looked as if she would continue, but whatever “kindness” was bestowed on the King’s face was now washed away irrevocably.
Merlin burned in anger and sighed in quiet obedience.
‘Then I cannot help you, I am sorry.’
The King did not show any emotions of distress at this woman’s misfortune or compassion for her. With a flash of his hand, she was escorted out, however her wet cries and tortured yells for mercy echoed about the room to create a most unearthly orchestra.
Merlin looked to his master.
All he was allowed to see was a pensive man with silent words.
XxXxX
‘You must help her!’
Merlin erupted with such vigour in voice and pluck of presentation. He knew it wrong to speak out but speak up he must.
They were in Arthur’s chambers, Arthur having just viciously crossed the room, his back now a faceless pillar in front of Merlin.
‘And what would you have me do, Merlin?’ It was said with the volume of a caress but the address was aggrieved and dangerous as he turned.
‘Help her. In whatever way you can. You’re the Prince, Arthur,’ Merlin felt his emotions cascade, maybe from the fact he sympathised with the woman on a level in which that their station was moderately similar.
‘You cannot let anyone take that away from you. You have influence where the King does not.’ Merlin feared the Prince viewing him as impertinent and ill-mannered, not only for addressing the Prince so informally but expressing such potency of emotion and so very bluntly showing his loyalty and pride in one man outweighed the fear of the other.
However he was lost when the former spoke as thus:
‘He is the King, Merlin.’ As if that was the doomed Fate of them all. Merlin’s anger was racing; he saw in the sternness of the Prince’s muscles that he was close to breaking, close to the edge of something in his character, the spirit in his eyes unyielding and untamed but the fleshy cage obeying its creator.
Merlin tried to break the chains.
‘Was his temperament so very “Kingly“? He is a man who should show kindness and be humble to all subjects that come to him and yet be able to still hold that authority in power, wisdom and courage, but in such a way that it is becoming and welcoming to his title, his country, his spirit.’
‘He has turned a poor woman out of doors because she lives beyond his touch. I say that is blasphemy against all human morality! If only I were a King, or even had such instruments in which I could spread joy and prosperity so very easily and without opposition. I would not stand to watch a soul pass out of my hall so tortured, and so miserable, but see if she would let me take her in my house. If only I were a King then-’
And on this note, in which Merlin had been so thoroughly derailed and blind in his passion and suffering of another, did Arthur approach him with such a wild eye, such a feral nature, that he was stunned into silence immediately when the Prince then grabbed him by the forearm in one giant hand, circling and trapping his waist in another in a steel vice grip, so the proximity of their faces was barely a magnitude and the air thick with words, bodies heated with the tumbling of towers between the classes.
‘I will save her, Merlin. I will!’ The Prince swallowed and looked deeply into the frightened lamb he had captured.
‘Meet me in the lower town this evening with a temper for discretion and the most healing herbs Gaius has, but ones he will not miss.’
With that trembling statement and unleashed fire, the Prince exited his rooms.
Merlin was so overcome in such a way, that all he could hear was his heart knocking at his ribs, the pulse vivid and sharp in his ear. His eyes saw, but they could not focus on any object.
XxXxX
Merlin had done all that was asked of him. The herbs that Gaius always mentioned to be the most efficient in general cure but perhaps one’s that he wouldn’t need, Merlin collected in moderation. At a reasonable hour that hopefully wouldn’t wake Gaius, but was into the night so that the Prince would be there, Merlin left his chambers with the herbs in his pocket.
Merlin, by now, could navigate through the Castle with ease and knew all that came with the art of stealth.
When he got to the lower town, he realised just how rushed and incoherent his thoughts were; he had no inclination as to where Arthur was and how to find him, besides the fact he didn’t fully understand the purpose of this midnight quest. However, his thoughts were not led to panic, for with a rough hand around his mouth, guiding him to a nearby alleyway as to be unseen, was he in the presence of his Prince. His master looked shaken but firm all the same, his forehead concentrated and yet concerned with his actions - due to care or deliberation Merlin was unsure. However he was able to answer Arthur’s questions in short, concise punctuation as not to portray his backwashed perplexity.
Upon giving the herbs to the Prince, he asked Merlin to look for any sign of life, and if anything rippled among the calm of the night, he was to inform his master immediately and without hesitation.
Merlin, still in his daze of thought, kept only half an eye on the surroundings, hearing for disturbances in the night across the otherwise still motions. He looked at the Prince, his pace and posture as high as ever, then he knocked on a door in the dusty alleyway.
Merlin felt his own eyes open wide and the mists of his mind were cleared instantly as he saw the old woman, presumably staying at the local inn for a night before she went forth back to her distorted life.
Merlin held himself perfectly, now focusing almost completely on the discourse between the two and hoped to capture some of the verse. All he was able to accomplish was that the Prince wished her well and upon his exchange of the herbs; and a generously modest bag of coins, did they part with much gratitude and affection from the woman. She cried and wept for his kindness, yet knew not to draw attention to them.
The door was closed and the Prince returned.
His master looked content within himself, relaxed features portraying his inner core, and, wrapping himself in his cloak, did he curtly inform Merlin to return with him to the Castle.
Merlin was in a pleasant manner. For all the Prince’s possible flaws, he was just, and now in Merlin’s eyes, magnificent. Merlin was overwhelmed with a sensation that maybe the man in front of him would be the Destined Once and Future King; and the servant realised that he never had doubted Arthur, and never had not believed in him.
Nor ever would stop.
The longer Merlin paid attention to what was happening within, the more he came to understand the gravity of the Prince’s choices. The Prince had deliberately done the exact opposite to what the King had previously done. Such actions of disobedience were impossible! If this knowledge was known publicly or even by an inner circle, combined with the Prince’s resent rejection of the Lady Vivian’s hand --
Merlin couldn’t imagine the disgrace or punishment Arthur might receive. For a while, the Prince would be in a very vulnerable position, in his title’s future and name.
‘Do you think I did the right thing?’ the Prince pronounced somewhat quietly, and yet his husky wooden voice carried tomes of understanding of one’s circumstances and consequences.
Merlin looked upon his master and saw a worthy man, whose opinion was becoming more agreeable by the day.
‘Of course, Sire,’ Merlin paid no attention to the intimate nature of his own tone.
‘You have put much at stake for what others would see as so little. You are a just man, Sire, and one that will be a great King. You will always strive for justice, and I’ll always follow you,’
Merlin was consumed by the silence and his pride of the Prince; save for the gentle steps of their feet.
Merlin was prepared to continue in this comfortable calm however the Prince spoke again, as if whispering to himself.
‘That’s good to know--’ and Merlin, for what it was worth, could not contain a gentle smile of peace.
This would be disrupted almost viciously by the Prince’s next and final words for the evening.
‘-- that no matter what happens, I’ll always have you by my side’
Merlin was anew to the strange raptures he felt touching his heart. He looked to his master as to gauge his face, however Arthur, unknowingly or proudly, was not meeting his eye.
For some stranger reason, this made Merlin smile all the more.
‘Of course, Sire,’
Chapter 3