Merlyn's Only Hope

The Poisoned Chalice P1

Merlyn watched from the battlements as Bayard's entourage arrived. She'd been swept off her feet the past few days ensuring that everything was in order for their visit, not that she really thought polishing a few more candlesticks would make any difference to the event. It was a momentous occasion, Arthur had assured her, a peace treaty which could save hundreds of lives. The lord met Uther in the throne room, flanked by his knights in blue, a stark comparison to those of Camelot, their red cloaks billowing in the wind. Merlyn could feel the sensation of eyes upon her as the crowds applauded their meeting, but she couldn't quite place them.

Ever since their trip to the tavern, Arthur had been avoiding his servant. Perhaps it was the fact that she had held her liqueur far better than he did, or maybe it was that she had carried him all the way back to his room, or, the more likely reason, that after hearing of their very public gambling, where Merlyn miraculously won all of Arthur's money, Uther had reprimanded his son, saying that it wasn't proper to buy drinks for servants so publicly, especially women. People talk.

Hence, she was currently lugging some rather heavy bags for the feast up to the kitchens. She'd been offered help by some friendly knights, but they had their own duties and she didn't particularly want to get in their way. Besides, she had Gaius for company.

"Why do I always get landed with the donkey work?" she huffed, glaring at some passing servants who were only carrying piles of towels and sheets.

"You're a servant Merlyn, it's what you do." Gaius said carelessly. If he weren't there, she would've used some kind of spell to make the bags lighter. But rather than risking a lecture on the proper uses of magic, she chose to suffer, wishing that she had accepted the help she'd been offered.

"My arms will be a foot longer by the time I get this lot inside." she groaned, readjusting the bags.

"It's character building, as the old proverb says, hard work breeds a... strong soul." Gaius gave her a look that told her everything she needed to know.

"You just made that up." she replied spitefully.

"I did not!" he sounded indignant, but when Merlyn raised an eyebrow, he smirked, walking ahead to cover his face.

A moment later, a rather toned, tall man, who had been walking slowly towards Merlyn, tripped, his pile of cushions landing at her feet.

"Sorry." he mumbled, refusing to meet her gaze. She looked at him for a moment, unsure whether it was the fact that she was carrying what felt like hundreds of kilos of flour, whilst he was managing a mighty three pillows, but there was something she didn't like about the man.

"That's alright." she managed, through gritted teeth.

She watched him gather his heavy load, studying him for a second. He was quite classically handsome, there was no denying it. Tall, with sharp blue eyes and dark hair, it was no wonder that he'd managed to get away with just a few pillows. He looked up at her, with a smoulder which would make most hearts melt, maybe even Merlyn's if she wasn't in such a bad mood.

"I'm Cian." he extended his hand for her to shake.

"Merlyn." she paused for a moment, but took his hand, noting the lack of roughness she'd expect in a servant's grip. Then again, he was hardly doing any heavy lifting.

"You're Arthur's servant. It must be such a honour." he smiled warmly, inviting her to break from her work, if only for a moment.

She snorted, but tried to keep her composure. "I'm not sure if honour is the right word, but it's certainly... Interesting." The man gave her a wry smile.

"It was nice meeting you, Merlyn." Cian bowed, almost in deference, strange, considering the fact that she definitely didn't outrank him.

He strolled down the corridor, leaving a mildly confused Merlyn in his wake. She whined lowly, heaving the bags from where they rested on the floor, and caught up to Gaius, eventually managing to stagger into the kitchens and dump the sacks in a large pile.