Merlyn's Only Hope

The Gates of Avalon P2

Arthur was bored out of his mind. He'd listened to Sophia's absentminded chatter, her gossip and limited aspirations, but he really couldn't concentrate on a word she was saying. Frankly, he didn't know why he had agreed to show her the beauty of Camelot: he wasn't really with the poor girl, at least, not mentally. She was proper, giggling annoyingly, flirting, touching his arm intimately, fluttering her stupid eyelashes. He hadn't heard her say one thing of actual substance in the hours that they'd been together.

He felt sorry for Merlyn, ashamed really, of how he'd behaved. She was a riddle, a well-read mystery who, unlike the green eyed idiot next to him, could at least provoke more of a reaction from him than an inward eye roll and a fake laugh. He fingered the pendant sitting around his neck, the dragon truly beautiful, before dragging himself back to reality. Sophia was still talking, her elegance out of place in the woods.

"The river's not far, just down here." he cut across her chatter, helping from her horse in a gentlemanly fashion. Merlyn would've laughed at him, but Sophia just gave him a simpering smile.

"Arthur, wait." she called after him as he stormed ahead, part of him hoping to lose her between the trees.

"What is it?" he asked, mildly annoyed. She took his hands, staring deeply into his eyes. Something was wrong, the way she was smiling at him, the devious look in her eyes. She held his gaze; the forest green of her irises should've been beautiful, but in reality, the colour reminded him a little of a sickly toad.

"Túce hwón frec ðu, Arthur."

She spoke in a language he'd never heard before, perhaps native to Tirmaw. Her stare was intense, as if she expected something to happen, but his thoughts were soon interrupted by the shouts of some foolish guards.

"You there! Halt." a man ordered, firing a bolt straight at Sophia's head. If Arthur wasn't a trained warrior, able to push her out of harm's way, it would have killed her instantly. It missed her by the breadth of a hair, landing in the tree behind where she'd been standing. Trying not to be relieved by the welcome distraction, Arthur helped her up, shouting at the guardsmen, unable to believe that they'd almost killed him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, mildly worried for her safety. It wouldn't be good for the kingdom if their visitors ended up dead.

"Yes, thanks to you." she smiled blandly, obviously a little stunned. As he looked at her, he realised that her hair, which had seemed golden at first glance, was actually a muddy brown, tangled from the ride through the forest. This had been a bad idea; he could see that now. At least, with the stupidity of his own guards, he had the opportunity to end it.

"They were searching for the bandits that attacked you yesterday." he stated, looking around to see her staff, abandoned against a fallen tree. "Here." he passed it to her in an attempt to stay proper.

"Don't touch that." she spat oddly angrily. He was mystified as to why, but took his chance.

"I'm sorry, maybe we should head back." he hid his grin, trying to look sincere.

"It's fine. I'm sorry I was upset. Now don't let this spoil our day together. We were having a nice time."

The prince had been trained well enough not to rudely point out that, this day had been ruined since he'd convinced Merlyn to lie to his father. Perhaps, if they were back by noon, they could do some additional training before lunch. There had been vague talk about some competition between them, marking six months from the day she threw knives at his head. It sounded far more interesting than listening to Sophia drone on about her favourite dresses.

"I'm taking you back to Camelot. Your father would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you." he ushered her back to the horses, ignoring the scowl on her face. He needed to apologise to Merlyn, or, at the very least, get away from Sophia.