Merlyn's Last Dream

The Tears of Uther Pendragon P1

Arthur looked upon his fallen soldiers with a mix of hate and sorrow, their red cloaks almost like pools of blood on the well-trodden ground. All around them, broken shields and forgotten blades littered the dying grass, some half buried in the mud. It was a gloomy sight, not helped by the grey mist slowly descending upon them.

"Check for survivors." he ordered his living knights, but scanning the scene, he doubted much could thrive in such a desolate place. He didn't have much hope, but as he crouched down next to the nearest body, tracing the tracks left in the dirt, he felt that he could at least try to avenge their deaths.

"It seems that their attackers headed north." he shouted to his disarray of soldiers, trying not to shudder with the sudden cold. "Come on."

The Prince could feel Merlyn's presence behind him, but ignored her, heading straight to his horse.

"Do you think we should be going after them?" she asked, the tips of her elf-like ears red, likely from the sudden drop in temperature. Her dark hair whipped around her face, floating in the unsettling breeze as she stared intently at him.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You're such a girl's petticoat." he teased, turning back towards his horse, ignoring his own prickling feeling of self-doubt.

"What does that even mean?" a female voice piped up behind him, but he ignored both his servant and the sniggers of Sir Leon, who was apparently in earshot.

It had been more than a year since Morgana had disappeared; he simply couldn't return to Camelot having failed once again. He just couldn't.

~

Merlyn wanted to see Morgana again, ideally safe in Camelot having learned how to control her magic, but she was beginning to think that the hope was unrealistic. She'd thought that Morgause would choose to save her sister, but with each passing day, it was becoming more and more unlikely. Still, there wasn't much she wouldn't give to have a moment's rest, even a bandit attack, anything to get her off this stupid horse.

"Is there something wrong with you?" Arthur asked in a tone which informed her that the only correct answer to the question was 'no, sire', but she always preferred to be honest when she could.

Shuffling a little, trying not to wince, she glared at the Prince. "Yeah, I've been on a horse all day."

"Is your little bottom sore?" Arthur pouted sarcastically, raising his eyebrows comically.

"Yes." she groaned. "It's not as fat as yours."

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "You know, you've got a lot of nerve for a wimp."

"I may be a wimp, but at least I'm not a... dollop head." she smirked, glad to see the Prince's posture straighten, bristling at the mild insult.

"There's no such word." he scoffed, glancing back at his servant.

"It's idiomatic." Merlyn shrugged, knowing for certain that Arthur wouldn't have a clue what she was talking about.

"It's what?"

"You need to be more in touch with the people." she bit her lip to stop herself from laughing, suddenly wishing that 'dollop-head' was a genuine expression.

Arthur didn't look impressed. "Describe dollop-head."

Merlyn was very glad that the Prince couldn't see her face. "In two words?" she asked innocently.

"Yeah."

"Prince Arthur." the servant grinned widely, but the dollop-head didn't manage a reply. He held up his arm to still the knights behind him, sure that he'd just seen movement somewhere between the trees. Dismounting his horse, he signalled for some of his men to spread out, covering a little more ground. A small encampment, abandoned, judging by the state of the smoking fire, broke the tree line, tents left within the clearing.