Merlyn's Last Dream

The Coming of Arthur P3

Arthur woke up coughing, opening his eyes to the sight of the ghostly woods, admiring, for a moment, the way the gentle mist glimmered between the trees. Sunlight broke the canopy of leaves above him, landing on the dewy grass, causing it to glow like molten stardust. Beside him, he found Merlyn scrunched up into a tight ball, looking so innocent without the troubles of daytime lining her face. He smiled, allowing himself to watch her sleep, indulging in his domestic fantasies. Then, realising how long he had simply been lying in unknown land, he sat up, only to feel his blanket roll off of him, resting in the damp grass.

Said blanket turned out to be Merlyn's jacket, which he ran between his fingers, feeling the thin leather, doing his best not to inhale her scent. He missed her as a lover; as he watched her shiver beside him, he wondered what could have possibly happened for her to give up her precious jacket.

He checked himself for wounds, trying to remember what had taken place before he'd passed out. He was sure that he'd been shot in the leg, but he could barely feel the injury, just the sort of lingering pain one would get from an inconvenient scratch. He looked towards Merlyn, who also seemed unharmed, when a sudden realisation hit him. Checking the ground around him, he searched the area around Merlyn, even Gwaine, but to no avail.

"Where's the cup?" he exclaimed frantically, startling both of his companions from their slumber.

Merlyn rubbed her bleary eyes, a little dazed from lack of sleep. "Cenred's men. They took it."

"Then what are we still doing here?" Arthur bellowed, staring angrily at his servant. He regretted his tone almost instantly, realising that Merlyn would never do something as stupid as hand the cup over to their enemies.

"You were unconscious." his servant stated, in no mood to put up with his ignorance.

Arthur scoffed half heartedly. "Always an excuse, Merlyn."

The prince saw Gwaine and Merlyn exchange a look of disbelief, but ignored it, attempting to scramble to his feet. He quickly realised his mistake, letting out an agonised cry as he fell back to the earth, his leg buckling underneath him. Clearly he was more injured than he had first thought.

Merlyn ran up to him, pulling him back to his feet whilst Gwaine steadied him from behind. He breathed harshly, trying to get his pain under control. They hadn't brought any sort of medicine with them which, in hindsight, was rather foolish; he was hardly going to send his servant to search through enemy lands for whatever herbs he needed, not with Cenred in possession of the cup.

"We have to get back to Camelot before it's too late." he hissed through his teeth, wondering if it would be possible to hop the journey to the city.

~

Morgana had spent the past few days consoling Uther, exaggerating Arthur's prowess, acting as if she didn't already know what had happened to him. As if she wasn't the catalyst to the king's downfall. She wasn't stupid enough to think that the prince would actually die at the hands of Cenred's mercenaries, but Morgause had sent her word that they had retrieved the cup. Morgana delighted in playing Uther's loving ward, a role she wouldn't have for much longer. Soon, Camelot would be within her grasp, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to enjoy every second of manipulation and deceit that would lead up to that moment.

"We must convene the war council." the king declared after listening to Sir Leon's reports of Cenred's army. Morgana did her best to hide her smirk, knowing that nothing they did could possibly counter Morgause's magic. With Merlyn lost in the forests, there was no one to get in her way. Even if she were here, the ward very much doubted a measly peasant could defeat thousands of immortal soldiers. Resistance was futile; Uther may as well have handed over the castle key.