Merlyn's Final Truth

The Wicked Day P1

Arthur's birthday had never really seemed like much to celebrate. Of course, the king would ensure it was a spectacular event, entertainers from across the land coming to perform for the young prince, filling the city walls with light and colour. But behind closed doors, Arthur's father was always withdrawn, silently mourning the anniversary of his late wife, seeming to forget his child's existence as he dwelled in sorrow. When he was younger, Arthur had resented the steely eyes, the sadness that he found lurking in the corners of the king's gaze; it was this shame that had taught him, from a very young age, how to put on a brave face in front of the court, gasping and cheering at appropriate moments, pretending to be lost in his spoilt celebrations. Internally, however, he found himself silently resenting his father, wishing that he could spare just one kind smile, just a look of genuine pride on his special day.

And then Merlyn had come, bringing him gifts of swords and pendants and honeyed wine, stealing sweet kisses in the short moment that they found themselves alone. He found himself longing for the time where he could reasonably excuse himself, where his servant would sit with him by the fire, holding hands as they talked about nothing in particular, pretending to be some sort of old, married couple, something more than they dared to believe. Even then, he felt as if he were part of some odd performance, forgetting his duties for the night, acting as if they were lovers, equals, not a servant and her master. He wanted to find the pride in her eyes, now, growing almost dependent on her happiness, his father fading in his mind.

He could tell that she had been saddened these past few weeks: ever since Lancelot's death, the mood around the castle had been rather sombre. The prince had found her in some dark recess of the palace more than once, murmuring comfort to Gwen, the pair huddled together, finding solace in their memories. He always left them there, finding some other servant to complete his meaningless tasks, knowing that there was no force in the world that could separate the two friends, not when they had lost so much. He had never spoken to Merlyn about what had happened on the Isle of the Blessed, how it had come to be that Lancelot had sacrificed himself in his place, having a feeling that he didn't want to know. She would have told him if it was important. She would have told Gwen.

The festivities had been his uncle's idea, a way to lift the mood of everyone in the castle, to give them a night to forget about their troubles. For the most part, it seemed to have worked: most of the townspeople took pleasure in watching the colourful spectacles, gathering in the courtyard where acrobats and jugglers were performing below.

"Oh! Did you see that?" Merlyn gasped, pointing out of the window and towards the ground. Arthur smiled fondly for a brief moment, watching the morning light shine through his servant's hair, before fixing his face in a glower. He couldn't be seen finding amusement in such trivial antics.

Standing over Merlyn, resting his head on top of hers, he wrapped his arms around her waist, watching one of the acrobats perform a vaguely impressive backflip, the juggler behind him smiling widely at the crowd of children around him.

"It's a man throwing sticks in the air." Arthur observed with fake disdain, moving back to his papers. He had more important work to do.

Merlyn, sensing his strange mood, pulled herself away from the performers, closing the window behind her.

"What's wrong? It's your birthday. A huge feast is being held in your honour. You've got dancers, jugglers and acrobats to entertain you." Merlyn sighed dramatically, following Arthur through the room as he tried to escape her strange humour. "It must be a terrible burden."

"Perhaps I'm less easily impressed than you." the prince shrugged with mock nonchalance, but Merlyn was never one to back down.

She scoffed, her eyes raking over his body pointedly. "I hardly think that that's true."