A few quick questions were asked, but none of them were terribly important. Mostly about staging grounds and preparations. Kay was surprisingly thorough. I suppose that was why the king relied on him so much.
"Mordred, if you have a moment..."
Yet even when I turned to leave, a voice rang out, directed straight at me. The king's magician, a mischievous person who was not, really, much better then mother when it came to smell or intentions. Really, sometimes I thought they were locked together in some sort of secret war or something, for all the issues that they seemed to make.
"… What is it?"
"Not here. Please, follow me." Ignoring the looks from certain members of the Round Table, Merlin simply strode from the room, gesturing me to follow him. "Oh, and Tristain, do mind the vegetables. Your stomach hasn't adjusted."
The man was as irreverent as always, I suppose. Merlin could pretend at formality well enough, but it also went out the window as soon as he thought he could get away with it. We were halfway down a hallway before he spun and seized my arm.
The pain was excruciating.
"Merlin. Let. Go." I hissed the words out, every one promising eternal pain, but Merlin simply levelled his gaze where he must have assumed my eyes were. It was more in line with my nose.
"How much do you remember, really?" He asked coldly. A long moment passed. I could feel the energy beginning to crackle inside of me, ready to lash out. Something within me just wanted to snap, to incinerate him with pure power.
"Nothing." I felt my lip begin to curl. Yet after a moment, Merlin's hand was gone. The man looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown of some sort.
"You aren't lying."
"Of course I'm not, you insane jester. The hell was that about?"
"… Come. I will explain as best I can." He opened a door. No, it was more accurate to say he put his hand on a door and pushed hard enough the lock broke. He did not seem to care for the rooms purpose. "One of the servants can fix it later."
"I'm sure that'll endear you to them."
"It keeps their hands busy." Striding into the room, he waved his hands and muttered more then enough words, a table and light popping into existence with a fantastic swirl. The room looked like it was one for some sort of record keeping, of what, I'm not sure I care.
"Huh. I see Kay has been busy." Merlin didn't seem shocked at all. "Sit. Drink?"
He waved a hand, and the door shut. I got the feeling it wasn't about to open again.
"Start explaining, jester."
"Patience, Mordred. I'm not sure if your temper is merely your parentage or your ailments."
"And what do you know about my parentage?"
"More then I suspect you do." Merlin retorted. "But there's precious little time and too many cauldrons waiting to explode." He paused. "Perhaps that would be a good one to get out of the way. Who exactly do you think your father is?"
"King Lot. Are you mad?"
"If you were the daughter of King Lot, then there would be little hope of your survival even this long." Merlin seemed to chuckle at that.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh come off it Mordred and take off the helmet. I saw your face plenty of times when I was instructing Arthur in the way of the sword." Merlin retorted drily. "You and your father are spitting images of each other; I'm surprised you haven't noticed yet."
"Bullshit."
"Believe what you wish. I tell the truth only because it is necessary." Merlin answered. He took a seat at the table almost absently, sipping from some tea. "It is good, you know."
"This is ridiculous." I have no idea who he was trying to mess with, whether it was truly me or someone else, but there was really no need for me to put up with this. Yet when I tried the door, it would not budge. "Merlin, I won't ask twice."
"And I don't want to have this conversation twice. Sit Mordred. You are not well." Merlin answered. "Sit."
My eyes met his for a long moment.
"I'll stand."
"Fair enough. Strip off the armour on your right side. A visual reference would probably help."
"Excuse me?"
"Between your shoulder and elbow specifically." Merlin's eyes narrowed a moment. "Do trust me a little more, Mordred. I am trying to mind your interests as well. There is a reason the king doesn't already know."
"Know what?" I snarled.
"Look at your arm." Merlin was sounding remarkably patient. I let out a sigh, stripping the armour and cloth of Lamorak's tunic out of the way.
"What is so damn im-" The words died in my throat. "What the hell is that?" It was long, like a thin, grey, knotted scar that ran from the middle of my bicep to the middle of my forearm. Merlin did not look. He did not speak. "Merlin, explain."
"I don't have that answer." His voice was soft. "I can't tell you what it is. It comes from beyond the stars, I think. In the history of the world there is not any other record of this."
"How the hell did you know?"
"Because Lamorak saw it." He answered softly. "He seems to wish to protect you from the knowledge. Misplaced sentiments, I'm afraid." His eyes fell to me, his hands folding together. "What I can tell you, is whatever that is, it is steadily spreading."
"Like a cold in a crowd?" I grumbled. I did not like where this was going. "What is it doing? Can you at least tell me that?"
"Nothing pleasant. I'll spare you the knowledge lest your imagination go too wild." He answered. "The end result will likely not be pretty. It is an infection that will slowly spread throughout your body."
"Then get rid of it."
"If that was possible, then I would have already offered to." Merlin answered. "Even with a sample of it, I don't think I can remove it." He paused, reaching into his robes and pulling out long strips of cloth. "I can bind and seal your arm, but that is it."
"Tch." I felt a frown cross my lips, my eyes returning to my arm. "What do you mean, beyond the stars?"
"I am blessed with sight. I can see everything, should I wish. I'm sure you know the tale, after all." Merlin answered softly. "But I can no longer see you, and I cannot see the new weapons of the picts." I'm sure that was supposed to be meaningful, but I just glared at him.
"Your point?"
"I can only see what belongs of this world. It was the first hint something was wrong. I thought you dead until Lamorak and Gawain sent word." Merlin answered. "Take off the armour and sit. I'll seal the arm for now, but it will not last."
"Since when does anything?" I snarled. Yet he didn't seem to be lying. If anything, the thing I could see in his eyes, was fear. It was something I was quite familiar with.
"You misunderstand. This might last weeks. It also might only last days." Merlin muttered. "If I thought it would help, I'd order you to stay home, but there is not point."
"Don't you dare." My voice rose several octaves. "I refuse to-"
"Do not be a petulant child. I got enough of that from Arturia." Merlin's voice was sharp, slicing straight through what I had meant to say. "I must say, you and your father are really not all that different. Though you have a far stronger temper." Letting out a sigh, he began to unravel the strips of cloth. "Sit down. This won't hurt, but it will feel uncomfortable."
He was not wrong at all. It felt like my arm was being frozen.
I had no idea how to feel afterwards. Merlin's claim was… fantastic. I was the child of the king?
There was going to come a time soon, I think, where mother and I would have to have a long and frank conversation.
The shear speed that the king and Kay were able to muster forces is, honestly, quite frightening. Normally it would take a week or so to ready the provisions and such for such a relief force, yet the king had one ready in less then two days, staging them literally outside of Camelot. Lancelot's group of dragon slayers was also there, ready to march out. Dozens upon dozens of men were running around with food and gear.
It was quite the sight.
The king was there as well. His sword and ornate sheathe were prominently displayed beneath his mantle. Merlin stood by his side, oddly enough, armed with a sword-like bundle of cloth. Bedivere was also present, of course, his massive spear held absently.
"I trust I didn't keep you waiting?" I asked. A long moment of sidelong glances commenced. I made me think that they, indeed, had been.
"No." Arthur finally answered me. "Not you specifically. Mark insists on coming, and I managed to get Tristain to join us for the expedition, though he complained about being away from his wife..." Arthur actually looked quite wistful at that. "Merlin, if you would."
"Yes, Highness. This sword is Secace. It is a sword from His Highness's youth. A very precious heirloom, if you will. It has a lot of sentimental value." Sentimental, maybe, but a sword was just a sword. He handed me the blade. It was beautifully maintained, though all the ornaments had clearly been added after the fact.
"Thank you, Highness."
It was no magic sword from the King's vault, I suppose, but it wasn't a bad blade.
"Are you disappointed?" Merlin asked snidely. I shook my head.
"No, it will serve."
"Yes, it will. Take care not to hit someone you don't intend to kill with it. Secace does not discriminate the defences of those that it strikes." He commented. I blinked.
"Sorry?"
"He means that Secace is enchanted to only draw blood in mortal combat." The king rolled his eyes at Merlin's antics. "It was the sword I trained with back in the day."
That explained the kings nostalgia, for sure.
As we rode…
[ ] I rode with the King. "Highness, is there a reason Merlin calls you Arturia?"
[ ] I rode with Tristain. "Why do you and the king disagree so?"
[ ] I rode with Gareth. "Is there a problem?"
[ ] I rode with Bedivere. "What are your thoughts on the defence of Lothian?"
