~Camelot~
Merlin strolled into the Seasonal Throne with the Lady Morgana a foot behind him. Just like how the Royal family like it or at least how the King and his grandmother, Belladonna, preferred it.
Morgana fumed, silently. The Battle Mage felt her magic rolling off her in waves. After years of dealing with the anti-female laws and rulings, the dark haired beauty grew to hate those laws and how she was treated as a second-rate citizen over the last century. It also didn’t help that the former High Queen Belladonna despised all non-humans, including half-human. Morgana took a calming breath. She pulled in her magic, confining it to the boundary of her skin. Merlin moved his gaze over the room, taking the Throne room and its occupants.
Standing on his right as he recognized many of the Black Family - Belladonna’s own family - glared at him and the she-mage. In front of the Black Family stood Lady Margherita Black, in a golden dress that fitted her form nicely. Her dark eyes narrowed at him and Morgana. Lady Margherita was visiting her Great Aunt, Queen Belladonna, and was activity trying to increase her position at court by marrying a high standing lord. She led the Black Fraction within the Drake Court with her brother, Lord Jason Black.
Beside the Black Family, Prince Arthur’s birth mother family stared emotionless at the magi as they walked in front of them.
However, behind the two fractions, the wall had a faded image on it, only interrupted by two large tall windows. They swung outward, letting the cool spring air drift in which contrasted with the faded image. Merlin knew at one time, the faded image seemed to glow with an inner light and beauty painted on the wall.
The image used to be a perfect fall day, showing a large oak tree in the process of loosing its leaves. The fall colored leaves were depicted falling to the ground, joining the gathering pile of leaves already along the floorboard.
Merlin’s eyes shifted forward where a dozen Knight of the Round Table stood in a semi circle. Standing by the Gray alliance, Sir Mordred stood with his arms crossed over his chest. A frown pulled at his lips. His eyes darted between the magi and the King. He shifted slightly as Sir Bors of the Miller House put a hand on Sir Mordred’s shoulder and muttered, “Mordred, calm yourself. The King is ill, not cursed as you claim.”
Merlin shot a glanced over his shoulder to Morgana. She nodded. She heard the comment. The Magi knew Sir Mordred would be aware of the Curse. His family was one of the scared 100. The Sacred 100 had been the first members of the Round Table when King Arthur the First took the Throne and they continued to send their sons to join the Knighthood and their daughters to Court.
Merlin noticed the Eldest Queen, Vivian, sat with her back straight, shoulders back against the back of the chair and meet his gaze in an even stare. Her brown eyes were red rimmed and hard as stone. A pale gold grown hugged her frame and glittered in the sunlight that pour in through an open window. Her honey blond hair was pulled into a fancy bun, leaving a few strands hanging on either side of her pale face and swayed in the spring breeze.
Filling the space between Queen Vivian and the next throne stood Sirs Tristan and Leon. Sir Tristan stood with his body in loose stance to indicate he was ready for a surprise attack. His fingers twitched occasionally. He rolled his shoulders back. He appeared like he just got back from a hunt since he still had his bow and quiver on his back. He didn’t wear armor like the rest of the Knights did, but a simple brown tunic and deer hide pants. A hatchet hung at his waist.
If Merlin remembered correctly, Tristan was the descendant of the Tristan who sat at the table during King Arthur I’s time. However, if he was wrong, it wouldn’t be the first time. He was close to 2000 years old, after all. He can’t be expected to remember everything during his lifetime, can he? Of course not, he answered himself silently. There had been too much he had to do and went through over the years.
He blinked, coming out of his thoughts. Tristan, the battle mage noticed, shifted foot to foot. The gleam in his brown eyes informed Merlin that Tristan was itching for a fight, to show off why he earned the title of Violent Knight.
Merlin slid his gaze to Sir Leon. He stared at the approaching magi with a steel look in his dark blue eyes. His usually open expression face was closed tighter then the heavily guarded dungeons, hundred of feet below them.
Queen Belladonna, openly, glared at Merlin and Morgana. She held one of her hands in her lap where a long dagger lay. It’s blade glinted in the sunlight. Her braids fell over her hunched shoulders as she lend forward. She didn’t wear any of her dark colored dresses today, but the warrior grab her family was famous for, a form fitting long sleeve shirt with a simple gray tunic over it, falling to her knees, revealing a pair of dark leggings. Her red painted lips curled back in a sneer.
Merlin felt something heavy land in his stomach as he ran his eyes over the warrior queen. It had to be bad news. The Queen wouldn’t dress in her warrior grab without a good reason. The Black Family were raised in the most ancient ways. The Battle mage knew, for whatever reason, if the Warrior Queen showed up in her warrior grab, it would be a bad day for someone. He had no doubt, it will his and Morgana’s bad day.
Sir Draco lend away from the Black Queen. His eyes darted back and forth between the magi and the Queen with uncertainty. Merlin frowned, studying one of the newest Knights to the table. Draco was from a small family that rose to power, recently. He didn’t have a blood claim to sit at the Round Table, but the King gave him permission sit there. Merlin watched as Draco ran a hand through his hair.
Sir Galahad, lent toward Draco and muttered in his ear, “Calm down, Draco.”
Draco shot Galahad an annoyed look and commented in the same volume, “I don’t like being around near her.”
“I know,” Galahad replied, “But right now, you have no choice. Shove those feelings aide before Lord Jack sees your reaction and suggest you to put on guard duty for her.”
Draco sent the older Knight a wide-eyed horrified look that made Merlin chuckled a bit under his breath. Galahad straightened up, his eyes twinkled with amusement. His shoulders relaxed as he gaze across the room, eyes never resting too long on anyone, keeping an eye for danger.
The Queen Galahad stood next to, Queen Clarine, glared daggers at Merlin and Morgana. Her chocolate brown hair was twisted up on her head. It was a popular hair style within the court for the season, at least according to Morgana. Her dark purple grown simmered in the sunlight, steaming through the open window. Her face appeared to be stoic, but Merlin notice dhow her pale pink lips pressed together in a thin line and how her blue eyes flashed with anger.
Movement next to the former High Queen caught Merlin’s attention and his eyes landed on Sir Bardock. He was a tall knight with the most shocking red hair the battle mage had ever seen - Scarlett with gray streak through it. His usually king green eyes gleamed with uncertainty, worry, and an alertness that only came from raising three sons and a lone daughter. His eyes, Merlin noticed, kept darting between the magi and to Merlin’s left. The Mage risked a glance toward his left to see Bardock’s three sons.
Standing in a triangle formation, the eldest son was almost exact copy of his father, but Genesis had his mother’s blue eyes. Merlin had been surprised with the rest of the Court when Genesis decided to go to the Military instead of following his father in Knighthood. He quickly rose through the ranks and achieved the rank of General at age 20, one of the youngest Generals to do so. That was six years ago.
Behind Genesis, flanking him on either side, stood the mischievous twins of Camelot, the red-haired devils themselves, Vincent and Victor. They took after their mother with hair several shades lighter then the vivid scarlet of their older brother and father but they had their father’s eyes. Merlin didn’t know how many times he had to reserve their pranks over the years since they had came to Camelot to follow their father’s steps into Knighthood. He was glad that Bardock managed to find enough squire-related work for the twins to keep out of trouble, most of the time.
Studying their expression, a red flag went up in Merlin’s head. The twins usually looked like they were plotting something mischievous that resulted in them getting into trouble with the Ruling Family and gave either him or Morgana a headache. However, they looked grave, serious. An expression that didn’t look right on them.
A quick glance behind the trio informed Merlin that they were the only family members present, representing the Ancient and Noble House of White Hall, one of the scared 100. Merlin let out a sigh of relief. The Family Matriarch, Lady Freya, was not there. That woman could be as bad as Queen Belladonna when it came to trying to get her way.
Merlin turned his attention back to front, his eyes landing on the knight beside Sir Bardock. Dark brown hair slicked back, brown eyes that Merlin heard many ladies of the court thought were wonderful and a scowl informing the battle mage he wanted to be somewhere else, Sir Steven looked irritated. He had a deep purple cloak hanging over his left shoulder it draped over his back, coming to a stop around his knees. Steven had a reputation of being a dick. There was several spots of dirt on his pants indicating that he recently arrived back to the castle from a quest the King assigned to him.
Sir Steven stood a foot behind the throne of the High Queen. High Queen Kalliope of the Drake House stared out with red rimmed, watery brown eyes. Her pale red hair was braided back, tightly. Her baby blue dress shunt softly in the sunlight. A crown of rubies, diamonds, and sapphires encircled her head with a gold band.
There was an empty space between the High Queen throne and the King’s Throne. The King’s Throne was not empty. A man, appearing in his mid-40’s, sat up on the High back throne. A simple gold band sat on his dark silvery blond hair. A pair of tired, hazel eyes looked weary at Merlin and Morgana. The battle mage saw the glimmer of hatred for the magi in the King’s eyes.
King Uther IX of the Drake House was known to be unkind to magical creatures and non-humans. Merlin knew the reason why the King hadn’t tried to execute him and the Lady Morgana, yet. The sacred 100 Families would raise up in a revolt and overthrow the Drake Family and their supporters. Plus the magi had sworn an oath the First King of Camelot and they renew it every time a new King took the throne.
Merlin ran his eyes over the King who wore a dark red tunic under his state men’s robes which was hung over his hunch shoulders. A pair of dark colored pants disappeared into a pair of black calf high boots. The king’s hands clutched the chair in a loose grip.
Someone shifted on the King’s right, Merlin’s left. The battle Magi’s gaze left the King and settle don Lord Jack, Captain of the King’s Guard.
Lord Jack’s eyes narrowed in suspicion before his eye darted back to the King. His right hand settled on the pummel of his sword,c overing the large red gem that housed there. His left hand ran through his dirty blond hair, making it look like he had done that multiple times.
Merlin remembered Lord Jack while the Captain was growing up as the King’s childhood friend. It came to no surprise when King Uther took the crown, he appointed his best friend to the position.
Standing beside Lord Jack, Sir Lancelot stood straight, staring calmly at the Magi. His hair was disheveled like he hadn’t been bothered to brush it before rushing to the Seasonal Throne Room. If Merlin remembered right, Lancelot was assigned to the Night shift for the month. He would be usually be in bed by now, the mage mused as the magical being spotted the dark circle under the knight’s eyes.
Lancelot’s clothes looked slight rumbled under the light armor he wore. However, the armor was polished to a shine, his family crest standing out in the middle of the breastplate, revealing his family was one of the scared 100.
Merlin’s eyes moved to the High Prince’s throne was Prince Arthur X Drake sat. The prince looked perfect. His blond hair slicked back out of his face. His rich colored tunic smoothed over his body, a dark colored pants covered a pair of muscle legs and a knee high riding boots. A quick glanced at the edges of the riding boots told the battle mage that the High prince just came from riding.
Next to Prince Arthur, Sir Buchanan stood a step below the raise platform where the Ruling Family sat. His light colored eyes flickered around the room. His shoulders held back as he slightly widened his stance. His thumbs were hooked in his sword belt. He didn’t wear armor, but the brown jacket he wore over an orange tunic revealed his family’s crest on the left breast, stating his was a part of the scared 100.
Standing on the step below Sir Buchanan, Sir James. Sir James was one of the Newer Knights King Uther had knighted within the last year and was allowed to take one of the vacant seats at the Round table. His platinum blond hair fell about his head, his bangs frame his face as his steel blue eyes glared at the magi. His arms were crossed over his chest.
On the step below Sir James, Sir Steven frowned in disapproval of Merlin and Morgana. His brown hair peeked out behind a bandanna that encircled his head as his chocolate brown eyes held an icy look to them. His fingers tapped against his bicep.
Behind the Ruling Family, upon the wall, a portrait of a perfect summer day spread over the bricks. The tree was a willow tree. Its green fill branches swayed in an unseen wind. Merlin knew, nearby the floorboard, there was small woodland animals roaming under the sweeping branches. He knew at one time, there was the vivid images of a wood elf peering through the branches as a forest sprite hid in the high branches, and a water nymph poked her head from a stream at the far watery stream int he background, but even to the Battle mage’s enhance eyesight, he couldn’t see them under the years of neglect, dirt and smoke.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The rustling of a skirt caused Merlin to blink before he glanced to the crowd gathering to his left. He spotted several of the minor lords and ladies of the Court, waiting for something. He saw Representatives of the previous Ruling Families near the wall of Spring.
However, seeing King Uther’s pale complexion, sent up red flags for the battle mage. There were times where Merlin didn’t agree with the policies the King had put in place, but he didn’t wish the man any ill will. Merlin focused his gaze took noticed that Uther was not pale, but there was a faint greyness round his eyes, cheeks, and mouth. The Mage frowned, thinking. The King of Camelot looked like he was about to die.
Merlin’s eyes found Morgana’s and he read all he need to know. She felt the same way. The mage turned his attention back to the king and stopped at the bottom of the steps. Morgana step behind him. He bowed, asking, “You called for us, your majesty?”
He stayed in the bow until the kind spoke in a rough tone, “Yes, I did.”
Merlin straightened. His eyes roamed over the King before his gaze settled on Uther’s feet. Just like the King preferred all the non-human look at. It served as a reminder of how the King thought of the non-humans.
A sharp harsh coughing echoed in the silent throne room. Merlin snapped his gaze up to see the King bring a hand up, covering his mouth as he doubled over, nearly falling out of his throne.
High Queen Kalliope slammed her hands against the arms of her throne, pushing herself up and out of the throne, rushing over the few feet separating the thrones. She fells to her knees at the king’s side.
Merlin launched forward with speed he saved for battle and cupped King Uther’s left should as the ruler coughed harder, curling up and nearly falling out of his throne.
Morgana darted up the stairs, grabbing her skirt. She side-stepped the kneeling queen and grabbed the arm of the throne to steady herself. Her right hand slid over the King’s back to the area between the shoulders blades. Her fingers spread wide apart. She muttered a spell. Her eyes glowed, brightly.
“What is she doing,” Belladonna yelled. She had rushed over to stand close to the High Queen. Merlin glanced at the warrior queen and his eyes darted back to Morgana. Murmurs rose from the court as they watched on with interest.
“She’s casting a diagnosis spell,” Merlin explained, silencing the room, “Lady Morgana is still the most talented healer and potion mistress in this Kingdom.” He paused, watching Morgana for any signs of fatigue or magical drain, “She will figure out what ills our king, soon.”
The High Queen nodded. Belladonna glared at the she-mage with distrust. Clarine’s face smoothed out, but her face glowed with worry. Vivian looked pale as she watched the scene unfold in front of her.
“High Queen Kalliope, my lady,” Merlin knelt by the youngest queen, “How long has the king been like this?”
Kalliope looked up from Uther’s form, her eyes wide and said, “Nearly three months. The non-magical healers are claiming that he is dying -” Series of gasps rose form the court at that news, “And there is nothing that they can do.”
In Morgana’s vision, an image rose from Uther’s back. Red line pulse, slightly throughout the image and met in the center of the image, clustering together. On either side of the pulsing center of the red lines, two long oval colored in blue flexed, in time with the King’s breathing. There was red lines leading away from the two ovals. White thick lines surrounded the clusters of red lines and the blue ovals, forming a cage.
Morgana knew what the colors meant: Red stood for the blood, the veins, and the heart; Blue was the lungs, and white was the bones. She scanned the image, looking for the odd color out. It would be a shade of green. She hoped to find a light green color, almost yellow. Those would be the colors of a simple cold or a upper respiratory inflection. Her eyes drifted back to the color of the lungs. That shade of blue was darker then it normally should be.
A healthy set of lung, Morgana had discovered over the years since she had created the spell, was the color of the sky on a nice cloudless sunny day. However, this shade of blue reminded the black mage of the darkening sky at dusk. She watched as the oval flexed when Uther took a deep breath and coughed. Sickly, dark neon green flared throughout the left lung entirely and half way through the right lung. The green color stayed while he coughed and when he tried to catch his breath.
Morgana felt the blood drained from her face, watching the green of sickness spread upward as it faded away until the darkened blue only remained. She knew what it was. It was that blasted curse. How did progressed this fast. He just started showing the signs…unless…A thought crossed her mind as her eyes flickered over the image. Unless he passed it off the signs off as a simple cold or a cough that wouldn’t go away.
She searched her memories, trying to remember when King Uther started to fall ill. A memory drifted up from the darkness of her mind. It was a regular day about three months ago, maybe a day or two after that Tiefling couple was turned in.
Morgana stared hungrily at the potion book from Atlas. She glanced at the title and read it, ‘Potion Discoveries of the 20th Century’. She wanted to do a jig excitingly. She glanced at the clockwork sundial and saw she had plenty enough time to read a few pages.
She stepped toward her favorite, plushy chair and curled up in it. Her feet tucked under her long skirt. She propped open the book between the chair arm and her legs and started to read.
Each new potion, Morgana read, was interesting. Some of the potions had a new use for a rare ingredient or use it in a way the she-mage didn’t think possible. There were others that called for an ingredient that Morgana never heard of. It took a search through the book to figure out that the new ingredient was found in the deepest and darkest parts of Atlas and unfortunately, the picking season was shortly after the Yuletide celebrations had ended and the various New Year festival were due to start. Morgana wondered if she could get her hands on the unheard ingredient and see what king of test she could perform on it.
The doors to her chambers flew open. She jerked her head in surprise. Her eyes landed on the form of her personal maid, Syrinx.
Syrinx was a pretty young woman around her 20’s with bright blond hair and the clearest blue eyes Morgana ever seen. However, right now, Syrinx had a panicked expression on her face. The younger woman rushed over to Morgana’s closest, crying out, “Lady Morgana! You are going to be late for the feast!”
Morgana blinked, confused. What feast was Syrinx talking about it? She was only aware of a single feast and that was later. She glanced toward the clockwork sundial. The screen had lit up with bright red numbers, 6:19. She let out an unlady like curse, standing up. Syrinx let out a bark of laughter as the blond appeared from Morgana’s walk in closest with a rich blue dress. The book Morgana had been reading, landed on the floor with a loud thud.
Morgana darted over to the dressing screen and quickly stripped out of the dress she had been wearing. Syrinx threw the rich blue dress over the dressing screen and took the other dress. It didn’t take Morgana long to redress and grabbed the black shoes from Syrinx.
The she-mage took another look at the clockwork sundial, 6:23. She let out a curse. She had to be at the Great Hall by 6:30 and it was almost a 10 minute walk from the Queen’s Tower.
The Black Mage flicked her hand toward the balcony doors. They drifted open. She moved to the foot of her bed before she took a deep breath and broke into a run. She pumped her arms and legs. She passed through the door frame of the balcony before she leapt over the stone railing. She tucked her legs up, passing over the railing before she allow her legs to straighten beneath her. She watched as the space between the ground and herself decreased and she muttered a word of power, sticking her hand, palm facing down.
The power swelled up and darted down her arm, out of her palm. Morgana’s decent slowed until she stepped lightly onto the ground. She allowed her body to curl up. Her knee touched the dirt followed by the palm of her hand. The spell ended. The power slowly faded up her arm and to her core.
A small burst of magic cleaned her dress of any dirt. She hurried away from the Queen’s Towers. She knew there were several shortcuts she could take to get there. Some of the passage she personally designed and created herself over the years and when she was in those passages, she ran as fast as she could.
Morgana rushed through the halls. She couldn’t believe she had lost track of time, reading the latest potion book from Athena City that Sir Alastair brought back with him.
Sir Alastair returned earlier that week from Atlas Island, as a part of the trade agreement between Camelot and Atlas. Uther was hosting a celebration in Alastair’s honor of the successful agreement and he passed out the several trunks of gifts that the people of Atlas had given to them.
King Uther had passed all of the magical books to the Court approved magi before he divided up the rest of the treasure to the men who went with Sir Alastair, shortly after the Knight had returned.
Now, Morgana reached the hallway leading to the Great Hall where all the important dinners took place. She paused, trying to catch her breath. She knew it was not a wise thing to show up breathless as she was. It would spread rumors and put her on the bad side of the Warrior Queen who put a huge emphasis on appearance.
“My love,” Morgana’s back straighten in surprise as she heard the youngest Queen, “Are you ill?”
“No, I’m fine, my queen,” King Uther’s voice sounded rough before he started to cough. It sounded harsh, coming from his chest. It was also coming closer from the sound of it.
Morgana frowned. Her blue eyes darted around the hallway. She needed to hid before the King and the Queen spotted her. She knew the King would not like seeing the black mage there in the hallway when she needed to be in the Great Hall with the rest of the Court.
She, mentally, cursed as she realized that there were none of the secret passages in this hallway. Her eyes fell on a nearby statue. She released a sigh as she spotted who the statue represented. It was Sir Lancelot, the Gallant, and one of her half-brother’s closest and most trusted knights.
Sir Lancelot the Gallant stood with a protective expression on his stone face. His cloak flared out to either side of him as he was frozen in the position to withdraw his sword.
Morgana heard the footstep coming closer and she double-checked the hallway. It was still clear. She sighed and slipped behind the statue of Lancelot. She hoped the shadows would hid her long enough for the King and the Queen to pass. She pressed her back against the cool stone wall. She suppressed a shiver as she felt the coolness of the stone steeped through her heavy dress, reaching her shoulders and back. She waited.
“My king, please,” Queen Kalliope’s voice took on a pleading tone, “Please, see one of the magi -”
“No!” The king snapped. Morgana saw a ruby red cloak swirl out from her hiding place as the King turned to his Queen, “You know I don’t trust two magi. The magic they wield is nothing more fancy tricks.”
Morgana winced. She knew the Ruling Family didn’t like her and Merlin for having magic and being a pair of ‘uncivilized’ creatures. In the past a hundred or so years, there hadn’t been any major conflicts that required the magi of Camelot to step and resolved it, according to their vows. Morgana and Merlin had once sworn to King Arthur of the United Kingdoms of Camelot to protect Camelot at all costs. The way the vow was worded, the magi were allowed to keep their magic and life if they were ordered not to help out by the sitting Crowned High King and the sitting Crowned High Queen of Camelot. If there was not a sitting crowned High King or Crowned High Queen who the magi did not swore the vow to, the magi were allowed to do what they will, escaping with their lives and magic intact.
Belladonna had thrown a fit when Merlin and Morgana had recited their ancient vow they made to the previous Kings that sat on the throne and were crowned; claiming what they said was false, that they never made that vow to her when she was High Queen.
Merlin had given the Warrior Queen a grim smile and explained why. Her husband, King Michael, didn’t required them to make the vow to his Queen and it didn’t take long for the vow to be made to the High Queens to fall out of favor.
“According to you, my king,” Queen Kalliope snapped, showing her hidden backbone. A soft gasp echoed, “My deepest apologies, your majesty, for my tone.” There was the sound of shifting skirts. Morgana knew the Queen bowed to King Uther. “I wanted to say that, in my experience, Lady Morgana —”
“She-mage,” King Uther growled. The hidden mage winced.
Queen Kalliope agreed, causing Morgana to shake her head in dismay. However, the Queen went on, “The She-mage has proved her methods are as effective as the medicine makers you have in the dungeons.” Her tone took on bit of a hiss at the end of the statement.
“They are —” King Uther started, but whatever he wanted to say was cut short when he started to cough, harshly. It was a deep, cough coming from his chest like he had an infection in his lungs. She hoped she would be able to help the King.
Morgana’s mind race with possible illnesses that related to the chest. However, the King recovered and repeated, “They are no better then the barbarian creatures in the woods and we enslave.”
All of Morgana’s hope died. She had hoped that his majesty would change his mind about magic. It was obviously he wouldn’t, anytime soon. Morgana let out a silent sigh as she waited for them to pass.
That was when the King fell ill. Morgana should have recognized the signs of the curse, but she didn’t. Not this time. A hand settled on her shoulder. She glanced up to see Merlin looking down at her with a questioning expression. She knew he was asking if the illness was apart of the curse. She nodded.
Merlin silently cursed. He should have known. It was Uther’s 10th year of ruling, after all, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling this time….this time it was different somehow. He knew Morgana and he couldn’t just inform the entire court of the curse. It would be chaos. No one would want to try to pull the Holy Sword out of the stone because of the curse. Eventually, Camelot would fall to her enemies before they realize there was a curse on the Holy Sword and try to break it the unbreakable weapon.
An idea formed in his head. Just maybe, they could pass it off as a simple illness that required bed rest for the next couple days before they announced it was something more serious and explain the curse in private to just the Ruling family and stress the secret of the Curse. That just might work.
“I think,” Merlin started, “It would be best if his highness retire to his rooms.” He thought about the potion brewing in his private study. It should buy the King a week or more. It just depends on what Morgana said. She had managed to find a spell to detect the curse progress shortly after their Arthur had first fell ill from at the unknown spell, late they found it was from the curse. “This could be nothing but a simple cold and should clear up in a couple days time with rest.”
“Are you sure, Mage Merlin,” Queen Kalliope spoke up, looking up from her husband’s pale face. Her eyes pieced Merlin’s eyes. She knew this was not a simple cold.
“We won’t know for sure until the Lady Morgana and I do some tests to figure out what is ailing our king, my queen,” Merlin dodged the question. “Until then, how about the Prince and a couple of the Knights help the King to his rooms for some rest.” A pause as the ‘crowned’ prince stepped forward with Sir Tristan, Sir Bardock, and Sir Mordred. Sir Bardock and Sir Mordred helped the King to his feet as Prince Arthur took point and led the way to the Royal wing of the palace. Sir Tristan brought up the rear with Bardock’s twin sons. The entire court watched as the King was helped out of the room and Morgana moved back to Merlin’s side.
Merlin turned to the youngest queen and commented, “Lady Morgana and I will be by in a short while to run some basic test to figure out what is wrong with the King.” He bowed to the remaining royals and both magi said in respectful tone, “By your leave, my queens.”
They turned and walked out of the throne room. They kept their pace even, walking a little faster then they would have normally, but Merlin knew if this had happened at night, they would have been running back to Merlin’s study to discuss the curse in private.
However, it was mid-day and they had to act like nothing was wrong. Like the curse didn’t exist. Like the King was not dying and the future of Camelot and her people was not in jeopardy. It had looked like it was going to be a beautiful, boring day to Merlin when he got up that morning, now, he was sure it was not going to be a boring day, just a highly stressful one and it was only noon!