"You and Merlin need to practice how you address Royalty."
"I promise you, your highness, I try, but it's never done me any good in the past."
"Its Prince Arthur..." He paused, likely realizing he didn't know my name. "And you are?"
"I'm but a commo...
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RECOVERY known also as... {TALES BETWEEN TIME :: Part Four}
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Despite my injuries, I desperately pleaded for freedom- And Gaius wouldn't hear of it.
The man watched me like a hawk following the days after Merlin's almost death. The physician had even cohered Tom into giving me the next few weeks off.
To keep me from dying of boredom, Gaius did his best to find me things I could do with only one hand, consisting of; Fetching herbs from the town edge when accompanied by Merlin or Gwen, stirring his cauldron, reaching vials on tall shelves, and many other small meaningless tasks. Sometimes he let me tag along with young James McBain when the boy was sent to wash some clothes in the creek by the edge of the woods.
As anyone could expect, none of these things entertained me in the least.
But the worst part was that Uther had sent Rulf off on some long errand. My friend had been kind enough to leave me a note saying as such while I was away saving Merlin. I must have missed it when I was first put under house arrest by the king, because when I came back to my room later, I found it sitting on my mantle.
Now I was left to, not my devices, but Gaius' as I was forced into imprisonment with no one to come and rescue me.
I'm starting to see why Tina says I'm overdramatic.
Many hours I spent gazing out Gaius' window, wishing I was better aquatinting myself with the vaste city rather than stuck in his stinking apothecary.
Between working for Tom, saving people's lives, and being forced to attend royal events, I hadn't gotten much time to look around Camelot properly. Now would have been perfect.
Obviously, Gaius wasn't of the same mind. He didn't give my idea any breathing room before shooting it down. "I don't believe for one second that you won't get yourself hurt worse. You'll be walking through the streets and start a bar fight for all I know." He retorted, and then refused to hear any more about it.
Its like he thinks I'm some fragile chick! I've had stab wounds worse than this- and I managed then to carried on with my life!
It was day three of my imprisonment, and I was on the brink of perishing. The man didn't have anything for me to do, so I sat at his windowsill with a book. I would have preferred my lute, but I faced the same problem with having only one hand.
The book laid forgotten, as I had become sidetracked by the people below who carried on with their healthy, normal, entertaining lives.
