Camelot

Four - Heir to the Throne

Author's Note

I do not own all of the characters in this story, nor the basic storyline which has been adapted from the 2008 BBC TV series, 'Merlin'. Please enjoy a story that I have adapted from the series for my own enjoyment. Feel free to leave any comments or suggestions. 

Four – Heir to the Throne

I GLANCED AT MADELINE for only a second before the two us raced towards Arthur, who was slowly lowering Leith to the ground. Madeline began to undo the buckles of Leith's chest plate, while I seized the belt fastening his chain mail and quickly removed it from his body. Once we could finally access his chest, we pulled the chain mail and cloth aside to reveal an ugly, inflamed wound, oozing with infection. My blood turned cold. This was entirely my fault.

"Emalia!" Madeline growled, shooting me a deadly look. "You are no physician. You should have known better than to attempt this yourself."

I looked at her, a pleading look on my face. She could immediately tell that I had used magic to attempt to heal my knight, but in the present company she did not need to go announcing it to the world. With one look at me and then at the dragon insignia on Arthur's breast, she knew to hold her tongue. She did not know that this was the Prince, yet she was smart enough to realise that magic was not a topic to be discussed in front of anyone from the kingdom of Camelot.

Madeline was the daughter of the Lord of Ganden and like myself, her mother was also a Druid. She had been the one person who I'd journeyed with when I visited the Druid camps after my mother had died, growing her own gift of magic just as I had. To this day, she was much more powerful than I, as she had been able to devote more time to her magic while I was forced to spend most of my time learning about politics and all that went with being Queen. While we had been incredibly close throughout our childhood, I did not see Madeline all that much these days as she had her own responsibilities at hand, having been pronounced Lady of Ganden after the passing of her father a few years back.

Of all her magical gifts, the greatest gift Madeline possessed was her ability to See. She had been a Seer from a very young age, often plagued with nightmares that in turn, became visions. After many devoted years of study, she now knew that visions often came to her in dreams and she had since learnt to see people's pasts by placing her hand on their bare skin. I knew that the moment she had touched her bare hand on Leith's skin, she had seen just how he had come to be in such a position. The one downfall of being best friends with a Seer was that she could always tell when I was lying.

"I had no choice, he was dying!" I admitted, grasping hold of Leith's hand in worry. "He never would have made it to Camelot if I had not tried. He had fallen from his horse the moment we stopped riding and we had barely left Warrendor at that point in time."

"Emalia, why did you not tell me of this?" Arthur asked, looking confused. "You met our court physician, Gaius. He could have helped him. Leith would have been in very good hands."

"You!" Madeline snapped, tearing her eyes from Leith's wound to stare at Arthur through narrowed and hateful eyes. "Go fetch me some water. How else am I supposed to clean this wound without making things any worse?!"

Arthur's eyes widened, shocked at the way he'd been addressed. Something about Madeline's vicious tone told me she knew exactly who he was. I looked at him silently, urging him to go. Madeline needed to do something fast and Arthur could not be in the room when that was happening. Even in my kingdom, he wouldn't turn a blind eye to magic. He would expect me to have Madeline's head for using sorcery in front of us.

"The well is in the citadel," I told him. "Please, go quickly and be careful. I must remain here with Leith."

He nodded, picking up his sword from the floor beside Leith and taking off down the corridor. As soon as he had left the room, Madeline returned her eyes to Leith's wound and placed her hands inches from the site, beginning to mutter incantations under her breath. Her hands glowed as she worked, and I watched as the wound beneath her hands seemed to become less inflamed and angry. She knew much more about healing than I did. She always had. Once she had finished, she covered the now healed skin with his shirt and looked up at me, worry on her face.