500 Days of Freya (Merlin)

Maid

Chapter 13

Warning/s: None, I don't think. Nothing that goes above the T rating.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Prompt: from stikenotes: "Write about Freya being a servant in another kingdom after coming back from the dead and coming back to Camelot with her Mistress and seeing Merlin again."

A/N: I'm not very happy with this but I couldn't think of any way to write it better, so I guess this will have to do *sigh* I also meant to ask everyone, are you still enjoying the story? Reviews have dipped down lately and I'm just wondering if you're all still as bothered about it.

Merlin exhaled grumpily as he surveyed the courtyard. All of the dignitaries had gathered outside on the cobbled ground, waiting for the arrival of Lady Charlotte.

They had been waiting patiently – or impatiently, in Merlin's case – for two hours now. The sun was high in the sky now and Merlin could feel beads of hot sweat cascading from his neck down his back. He, of course, had been running around frantically all morning, trying to organise this and that. He was exhausted and being forced to stand stationary was not helping.

He watched as Gwen whispered something to Arthur, and as often happened, he felt a sudden, knife-sharp pang of loneliness, as if a dagger had been pushed into his gut. He squashed the pain away and focused on standing up as straight as his spine would allow – he had been scolded by Arthur for not having a good posture and letting them down the last time a noble had visited.

Finally, the familiar beat of hooves echoed from around the other side of the castle's tall walls. Everyone straightened immediately, ladies adjusting their hair and dresses, the men rearranging their clocks or the way they held their hands.

Two horses, drawing a carriage behind them, trotted into the courtyard. They were both sleek and ebony, elegant and proud creatures. Steering them was a squat, pot-bellied man with a square head and peculiarly small eyes. He was crouched upon a small ledge that jutted out of the carriage.

The carriage itself was blue and purple; Merlin vaguely remembered that those were the royal colours of wherever Lady Charlotte came from. It did look nice, Merlin admitted to himself grudgingly: he'd decided, as soon as they were half an hour late, that he was going to be hostile towards anything and everything to do with that kingdom.

The horses drew to a halt, and the carriage door swung open. A maid hurried out after it, scrabbling to hold it open for her mistress. She was too far away for Merlin to see properly (he swore that his eyesight was worsening with each passing day), but he still watched the scene eagerly. It was much more entertaining than watching the clouds, which he had been doing previously.

The Lady Charlotte stepped from her carriage, even though she was the same distance away from Merlin as the maid, she was a lot more difficult to miss. Her hair was so brightly blond that it was practically white; when the sun caught it, it was blinding. This is doing nothing for my eyes, Merlin thought dismally.

She was very skinny, but seemed to have tried to make herself more voluptuous with fake padding. Merlin wondered whether it was just him who had noticed, or if it was as blatantly obvious to everyone else.

She approached Arthur, wobbling dangerously. Her dress matched her eyes, a pale blue, with gold embroidery on the hem. It was tight and short, ending just below her knees. Merlin got the impression that she was trying too hard to impress them, and judging by the glimpse he got of Arthurs face, he wasn't the only one.

Arthur greeted her politely, as did Gwen. Lady Charlotte's voice, when she responded, was high-pitched and shrill, more like the wail of a banshee than anything else. They carried on the conversation for a few more minutes, during which time Merlin felt sure both his ears had exploded.