Merlyn's Fate

The Curse of Cornelius Sigan P1

"Merlyn," Arthur murmured lazily, his eyes glazed as he turned over to look at his sleeping servant. They hadn't risked sharing a bed often, but it had been so very late and Merlyn had been so very tired. She'd somehow ended up tangled in the sheets, cuddling up to a rather comfortable prince. Her tunic had mysteriously been discarded, as had Arthur's shirt, the clothing lying in a messy pile on the floor.

"Merlyn," he tried again, shaking his servant softly, trying to wake her. An awful clanging had awoken him, the sound of workers, perhaps, in the courtyard below. If he couldn't sleep through the noise, he didn't see why his lover should rest.

"MERLYN?" he shouted in her ear, his patience wearing thin. She opened her eyes, fluttering her eyelashes as she adjusted to the dim light.

"Yes, sire?" Merlyn asked sleepily, stroking a finger down his chest, far too close to the hem of his trousers for him to think straight. For a moment, he wondered if he should just use her as a distraction to the noise, but after another loud bang, he knew he needed the incessant clattering to end.

"Are you deaf?" he narrowed his eyes, faking annoyance as she unconsciously shifted closer to him.

"Sadly not." she grimaced, covering her ears with a pillow. Judging by the look on her face, it appeared not to work; she glared at him, wishing that the prince hadn't woken her up when she'd been perfectly capable of sleeping through the sounds.

"I want you to go down there and tell them to stop." Arthur ordered, absentmindedly twirling a lock of her hair around his thumb.

"But I'm not dressed; as far as I remember, that's not exactly my fault is it?" she smirked, hopefully unable to see the Prince's face turn a very pink colour as he recalled his hands travelling to the edge of Merlyn's tunic, lifting it above her head in one fluid movement, desperate not to break their passionate kiss for any longer than necessary.

"And nor am I." Arthur grinned, also musing upon how quickly his shirt had been unbuttoned and tossed to the side, removed by hands much smaller than his own.

"They're working under the king's orders." she countered, rolling over, failing miserably at regaining her comfortable position.

"Yeah, and you're working under mine." he chuckled to himself, stealing the covers from Merlyn so that she was left in the tantalisingly cold air. Sighing, she stood, ignoring Arthur's perverted gaze as she pulled her tunic over her head, throwing one last glare over her shoulder as she slipped quietly out the door. She shivered in the winter night as she made her way down to the courtyard, cursing the prince's surprisingly light sleep.

Uther had ordered an excavation of the ground under the castle, probably trying to find some kind of lost treasure, although not even Gaius was certain. As Merlyn neared the entrance to the cave, the first thing she noticed was the absence of noise. The second were three of the workers, all of them stricken with terror, fleeing the tunnel, running to the surface and scrambling away, not even acknowledging her presence. Naturally, the witch felt it her duty to investigate.

"Hello?" she called into the badly lighted passageway, descending slowly with her own torch. She reached the end far quicker than she'd expected, a hole, large enough to fit a well-built man, leading to some kind of room. Stumbling through it, she found herself in what seemed to be a burial chamber, a stone coffin, decorated with a blue, heart-shaped stone, stood proudly in the centre of hundreds of sparking jewels. Merlyn had never seen so many riches, so many beautiful artifacts. As she spun around, taking in the breathtaking sight, she noticed a man kneeling by the coffin, probably one of the workers. His head was slumped to his chest, his skin a strange, a pale, ghostly white.