Delicate » BBC Merlin

two. pit of despair

two| pit of despair

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It took days for the two young sorcerers to reach Camelot. Days filled with laughter, smiles, and aching bones. Tears were shed at the thoughts of the home they'd left behind, but they were ultimately hopeful that their destination would provide them unlimited joy. On the final day of their journey, it was Merlin who first spotted the castle walls on the horizon. 

"There!" He turned to Ophelia, excitedly, with that huge smile on his face, eyes sparkling with happiness. But when Ophelia's eyes landed on the gates of Camelot there was something else in the pit of her stomach, a sense of dread.

"Merlin... Something doesn't feel right," she muttered, but Merlin was gone. He had taken off down the hill towards the city. The sense of dread left her as she saw his mop of hair bounding across the fields and she ran to catch up to him. She finally reached him at the gates where he had stopped to take it all in.  "My stars, it's beautiful."

She stood gaping at the walls in front of her wondering what marvels lay beyond them. Turning toward the boy next to her, she smiled and grabbed ahold of his frail yet firm hand. Together they walked past the men guarding the gates and took their first steps into Camelot. People bustled by carrying vials, crates, barrels and so much more. It was much busier than the small fields of Ealdor. 

Trumpets sounded and the citizens of Camelot hurried towards the sound. Merlin and Ophelia made eye contact before rushing to follow the crowd. Pushing through the people appeared more difficult than the two had anticipated. Ophelia was shoved and bruised all the while trying her best to keep her eyes trained on Merlin. For a moment she lost him, but he appeared and snatched her hand just to drag her to an opening in the crowd. She was about to thank him but he put a finger to his lips and pointed up toward the palace. Stood there with pride and arrogance in his stance was an older man with graying hair, and a crown rested atop his head. Ophelia's feeling of dread returned, accompanied by a voice in her head.

"Ophelia! Carelessness like that will land your head on a block."

She shook her head to rid herself of the memories but they always found a way to overcome her.

Red waves brushed past her face as she sat upon the stool at the dinner table. Her mother, the source of all the red, turned to face Ophelia, disappointment painted her features."Though, I assume it wouldn't matter much anyway. You'll never be what we wished for."

Ophelia flinched. A young girl of only four years shouldn't have to listen to such talk, though she should have been used to it. This had been normal for the girl since she was born she imagined. She had been born with kindness in her heart, grasping fingers with the gentlest touch the moment she had exited the womb. A smile to all those who passed by meant that she was a disappointment. Her hair had been just as light as her heart, and that was something her parents would never forgive her for. They had been pruning her ever since to fit the mold they set for her, dark thoughts, dark heart, dark arts. But there were moments when Ophelia thought they weren't watching, moments where she felt she could be herself. So she took advantage. Aiding animals caught in traps, or simply creating a dancing light show to entertain herself as she had done this time. "Sorry, mama."

"I am too, Darling." Her mother raised her hand and Ophelia felt the sting of a palm at her cheek, struggling to keep the tears at bay. At such a tender age she had learned to keep her face dry of tears. Weakness must not be shown for it would show your enemies that you were not worth anything, and the stars knew that the May's had enemies. Ophelia pushed her shoulders back and stood tall with her chin held high, she had faltered but it would not happen again, she refused to let it happen again. "Maybe we should ship you off to Camelot, there you'll find that they are not as friendly towards magic as I."

Ophelia bowed her head and awaited further instruction, as she knew it would come. When her mother was angered it was easiest not to speak and wait to be directed. Her mother gestured her away for Ophelia must not have been worth the breath it took to speak. A shout followed the young girl to her small bedroom, one that spoke of dark arts. Ophelia sighed and opened the pocketbook she held in a chest next to her bed. She turned to a random spell, "Belucan Orpung", to stop the breath of someone or something. She tested the words on her tongue and quickly spat out the taste they left in her mouth, copper. She slammed the book shut and hung her head in shame, she would never be the witch her mother wished.

Ophelia's breathing was heavy and her eyes darted back and forth to find something, anything to hold onto. Instead, they landed on the man in the center of the square, he couldn't have been more than twenty-three, he was on his knees bent over... a chopping block. Her vision started to blur and she reached for her best friend's hand but couldn't find it. Her hearing failed her, she could hear muffles through the fog but could not make out the words. She swore she saw a red sea of hair pass through the crowd and her knees grew weak. As quickly as her breath left her, the young man's head left his body. Ophelia gasped out a small squeak before falling back into the familiar embrace of Merlin. He gripped her tightly and pressed his face to the side of her head and whispered something into her ear. All she could feel was the tickle at her ear and warmth across the back of her neck.

"Focus, Ophelia," he whispered into her ear once again, she begged her mind to listen. She stopped and tried to focus on something, anything. Against her back something beat rhythmically, Merlin's heart. She counted the beats and quickly melted into his chest just in time to hear the king speak thusly;

"So I declare a festival to celebrate twenty years since the Great Dragon was captured and Camelot freed from the evil of sorcery. Let the celebrations begin."

They would celebrate the death of a man so quickly? Ophelia stood up straight once again, still holding on to Merlin's hand tightly. She needed the comforting touch to ground herself and she refused to let go especially now that she knew the dangers her mother so often spoke of. "Merlin, we must go," she spoke with urgency but Merlin shook his head before they both startled at a wail from the crowd. The crowd of onlookers parted to reveal a ragged, old woman with tears streaming down her wrinkled face.

"There is only one evil in this land, and it is not magic! It is you! With your hatred and your ignorance! You took my son!" She shook and her voice broke but she continued to address the king, "And I promise you, before these celebrations are over, you will share my tears. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a son for a son."

Ophelia's heart broke for the woman, magic could be used for good, this was what Merlin had taught her. Why the king could not see that was beyond her, perhaps if it were allowed less of the dark users would come forward. She couldn't finish her thoughts because King Uther ordered the guards to seize the sobbing woman. Merlin moved to help the witch but Ophelia held him back, fearing the consequences of her friend's kindness. The woman incanted a spell, and disappeared into a flurry of wind and dust. Merlin turned to Ophelia and they shared a knowing look, fearing their safety in the palace of hope. The sinking feeling in Ophelia's stomach returned, deeper than ever, but she put on a brave face for Merlin.

"We best be off to find Gaius," her smile was forced and Merlin could tell, but he didn't say anything because he too was masking his fear to protect the girl attached to his hand. Together, they made strides towards the looming palace, once a symbol of hope, now a symbol of despair.