Lost in Albion 3 (Merlin) - Completed

Chapter 22: The Entire Spectrum of Emotion

Chapter 22

My sword continuously hits the dummy target which is becoming barely visible in the moonlight but I'm not tired enough to stop. I'm not good enough to stop. My arms burn with adrenaline and I know I'm going to feel it in the morning and I'm looking forward to it. I want the pain in recognition of growth. I want to feel stronger. I want to hold my own and lift up others.

I want to bond with Merlin.

It's what I've been thinking about the entire time I've been out here.

There's no reason we shouldn't do it. It helps Merlin and it would help me out if I could speak to him whenever I need to. Not to mention finding him. There's the risk of Merlin's death bringing about my own, but I've come to the conclusion that I don't belong in this world without him. He's the reason I'm here. I'm here right now because of the way I was born, and I'll be damned if I go out any other way.

"You weren't at the feast."

My sword raises as I spin on my feet, slicing through the air. Whoever spoke ducks just out of the way. I didn't even hear anybody come up behind me. My blade drops to the ground as the Prince stands back up.

"Arthur," I cry out I frustration. "I could have taken your head off!" I bend over, picking my sword back up, holstering it. I look back at Arthur, expecting some remark about his quick instincts but his own eyes are pointed at my feet. "Arthur?" I take a step forward and his eyes move back up. "What's wrong?"

"Morgana," he says quietly. I strain my ears to hear him, stepping forward again. "She...fell down a flight of stairs. Gaius isn't confident that she is going to make it."

For the first few moments, I'm not sure what to feel. Relief? Relief that the traitor in Camelot is o her deathbed. It would end so many struggles Merlin and Arthur (even if he doesn't know it) have faced and the ones that have yet to come.

But as I look at his face, instant regret fills me for thinking about the good her death will bring. Arthur has no idea of her true alliances. Morgana is someone he's grown up with, a sister. And his sister is dying. To everybody in the castle beside Merlin, Gaius, and myself, she is one of them and a beloved member.

My hands slowly rise to his cheeks. "I am so, so sorry Arthur." My hands move away from his face, circling around his neck. His head drops, resting on my shoulder and his arms tightly wrap around my waist. I rest of the tips of my toes, gazing out into the night as I figure out what I to do.

"I would do anything to save her."

I can almost feel the individual tears in my heart, ripping apart as easily as my dress did only a few hours ago. What could I do to help? I drop back down.

"Come on," I begin. "Let's get out of the cold."

I barely feel it, my muscles keeping me warm, but Arthur is only in his short and vest, barely enough to keep the night air off of him. I grip his hand, leading him back to the castle and he silently follows. His fingers thread through mine. My stomach flutters but I make a conscious effort not to react, knowing this is not the time to be thinking about myself.

Once we enter his chambers, I reluctantly pull my hand from his, letting him do want he wants as I go over to his hearth, getting a fire started. I pour my concentration into it, my knees digging into the grit on the stony ground.

I stay seated as the fire burns on. I can hear Arthur moving about behind me, but my own mind is reeling. I should probably go down to speak with Gaius and Merlin tonight.

Arthur appears next to me, seating himself in front of the fire, hooking his arms around one of his knees. His eyes graze the fire before turning to me, filled with every emotion he must be feeling, swirling around and fighting for dominance. I can physically feel the pity covering my face.