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Another banquet.
Another opportunity for Merlin to risk humiliating himself in front of two courts at once. At least the visiting king was a pleasant enough chap.
The king – Ain, he thought his name was – was older then Uther. A smiling man with white hair and a neatly trimmed beard and a plump cheerful face with a round body a bit on the shorter side. He wasn't a loud drunken sort, just a nice grandfatherly type. Merlin found he quite like the old man.
His daughter, Princess Helaie, took a lot after her father with a short stature and a build on the rounder side. The girl had straight shiny brown hair the color of freshly tilled earth and a creamy completion. She had big soulful brown eyes and a straight nose over a small full-lipped mouth. She wasn't really pretty, not what he would call a great beauty. She was more cute, like a little lamb frolicking through a field or a puppy curled up for a nap. She had a very sweet sounding voice and a shy manner.
Merlin actually was quite sorry her attempts to flirt with Arthur had fallen so disastrously flat.
She really seemed like quite a nice girl, through not necessarily the prince's type. He expected part of the issue was the girl's dominating aunt.
Merlin's gaze flickered towards King Ain's sister and winced. The woman looked very different from her kin. Tall and thin with hard eyes and a long mouth with thin lips. She was dressed in dark clothes opposed to her brother's red and greens or her niece's pale golds. Her brown hair, liberally streaked with gray, was pulled back in a severe bun at the nape of her neck. Merlin didn't think she had smiled once since she had arrived and it seemed the banquet was making her mood worse by the second. She wore a severe and disapproving glare, dark eyes narrowed coldly.
Merlin was glad her grace, the Duchess Delanci, was not looking at him like that. He felt very sorry for the princess, to be under such a terrible stare. But the girl was bearing up admirably, hardly paying it much mind. She must be used to it, the poor girl.
Ironically, it seemed to look was the main reason Arthur wasn't responding favorably to Halaie if the occasional disquieted looks he'd been shooting the older woman were of any indication.
Merlin drifted forward at a subtle gesture with the pitcher he held to refill Arthur's cup.
“You don't have to keep looking at my aunt so.” Helaie told Arthur with a slight smile as he drew near, looking plainly amused. “She's not a troll in disguise. She's not going to bite you.”
Merlin had to struggle not to snort out loud at that.
Arthur kept his expression polite but Merlin could see the hint of annoyance that entered his blue eyes. “I had no such concerns.” he said loftily.
Helaie blinked at him, looking surprised. “Truly? I thought everyone was scared of Aunt Delanci.” she shot a look towards her relative with a fond smile that only seemed to deeper her aunt's glower when noticed. “She doesn't mean any harm. She just wants me to marry well and I suppose Father's blasé stance on the matter annoys her.”
Arthur shot her a curious look as Merlin leaned between them to refill the goblet. “King Ain doesn't care who you marry?” he asked, interest piqued.
Merlin stepped back, unobtrusive and keeping to the background. He was trying very hard to be on his best behavior tonight. His hope was that if he was a model servant during the banquet maybe it would negate the whole disaster he'd had earlier when he'd accidentally spilled the original contents of the pitcher he now held. Maybe it would also prevent anyone from noticing the wine that had stained the bottom of his right sleeve.
“Oh, Father cares deeply. He wants me to marry a man who is hale and kind. But beyond that he really isn't too particular. Aunt Delanci on the other hand is quite set on ensuring I make the most politically advantageous match possible. I suspect that it has something to do with the fact she never had a child of her own. I think she has something to prove.”
“Hmm.” was all Arthur said to that, clearly processing this bit of gossip and unsure if it would be worth remembering.
Merlin stepped back to stand against the wall once more, smiling slightly to himself. He caught a hint of movement out of the corner or his eyes and turned his slightly to find Gwen eyeing him from where she stood behind Morgana's chair. The darker skinned girl with the pretty curls gave him a look of amused judgment and dropped her eyes pointedly to his sleeve.
Merlin felt his face grow hot and looked away quickly, embarrassed. Well, he had been caught. But then it was just Gwen, she was rather observant. Also he knew she wouldn't rat him out. She was a good friend.
He shifted a little uncomfortably, frowning. The heat in his cheeks seemed to be spreading through his whole body, making him feel unpleasantly warm. That was strange.
With a startling suddenness, the heat seemed to grow exponentially inside him, like a sudden jet of dragon fire or the air escaping an opened oven. It was startling and intense and made him feel queasy, nausea sending his stomach rolling.
Oh, it was too much.
He was hot. So very hot.
Merlin pressed a shaking hand to his forehead and blinked his eyes in an effort to clear his burning vision. His skin felt clammy to the touch and was drenched in sweat. It felt like he had a raging fever, burning hot enough you could cook an egg on him. His hair clung to his forehead and neck uncomfortably and he wiped at it in irritation. It didn't help lessen it in anyway, just made the sensation feel a little different.
Hot. He was so hot.
Merlin untied his neckerchief with shaking fingers and pulled it off, feeling like it was strangling him. He wiped at his face with it. The texture of the materiel felt rough to the point of pain as it scraped over his skin. His breath quickened, a tightness slowly squeezing around his chest. It was becoming hard to breath. His heart felt like each beat was a strain, trapped in an unrelenting vice. He hooked two of his fingers into to collar of his shirt, tugging at it in growing desperation.
It was so hot. So very hot
He couldn't breath.
“Merlin?” a voice asked in concern. He barely heard it. He could barely hear anything. The world sounded muffled and confused around him. Only the sound of his blood rushing through his ears had any clarity. It was overwhelming and loud and sharp. It made his head hurt and . . . by all the old gods, he couldn't breathe-
A hand touched his back.
It felt like he'd been struck by lightning a painful electric jolt shooting out from the point in the middle of his back where whoever it was had made contact. Even through the layers of his jacket and tunic, the touch seemed to sheer into him. He'd felt his body snap painfully straight at the touch then his legs gave out from under him, a scream ripping involuntarily from his throat.
There was a startled exclamation from beside him, sounding like it was coming from the bottom of a very deep well. A hand grabbed hold of his upper arm, catching him. The shock of it felt like someone had struck him about the head with one of the heavy metal pitchers from the kitchen. Everything went black and he passed out, the unrelenting torment chasing him into unconsciousness.
Leon's hand jerked off of Merlin's back when the servant let out a horrendous agonized scream at his touch. He grabbed Merlin's arm instinctively as when he suddenly dropped towards the floor, catching him. The pitcher Merlin had been holding hit the floor with a loud clang, spilling wine everywhere. The boy seemed to pass out at the touch, body going limp. Leon carefully lowered him to the floor, kneeling beside him with a baffled look of concern.
He had been worried when he had seen the prince's manservant looking increasingly distressed but doing an admirable job of maintaining decorum. The rapid paling of his face with high points of color on his cheeks and the frantic tugging at his clothes had set off alarm bells in his mind. He had to convince the young man, clearly coming down rapidly with some sort of fever, to discreetly slip away to Gaius' quarters instead of risking him losing his lunch before two courts.
The scream and following collapse had been as unexpected as they were troubling.
Leon was aware the entire banquet hall had gone silent at the initial horrible sound and could feel their eyes on him but he didn't look up from the figure sprawled at his feet. Even unconscious, the poor boy appeared to be in some distress.
“Sir Leon?” The prince's voice was hard, the angry tone concealing clear worry and confusion as he surged up out of his chair.
“I do not know, Sire.” Leon responded to the unspoken question. He did not know what was wrong nor what could have brought this on quickly.
He ran his eyes over Merlin's body, searching for some clue to explain Merlin's collapse. There was no wound that he could see.
The knight frowned, noticing a strange stain on the cuff of the servant's shirt. Picking up his limp arm carefully, Leon reached for the hem of the sleeve to investigate it.
“Don't touch that!”
Leon startled at the unexpected harshness of the shout and dropped Merlin's arm.
Gaius picked it back up gently and folded the hem of Merlin's sleeve back, taking care not to touch the wine stain. The old physician's brows furrowed deeply, eyes hardening at what was revealed. It looked like Merlin's skin had been burned where the stained had touched. The old man muttered something scathing under his breath.
“What is that?” Leon demanded, troubled. It looked extremely painful.
“The side effect of a very powerful love potion.” Gaius informed him stiffly, tone distracted. “On those it is not intended for, it has serious adverse effects as you have seen.” he looked up, frowning heavily. He turned towards the nearby table. “Prince Arthur, may I see your cup?” he requested in an urgent tone.
Arthur looked startled by the request then his features hardened in understanding.
Leon did as well, watching silently as the prince grabbed his goblet and handed it to the court physician. Merlin had only handled the prince's wine this night. Logically, the intended target of the potion had been Camelot's Crown Prince.
The princess Helaie, twisted around in her seat to stare at the scene taking place behind her, looked at Arthur with a horrified look of understanding.
The Duchess Delanci sat very still in her chair, stiff as a board. Her face had turned a strange ashen green and she stared at events taking place in front of her with a strange sort of anxious fury, eyes flicking between Arthur and Merlin. Her gaze then went to Uther and she shrank back in her seat as she registered his furious expression as if trying to fade into the background.
Leon narrowed his eyes at her. The Duchess's behavior was beyond suspicious, especially when taken into account how she had practically been throwing her niece at the prince. But he couldn't say anything now. There were more serious matters to take care of, not to mention a lack of proof. But he knew where he would be focusing his initial investigations.
Gaius held the cup up with an intense look of scrutinization. He withdrew a pair of tweezers from his clothes and dipped them in. Slowly he withdrew a long thin cord of hair, prickly black bristles poking out in all directions and dripping heavy droplets of wine.
“That was in my cup?!” Arthur exclaimed, horrified and clearly disgusted by the sight.
“The potion is in two parts. The tainted wine was merely a catalyst. This cord would direct its effects and bind you to whoever the caster chose.” Gaius explained in a distracted tone.
“'Caster'?” Urher demanded, cutting in, tone sharp with fury in that particular tone he got whenever magic was involved.
“Yes. A most insidious bit of spellwork.” Gaius's features grew suddenly grave, a dangerous look entering his eyes. “We must hurry. Sir Leon, please bring Merlin to my chambers.” the physician commanded raising quickly to his feet and hurrying from the hall.
Leon scooped Merlin up into his arms with great care and hurried after him. The servant felt very small in his arms and the knight felt a surge of protectiveness go through him.
Merlin was going to be alright.
Leon was going to make sure of it.