Weep You No More Sad Fountains - Chapter 9
Weep You No More Sad Fountains
Chapter 9
Betrayal
“here is the deepest secret nobody knows
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)”
E.E. Cummings
The flowers were being taken down.
The tapestries replaced with their originals, the candle holders moved.
Despite the sun shining through the vast windows to his left, casting a labyrinth of yellows on the hardwood floor, there was certainly a melancholy aura to the air Merlin entered into now.
He found what he had been desperately searching for, and with a low voice, not due to caution or previous exertion, but from fullness of feeling, did Merlin speak to him; his back was turned, arms folded across his chest, stance drawn out and tired, not strong enough to withhold the perfections of civil falsehood.
Merlin, therefore, could not distinguish anything upon his face, or how and in which ways it fell.
‘I’m sure-,’ the King immediately, aware of Merlin’s presence, inclined his head to the right, not so much to look at Merlin directly, but enough that he may see his figure from the side of his eye.
Merlin had to pause, for he felt it all so much.
His King’s face was pale, the eyelids half closed as if he was drowsy; his bottom lip protruded in a pensive position.
Merlin considered how his King must be feeling, and would, if it was within his capabilities to do so, would vanquish all doubts and sorrow from his friend’s mind.
Oh how he wished it.
‘I’m sure, sire, that if given the chance-’ his voice was hoarse and barely worth listening to.
But Arthur heard it, turned fully this time with his head; however his body had only made a small adjustment to accommodate the angle.
Merlin was petrified to the spot, not in horror or fear, but with the dejection that was in his King’s eye, the iris dull, the pupil weak, and there was also a faint frown to be found about him in posture as well as feature.
‘Merlin,’ he swiftly, softly interrupted. He smiled barely; Merlin hoped it was from, maybe, a realisation of sorts that maybe Merlin was here because he understood the pain that was in him, and wanted to soothe its edges. However, due to his smiling, even if the thoughts had taken place, and were held with conviction, their potential for good would not be released.
There was a bitter gloom in his countenance.
Only if Arthur knew the truth!
It was such mockery to be this close to him and yet be placed so distantly!
Arthur then looked at Merlin, met his servant’s miserable gaze which tried to appear in high spirits for him, and spoke: his air with lack of nutrition in its diction,
‘Merlin,’ and he spoke with stone words, blunted, and resolved in the truth: determined and locked in this way of thinking, ‘I trusted her, Merlin-- and she betrayed me,’ his vision hazed, Merlin noticed, ‘I will never let that happen again.’
The King turned around from him, the conversation was finished.
But Merlin continued to look at the King’s back, saw the tension and hated it, hated it for he knew what ease in him there could be.
He waited for while, for what he knew not, then walked away forlorn.
Arthur may have accepted these events as certain and his fate, but if it would give him pleasure, if it would give him reason to rejoice, Merlin would attempt to make him smile.
XxXxX
The proceedings which had led to such fixation of mind were as follows:
The marriage had been happy, for a time, Merlin thought; however this peace in their domestic affairs was not to be forever.
Lancelot’s return, after so many thought him dead, was an astonishment, surprise, shock to all. He was welcomed with all civility and even a celebration to mark the joyous occasion. Lancelot’s, as was only natural, rank as ‘Knight’ restored unto him, and the intense happiness embed away into a slow contentment.
Merlin thought that would be all, however there was more, which he only saw before it was too late to prevent or warn either party involved.
Lancelot looked upon the Queen with jealousy, not the ugly, cowardly kind of green, but a sadness that knew heavily the loss at not winning the prize sooner. Merlin wished to council the Knight, let him convey his woes in a way that may make the process of letting go less painful, more achievable, in a manner so that Lancelot would not be too damaged by his love, unrequited, and so neither nobody would be in danger.
Weeks passed, and Merlin was assured, although the Knight still showed marks of nights not slept, Merlin hoped the future was to be a bright one, and with time, he may move on.
However, that was until he was awoken one night by Gaius, stricken and wild, who communicated all to him.
Merlin thought it was only Lancelot who felt as he did, understood the passion was strong but would be suppressed for the King and Queen. Merlin knew the adoration was in a state to be claimed permanent, but thought the fear of discovery, the shame and dishonour that would follow, would surely control it.
However, as knowledge dictated, Guinevere indeed returned the affections with as fierce a fire as was deadly, and in a moment of weakness of honour, or passion of love, satisfied their need to be together, only to then be caught by who would be hurt most.
Merlin could not only imagine the King’s suffering but felt it too: how he would shout, how he threatened the intrigued lovers with death, locked Lancelot in the dungeon and Guinevere in her chambers.
Upon knowing this story, Merlin felt his heart truly fall.
XxXxX
As conditions unravelled, a close friend to the Knight released him and he fled.
The helper was discovered, and to minimise the absolute scandal that this affair would already shadow the land with, was executed privately, the body cremated privately.
Merlin saw Arthur fall like never before.
What had given him pleasure was now disgusting, what entertainments he had once laughed at, now received a grimace, what food he did eat, was distasteful; what happiness ever was placed on his face or in his skin, was now leeched from him.
And it hurt Merlin every day, such a precise and concentrated slit it was to his soul, to see a corpse rise out of his friend.
And even in this state, the King was able to show his Queen mercy, and did not burn her at the stake, but banished her wherein she took the veil.
And despite Merlin’s best efforts, no spirit, no life, could he tempt from Arthur.
XxXxX
A letter was found in Gaius’ study the day Lancelot fled.
It was addressed to Merlin, and in confusion as to who could send him letters, for he had no friends out of Camelot and his mother could not write, and he himself, having only learnt how to read as to better the efficiency of his position as the King’s manservant, found the following prose:
Merlin,
As the person who took me in I plead one last favour from you in my hour of need.
Please, understand my regard for the Queen was not to be excited or tempted at first, I was to steel such feelings and enter a life of noble strength and honourable service.
But knowing how she felt, with her favour so obviously bestowed on me, the encouragements which I received from her face, her look, her actions, her tokens, my heart could not be stopped.
I am most deeply regretful of my actions and do repent them, not in spite of our discovery (my feelings, I swear, were pure) but that it should entail such a monstrous consequence.
I am aware of the pain I have caused, of the peril I have put the kingdom into and all I wish now, Merlin, is for you to clear my name to the King.
Merlin started at the King’s mention and read on in flustered haste.
He is a dear friend to me, and to only imagine the injuries I have given him pain me deeply, so much so I can’t begin to give them life with words, only know, Merlin, that I never wished, or did what transpired between myself and the Queen in spite of him.
I was foolish and not thinking clearly.
I have wronged a great man and have wounded many people with my thoughtless proceedings, these grieves, I am sure, will live with me until I die.
Please Merlin, I ask is for you to make the King understand that my intentions to her were pure and true.
May we meet again.
And the letter was signed with his signature.
Merlin stared at the letter for some time, re-reading it twice over.
Merlin felt a particular friendship to the Knight, he was a good man, Merlin believed, and he thought about honouring his wishes.
However, he threw the parchment into the fire, saw how it tangled and twisted in the flames; his admiration of the Knight could not exceed the desolation he had subjected his King to, such actions were unforgivable.
It was a low justice and petty victory, and Merlin did not favour himself for it, however what is done is done, and Merlin wished to tend to the scars that were left behind without interruption.
XxXxX
He was bringing the King his evening meal now, Merlin even sneaked in a few extra slices of salted meat that the King liked so very much. He had a tender hope that the phantom in those chambers would smile if he knew Merlin was being reckless.
However, as he approached those chambers, shouts and yells were becoming more punctuated and louder. At first he feared for his King’s safety, many a scene of blood filled his mind and his magic sparked with chills, however this was not the truth, for the wails were from only one mouth.
Merlin felt so drawn to that room in that moment! How he wished to relieve the wounded bear within!
At the door, furniture toppling could be distinguished, and Merlin reached for the handle instantly, only slowed by one of the guards, standing on duty outside, whispered in a voice, ‘Try to calm him.’ Merlin would have been happy to think that the guard said such things in concern for his King; however there was coolness, a parade of false pretence which gave the remark an irritated tone.
Merlin opened the door.
And what he found was something which caused him much aching: the King was slaughtering one of his curtains, remains of pottery shattered around the table where it had been discarded, and tendrils of wood where chairs and such like had been slashed at.
The room was in complete disarray, but what caused the most concern was how frenzied the King seemed in those moments; his cries cutting.
Merlin, paralysed with the sensations he felt, lost all muscular control, and dropped the food.
The loud clatter, with a brief echo, silenced the King, realising he was not alone.
Merlin approached him quickly, concern overriding where caution should be, affection dominating where fear could be. When he was at an appropriate distance as not to invade his King, but to be heard and hear clearly, the King’s heavy panting vibrating the air, his lost soul quaking Merlin’s soul, did he speak with as much feeling as he could possibly communicate; all Merlin wanted in those moments, all he desired, was to bring his friend back to sanity!
‘I know your upset, Arthur, and I know how hard it is to lose the people you love,’ the King flinched, his back still a barrier, but it seemed to soften, ‘I went through the same thing when I lost my father.’ They had spoken of this shortly after the lake event, and Merlin hoped Arthur was able to distinguish empathy from pity. Merlin knew he could not stand that. ‘Guinevere, Morgana... and Uther may all be gone.’ Oh how Merlin understood Arthur’s sufferings, only increased and intensified by not being able to communicate it all to anybody in fear of appearing weak.
Merlin gave him this now, despite his thick voice he went on:
‘But you still have a family,’
The King flinched again.
Merlin wished he could see his face, to see his expression, to see if his words meant anything, so he went to stand in front of his King, carefully raised that heavy head to look at him, careful to remove his hand afterwards-- and what waters did he see! What orbs of hopelessness!
It crushed him, truly crushed him!
‘Me.’
It barely had volume, damp itself, but life it did have.
Silence embraced them now.
Merlin was able to see that his breathing had reached an ordinary pace, his shoulders fixed naturally rather than tensed or slumped, and his expression, clear, portrayed understanding, and a subtle silent gratitude.
Merlin felt such glee that he had helped alleviate his King, comfort his friend, been able to demolish anxiety. But where one was defeated, another arose with words,
The King swallowed, ‘I am not upset at what Guinevere has done to me,’ Merlin was momentarily confused, convinced that his King loved her, but then truth was revealed, with words detached and eyes woeful ,’I’m upset that someone could.’
To have the one he treasured so dearly, believe himself undeserving, unworthy of any basic human affection, deriving these thoughts from experiences that were so unjustly put upon him, Merlin needed him to know otherwise.
All direction of his eyes was lost, and they crumbled with liquid.
The King was obviously surprised by Merlin’s actions, the embrace was swift; the demand to adjust his weight sudden to accommodate his servant’s as well.
Merlin had never held his King like this before, never had been this close, but he hoped, with all his might and every fibre of being, that Arthur would be able to now understand and realise that he was cared for.
Merlin didn’t care for any possibility that this was improper and absurd; it was necessary to stop his friend’s suffering, and to communicate affection undoubtedly.
Merlin tightened his arms around the King’s neck.
Some moments later, he heard the sword being dropped, its clatter also loud.
Moments after that, he felt arms encase his form, hands large.
Merlin gasped; eyes wide.
The touches were light, restrained, but they spoke vociferously: the touches were barely there, but they were present enough as so Merlin could feel warmth seep through his tunic and onto his flesh.
Merlin tightened his arms around the King’s neck, and allowed himself the tender illusion that this is where he belonged.
Chapter 10