A/N: Continuing on! These fics will have a general linear feel, but I'm not committing to re-imagining every single episode, lol. This was going to be my fic about Lancelot, but I realized that "The Poisoned Chalice" is an integral part of the Arthur/Merlin relationship and couldn't be ignored. Lance is coming - worry not! He's too sexy not to have his own story. Be on the lookout for: "A Knight Named Lancelot".

Onwards!

Part the Second

***

By some unspoken decree, Arthur had decided that he and Merlin were not going to discuss anything of what had gone on during the tournament celebration, a few weeks prior. Merlin wasn't sure why this was suddenly such a taboo subject, but frankly she was growing tired of Arthur's snide comments whenever she happened to do her hair a different way, or wear a dress he hadn't seen her in a million times before.

Today, in rare form, she woke up a little bit early and encountered Gwen on the way to the kitchens. The other girl took one look at her and gave her one of those intentionally sunny smiles that said: Oh dear. Gwen placed her small hand in Merlin's and drew her away from the kitchens. They went to Morgana's chambers.

When they arrived, Morgana was sitting up in bed and sipping a cup of juice. She swept her eyes over Merlin once and pointed to the dresser on the other side of the room. "Over there, Gwen," she said with a smirk.

Something told Merlin that she should protest. Secretly, however, she was beginning to enjoy being pampered by Gwen and Morgana - even if was because they thought her a bit of a hopeless cause. Gwen brushed her hair out until it was sleek and smooth and Morgana, rising from bed and looking as magnificent as usual, began to rummage through a large trunk in one corner of the room.

"Err, nothing too fancy, Morgana," Merlin said, her eyes drifting shut like an indulged cat as Gwen tugged her fingers through her hair and began to twist it into a messy bun. "Arthur doesn't like it when I wear something other than the usual frocks." Merlin frowned at her words, though it was the unfortunate truth.

Morgana matched her frown in spades, except hers was supplemented by an impressive expression of disdain that Merlin was glad wasn't meant for her. "Oh that boy," Morgana sneered, "would probably like it if you wore a potato sack instead of anything that might," she paused and shared a look with Gwen, "garner unwanted attention." Merlin was confused. Behind her, Gwen burst into a fit of giggles.

"Unwanted attention?" she repeated, feeling somewhat slow and decidedly stupid. Morgana clicked her tongue and favored her with a toothy smile. She held up a dress to Merlin's face to test the color against her skin.

"Sir Owain!" she exclaimed. When Merlin simply stared, Morgana smiled again, gently this time. "Oh dear, Gwen was right about you. Don't worry Merlin, we'll take care of you." She tossed one of the dresses she'd been considering onto the bed and held up a deep red one. Merlin eyed it: it was simple enough to work in, and low cut enough to make her blush just looking at it.

"Arthur's going to hate it," she groused.

"It's perfect then!" Morgana replied with a thoroughly pleased laugh. Merlin thought she understood now what Arthur meant when he called Morgana 'wicked'.

***

Suffice to say, Merlin was late serving Arthur his breakfast. Arthur was not pleased and Merlin found she could really have cared less.

"Where were you?" he said grumpily, spearing a piece of cold ham from the platter. He brought it to his mouth and paused, eyeing her dress. His gaze lingered a touch longer than was proper on the low cut neckline, which offered up Merlin's modest bosom for perusal. He shoved the piece of ham into his mouth and chewed noisily, before swallowing. "I should sack you for wearing that," he said.

Merlin's temper rose dangerously close to the boiling point. She turned to Arthur from where she'd been gathering up his laundry, and felt heat creep along the back of her neck in response to his smug expression. Her mouth drew into a thin line. "Since when is my state of dress any of your concern?" she shot back, absently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She missed how Arthur's eyes tracked the motion and lingered for a moment on her fingers.

"As my maidservant," Arthur replied with a lazy drawl, "it is definitely my concern as to how you present yourself."

Merlin moved to stand next to him and glared down at him while he looked arrogantly up at her from his chair. Her eyes were as cold as ice chips as she stared down into his handsome face. "And how exactly am I presenting myself?" Her tone was thick with venom.

Arthur wasn't impressed. "Like a harlot," he stated.

Merlin fought the urge to stab him with a fork. Her chest heaved as she grasped at her control with a tenuous hold. Merlin rested a hand on her hip and cocked her head to the side. She tried her best to melt him with her eyes. Realistically she could, but explaining why the Crown Prince was suddenly melted into a royal pile of goo, was not a conversation she wanted to have with Uther Pendragon.

"I didn't realize you were so prudish, Arthur," she snapped, her lips curling back into a rigid grimace. Her voice was dull, flat, cold. Arthur blinked, momentarily taken aback. Merlin counted it as a minor victory. However, Arthur recovered quickly and covered his shock with a scowl.

"Hardly," he said tersely. The word slid out from between his teeth. "And that will never be any of your concern." Arthur turned back to his food and Merlin knew it was a dismissal.

She stood for a moment, her eyes fastened to the back of Arthur's blonde head, and wondered why his words bothered her so much. With a frustrated huff, she gathered the laundry she'd dropped and swept from the room.

***

"How'd Arthur like the dress?" asked Gwen conversationally as she wove another flower into the complicated garland she was working on. Tomorrow, the garlands would decorate the banquet hall in celebration of King Bayard of Mercia's arrival.

Merlin sat with Gwen at the edge of the field where the knights practiced, working on her own garland. She worked hard not to botch yet another one. As it was, Gwen had a neat pile, while she had a pile of stems and flower petals scattered around her.

The tip of Merlin's tongue peeked out from between her lips as she carefully worked a daisy into the garland. "Huh?" she asked, absently. Gwen finished another decoration and placed it atop her neat stack. She reached for more flowers.

"Oh," said Gwen with a small laugh, "was it that bad?" Her tone was all sugar and liquid honey; a soothing voice. It drew Merlin's attention and she finally glanced at her friend. She smiled ruefully.

"You could say that," she replied. "I'm beginning to think Morgana was right: Arthur would prefer me in a potato sack and nothing else." Merlin made a face and Gwen grinned against the back of her hand. Her eyes danced.

"Don't you, um, mean: 'or' nothing else?" she teased. Merlin threw a flower petal at her and felt a flush of color sweep the high planes of her cheeks. She turned back to her work with a small frown and shook her head.

"You're mad," she muttered good-naturedly. "You and Morgana are bloody batty." Merlin fumbled with the flower stem she was wrapping and the whole garland became unraveled. She sighed and tossed the ruined decoration into her growing pile of mutilated flora. She turned back to her friend to say something, when Gwen suddenly stood, startling Merlin. Merlin shaded her eyes and looked up at her, though the sun was at Gwen's back preventing her from seeing her expression.

"I err, um, I'm going to go and get some you know, more flowers," Gwen chirruped in an unusually high-pitched tone. She hurried off before Merlin could tell her that there were more than enough flowers to make several more garlands, in the extra basket they had brought with them. As she watched Gwen's retreating back, her mouth hung open in bewilderment. Had she said something to offend her?

A minute later a shadow fell across her. Merlin looked up and saw Sir Owain standing over her. She thought he looked remarkably well for one sweating in full armor at high noon and was about to say so, when it dawned on her. Oh. That's why Gwen hurried off so quickly.

Merlin was beginning to think that Gwen was more like Morgana than she realized.

"Good afternoon, milord," Merlin said pleasantly, rolling a broken flower stem in between he fingers. Sir Owain didn't reply and after a minute or so of discomfiting silence, Merlin craned her neck to get a better look at his face. She blushed and realized that Sir Owain was looking resolutely over her shoulder, in what she gathered was a chivalrous attempt to not stare down her bodice.

Ah.

Merlin scrambled to her feet ungracefully and brushed bits of flower from her skirt. Sir Owain seemed to breath a sigh of relief; his shoulders relaxed and he finally shifted to regard her fully. Merlin noticed that he looked quite young in full light, probably close to Arthur's age if not a few years younger. He was cute, - not handsome - with slightly rounded, boyish features. In some ways, Sir Owain reminded her of Will.

All at once, Merlin was struck with a fierce pang of homesickness. The feeling closed like iron bands around her chest and threatened to squeeze the air from her lungs. She inhaled sharply and fought down the emotion, though something must have shown on her face because Sir Owain reached out and placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Is milady okay? Does something ail you?" he asked. His brow wrinkled in concern.

Merlin gathered herself and smiled at him, slightly overcome and flustered by his show of kindness and worry. Besides Gwen and Morgana, nobody had treated her this nicely since she'd arrived in Camelot. It made her grateful for Sir Owain's unexpected attentions…and suspicious of his motives.

She wasn't beautiful and Sir Owain was a royal knight of Camelot - he likely had his pick of other, far lovelier maidens. Merlin's spirits drooped at the thought and she averted her eyes from his. She fidgeted with the a bit of invisible fluff on her dress.

"I'm fine, thank you for your concern milord," she replied uneasily. She raised her eyes and saw that Owain had drawn closer. Heat rose to her cheeks and for a wild, improbable moment, Merlin thought that he was going to kiss her.

He didn't. Instead, he reached past her cheek and pulled a white flower petal from her hair. He held it up in front of his face to examine it and Merlin, unable to contain herself, was seized by a fit of embarrassed giggles.

Sir Owain stared at her for a moment, perplexed by the turn of events, before he too was infected by Merlin's laughter and joined in. Merlin wiped a tear from her eye and wrapped her arms around herself, completely humiliated but unable to stop the laughing fit. Sir Owain, she decided between gasps of air, had a nice laugh.

"WHAT is going on?" a voice barked from a short distance away. Merlin and Sir Owain turned in unison as Arthur stormed up to them. His steps were heavy and his expression reflected only explosive anger. "I don't remember giving you leave to stand around and fraternize," Arthur snarled. Umbrage snaked around his every word and vibrated within his tone.

Merlin opened her mouth to protest as resentment rose in her at being told whom she could and couldn't speak with, when she realized that Arthur wasn't addressing her. He was addressing Sir Owain. Merlin tore her gaze from Arthur's enraged face and slid her eyes to the other knight, instead. Sir Owain's face was pale, chagrined, his head bent beneath the weight of Arthur's rebuke.

His face was turned away from Merlin.

"I think a few laps in full armor around the practice field is suitable punishment, Owain," Arthur said. As Owain replied with a quick, 'yes milord', Arthur added: "now. ."

Sir Owain moved off, though he risked a quick glance at Merlin before tugging on his helmet. He loped off at a slow jog. "Faster!" barked Arthur. He followed the knight for a few feet to lay a series of stinging blows on to the backs of Sir Owain's thighs with the flat of his blade.

Merlin raised her chin angrily when Arthur stalked back to her. She could practically see his irritation seethe from his pores. "What was that for?" she snapped as soon as Arthur was back in earshot. She couldn't keep the slight tremble from her voice, but the expression in her eyes matched his; darker blue, same vexation.

Arthur ignored her question. He moved into her personal space and used his greater bulk to crowd her. His gaze was level with his own. "I'll say this once," he said in a low, gravelly tone, "do not seek to distract my knights like that again. The safety of Camelot may mean little to you, but it means everything to me."

Merlin drew herself straighter and became cognizant of the fact that she and Arthur were standing nearly toe-to-toe, chest to chest. "Sir Owain came on his own volition to say hello to me," she replied, matching the deadly softness of his tone. "I was being polite. And Camelot matters to me because," Merlin trailed off and broke their stare, suddenly aware she'd already admitted too much. She worried her bottom lip.

"Because why?" Arthur whispered. Merlin looked back at him, and saw the same intensity in his expression that she had witnessed weeks back during the tournament banquet. She blinked.

"Because I am loyal to you despite the fact that you're a royal prat," she said. Arthur stepped back and put on his helmet, half-turning from her to observe his knights on the practice field.

"Then see to it you show it once and awhile," he replied harshly. This time it was Merlin who walked off, turning away from Arthur as she hurried back to the castle. Her head was full of ire and confusion, while her nose was full with the smell of him.

***

The next day, the castle was buzzing like an busy hive when King Bayard and his contingent of knights and servants arrived in Camelot. The halls were full with the unfamiliar faces of servants as they continued to serve their lord in foreign territory. Merlin moved through the corridors and wove clumsily in between the press of bodies. She stared at those she didn't know and shared gossip with those she did.

A servant girl tripped in her path and Merlin immediately set down the linens she'd been carrying. She helped the girl to her feet and when she looked at her, Merlin saw that she was very pretty. A scarf tied elaborately around her head tamed her reddish hair and her skin was milky and smooth. Her most striking feature, however, were her large blue eyes - they ensnared Merlin, much to her embarrassment.

The girl seemed lost and out of place and Merlin's heart went out to her: she knew exactly how that felt. "I'm Merlin," she said with a friendly smile.

The girl's pretty eyes widened almost comically and she exclaimed, "You're Prince Arthur's maid!"

Merlin's own eyes widened - how did she know? Was this common knowledge? It was something she'd certainly ask Arthur about later. She blushed a bit as the girl ogled her with admiration. "Err, yes," Merlin replied.

"That's amazing!" the girl said earnestly. "Oh, where are my manners? I'm Cara," she said, finally supplying her name.

"Nice to meet you Cara," Merlin replied. She was a little humbled by the other woman's obvious awe - if only Cara knew what a real pain being Arthur's maidservant actually was. Merlin bent and picked up the linens she'd carelessly discarded. "I better get these to Arth-er, the prince," she said.

Cara nodded and knelt to gather the basket that she'd been carrying. "Thank you for your help Merlin," she said with another pretty smile. She walked off, but when Merlin looked over her shoulder, Cara was looking back at her too.

***

The banquet hall was thick with tension, though both Mercia and Camelot were on their best behaviors. How smoothly this feast went could very well determine whether or not the two countries continued to war. It was all pomp and ceremony Merlin figured, and all of it was terribly boring.

She stood with Gwen unobtrusively to one side as, with grave formality, King Bayard presented Uther and Arthur with gifts. Each of them received a beautifully crafted goblet, each one representing their station. Merlin let her gaze touch upon Arthur's face, as he took his goblet from the box King Bayard presented to him. Arthur's expression was taut, as if his features had been carved from stone. He betrayed nothing, though Merlin knew from living in such close proximity to him, that he was rigid with uneasiness.

She wondered why.

Merlin heard a noise from the hallway and glanced over her shoulder to see Cara gesturing urgently to her from the open door. Merlin glanced around and saw that everyone was otherwise occupied - except for Gaius who frowned at her severely and shook his head. She slid from her place next to Gwen and went to Cara. "What is it?" she asked when Cara tugged her into the hallway. Distress was written clearly on the other girl's face.

Cara leaned in close and she could smell something flowery on her skin. She whispered something into Merlin's ear. Her eyes widened with disbelief.

"Are you sure?" she asked, taking Cara by the shoulders and looking her full in the face. "You have to be sure."

Cara nodded resolutely and Merlin whirled from her without a second thought.

***

'Because I am loyal to you despite the fact that you're a royal prat.'

Merlin raised the goblet to her lips. The dark red liquid sloshed benignly within the cup. The room was loud with strained silence that pounded in her ears and every eye was on her. King Bayard was rigid with tension; this all hinged on her. Arthur began to step forward. She could see the protest forming on his tongue.

'Then see to it you show it once and awhile.'

Merlin met Arthur's gaze and held it. Then she tipped her head back and drained the goblet in one, long swallow.

A minute passed. Those from Mercia released a collective breath, relieved...and outraged. King Bayard demanded she be handed over to him, as per the agreement. Thirty seconds later, Merlin collapsed to the ground in a lifeless heap. The goblet rolled from her slack fingers.

***

Merlin heard voices whispering to her from beyond a pristine white veil. It fluttered in the wind, skipping along the air currents in a slow, sensuous dance.

"Come," whispered the voices, "follow."

Merlin reached her hands out to touch the veil. When her fingers brushed it, they were scalded with heat. Her skin was came off in flakes, burned, the tips blackened. Her flesh was scorched to the bone. Merlin screamed until her voice was hoarse.

She burned.

The voices continued to whisper. They slid over her like cool water, soothing away the hurt, promising relief with every syllable. 'Come,' whispered the voices, "follow."

Merlin dragged her burned body through the grass, her flesh peeling off with every brush along her skin. Blood trailed behind her. Still she crawled, chasing the veil, drawn by the voices.

'Come,' whispered the voices, "follow."

***

Merlin couldn't crawl anymore. Her body was rubbed raw, skin sloughed off to reveal muscle and red blood vessels that pulsed with each tired beat of her heart. She didn't want to follow the voices anymore. She didn't want to go where they went. Still, the veil wrapped around her wrists and dragged her with it. It scraped her along the ground like it was scraping mud from its shoe.

Her world was agony.

She lay with her cheek pressed against the dry grass, lips cracked and chapped, still eaten by fire that burned through her veins. Barely, she clung to life. Merlin breathed laboriously. Each breath rattled wetly in her lungs.

She closed her eyes and when she did, she saw Arthur.

His cheek was pressed against stone and around him was complete darkness. The inky blackness was like a living thing that pressed in on him from every angle. The darkness breathed against the back of Arthur's neck; Merlin could see it stir the fine hairs there. As she watched, Arthur's turned and looked blindly into the endless dark. He said a word. He said her name.

"Merlin."

And suddenly, a pale, glowing light, pierced the darkness around Arthur.

***

Distantly, Merlin could feel the dampness of her skin and the soreness of her body, as the fire in her bones slowly began to ebb. Her muscles hurt; no, everything hurt.

But she was alive.

Merlin moaned and shifted, fighting to awaken. She was held pinned by the weakness of her body as the fire within her receded. She moaned again, then felt a hand on her forehead, dry and cool against the heated flush of her skin. The hand was a small, fingers slender, as they pushed the hair back from her face and trailed down her cheek.

Something quieted within Merlin. Stillness overtook her, creeping through her limbs and blanketing her senses until she was filled with blissful nothingness. It seemed like she remained that way for a lifetime.

Merlin opened her eyes.

Shapes swam in her vision, blurry at first, before they sharpened to reveal the concerned visages of Gaius and Gwen. Her body jerked; air flooded her lungs. Merlin sucked air into herself in great, shuddering bursts, as if somewhere along the line she'd forgotten how to breathe.

Gwen threw her arms around Merlin's neck and hugged her close. Her breath was a hushed sob of joy in Merlin's ear. Merlin smiled, returning her embrace awkwardly, when Gwen drew back and of all things kissed her.

Merlin's lips were dry but Gwen's were soft and plump and wet with tears. She tasted a hint of salt. Gwen pulled back with an apologetic smile and retreated a few steps. "Sorry," said Gwen with a pretty blush on her dusky cheeks, "I'm just so happy."

"Um, sure," Merlin croaked painfully. She managed a somewhat dazed twist of her lips and then asked for water.

***

Gwen's way of apologizing for kissing Merlin - which was silly, as Merlin thought the kiss had been rather pleasant, overall - was to wash her hair. She arrived a few days later with a basin of water and some soap, and bid Merlin to lean back in her chair while she tended to her dirty locks. Briefly, Merlin wondered if Gwen did this for Morgana. Nevertheless, it was a relief to have the smell of sweat rinsed away and replaced by the faint scent of roses.

Afterwards, Gwen sat and chatted with her as she mended some of Morgana's clothing. Merlin was happy for the company, which provided a welcome distraction from boredom. She still felt weak and her strength had only just begun to return, but Merlin was going stir-crazy in her quarters, quarantined to the ward per Gaius' instructions.

When her hair had dried enough, Gwen fixed it up into some sort of elaborate coiffure that Merlin was sure looked odd considering her sickly appearance. She thanked Gwen anyway and smiled as her friend hurried off to attend her chores elsewhere, leaving her alone.

Merlin wrapped herself in a blanket and placed her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands as she let her thoughts drift. Her eyes began to droop.

"If you're that bored I should put you back to work early."

Merlin nearly jumped out of her skin with surprise. She turned in her seat to regard Arthur, who was standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. They stared at each other for a moment, the silence between them uncomfortable before Arthur stepped into the room. "You're a real idiot, you know that?" he said, but Merlin caught the softness beneath his words; the worry. She rolled her eyes at him and tried not to smile.

"Yes, well I don't expect I'll be drinking poison for you again," she replied, a shadow of a grin hovering around her lips despite her best effort to keep her expression serious. "That was a one time deal, milord."

Arthur snorted. "And don't you expect me to go running off to some dank cave again, just to fetch you a pretty flower," he said. A corner of his mouth tugged upwards and Merlin felt her face break into a relieved smile. The strain that had wound between them melted away, and for the first time Merlin thought she understood Arthur just a little better.

Arthur pinched the head off of a daisy from a bouquet of flowers that had been arranged in a ceramic vase on the table. "From Sir Owain?" he asked. Merlin nodded and a shadow briefly flitted across Arthur's handsome face. He glanced at her and she saw his eyes drift up to touch upon the intricate coiffure that Gwen had coiled her hair into. His mouth opened and Merlin braced herself for whatever acrid comment Arthur was sure to make. Arthur, however, only said, "Your hair looks…complicated."

Merlin blinked and her mind went blank with shock. Before she could respond, Arthur turned on his heel and strode from the room. He turned back at the door to tell her that he expected her back at work first thing tomorrow morning.

His voice drifted to her from the hallway, "And I actually mean the morning, Merlin."

(To be continued.)