Stand Tall

Part Five: Fatherly Love

Plink plink.

Dunk. Swish.

Plink.

Braith played absentmindedly with the clear water in her bath basin. It had long since gone cold. Not that she cared - back in Dane she would swim in the ocean, and even during summer it was very near freezing. An impatient knock came at her door.

"I'm thinking," she barked, drawing her knees to her chest, and resting her chin on them.

"You've been thinking for over an hour," came Merlin's calm voice from the other side of the door. "You're going to be needed in the Great Hall in less than ten minutes."

"Ti minutter?" (Ten minutes?) he heard her roar in shock, followed by a tremendous sloshing noise and some muffled foreign curses. He just sighed and leaned against the doorframe. Braith dashed about her room throwing on a painfully tight corset and one of Morgana's old dresses. A deep red one with a gold belt, to be exact. Merlin paused when she finally flew out, slamming the door behind her. His heart tripped and stumbled, the same way it had when he saw Morgana for the first time. But, the difference was he knew Braith, and this made the feeling even more potent. "What? You're staring at me like when I first arrived."

"Who- who told you that part?" Merlin shook his head, a blush starting to creep into his features. They began to trot towards the hall. Braith had forgotten that her father was coming to see how they were getting on.

"You see, unlike some people, I'm nice to servants," she smiled, mischievous again.

"Ohhhh, Gwen..." he growled in feigned anger. He did feel a bit dumb though, for not accepting the situation with more grace. It seemed as if Braith had read his mind when she answered.

"It's not eloquence that governs our lives, Merlin, but how we choose to express ourselves. That is to say - I'm flattered," she smiled, and shoved open the giant oak doors that lead into the great hall. It was filled with people even more so than the day she'd arrived. Gossip gets around fast, apparently. Braith strode straight for the head table, where sat Lord Beowulf, King Uther, and her fiancé. Merlin skirted around the perimeter, trying to find a friend in the vast sea of faces. Upon finding Guinevere, he gave her a look.

"Why did you tell her I stared?"

"Oh, women's talk," she waved him off, but failed to seem preoccupied. Instead she just giggled.

"Well... It was uncalled for..." he complained, looking across the crowded chamber. Heat swelled up in his cheeks for seemingly no reason at all.

"I do believe that rosy glow is back," teased Gwen, on the verge of cracking up.

"Stop it, please," he whined, in the kind of way no one would take seriously. This sent her into an uncontrollable laughing fit, so spontaneous that he too couldn't help but join in. Things were going less well for the Lady of Dane.

---

"Lady Pendragon," Beowulf greeted his daughter with mock formality.

"Oh, no. Not yet at least," she said, almost relieved. She took a seat next to her father, the tension between the betrothed so awfully tangible you could cut it with a knife. Arthur seized the opportunity to speak with his father, and their focus lifted from the Danes.

"It's been over a month. What are you waiting for?" the King whispered harshly to his daughter.

"Father I-"

"Marry him, Braith Britta. And soon. Seal the peace, and you'll be happy."

"But what if I'm not? What if I don't love him?" the girl protested.

"Then so be it, skat, but this will happen, whether you enjoy it or not," he warned, and then turned away to end the conversation. A pity he didn't notice the enraged glare that now consumed his daughter's face.

"I'm going to dance," she announced haughtily, and left the three men silent and bewildered.

---

Later in the evening, Merlin found himself leaning against a wall that also supported Gawain. The knight held a grape between his teeth like he was contemplating a great mystery of the universe. "Something troubling you?"

"Do you think he's going to dance with her? Arthur?" Gawain asked distantly.

"Probably."

"When?"

"Dunno. Later, I bet. Why?"

He shrugged in response and sucked in the grape. Before Gawain could warn him however, Merlin was snatched away by a swoosh of burgundy. He gasped loudly in fright.

"Braith, I can't-"

"Aww, c'mon. Stop being boring."

"I prefer being a wallflower, really."

"Oh it's far to late for that," she sassed with an impish smile.

"Fine. I'll warn you though - I do have two left feet," he admitted sheepishly. He looked over to see the knights elbowing each other and pointing at them. Gwen was trying to contain shocked laughter as well. However, people were starting to stare, and whispers broke out among the crowd like an infectious disease. The two stepped apart, and then together again, but Braith came even closer than before, causing both their hearts to jump in their chests. So close they touched.

Braith laughed, but Merlin seemed utterly terrified, with only one small spark of excitement in his eye.

"Braith, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice deep with concern. He twirled her, her eyes slits of satisfaction.

"I believe it's called rebellion. Why, are you not enjoying yourself?" she wondered innocently.

"Aside from the thought of being executed, this isn't bad. Then again we do have every eye in the hall on us," he said through his teeth. They turned, and Braith could see the head table over Merlin's shoulder. Arthur was giving her a look of complete fear and horror. What was she thinking? This was only going to create a problem, not solve one! Arthur's father watched the Dane girl with confusion. Was this some sort of a custom? To dance with servants? Braith's eyes only saw one person. Lord Beowulf stared her down with a ferocity she'd obviously inherited from him. The look told her she'd pay. Her look said 'try me'. Without taking his eyes of his daughter, the Dane King answered a question put to him.

"Is this customary in your land?" asked Uther.

"Of course," lied Beowulf. "When is the wedding to take place?"

"We hadn't thought of a specific date yet..." the senior Pendragon began.

"A week from today, I believe would suit," Lord Beowulf said. Arthur couldn't believe his ears, but his father smiled, and welcomed the idea.

"Perfect. I shall make the announcement tonight," the King of Camelot agreed. The Prince felt like he'd been slapped in the face. He looked back to Braith, who laid her head of her partner's shoulder, and looked pitilessly at the head table. Arthur got up. He had to stop her before this went too far.

---

Arthur unceremoniously shoved away his lanky servant and took the hands of mischief itself.

"We're getting married in a week. Happy?" he growled in anger. Braith's starlit eyes searched his in shock, upon realizing her plan had backfired. She glanced to her father who smirked down on her in triumph. Suddenly her smile hardened around the edges, and all the mercy left her eyes.

"Not if I have something to say about it. And I always get the last word."
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