Merlyn's Last Dream

Gwaine P1

Merlyn and Arthur had been riding through the countryside for a while, the sun slowly setting in the sky. The Prince, having a free day, had elected to go out hunting, dragging his poor servant off into the woods. Mysteriously, they hadn't managed to catch anything, but neither of them were in particularly bad spirits, comfortable to ride together, watching the pale blue of the sky blend into a soft pink. They reached the crest of a small hill, admiring the small town lying on the horizon. Night was a long way off; seeing as they weren't too far from the city, the village wouldn't be a bad place to rest.

"You know what you need after a hard day's hunt?" Arthur asked, relaxing his grip on his crossbow.

"Sleep." Merlyn suggested, fairly sure that the Prince had something else in mind. Still, one could dream.

Arthur took no notice of her quite frankly brilliant idea. "A nice, cold tankard of mead." he grinned, nudging his horse towards the village.

"Mead." Merlyn scoffed, not exactly in the mood to have to drag the Prince back to Camelot, pretending to understand his drunken mutterings and praying to God that he didn't start singing. These trips never ended well and she couldn't shake the feeling that this wouldn't end any differently.

They entered the town, Merlyn cleverly disguising herself by putting her hair in a hat. There weren't many women who wore breeches, but her tunic was loose enough to cover her body, so, as long as nobody looked too closely, she could pass as a rather feminine male. They, or rather, she had dealt with a few bad experiences outside of the city, men grabbing at her, expecting something she definitely wasn't willing to give. There were certain expectations of lonely females, drinking with little company in a tavern. She didn't always bother to change her appearance, but there was no denying that outside of Camelot, it was safer to do so.

"There is no better place to measure the mood of your people than the local tavern." Arthur remarked, tying up his horse a few houses from the inn.

Merlyn had already accepted that there was no way to talk the Prince out of this. They were only an hour or so from Camelot, where the taverns were much cleaner and much safer, but Arthur had already made up his mind.

"This is one of those times where I tell you something isn't a good idea and you ignore me, isn't it?" she signed, daring the Prince to disagree.

"You're learning, Merlyn, slowly albeit, but you're learning." he teased, causing his servant to almost accidentally slap him in the face. "Now, remember, in here you're not my servant. I'm just a simple peasant like everyone else."

"The simple part's right." Merlyn murmured, following Arthur as he headed of towards the tavern.

"What?" he questioned, clearly having heard her talking under her breath.

"I said the sun is very bright." she replied, shielding her eyes for added effect.

Arthur was obviously more of a dimwit than she'd thought him to be. "Yeah, yeah it is." he agreed, heading through the door of the tavern before she could say anything.

Unsurprisingly, nobody even glanced up as the Prince and his servant ambled into the room, finding a table in the corner. Presumably travellers often stopped in these parts. A barmaid with a rather round face and lovely brown hair made her way towards them, setting two tankards on the table.

"Evening. What will it be?" she asked, brushing flecks of dirt from the table top. Arthur opened his mouth to reply but she interrupted him. "Mm. You're a handsome fellow."

The Prince smirked rather smugly, winking at his servant. "Well, you wouldn't be the first to say it."

"Oh, no sorry. I was talking about your friend here." the barmaid smiled sweetly at Merlyn, who thought her hat must be a more impressive disguise than she'd first thought.