A Question of…Short Stories
Alaia Skyhawk
FanFiction.Net
Contents
A Question of… Gift Wrap? 3
Chapter 1 3
Chapter 2 8
Chapter 3 12
A Question of a Perfect Day 21
Dragon & Dragon 26
Dragon, Dragon, & Dragonlord 30
Aithusa's First Wintersday 34
Gently the white flakes had descended from the skies, blanketing all that lay below in a covering of pristine splendour unblemished by a single footprint. Only now as the sun began to rise did people set out to leave their trails through that white blanket, but one young man who had no need yet to set foot outside in the cold, now made his way through the hallways of the great castle that dominated the landscape of the area. The castle that presided over the city beside it, here in this great kingdom of Camelot.
The young servant whistled to himself as he walked, breakfast tray in hand, his expression cheerful while he idled his way to his master's chambers. He could afford to take his time, after all he was actually early for a change, not that he was usually late, but he didn't see why he had to rush when there was no need to. It was thus, hot porridge and hot mulled apple juice in hand, that he arrived at the chambers belonging to Arthur Pendragon, the Crown Prince of Camelot.
He opened the door with a smile on his face, choosing to sing at the top of his voice instead of his usually 'good morning, Sire!'
"In the bleak mid win-ter, frosty winds made moan! Earth stood hard as ir-on, water like a stone!"
His singing was cut off as the prince in the bed sat up and threw a pillow at him, Arthur glaring at his manservant through the gloom of the chamber.
"You head is a stone, Merlin!"
The warlock smirked, having blocked the pillow with a touch of his magic and let it fall harmlessly to the floor while he set the tray on the table.
"Merry Midwinter's Day to you too, Sire. Do you need me to get anything for you? A sense of humour perhaps?"
Arthur continued to glare at him.
"Merlin..."
The warlock then plucked a thin package from the back of his belt and waved it.
"So you don't want this then?"
The sight of it seemed to startle the prince, who had never received a Midwinter gift from his servant in the past, and he slid out of the bed and walked over.
"You got me a gift? But you never have before."
Merlin sighed, shaking his head.
"Because up until a few months ago you were a prat who didn't know about me protecting your ass all this time. Here, open it, and don't ever say that I'm not nice to you."
Arthur accepted the package that was held out to him, eyeing the warlock warily as he pulled open the plain paper wrapping. His expression then became bemused as he stared at what had been inside it.
"It's a painting... of Camelot..."
Merlin rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically.
"As if I would ever give you a normal painting, clot pole... Say 'Your secret is mine to see' in the Old Tongue, then blow on it gently. The real picture will fade back to that one when you take your hands off it afterwards."
The prince hesitated for a moment, wracking through his memory for the right words seeing as he knew Merlin was expecting him to remember them on his own. It took him several seconds before he was sure, and he was especially careful to pronounce them right once he had them. The last thing he needed right now was an enunciation lesson from his servant.
"Do run ta mo cheannsa go feic."
He blew on the painting, confirmation of his correct pronunciation appearing in the form of a perfect image of Gwen. So perfect that it didn't look like a painting, but rather it looked as if the real woman were staring up at him from within the frame.
Into the stunned silence that followed, Merlin raised his eyebrows and grinned.
"So, are you annoyed at me now?"
Arthur looked up at him, almost speechless.
"How did you do this?"
The warlock shrugged.
"I followed her around for a while until I actually managed to catch her standing still in a pose that I liked, then used magic to capture her image on the board. I figured you wouldn't want a picture of her carrying sheets or a laundry basket... The rest of the enchantment, I just made it up." He then patted Arthur on the arm. "No need for over-the-top 'thank you's, your expression tells me all the thanks I need. Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold."
He left Arthur standing there, now certainly speechless, and went to start sorting out the prince's clothing for the day. It was nearly thirty seconds before Arthur moved, sitting down at the table and setting aside the picture that reverted as stated to the dull painting of Camelot. He then remained silent until he'd finished his food, realising partway through that he didn't have anything to give to the warlock in return! Not only that, but tied up as he'd been by recent events, he didn't have anything for Gwen either!
He bolted down the remainder of his food, then rushing to get dressed before pointing to the door.
"Thanks, Merlin, I appreciate it. As thanks, you can have the rest of the morning off. I'll be attending the festival feast with my father at midday as usual, so you can return after that."
Knowing full well the real reason why Arthur wanted him gone for the morning, Merlin suppressed a smirk and headed for the door as indicated.
"You're welcome, and I'll see you after midday... Oh and Gaius asked me to tell you that he's inviting you to come to our Midwinter Supper tonight. Gwen's coming too, but Elyan has decided to spend his with some friends he has in town. Don't forget, and you get to bring the log. Remember, it has to oak."
The moment he was out the door, the prince stared after him before he made a dash for the drawer where he kept his various sets of keys. He had a number of valuables and possessions locked in one of the lesser vaults among which he was sure to find something for Gwen, and had access to other vaults where less legal items that the warlock would appreciate could be found so long as he was cautious in getting them.
He was just heading out the door when something else occurred to him, something that gave him the resolve to go out and get an oak log instead of just getting one from the palace stores... Mistletoe grew on oak trees, didn't it?
~ (–) ~
"Good morning, My Lady. Merry Midwinter's Day."
Morgana sat up in her bed when the smiling Gwen entered, smiling in return even if inside she did not feel it.
"Merry Midwinter's Day, Gwen. You weren't too cold coming up to the castle were you?"
The maid set down the breakfast tray, starting towards the door again.
"Not at all. I made sure to wrap up well." She went back outside the room, returning with a large basketful of gifts and a slightly wider smile on her face. "And you are as popular as ever, it seems."
Morgana got out of her bed, walking over to where Gwen had begun spreading the wrapped gifts out on another of the room's tables.
"Don't tell me you got me something as well." At the maid's innocent expression, she sighed. "Gwen, I told you not to waste your money on me. You have little enough left from your rent and food as it is."
Both of them knew the concern was feigned, but it was only the noble of the two who did not know that. Gwen played along, knowing that had she not gotten a gift like she usually did, the noblewomen would have why.
She pulled a small bundle from her pocket, offering it to Morgana.
"I didn't spend much. It's just a token. But it's the thought that counts, right?"
"Right." Morgana opened the bundle, revealing a beautifully embroidered linen handkerchief. Chances were, Gwen had done the stitching herself. "It's lovely."
Gwen continued to smile, before indicating the waiting tray.
"You should eat your breakfast before it grows cold, My Lady. I'm sure your many admirers will not mind that you waited to open their gifts until after you have eaten."
The maid went to the bed and began to tidy it, leaving Morgana to have her breakfast and then proceed to open the gifts. Most were the usual trinkets, destined to find their way into one box or another and be forgotten, but there was one that held a great deal more meaning... I hidden message from Morgause, inviting her sister to spend Midwinter's evening with her.
Morgana smiled, not at the gift as Gwen would believe, but at the message. The feast was always held at midday for Midwinter's Day here in Camelot, so that most of the castle staff, its residents, and the people of the city could spend the dusk hours with friends and family to welcome in the start of the new year. Only a few of the staff would remain working this evening, with only the guard roster remaining unchanged. She would have no trouble sneaking out, for Uther always spent Midwinter's evening alone, which meant she only need endure the banquet before she could go meet her sister.
The young man cheerfully entered the physician's chambers, smiling and greeting his mentor warmly as he came through the door.
"Merry Midwinter's Day, Gaius."
"The same to you, Liam." Gaius smiled in return, gesturing for his apprentice to come over. "Come I have an interesting little project for us today."
The blond-haired apprentice frowned a little in puzzlement, when he was shown a small burner with a pot over it, numerous jars of herbs and spices, and several unopened flasks of wine.
He stopped in his tracks.
"What are we supposed to do with all that?"
The physician smiled cheerfully.
"It's Midwinter's Day, isn't it? Uther requested I mull him some wine to my old recipe, but it's been so long since I last made it I've forgotten the proportions. We're going to have to make several small batches until I figure it out again. I promised him I'd have it, or at least something similar to it, in his chambers ready for after the banquet ends."
Liam relaxed a little, until something occurred to him.
"And how are we going to know you got it right?"
"We'll have to taste each batch of course."
Warm jacket... check. Boots suitable for snow... check. Axe to cut the log with... check.
Securing the axe to the back of his saddle, Arthur climbed up into it and sent his horse out of the stables and around the side of the castle to the drawbridge. It was still only a short time after dawn, and the banquet wouldn't be held until the first hour after noon. It meant he had plenty of time to go to a large oak tree he knew, one which was old enough that it had a good chance of also having the second of the items he was off to get growing on it.
He knew he could get a Midwinter's Day kiss out of Gwen anyway, but where was the romance if he didn't go about it the traditional way?
He smiled to himself as he rode through the city, the snow muffling the sound of his horse's hooves. There was something about Midwinter's Day that made everyone and everything in Camelot seem to relax. Never in all of history had an attack or act of evil occurred here on the winter solstice, and now that he understood magic and the Old Religion better he knew why. The winter solstice was a time of rebirth, a time when the days would cease to grow shorter, and instead begin grow longer and bring with them the eventual arrival of spring. People of magic everywhere would be celebrating today for its magical significance, and he just had to wonder something as well.
He frowned slightly at the through. Did his father realise that in celebrating Midwinter's Day, he was promoting one of magic's most significant festivals? Even the burning of a Yule log was part of that, a kind of ceremonial gesture of respect to the powers of the land that guided the seasons. Yes, people these days made wishes over the log before it was burned, but that didn't change the original source of the tradition. Thinking it over, Arthur had to guess that his father had forgotten the old significance of the festival, like so many others had. It was just a pity that Merlin and Gaius couldn't celebrate it the proper way while Uther was on the throne. There would be no chanted prayers as the sun set, or spells worked over the log to bless it, and no magical entertainments like the fiery apparitions made of embers that he'd read about. The first winter solstice after magic had returned to Camelot, he was going to make sure it was honoured the right way.
That thought in his mind, he exited the city and headed out into the surrounding woods. It wasn't that far to the oak tree he had in mind, and it didn't take him all that long to reach it. He lucked out when he got there, in that there was a fallen branch beneath it. The freezing weather had stopped the moisture from the snow from soaking it, which meant it would burn just fine once Merlin dried the outside of it with a spell or something.
He got down from his horse and retrieved the axe from his saddle, going over to the branch and proceeding to hack a reasonable sized chunk from it. It only needed to be as long as his forearm, and so that was as big of a piece he cut and tied to his saddle alongside the axe. He then turned his attention to the next task... seeing if the tree had any mistletoe on it.
He backed up away from the trunk to better see the upper parts of the big oak tree, the prince breaking into a smile when he spotted the unmistakable bush of a ball of the white-berried plant hanging from an upper branch. Now all he had to do was go up there and get some.
The red liquid in the pot bubbled gently, the two physicians watching over it carefully while the elder of the two stirred it with a wooden spoon.
Gaius dipped a small ladle into the mix, pouring half a mouthful worth of it into each of two cups. He tasted it, frowning a little as he mulled over the bit he'd sipped, and then tipped the remainder into a bucket at his side.
"It's still not quite right. We're close, but still not there. Can you taste how the flavour from the cloves is just a bit too strong? It won't do. Liam, pour that batch into the barrel with the rest."
Liam did as he was told, swaying a little on his feet. Mulling the wine may remove most of the alcohol from it, but with the amount he'd tasted over the past hour it was starting to fuzz his senses. He was actually wondering how Gaius wasn't being effected, having failed to notice the partially filled bucket next to the physician's feet. Gaius was no fool, he'd only been sipping enough to get the taste of each batch at intervals during the mulling process... his apprentice had been drinking every drop given to him to taste.
Liam tipped the contents of the pot into the small barrel stood on one of the other tables. Gaius had already explained that the contents of it would go to the servants' dining hall, for the meal to be held in there after the banquet had ended. And at this rate there wasn't going to be a shortage of it to go around.
He returned to the worktable as his mentor measured out the spices for a new batch, trying not to stumble as he did so.
A muffled curse echoed through the trees, coming from the prince clinging halfway up one of them.
Arthur swore under his breath, as he continued to inch his way up the ice-covered trunk. It hadn't been too bad near the ground, but the higher he'd gone the more ice he'd encountered, and now he was fighting to keep going in order to get some of the mistletoe now tantalisingly just a few arm lengths away.
Unbeknownst to him, the indignity of his situation was not going unobserved. Merlin sat astride his horse, watching from among the trees nearby. The warlock smothered his chuckles using his scarf, as his mirth-filled eyes followed Arthur's inching progress upwards the last few feet to reach the mistletoe, looking for all the world like some ungainly bear clinging to the tree. He watched as gloved fingers took hold of some of the plant, eyebrows raising a little in concern when the force the prince had to use to tug some free caused him to lose his grip on the ice-coated back.
Arthur slithered downwards with a surprised yell, hitting branch after branch on the way down until he hit one of the lower branches with an audible yelp as the impact flung him outwards from the truck. Merlin slowed his fall with a flare of golden eyes, not by enough to be noticed but enough to ensure he was unharmed by it. He then turned his horse and quickly rode away trying not to laugh, at the sight of Arthur struggling to get out of a snowdrift under the tree.
After nearly a minute of flailing legs and arms, the prince succeeded in extricating himself, thanking all manner of gods that no one had seen him fall... or so he believed. He then looked at the piece of mistletoe he held, smiling victoriously as he tucked it into the pouch on his belt, before he returned to his horse and set off back to Camelot, to warm up, dry off, and get ready for the banquet.
The elderly man's robes flapped as he strode through the castle, shaking his head as he made his way to the king's chambers with a flask of mulled wine. Why hadn't he noticed that Liam was being affected by all the sampling? If he'd realised the boy had that little tolerance for alcohol, then he wouldn't have given him that lesson in the finer points of mulled wine tasting. As it was Liam was in no state to be socially acceptable at the banquet, for all that he wasn't drunk as such; he was still unsteady enough that it would be a scandal to take him.
Gaius sighed as he turned into the hallway leading to Uther's chambers, nodding to the guards as he passed by with the flask. When he arrived he found that the usual small burner and pot to reheat the wine had already been arranged by the king's servants, and so simply set the flask beside it and left again.
He sighed again, descending to the ground floor and crossing it to the base of the tower where his chambers were. Uther did this every year, locked himself in his rooms after the banquet and mused about the past. It was a shame really, considering the festival of the winter solstice was supposed to be about looking to the future. Still, if Uther wished to dwell on the past, there was little he could do to stop him.
Gaius climbed the stairs up the tower, entering his chambers before stopping in his tracks. Liam was face down on the table where he'd left him sat, but he wasn't unconscious... He was giggling quietly under his breath, much to his mentor's consternation.
The physician hurried over, wondering what was wrong with his apprentice until he smelt something suspicious and did so with a sinking feeling. He'd handed the boy one of the flasks from near the door, which contained the drinks for this evening, and told him to pour himself a mug full. He thought he'd handed Liam the one containing the mixed fruit juice he'd had Merlin purchase from the castle cooks, but he'd given him the one containing the other purchase he'd had Merlin make... It had been filled with the tavern owner, Everic's, strongest spiced cider!
"...Oh dear..."
Gaius winced at his error, looking towards the door hoping he could sober Liam up before this evening. But given the fact that Liam had already been close to drunk when he'd unsuspectingly gulped down a large mug of the cider, it wasn't going to be likely.
Still grimacing at the situation, he tried to get his apprentice to go lie down on the bed in the corner, but succeeded only in dragging him off the bench and onto the floor instead. Realising there was little he could do about it, he went and got the pillow and blanket and brought them to Liam instead. He may not have been strong enough in his old age to lift the young man, but he could at least make the floor a bit less uncomfortable for him. He was just going to have to stay there until the banquet was over and Merlin got back.
Midwinter's Day had always been less than boring since Merlin had arrived, but now it seemed it had managed to become even stranger.
"I welcome you all to the Midwinter feast, a time of celebration and family for all in our land. Now, let the feast begin!"
The young woman sat at the king's side fought not to yawn as the feast had begun, wishing more than anything that she could leave this tedious gathering and go right away to her sister.
Morgana sighed quietly, rolling her eyes as she listened to the conversation Uther was having with his son and one of the young lords from the outer estates that happened to be visiting. Swords, tournaments, and general boasting, she'd heard it all before. Soon they would begin to talk about horses, and then about the time Lord Elswith had gambled half the contents of his treasury that there was no horse he could not break to rein on the first try.
"He was so confident that he bet half his treasury, saying there was no horse he couldn't tame on the first time in the saddle... So Father told me I could answer the challenge however I wished. Didn't you, Father?"
Uther chuckled, nodding as he sipped from his wine and Morgana fought the urge to get up and leave the table.
"Indeed, and Arthur responded to Lord Elswith's arrogance by handing him the reins of the yearling war horse that had just been brought in from Ulwin. Lord Tarven inherited a small breeding herd from his late father, Lord Hargren, and as his father did he continues to produce the horses we train for our knights and also for ourselves. They are specially bred to be fearless in the face of danger, and while the majority are submissive to their riders there are a few who...
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