Chapter Eleven: Overwhelmed

Merlin was pretty sure he'd had worse weeks in his lifetime, but he couldn't really think of one. It was bad enough getting the cold shoulder from Nimue, Guinevere, and even Arthur; he also had Ansella absolutely furious with him. Which he supposed he could understand, since he had cut their whole encounter short, after what had happened. And he wasn't particularly worried about her or her brother doing anything, since it wasn't very wise to trifle with a wizard. Even a wizard like Merlin, who was currently feeling very much as if he lacked control of…well, everything.

In an attempt to win Debraun and his sister over to his side, Arthur had held lavish feasts all week. Tonight, with a number of his nobles at court, the feast had blossomed into a gala. As if my life had not gotten difficult enough, Merlin thought, now I'm stuck at one of these things. He was against the far wall, hoping to remain unnoticed by any noble lords or ladies—namely Ansella and her brother. Although a crowd this large was usually something he despised, tonight it was useful for hiding his presence. He would have left long ago, though, if it weren't for the fact that Nimue had not put in an appearance. It wasn't like her to disobey an order—for they were all ordered to attend—and he was concerned that she hadn't shown up.

Merlin knew what she thought of him. What they all thought of him, in fact. I'd rather she thought I was scum of the earth, he thought, then risk what might happen if He needed to get himself sorted out. There was so much transpiring now—all of it important—too much for him to be so tied in knots. That any good had come from his state at all was a miracle, but something had. Now Merlin understood how Sebille had managed to strap him so effectively with her spell. The Hourglass worked on any male, but it had undoubtedly been created for the purpose of ensnaring wizards. Only male wizards were so effected by females of their kind.

"Thank the good lord that one of my wizards is obedient."

Merlin turned to Arthur in surprise. The king had been very busy entertaining Debraun and Ansella, and he'd figured that that was how it would be for the rest of the night. Much to his surprise, not only was Arthur coming towards him, but Guinevere was not much behind. She'd been sidelined by one of her ladies, but her eyes kept flickering in his direction as she spoke. Guinevere, he'd decided, was quite a formidable woman when she was angry.

"If neither of you had obeyed, you'd be in your tower killing each other," Arthur said, smiling faintly.

Or something like it, Merlin thought, unable to quell an image Nimue spread out on his bed. "If she would only listen to me, we might both be down here, getting along," he said. "Apparently that's too much to ask, though."

"I could have told you that," Arthur said, chuckling. "Women are incredibly stubborn creatures, especially when you've angered them."

And Nimue has more than her fair share of stubbornness even when she isn't in a fury, Merlin thought, sighing. But it isn't her anger that's the problem. If it were simply that she was angry, he could have gotten her to listen. It probably would have been a rather dangerous endeavor, but he could have managed. It was the hurt in her eyes every time she looked at him that made it so difficult. And Guinevere was no help. She wouldn't listen to him either. Merlin had been hoping, since Nimue spent all her time with her lately, that the queen might at least persuade her to listen to him. Guinevere refused to try.

Seeing her face now, he was certain she hadn't changed her mind. Guinevere paused beside Arthur and gave him a cool smile. Merlin could see Nimue's influence in the young woman; the queen stood with a different kind of confidence, a surety of self she'd not had before. It was the same way Nimue held herself, and he couldn't help wondering what his apprentice was teaching Guinevere. I wonder if Arthur realizes how often those two have their heads together over something, Merlin thought, glancing at the king. He seems blissfully unaware of the trouble they could cause.

"Your courtiers wish to know where you've disappeared to, my lord," Guinevere said, laying a hand on Arthur's arm.

"And I was so hoping they wouldn't notice," Arthur said, with a small, beleaguered sigh. "Ah…perhaps you, my dear, can tell me the location of my other wizard. I asked they both attend tonight."

"She'll be here," Guinevere said, shooting Merlin a smug look. "Unfortunately for him." She turned on her heel and stalked away, disappearing into the crowd.

"I sure hope it was worth it," Arthur said, staring after his wife. "Whatever the two of them are after, Guinevere has barely come to bed this past week." He turned a discerning eye on his wizard. "I'd thank you not to ruin my love life as well as your own. You've got two hands, man."

Merlin scowled. "I did not sleep with Ansella," he said. Again. He'd said it so many times in the past week, he was probably saying it in his sleep. "I'd think that you, at least, would believe me."

"Oh, I do," Arthur assured him. "I imagine that sort of interruption killed the mood. Usually you're much better about shielding yourself than that."

Merlin just kept silent. He could not explain to Arthur that Nimue had just slipped beneath his walls as if they didn't even exist. She hadn't even had to try; one moment it was just himself, and the next she was with him. Easy for them to criticize, he thought, scowling. They don't know how terrifying that is. Only Morrigan had ever been able to do such things. How much of what I feel when I look at her is in the present? Merlin wondered. And how much is in the past? He had to untangle himself if he was going to fix this mess.

When the crowd quieted suddenly, he had a feeling he knew why. He didn't want to look up, but he forced himself to anyway. When he first saw her standing there, at the top of the stairs the entered onto the hall, Merlin wondered if he finally had gotten lost in his past. With her hair piled up on her head and tumbling down in a waterfall of red curls, Nimue looked very much as Morrigan often had. The dress she wore must have been what she had Guinevere had been so busy working on all week. It was the same summer sky color as her eyes. Unlike what was fashionable in court at the moment, the dress spilled off her shoulders, held in place by a corset of dark blue and silver brocade. A very fine bit of silver embroidery edged the hems of the sleeves and skirts, but otherwise it was simple.

"Heaven help you, old friend," Arthur said quietly. "I doubt anyone else can."

"You're going to leave me alone?" Merlin asked, in a strangled voice, as the king turned away.

"You've made your bed," Arthur told him, looking back over his shoulder. "You can lay in it." He paused and glanced at Nimue. "If you're very, very lucky, at least."

The room was beginning to stir again, but there were still eyes on Nimue as her descended the staircase. Half or more of Arthur's knights were staring—even Gawain was looking impressed, although grudgingly so—and Debraun was as well. That he did not like. Merlin began moving through the crowd at the same time as the young lord. He would not allowed Debraun to touch Nimue. God, is she out of her mind? he thought, ignoring the calls of Guinevere's ladies. Was it not enough, what happened with Bryant? Now it was his turn to be angry with her.

Both he and Debraun pulled up in surprise when Lionel reached Nimue first. Although the two of them were friends, the boy hadn't before seemed interested in Nimue. I suppose he is now, Merlin thought sourly. Nimue smiled and laughed, and accepted Lionel's somewhat clumsy invitation to dance. It struck a nerve, that the two of them looked so good together—and that she seemed to enjoy his company so. For a very brief time, when they had first come back from the battle on the moors, Merlin had been worried about what could happen between those two, but neither had shown more than passing interest at best. Now he was worried again, albeit for different reasons.

He waited while the two of them danced. Merlin kept his eyes on Debraun, concerned most with the man's intentions. Lionel was easy enough to talk to, but this lordling was an arrogant fool, if what he'd seen of the man this past week was to be believed. Fortunately—in some ways, at least—it was Arthur who secured the next dance with Nimue. Regardless of how angry she was with Merlin, she didn't so much as glance in Debraun's direction. That's my girl, he thought, smiling faintly to himself. She's got impeccable taste in the people she dislikes on sight.

"You ought to talk to her, Master Merlin." Lionel had come up beside him when he wasn't paying attention.

"I've tried," Merlin told him. "She won't listen."

Lionel chuckled. "Oh, she might," he said, his tone slipping into a countryside accent in his mirth. "Now that she's assured she's got you wrapped around her little finger, she'll be a whole lot more willing to listen, I can promise you that."

"And what of you?" Merlin asked, glancing at the boy. He doubted he had to explain what he meant.

"Nimue is one of the prettiest women I've ever met, Master Merlin," Lionel answered honestly. He looked at the wizard and grimaced. "But I don't have much interest in a lady who can toss me in the mud."

It was Merlin's turn to chuckle. "That's her charming, redheaded way of telling you she likes you."

"Then you must get tossed in the mud an awful lot," Lionel said, grinning.

In truth, Merlin had never sparred with Nimue; he knew better. Gareth had taken on teaching her hand-to-hand combat, and he reported that she was both tenacious and a fast learner. The fact that she could occasionally take down Gareth, who was taller than her by a good deal and weighed twice as much, spoke loudly of her ability. It also meant he was going to have to tread carefully when he talked to her. First, though, he had to get her somewhere they could actually hear themselves think. Merlin didn't much relish the thought of what she'd say when he told her they needed to talk—now.



The tower door banged loudly against the wall. Nimue hadn't even touched it; it had just flown open as she approached. She honestly wasn't sure if it was her work, or Merlin's. Although he appeared outwardly calm, he was just as agitated as she was. They had barely saved themselves from making a scene in the hall. I didn't want to leave, Nimue thought sulkily. I was actually having fun! Well, a little bit, anyway. Even if she'd only danced with Lionel and Arthur.

She spun to face Merlin as soon as the door was closed. He was not at all in a good mood; all else aside, he hated formal affairs, not to mention formal dress. Of course, he'd been permitted to wear his wizard's regalia, and Arthur had not protested his usual feathers, so Nimue didn't see why he should be so miserable. She folded her arms across her chest and glowered at him. Merlin stared back at her, a flicker of annoyance lighting in his eyes.

"Would you stop being such a petulant brat?" he snapped. "It doesn't suit you!"

"Nor does being a disgusting lecher suit you!" Nimue retorted. "We're trying to avoid a war and all you care about is a place to put your—"

"Nimue!" Merlin's voice cut across hers, so tense and harsh that it brought her to a startled halt. "Hold your tongue, child! Do not think that simply because you can now light a fire with a snap of your fingers, it means you know anything at all about that which you speak of!"

She was rather taken aback by that. Even with everything that had gone on, he'd never spoken to her like that. Not even when he'd thought her a boy who'd tried to force his attentions on Sebille. There was something in his voice that made Nimue shrink back, frightened. Even with his walls up, she could feel the tension that made his hold body quiver. It was so faint, but she saw it. A sudden feeling of guilt rose within her. She'd never seen him so upset before, and she knew with a certainty that it was her fault. Nimue swallowed hard and lifted her chin.

"Then why did you sleep with her?" she demanded, her voice quavering only a little. "If I don't understand, explain it to me."

"I cannot," Merlin said, his voice quieter. "Because I didn't sleep with her."

"Only because you didn't get the chance to!" Nimue snapped.

Merlin let out a frustrated growl and threw his hands up. It isn't fair, Nimue thought, stalking towards him. Why do I have to feel guilty when I haven't done anything wrong? Maybe he just needed the same remedy she'd used to break him from Sebille's spell. He let out a startled sound as she gripped the front of his tunic and pulled his mouth down to hers; she just didn't know what else to do. There wasn't an actual spell to break this time, so Nimue just kissed him. Or at least, she'd intended to be the one doing the kissing, but he took over so effectively that she started to feel faint.

Merlin had never kissed her quite like that before. Nimue shivered as his tongue slid between her lips and brushed up against hers. The walls he worked so hard to build came crashing down, and she found herself overwhelmed by his emotional turmoil. Suddenly she understood what he'd meant when he said it was something she knew nothing of. Still, she found it hard to fight her agitation when Merlin pulled away from her.

"You should leave," he said, his voice ragged and hard.

"I don't want to leave," Nimue told him. "Merlin…you must realize that…I mean, I…"

"You don't even know!" Merlin said harshly. "You have no idea how you feel, either."

"That isn't true!" Nimue argued. "It's just hard to say, with you glaring at me like that!"

"I am not glaring!" Merlin snapped.

"You are!" Nimue insisted. "And you don't even care how much it hurts!"

Merlin froze. Nimue's own walls had collapsed so suddenly that the loss of control made her feel weak. She started to turn away, but he caught her before she so much as took a step. An arm wrapped around her waist, strong and comforting, pulling her towards the stairs. She felt his mouth against her neck, his breath tickling her skin. How the two of them managed to stumble up the stairs together, she wasn't really sure. Nimue wasn't really sure of anything; she didn't know whose emotions were whose. She felt torn open and bruised, but Merlin's presence helped to soothe that.

His room was dark and a bit chilled, but a fire burst to life in the hearth as soon as they entered. Whether it was his doing or hers, she didn't know, or care. Merlin's mouth had found hers again and that was all she could focus on. His fingers worked at the laces of her corset, tugging it open. Nimue in turn pulled at the laces of his tunic; he might look good in his wizard's regalia, but there was decidedly too much material to it. She wasn't even aware of the fact that they'd reached his bed, until she stumbled over it.

The pile of soft fur coverlets made for a comfortable landing, at least. By that time Merlin had managed to get her corset open enough to tug her dress down and bare her breasts. Nimue caught hold of the hem of his tunic and pulled it up, and he lifted his mouth from hers to help her get it off. She could feel the heat of his skin even through the shirt he wore. Her own skin was hot, largely due to the blush that crept down from her cheeks. Why, she wasn't sure; it wasn't as if Merlin hadn't seen her naked before. And she still had her dress mostly on this time.

Merlin's hair tickled her skin as he lower his mouth to her breasts. She gasped as his lips brushed along the curve of one breast, his mouth opening so his tongue could slide over her nipple. His hands pushed her skirts up, bunching them around her hips. Guinevere would kill her if she ruined her dress, but Nimue didn't care. She wrapped her fingers in Merlin's hair, feeling a feather tickle the heel of her palm. Now she was beginning to understand why he'd done what he'd done. The attraction between them was intense and a little bit frightening.

I'd rather die than hurt you.

It was a feeling more than words, really, that drifted across her mind, but the meaning was clear. Merlin paused, his lips hovering above her skin, and looked up at her. She reminded him of his past love, and he was afraid that that was why he felt the way he did. Nimue wasn't certain how she knew it, but she did. All of a sudden she knew a lot of things that she hadn't before, most especially the things he feared. Above everything else—the fact that the attraction of a female wizard was so strong for a male, the fact that she reminded him of his other love—there was the situation with Sebille and the people of the moors. Nimue could understand why he questioned whether it was wise of them to get involved now.

"Doubt and mistrust is what Sebille wants," Nimue murmured. "She knows we're stronger together than we are apart."

She cupped his face in her hands and gently pulled him closer. His breath tickled her cheek as he lowered his head, brushing the corner of her mouth with his lips. Nimue was not going to let Sebille take away the most precious thing in her life. It was a thought that was echoed back at her, even as Merlin kissed her again. The two of them were more than strong enough to handle her together, her and the barbarians and even Debraun and his sister.

They were interrupted by urgent, insistent pounding on the tower door. Merlin jumped back, cursing in a language she didn't recognize—in fact, it sound like several languages she didn't recognize. His irritation was almost savage as he climbed off the bed. Nimue sent what comfort she could…and felt him relax, just a little—just enough. His walls went up, but instead of locking her out this time, he simply shielded her from the intensity of his feelings.

"Stay here," Merlin said, pushing his fingers back through his hair. "Only Arthur would dare knock like that at a time like this."

Stay here? Nimue thought, as Merlin disappeared down the tower stairs. Like hell I will! She rose and finished undressing herself, pausing only long enough to drape the dress over the back a chair, in an effort to keep it from getting ruined. Her own clothes were in her room, so she grabbed Merlin's robe and wrapped it around herself, cinching it tight. It was big and warm, and smelled of sandalwood and myrrh, which she found very comforting. Nimue made her way down the stairs quickly, and came out in the sitting room, where Arthur and Merlin were talking, their voices hushed.

"Did I…interrupt something?" Arthur asked, when he saw Nimue.

"No," Merlin said quickly.

"Yes!" Nimue snapped, quelling the urge to stomp her foot. "What's going on?"

"Debraun is causing trouble," Arthur said, his tone grim. "He's decided he'd like to take Lady Nimue home as a prize."

That stopped Nimue short. That snake, she thought, frowning. Is he out of his mind? She could feel Merlin's anger even with his walls up, and so could Arthur, apparently, because he kept throwing nervous glances at his wizard. She went to Merlin's side and laid a hand on his arm, hoping she could calm him at least a little. The last thing they needed was for him to try to rip out Debraun's throat; and he wasn't likely to even use magic for that.

"It's strange, though," Arthur said. "Until tonight, he'd shown no interest in her whatsoever. At least, not when I've spoken with him. And even now, it doesn't seem like…" He paused, then shrugged. "He's insistent about it, but not in the way of a man desiring of a trophy bride. More like…"

"A man obeying a command," Merlin finished for him. "Like he wants her because someone is telling him to bring her."

Arthur nodded. Nimue opened her mouth to tell them both how ridiculous that was, but suddenly she couldn't breathe. She could hear Merlin calling her name, but the whole world was going strange around her. The tower room disappeared, and she collapsed, landing hard on her knees. There was no floor beneath her, only empty, dark space. When she looked up, that was what she saw: dark space. Except it wasn't empty. She wasn't alone. Standing in front of her, a short distance away, was Sebille.

Her skirts moved as she did, but there was no rustle of clothing. It was terribly eerie. How? Nimue wondered, trying but unable to get back on her feet. How did she…? She couldn't have broken through her shields; she would have felt it. More, Merlin would have noticed something before Sebille could have succeeded. There was no way she should have been in Nimue's consciousness. Or perhaps Nimue was in hers.

"I should have realized sooner that it was you," Sebille said, taking a step closer. "I didn't know for certain until tonight. You are supposed to be dead!"

"What are you talking about?" Nimue asked. Her voice sounded oddly faint.

"How do you keep coming back?" Sebille went on, as if she hadn't heard. "You're not the same as I am…I've never had to come back. But you always do…you always have a new life, a good life! How do you do it, sesa? How?"

Nimue shook her head weakly. "I don't…understand you. What do you want?"

Sebille came forward until she was directly in front of Nimue. She reached down and touched Nimue's hair, at first as gentle and tender as a lover. Then Sebille curled her fingers around the red locks, still partially pinned up, and yanked hard. Nimue yelped in surprise and tried to lift her hands, to shove the other woman away, but she couldn't. Sebille pulled her head back, her grip so tight and painful it brought tears to her eyes. Fear raced through Nimue as she realized that she was completely helpless.

"Don't worry, sesa," Sebille said quietly. "I won't kill you. Not now. What I want…" She smiled sweetly. "I want you to suffer!"