Chapter Twelve: A World Apart

Nimue was almost deathly still, except for the slow rise and fall of her chest. As far as Merlin could tell, there was nothing wrong with her. He detected no spells, no enchantments; in fact it seemed as though she was merely sleeping. Of course you would be sleeping, he thought morosely, running his finger along her lower lip. Anything to get out of a council about Ansella and Debraun. Her lips felt chapped. Merlin reached for the bowl sitting on the table beside the bed and dipped his fingers in it. He let the water drop from his fingertips onto her lips. She stirred just a bit.

That's right, Merlin thought, dipping his fingers in the water again and pressing them to her lips. Wake up, Nimue. Her lips moved beneath his hand. He saw her eyelashes flutter, and just a hint of bright blue. Relief flooded him, and he reached for the water bowl once more. She woke up slowly, flinching as if she was in pain. When her eyes opened, she had trouble keeping them any wider than small slits. Merlin sat on the bed, getting closer to her. He laid a hand on her stomach, letting his own energy channel into her.

"Head." Nimue burbled. She lifted her hand about an inch before it fell back to the bed.

Merlin nodded. "I thought that might be the case."

He rose and walked over to his work table. There, waiting for him, was a thick-walled stoneware mug with a pile of crushed herbs at the bottom. Merlin took a handful of seed pearls from a bag next to the mug and held them, letting them heat up until their white surfaces glowed faint orange. He then dropped them in the mug, turning the herbs into steaming tea. Some kind of magical backlash, he thought, as he made his way back to Nimue. You only get headaches like that from using powerful magic, or having it used on you. Something he knew from more experience than he liked to remember.

Merlin sat on the bed again, this time so he could slide an arm under Nimue's body. She groaned in protest as he pulled her up, leaning her against his chest and supporting her with one arm. He murmured to her softly as he brought the mug to her lips, encouraging her to drink. She was, as he'd suspected she would be, not the most cooperative patient he'd had, by far. The tea, while it worked miracles, was not very pleasant tasting, nor pleasant smelling, and at first she pursed her lips tightly, refusing to drink.

"Come now, sweet Nimue." Merlin gently kissed the curve of her ear. "Drink for me, little one."

He had no hands free to touch her physically, but that didn't mean he couldn't touch her at all. Merlin felt her shiver, and he knew what she was feeling: a sensation like someone slowly running their fingertips along the most sensitive parts of her body. Nimue relaxed against him, moaning softly, and finally took a sip of the tea. He felt no guilt in using this method; only a rush of desire when he looked down at her, to see drops of moisture beading on her parted lips. Merlin pressed his lips again to the curve of her ear, sliding his mouth slowly down to her neck. He murmured softly against her skin, coaxing her to drink, then nipped gently at her earlobe.

By the time he'd gotten her to drink half of it, Nimue was coming out of her headache induced torpor. She sat up a little straighter, and was soon able to bring her hands up to take hold of the mug herself. Damn council meeting, Merlin thought, gently stroking back her hair. I'd much rather stay here with her.

"Ugh." Nimue groaned. "What in God's name was that?"

"That's what I want to know," Merlin said. "What happened?"

Nimue gave her head a little shake, then stopped, wincing. "I'm not certain. It was.I don't think it was a vision. I saw Sebille." She twisted around to look at him. "I don't understand."

"Nor do I, I'm afraid," Merlin admitted. "You scared us.Arthur and myself, I mean. Feeling any better?"

"Relatively speaking," Nimue replied. "What did you—?"

She stopped and took a good, long look around the room. Then she glanced down at the mug in her hands. Merlin watched her face as she remembered how he'd gotten her to drink so much of it. Nimue blushed, the color creeping towards the tips of her ears, and he found himself smiling. He caught her chin and gently pulled her gaze back to him. Maybe there's enough time. he thought, leaning down to press his mouth to hers. Her lips trembled and parted sweetly beneath his. Merlin took the mug from her hands and set it aside, then dragged her up against him.

Definitely not enough time, he thought, as Nimue's hands cradled his face. He shifted under her and she tumbled forward, her thighs sliding up against his hips. She was still wearing just his shirt, and it was so easy to simply reach his hands up beneath it. Merlin rested his hands on her waist and forced himself to pull back from her. Nimue's eyes were slightly glazed and her breathing was harsh. Damnit, he thought, moving her gently from his lap. This isn't good. She might be strong, but his energy was still enough to overpower hers.

Knocking on the tower door brought him back to reality for a moment. She's strong enough, Merlin thought, kissing her gently on the forehead before rising from the bed and leaving the room. She's just tired right now. He had to believe that, or he'd go crazy. Morrigan had been a mature wizard at the time he'd met her; there'd been no worries about the balance of power between them. It was different this time. The connection between him and Nimue was strong. He was beginning to understand why wizards never lived in large communities.

There was a young, tow-headed page boy waiting for him at the door. "Is it that time already, lad?" Merlin asked.

"No, m'lord," the boy replied. "I mean, yes, m'lord. I mean.it isn't, but I suppose now it is, because His Majesty asked me to fetch you early. I'm supposed to tell you that Lord Debraun has gone missing."

Merlin sighed. "If only that could be good news," he said. He looked down at the page boy and nodded. "Very well. Run back and notify His Majesty that I'll be with him shortly."

The boy bowed, then turned and dashed off down the hall. Just what we need, Merlin thought, as he closed the tower door. A reason for civil war to spring up. He glanced at the stairway, thinking longingly of the time he could be spending with Nimue. Beyond physical desire, she was the one person he could talk to, who wouldn't bring up all the problems in the world. It's more than some shaman's ill-born get that's causing this trouble, Merlin thought, as he headed reluctantly back up the stairs to change for council. It might be time to put a new notion before Arthur and the council.



Nimue lounged in the bathtub, moving about as much as a fat, lazy tomcat laying in the sun. Although she still ached a little, she felt worlds away from the wretched creature she'd been only half an hour ago. And I don't have to sit through council, she thought, finally moving: a luxurious stretch worthy of any lazy tomcat. I don't really think Debraun and his family are our real problem. Although it made her headache to bring the memory to the front of her mind, that encounter with Sebille was their real worry, she was certain.

Not that she didn't have a few other concerns of her own. She remembered, vaguely, the magical seduction Merlin had used to get her to drink that awful concoction. Nimue would be furious with him for such a thing, if it weren't for the fact that she was so grateful her headache was gone. I suppose I didn't exactly mind it, either, she thought, sinking down until the water was up to her chin. Ahh.come on, Nimue. There are bigger things to worry about right now than.that. If only her rebellious body—not to mention her heart—was willing to agree with her.

At last she forced herself to climb out of the tub. She stood there, bent over, wringing the excess water from her hair (which refused to stay shorter than thigh-length for some unfathomable reason). A moment later, while she was wrapping a towel around herself, she froze; she could have sworn she'd heard something. Nimue made sure the towel was secure, listening closely as her fingers tucked the soft cotton into place. There, she thought, as a soft rustling reached her ears. It has to be coming from downstairs. How on earth she'd heard it was another matter entirely.

She pulled on the shirt she'd been wearing earlier, leaving the towel in a heap on the floor, and grabbed Etherea before padding silently down the tower stairs. The stone was cold beneath her feet, but she ignored it. Never would Nimue have expected, upon stepping into the sitting room, to come face to face with Lord Debraun. Merlin had told her before he left for council that the man was missing. Oh no, he isn't, Nimue thought, backpedaling as he came at her. She dodged to one side and rested her hand on Etherea's hilt, waiting to see if he was armed.

Debraun charged forward like a madman, his mouth open in a silent yell and his eyes wild. He grabbed her arm before she could duck away, pulling her hand away from Etherea. She wrenched around, breaking free from his grasp, but ending up off balance. Merlin! she thought, struggling to regain her footing. Damnit, Merlin, get your ass back here now! As Nimue recovered her balance and turned towards Debraun, she felt a sharp, burning pain across her arm, just above the elbow. She clapped a hand over the deep gash and glowered at Debraun, who was holding a knife, the blade smeared with her blood.

She made a run for the tower door. Just as she got her hands on it and wrenched it open, Debraun caught her from behind. No! Nimue thought, twisting around and striking at him. The pain in her arm made her dizzy. The room swayed and grew dark around her, and she felt something inside her pulse with anger, fear, and frustration. There was a sharp cracking sound, and suddenly she was falling. Strong arms caught her, pulled her against a warm body. Spice and sandalwood enwrapped her, making her feel safe again.

"Is she well, Merlin?" Arthur's voice, always so strong and stern, broke through her daze.

"Get him out of here." Merlin's voice, in contrast, was a soft, dangerous growl.

"I'm okay," Nimue assured them both, stepping away from Merlin. "Just a little shaken up."

Looking at Merlin's face, she froze. His was staring straight at her, his eyes dark and intense. Nimue didn't see who came into to drag Debraun from the room; she couldn't look away. It felt like an eternity was passing as she stood there. The tower door slammed, making her jump, and momentarily breaking the spell. She sighed and turned away, setting Etherea down on the chair beside the hearth. Her heart leapt into her throat as Merlin picked her up suddenly, swinging her into his arms. He headed for the stairs up to the bedroom, not speaking a word.

"Merlin?" Nimue's voice came out a faint, nervous squeak.

She felt a rush of soothing warmth and relaxed. He was wound too tightly at the moment to speak. All this fuss over little ol' me? Nimue thought, snuggling close to him. Merlin brought her upstairs and set her down on the bed. He sat down beside her, to inspect the cut on her arm, and she could feel his hands shaking as he held her elbow. Angry, she realized, watching his face. He's furious. Merlin looked up at her, forcing a small, tight smile, then rose and went to his worktable for the second time today, this time for bandages and salve.

"I'm really fine," Nimue said, watching him. "He just caught me off guard. I mean, we found him, didn't we?"

"Hush, Nimue," Merlin said suddenly. "Let me focus."

He took a deep breath as he walked back to the bed. Nimue held still while he cleaned the blood from her arm, and rubbed a streak of salve over the gash. Her small gasp of pain made Merlin freeze for a long moment, breathing hard, so she bit back another when he wrapped a length of bandage around the wound. He used magic on the bandage, making the weaving grow together, so it would stay on more securely. Yet another trick that Nimue wished dearly to learn.

She felt a twinge of amusement, followed by desire that was barely held in check. When she lifted her head, Merlin pressed his mouth to hers. It was so fierce and so sudden that it made her weak. She threw her arms around his neck and dragged him down against her, overwhelmed by the feelings of need and concern, and something she was certain was at least half lust. Nimue could tell he was losing the struggle with himself. Merlin's hands rested on her thighs and his body urged hers back down onto the bed, into the soft nest of thick furs. Frustrated by his last grasps for self-control, she pulled back and glowered at him.

"I'm not afraid," Nimue said, barely recognizing the soft, husky voice as her own. "I don't care that you're my teacher, or that you're older than I am. I just want you."

And I love you, she thought. As he kissed her again, she felt him give in. His teeth tugged at her lower lip, nipping gently until she opened her mouth. His tongue against hers filled Nimue with fire, making her feel hot and bold. She arched under him, pressing her body against his. Merlin pressed back, his hips pinning hers down to the bed. His hands moved slowly down her arms, fingertips moving in little whorls, sending shivers up and down her spine. Slowly, slowly, inch by inch, until his fingers were creeping down over her collarbone to the laces of the shirt she was wearing. Merlin tugged the laces loose, and pulled the shirt open, baring her breasts in a way that reminded her of the night before.

His dark hair was stark in contrast to her bare skin. Nimue was fascinated by it, watched it slide like silk along her body as Merlin's lips traced a slow path down to her breasts. This isn't going to work, she thought, struggling to feel the heat of his body through the tunic and shirt he wore. She wanted to feel him, not his clothes. Before his could get his mouth on her breasts, and knock all coherent thoughts from her mind, Nimue tugged insistently at his tunic. It caught on his shirt, one material dragging over the other, and she sighed.

"Do you really have to wear these things to council?" Nimue asked, pushing him up so she could get to the laces of his tunic.

Merlin smiled. "I'm afraid they're required."

"Well, I require you to take them off," Nimue said, giving the laces another tug. She peered up at him from beneath her lashes. "Please?"

She felt another twinge of amusement, followed by the impression of being looked at by someone who was undecided as to whether she was the most alluring creature on earth, or just a spoiled brat. Nimue stretched out beneath him, then sat up, letting the shirt simply slide down off her shoulders. It pooled around her hips, leaving her almost completely bare. She rose to her knees, letting the shirt fall down further, and reached out, helping him with his tunic, and then his shirt. Merlin's fingers closed around her wrist when she tried to reach for his breeches.

Nimue looked up, just as he pulled, making her fall up against him. She gasped and pressed her face against his neck; all manner of sensations ran through her at the feeling of his skin against hers. Even simply touching the tips of her fingers to his made something primal and undeniable pass through them. Merlin started kissing her again, and this time he didn't stop her from unlacing his breeches. He wrapped his arms around her as she pulled them down around his hips, and pulled her back onto the bed. Nimue landed up on top of him. She pushed herself up on her hands and looked down at him; she could feel the tip of him against her belly, and watched his eyelashes flutter each time she shifted a little.

In half an instant she found herself laying on her back, cradled in the nest of soft furs. Merlin rid himself of his breeches—and her of the shirt, which was still around her legs—and stretched out beside her. He pressed his hand against her cheek and touched her lower lip with his thumb. Nimue felt something electric stir inside her, something that radiated out from wherever he touched her. Merlin traced the line of her jaw with his fingertip, making her tremble, each movement deliberate and unhurried.

She tried, as his hand slowly moved along her shoulders and down her arms, what she was feeling. Merlin found small places, simple places—at the crook of her elbow, in between her fingers—and stroked the sensitive skin there until she was moaning softly. His hand moved to her breasts then. He followed the curve of one with the tips of his fingers, running them up so his index finger passed over her nipple. It hardened as he circled it slowly with his finger, but rather than touching it again, he moved his hand to her other breast and started the process once more, from the beginning.

Nimue writhed on the fur coverlets, pressing her body to his touch. She could feel his smug pleasure and fascinated as he explored her, finding ways to make her moan. The fact that the simple act of resting his hand against her belly could make her quiver was almost frightening. She wanted to know how he did it. If she didn't know better, she'd think he could read her mind, and figure out everything she enjoyed before she even realized she enjoyed it.

"H-how.?" Nimue gasped, as his hand passed over the inside of her thigh.

There was that smugness again. She realized that the feeling was coming from inside herself, in a sense. Nimue looked up into his eyes, and realized for the first time that his walls were completely down. She reached out and tentatively touched his arm; a shiver ran through her, one that wasn't wholly her own. When she moved her hand along his body, she felt his pleasure. It was more a sense of connection than an actual sensation like the ones his touch evoked, but it felt just as good. Nimue struggled, though, when she touched him. He was much more practiced at it, and his fingers sliding between her thighs was distracting, so that her focus flickered.

Her fingernails bit into his skin as he stroked her; not enough to draw blood, but enough so that she felt the odd mingling of pain and satisfaction that went through him. She could only keep a hand on him, as he teased her until she was moaning and lifting her hips against his touch, but that seemed to be plenty. Nimue could tell he was pleased with himself, and she wasn't about to argue. The only thing that penetrated the fog around her mind was the feeling of his breath on her neck, and the sound of his voice.

"Now, sweet Nimue." Merlin murmured.

That electric, heat-inducing feeling intensified until it was all she could feel. Nimue knew it was her voice that cried out, knew it because Merlin knew it, but she was oblivious to everything else around her. Each shock of her orgasm shook her, making her tremble, drawing out her cry until it faded into a faint, whimpering moan. She didn't know if she'd black out or what, because it took awhile for the world to fade back in. It was Merlin's soft voice that finally reached her, whispering something all too tempting in her ear.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her hand was still resting on him, settled comfortably on his hip. Merlin caught her hand in his and brought it up to his mouth, nipping at the tip of her finger, then sucking on it.

"Don't look so smug," she muttered, even as she shuddered.

"Not smug, dear one," Merlin said, smiling. "Just wise and learned."

Nimue rolled her eyes, fighting the affectionate smile that tugged at her lips. "Isn't that the same thing with you?"

She shrieked as Merlin wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up. The two of them tussled playfully, and landed in a heap on the furs again. Nimue moved fast, trying to get the upper hand, but she wasn't fast enough. Merlin pinned her wrists on the pillow above her head, holding her easily in place with one hand—and the help of a little magic, which was both exciting and a bit unfair—and ran his hand slowly down along her body. He stopped low on her belly and looked up at her.

"Hope you don't tire too easily, little Nimue," Merlin murmured, leaning forward. "Today's lesson has only just begun."

Nimue struggled, wanting desperately to kiss him. He released her wrists and she pulled him down to her, parting her lips before his even touched hers. Wherever his body touched hers, that wondrous feeling sparked to life. She let him position himself between her legs, and the resulting jolt of him pressing against her made her gasp. Merlin, she thought, and felt an answering call deep within her consciousness. Nimue closed her eyes, kissing him hard, and waited for that long, breathless eternity before he entered her.

Her body was not used to such an invasion, but even so her pain was quickly washed away by a flooding of pleasure and emotion. There was such a feeling of being complete, both body and mind, that was overpowering. Merlin moved slowly at first, each prolonged stroke a kind of delectable agony. Friction built between them with every thrust, and heat blossomed where his mouth touched; her lips, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. Inch by inch he explore with his mouth, tasting her, teasing her until she was breathless and writhing beneath him.

Nimue arched her back as Merlin's tongue grazed the curve of her breast and the tip of her nipple. She lifted her hips, her connection to him allowing her to find his rhythm. Mine, she thought, burying her fingers in his hair and holding him against her. The answer she received was quite enthusiastic, his body surging into hers so deep that she cried out. Her body was overworked, oversensitive from all his touches and caresses, and it tightened with each stroke, reaching a point that was almost painful before release swept her away.

She was sweaty and breathing hard, but she clung to Merlin anyway, refusing to let him go. His body moved in hers throughout her climax, and she could feel him shuddering. He pressed his face against her neck, groaning softly, the sound vibrating along her skin. Nimue's whole world narrowed to that room, to him and her and the bed beneath him. Nothing else is important right now, she thought, running her fingers through his sweat-dampened hair as they both caught their breath. There's nothing.I just can't. Much to her surprise and horror, tears sprang to her eyes.

Merlin sensed her distress immediately. She felt his reluctance as he pushed himself up and slid out of her, but her tears were his bigger concern at the moment. He pulled her into his arms, cuddling her close, and Nimue held onto him, biting her lip in an effort to stem her tears.

"Shhh." Merlin brushed her hair back and gently kissed her forehead. "It's all right, Nimue."

"W-what.?" she managed to choke out.

"No fear, little one," Merlin said, nuzzling her cheek. "You'll adjust. Or perhaps I should say we'll adjust.I've experienced it once before, though. I'm better prepared to deal with it. And it wasn't quite this.intense."

Nimue looked up at him, confused until she gazed into his eyes. Mine, she remembered thinking, while he was inside her. Although she remembered no words, his response had been in kind. She didn't have to ask Merlin to explain; the answer was there in his mind for her to "read" as she wished. Sex and magic had tied them together in a sense that was more than emotional or physical. This was why he was so reluctant, Nimue thought, frowning. Because this causes such a strong.connection. She felt a twinge of dismay, then denial. Merlin cupped her face, raising her gaze to his.

"I certainly don't regret it, Nimue," he murmured. His smile turned to a wolfish grin, as he dragged her on top of him, bringing her body flush against his. "But you might."