Just Sitting, Waiting, Wishing (Celta/Nimueh)

[Celta Meiru]

Celta stood in the throne room of the castle with all of the other nobles, listening to the droning of some type of court business she had no interest in. Her mind was wandering to riding Eolas in the forest or practicing her archery away from all of these strangers. It was true that these people were strangers to her. They may be nobles just like her, and she may see them quite often for events at the castle and around Camelot; however, it was rare when someone called on her at her family's estate or she call on any of them.

The young noblewoman kept to herself for the most part, and she liked it that way. There were a few members of the court who she could trust and even considered her friends, Prince Arthur being one of them. He was not there, though. No one she "knew" was there, save for her parents, but they weren't next to her at the present time. Glancing around, she stifled a yawn to be polite and glanced down at her fancy court attire in disgust.

It was way too confining for her liking. She wanted to go home and change into something more comfortable as quick as possible. While everyone was busy talking, she snuck out of the large room and made her way out of the castle and onto the grounds, breathing in deeply and then letting out a slow and loud exhale of relief. For the time being, she was free to do whatever she pleased until the meeting was over.

She picked up her skirts enough so they wouldn't drag the ground and walked over to a place where she could sit down and people watch. She was not about to go get her dress dirty by going to the barn, and she disliked the gardens around that time of year. So here she was, sitting and staring at all of the faces of the working class and knights walking to the training fields. Oh, how she wished she could join those men training to be knights for Camelot, to defend the city and its people for the King and Prince Arthur.

But she would never see that day happen, so she knew it was futile to keep dreaming of it. Sighing, her frown turned once again to a smile as she watched a man trying to chase a chicken around the courtyard. She tried to hold back a laugh, but it ended up coming out anyway, so she put her hand over her mouth to hide it. A movement of someone entering the courtyard caught her attention, and she turned her glance towards him or her with a tilt of her head.

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Someone might think it foolish to walk into the lion’s den. To walk into the very center and control room of a sorcery-hating country when you were not only a witch but the very High Priestess of this old religion they condemned. But then Nimueh didn’t think in such categories, if anything she rather felt like a fox entering the henhouse. Because she didn’t feel threatened, SHE was the one carrying a serious threat with her. And what an excellent time she had chosen to make her appearance! The rooster had just left, to stay within the metaphorical picture, and had left the door wide open for her to saunter through. The kingdom now was in the hands of his tired, broken and aging father, who had never, not even in his powerful times, been a match for her. Arthur was a different calibre of man, he had survived her assaults not only once, and even though his father was borderline paranoid, Arthur was even harder to fool.

Then again, it was not like she was here to take Camelot by force. That had never been Nimueh’s style, and other than Morgana she knew that it was not possible by assault. At least not for long. And Nimueh also didn’t need an immortal army to battle their way through in advance, she preferred the sneakier and yet extremely more effective way of intrigue. It had almost succeeded once when she had tried to torpede the peace treaty between Camelot and Mercia, no one had suspected her to be anything else but a humble yet pretty servant. What role would it be today? Nimueh hadn’t decided yet, she would need to improvise, depending on who she would meet and use to her advantage. Yes, that was right. Nimueh was at her favourite game again, getting someone to trust her, maybe playing the damsel in distress if it was a male counterpart, or the trustworthy alley of Camelot with an important secret message or something along that line. Apart from seducing men, playing harmless was Nimueh’s favourite pastime and she had to admit herself she was fairly good at it.

Of course she could not wander into Camelot with her own true face, too many people knew her for what she really was by now, even those annoying guards. For today she had chosen the pretty but not striking appearance of a woman in her early thirties, chestnut brown hair and a green, not very adorned dress. For a moment Nimueh amused herself with the thought of Uther putting up little posters with a drawn portrait and handing it to the guards with a few repetetive words on how dangerous she was and how much he hated her..
But then her attention returned to the very crowded courtyard of Camelot. More people than usual were flooding it, seeking shelter coming from the surrounding villages. Now in broad daylight they didn’t seem too fearful, and the locals of Camelot tried to uphold routine to the best of their abilities. Nimueh’s gaze fell upon a noble lady sitting and watching some servant running after a chicken. As this worked perfectly with her formerly thought up metaphor, Nimueh couldn’t help a little chuckle escaping her own lips, and she approached the woman with a smile.

”Funny isn’t it? How they always put on such a fight, just as if they knew they are about to be eaten.”
Like so often, Nimueh was only winging this conversation, starting somewhere and waiting for it to blossom into something useful. In the end, everyone was a good tool, you just had to find out for what.

[Celta Meiru]

Celta was not a fan of the politics of Camelot. Or of any kingdom, for that matter. Give her a horse, a bow and arrow, and ale, and she can live like a queen in her own mind. She cared not for treaties and standing around a crowded, stuffy throne room while men signed papers and shot fake smiles at each other, pretending they were friends when in reality, the only reason they are there is so they don't lose their own castles by forceful takeovers and the sort. And her adoptive parents wondered why she was fanciful and enjoyed anything but noble activities? Ha! She didn't.

So here she was, sneaking out and laughing at a man chasing a chicken. It was the littlest things that always amused her, and as the man shot her a half irritated, half amused glare, she put her hand back over her mouth and shot him an innocent smile. Well, could he blame her for laughing? If he was in her spot and she was chasing the chicken all around the courtyard, she bet he'd be laughing too. Now, that was an amusing thought...which was broken by a female voice telling her it truly was funny. Celta turned her head towards the voice at that, her smile never fading.

"I knew I wasn't imagining things," she laughed easily as she looked over with a smile. "And the chicken never wins. Not one chicken I've seen run away has won that battle." The woman was pretty, and Celta gave her a quick once-over. She looked a few years older than Celta, with reddish brown hair and a kind smile. The dress she wore was neither elegant nor ugly, and the young noblewoman nodded in appreciation. She liked to se those kinds of dresses, and she disliked most of the dresses she was forced to wear in her nobility. With that thought, she glanced down in distaste for her own gown, which was more formal and less comfortable that that of the new woman's.

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Nimueh prided herself to be able to estimate people quite well from the way they gave themselves. She claimed to see into the souls of most, seeing through their petty disguises. It all came of course with roaming this earth for as long as she had, and having been trained to be a High Priestess, mistress of all who had magical blood running through their veins. A leader, be it spiritual or wordly, had to know his subjects or else he would not be ruling for long. There had been only one time so far Nimueh had judged someone entirely wrong, and it had been her undoing… for a certain amount of time. But she had learnt from her mistakes and now tried to not let her arrogance get in the way of her judgement. Like this, she examined the noble woman before her, and was not fooled by her outwardly careless and simple behaviour. She might be laughing at something as silly as a chicken trying to escape from its sure death, but there was more to her than this. Nimueh could see cleverness in her eyes, and a strong will. She liked that. Boring people were always so, well… boring to converse with, even if it had to be done.

Letting another little laugh, tumble from her lips, Nimueh smiled at the woman and nodded. “Indeed, you are quite right! It could make one almost feel sorry for the chicken, did it not taste so delightful. I wonder who in Camelot will be the lucky one to devour it tonight? The Prince perhaps?”
Of course it was all part of the plan, acting completely clueless. How should a traveller know after all that the very same Prince Arthur was not in Camelot right now? She appeared to have only just arrived right now after all!
Nimueh took another look at Camelot’s courtyard, letting her eyes widen a bit, as if she was seeing it for the first time. As if she hadn’t lived here long before this noble lady here had been more than a leer in her father’s eye! But such were the sad duties of a woman with a destiny such as herself, she always had to play innocent and ignorant, and though it sometimes could be fun, it irked her at the same time. A woman of her abilities should always be taken at face value, it was nothing less than she deserved!

She then returned her attention to the woman, with an almost apologetic smile. “The splendour of this place can be quite distracting, can it not? But then… I’m sure you are used to it all.” She waved her comment aside. “Do you mind if I sit next to you for a little while? I had a long journey and wouldn’t mind to rest my feet.”
Weakness, weakness… bah, it was pathetic! Even if her feet would hurt, Nimueh had long since learned not to listen to the demands of her body. She could go without sleep, without food or drink for days, simply because her mind dominated her body. But no, to stoop down to normal human beings and their often enough pathetic ways, one had to adjust to not stick out.

[Celta Meiru]

The sun was shining bright in the sky, warming everything around them and giving a bright, cheerful atmosphere to the courtyard. There was a slight breeze keeping everything and everyone from overheating. Celta reveled in the atmosphere with a pleased smile on her face. She enjoyed days like this very much, especially now that she had someone amusing to converse with. The other lady smiled at her, which in turn caused Celta's body to relax even more and her smile to grow. The woman was looking at her as though she was appraising her, but she was neither glaring or seeming to judge her in any bad way, so Celta didn't mind.

"Yes, almost," she gave an easygoing laugh of her own. "I must admit that chicken tastes pretty good. The poor thing." Although inside her stomach gave a little rumble at the thought of eating chicken. She hadn't had it in so long. Yet at the slight question of the Prince's whereabouts, she shook her head and continued to smile comfortably. "No, he is away for a few days. There has been unrest in the city, and Arthur has gone with his knights to keep his people safe." She was chatting so nicely, she forgot that she didn't address her close friend as Prince Arthur, as the other normal noblewomen should. But she kept going with a thoughtful glance at the woman.

She was asked if the woman could sit next to her, and Celta nodded once, her eyes wandering casually around them out of habit to look for any danger or even her adoptive parents coming outside to yell at her for leaving the other nobles to sit outside. The woman wished to rest her feet, and Celta would gladly let her rest. She knew those types of days where she worked and walked all day long and only wished to rest afterwards. And the other question the stranger asked caught her slightly off guard, and she laughed a bit.

"I don't think I will ever be used to the court," she replied honestly. "It's never been my strong suit." It was true. Celta had never grown close with the idea of curtsying, parties, politics, strategic marriages...it all sickened her. The main reasons she remained in the court was for her adoptive parents to be happy and to stay close with the few friends she had made, the ones who accepted her differences and never judged her for who she really was. She hated pretending to be anything she wasn't, and a noble, proper woman was not one of them.

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Nimueh was skilled on reacting to undertones or read things between lines, but what was said here was such an obvious slip eben an imbecile would have caught on it. Or was it even a slip of the tongue at all? In any way, it was a most interesting and telling revellation. Not the chicken part of course, who cared if that noble lady here liked chicken, half of the world’s population liked chicken and the other half was simply silly – no, when she had spoken about Camelot’s Crown Prince and soon-to-be King, she had used a very special word without thinking. His first name. This lady, whoever she was, saw fit to use Arthur’s name in a conversation with a complete stranger. That only could mean she was so close to him that calling him by his first name came to her naturally. Either that or she was very insolent and not schooled in courtly manors. But that was unlikely of course.

“I see…” she replied thoughtfully, while her mind was already trying to process the information and turn it into something to her utmost advantage. Someone close to Arthur… that could turn out excellently! Not only would she have leverage now, someone else to make Arthur vulnerable with – using that impossible wannabe queen Gwen got old after some time – someone he would very much mind to see hurt. And then there was also the other side of the coin: Digging out someone of Arthur’s inner circle could bring her a useful source of information from inside the walls. Her scrying font might show her much, but there was nothing better than getting information straight out of the heart of this place. Oh yes, Nimueh already could see this conversation to be very fruitful indeed…

With a casual and thankful smile she squatted down next to the woman and stretched out her legs with a little sigh. “That’s better. Well, I am not very pleased to hear our beloved Prince is away, as I would have sought an audience with him on an urgent matter”, she lied and gave a little remoreseful sigh. “But I guess my warnings will have to wait until this threat is lifted off our shoulders.” Warnings… of course, she would have a reason to be here, a NOBLE reason, something that would show her utmost loyalty to Camelot. Now she knew this woman would probably be on Arthur’s side, she had of course to play the loyal subject. However much that irked her, Nimueh had done so often enough to slip into this role with ease.

”As won’t I!” she replied with a little laugh, again lying. When she had still been in Uther’s good graces Nimueh had thrived on court life, practically spending more time here than on the Isle of the Blessed. But it was always better to feign similarities in such situations, even if all the sweettalk she was about to delve into would make her want to rinse her mouth out repeatedly later. “But sometimes we have to put aside our own interests for the greater good…” Oh how very true indeed. Time for step two: introduction. Well, fake introduction for that matter.
”By the way, excuse me for my impoliteness, I haven’t even told you my name yet. Tabitha of Mournswicke.” Mournswicke was a small Hamlet in the utmost south of Camelot. Nimueh doubted the woman had heard of it, and that was just what she aimed for.