The Sweetest Poison (Merlin)

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Nimueh was more than sure that her plan would work. She was adamant. She had worked on this plot for a while, and now she was eager to see it bearing fruit. Ever since the news had reached her Mercia was planning to make peace with Camelot, her plan had begun forming and she had set a few things in motion. When it succeeded, she would have killed two birds with one stone so to say, or two people and two ideals with one flawless plan. Merlin would be dead and Camelot and Mercia would be at war forevermore. War was a gruesome thing, but it was crucial to Nimueh on these grounds. If Camelot finally made peace with its arch-enemy, another great solution would have been brought forth without the help of magic, further strengthening Uther’s errant thought that there could be a world without magic. No, this war needed to go on at all costs. Nimueh was not known to be squeamish in her methods, and if this meant that she could get rid of the newest thorn in her side in one stride… who was she to complain?

Now she was finally in Camelot again, the place she had loved once upon a time, when Uther had been still young. Dressed up as a servant in the Mercian entourage no one would give her a second glance. That was the best of it all, preying on Uther’s weaknesses. He overlooked most servants. One could run around with Igraine’s face and he probably wouldn’t see it… though… that might be a long shot after all, Uther was crazy when it came to the wife he had sacrificed to give Camelot an heir.
She was no stranger to the work of a servant, after all priestesses were no queens in their training, but she hadn’t followed other’s orders in a long time, it was certainly a sour bile to swallow. Nothing, not even that however could diminish her excitement for long. The opening scene of the treaty talks had been perfectly staged, Nimueh couldn’t have done that better, with both parties coming from two opposite directions, and Uther and Bayard moving forward to exchange that first, crucial handshake, a sign of their willingness to cooperate. Just that one of them wouldn’t appear so cooperative later, if Nimueh had her way.

She was standing in the background, watching the scene like a servant should, but her attentive eyes had soon made out the other piece in her ploy, standing there as Arthur’s manservant. Merlin. That troublesome boy, having managed to destroy one of her perfectly set up plans. Well, he wouldn’t get another chance at that, now he would become another piece in her game, and he wouldn’t even realize it. She was the pupeteer and he was the dancing marionette, under the illusion of being in control over his limbs.
A few hours passed with the noble entourage getting settled in their guest quarters and Nimueh was sent on a few errands. She didn’t mind as this might double her chances to catch Merlin somewhere and make the first, crucial contact. He was a man after all… and Nimueh knew how to ensnare men.

She was just carrying a few sheets, making herself look busy, when she saw him standing in the corridor with Gaius. Nimueh knew she would have to be wary around him, as the old physician surely was no fool. They had been friends before… and contrary to Uther he DID take a closer look at servants. Then again, he probably had poor eyesight by now and you usually only saw what you expected to see. She was all but safe.
Furthermore, Gaius only would see her back, if she played it right. As if if by accident, Nimueh tripped just as she had maneuvred herself between Gaius and Merlin, dropping her sheets. “Sorry!” she exclaimed in her most embarrassed and timid tone and immediately dropped to her knees to collect them. If she judged Merlin right in any way, he would help her now.



Tag: Merlin
Timeline: s1 ep4 "The Poisoned Chalice"
Time of Day: Midmorning?

[consultingwarlock]

It had been non-stop work since first arriving in Arthur's chambers that morning. For today was the day the Mercian entourage would be arriving, and because of that, the servants of Camelot were working extra hard to make sure the castle was fit for their guests. Merlin originally thought he would be getting off lightly, as Arthur had excused him from all his normal morning duties, but when the Prince started smugly reeling off a list of chores to be done around the castle, Merlin realised how foolish he had been. After offering a condescending pat on the shoulder, Arthur left Merlin to his work, having been summoned by the King to a private meeting before their guests arrived.

Mumbling about obnoxious Prince's under his breath, Merlin set about his tasks for the morning. First stop was the stables, where a dozen stablehands were preparing the avaliable box stalls ready for the Mercian horses. They were more than happy for an extra set of hands, and Merlin soon got stuck into the job; sweeping the floors to get rid of the old bedding, piling fresh hay into the corner and making sure each trough was filled with water for the horses after their long journey. Working quickly and efficiently, it didn't take long for the group to finish preparing the guest stalls, and Merlin left the stablehands to see if he could be of more use elsewhere. Moving back into the castle, he found the kitchen in a state of organised chaos; servants dsahing about trying to avoid one another in the cramped conditions, voices bellowing to one another over the clamouring of pots and pans. When one of the serving girls spotted Merlin hovering in the doorway, she beckoned him in and set him to work straight away chopping vegetables ready for the feast later on. Too focused on trying to slice a particularly stubborn potato, Merlin didn't realise how much time had gone by until someone was sent with a message that he was required in the Throne Room. Lord Bayard had arrived.

Hurrying into the Throne Room, he saw Arthur roll his eyes slightly and mouth 'Where have you been?!', before gesturing to the right side where there was a space left for Merlin. Merlin was about to give a retort, but the sound of footsteps fast approaching sent him scurrying quickly into position. As the doors to the throne room opened and the first blue cloak was glimpsed, Merlin stepped forward with the rest of the Camelot group to greet the Mercian entourage. He watched as Uther welcomed Lord Bayard into Camelot Castle; too focused on the exchange of words to notice a pretty young serving girl staring attentively in his direction.
As the two Kings clasped forearms, a round of applause proceeded the action and signalled the closure of their first meeting. After bidding his guests get some rest before the feast later on that evening, Uther released Bayard's forearm and stepped back in line with his party. They then watched as Bayard bowed slightly, before leading his group out the doors where servants were waiting to show them to their assigned rooms. Before Merlin could escape however, Arthur pulled him to one side and gave him a new list of chores to complete, before letting him go with a cheery smile.

A few hours later, and Merlin was walking down the courtyard corridor, struggling with sacks of plates and goblets that needed polishing before the feast later on. Spotting Gaius walking towards him, he remarked to the physician, "Why do I always get landed with the donkey work..." Gauis stopped and looked at Merlin in amusement, exclaiming, "You're a servant Merlin, it's what you do!" Merlin felt like mentioning that if he was allowed to use his magic it would be a whole lot easier, but as there were numerous people around he resorted to, "My arms will be a foot longer by the time I get this lot inside!", placing the sacks on the floor. Gaius just looked at him and, slipping into the voice he used when he was teaching Merlin a lesson about something, said, "It's character building. As the old proverb says, hard work breeds..." he paused, and Merlin looked at him suspiciously. He was making this up on the spot, he had to be. "... a harder soul." Merlin voiced his suspicions, and as Gauis tried to protest his innocence, someone fell to the floor in front of Merlin with a quiet 'Sorry!'.

"It's alright!" Merlin exclaimed, darting a quick look towards Gaius before back at the floor where the handmaiden sat. "Let me give you a hand with that," he said, glancing at Gaius once more with a look that translated as 'See? I'm doing more work now. Don't-you-dare-say-anything.' Crouching down, he reached out to pick up the cushion that was laying in front of him and looked up, making eye contact with the woman. He was immediately struck by how beautiful she was, and found himself smiling softly, slowly standing without breaking eye contact. After a moments inability to form some coherant words, he extended his hand for her to shake, and introduced himself. "I'm Merlin."

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Nimueh usually didn’t like to appear meek or weak, since it was as far from her personality as anything, but then she had learned from an early age that if you wanted to manipulate people you best did it from a lower status than they had. That way, they could feel a little superior, more generous if they helped you, and that made them reckless. Meek people were tought harmless, they would never rise from their submission for long. It was those mechanisms of human interaction Nimueh liked to prey on most, and usually it worked quite well. If you wanted to manipulate someone, you needed to know his character, and that was why she had taken a little time first, watching Merlin, before she set out to strike against him and Camelot alike. She didn’t have to study Uther anymore, his weaknesses were an open book for Nimueh for years. Other people might not be as easy to read, but then they all had that one weakness you could exploit.

For Merlin, it was his good heart and his disregard for his own safety when others were in danger. She had seen it when he had fought the Afanc, and she hoped she would see him do it again when he tried to save Arthur from the Poisoned Chalice. Being a martyr, sacrificing himself for his beloved Arthur – well, she could give him that, and she would! For now though, she had to gain his trust and she better did that thoroughly. Merlin might be naïve as can be, but she needed to convince him not to run to someone else first, but act on his own. That could be done of course, Nimueh didn’t doubt her abilities. After all, who could resist the deep blue eyes of a distressed servant girl? It was also a good thing the servant’s garments of Mercia allowed a pleasant outlook on her cleavage… surely, the Mercian rulers knew what they wanted, and it only worked to her advantage now.

“Excuse me!” she whispered. Merlin’s answer was immediate: “Let me give you a hand with that”, and he crouched low to help her. Let’s see how that works for a start… she thought, then frantically felt for the sheets and the pillow on the ground, while she suddenly looked up, as if surprised to see him help her. Their eyes met and she knew hers were working their spell-less magic of blue intensity on him. It was a gift from the Goddess she had been blessed with, and it never seemed to fail her, not even on the youngest boys, like Merlin was. While her rich mouth was slightly open, she blinked a few times, as if hit by a sudden, overwhelming, but scary feeling. Slowly she stood up, and was pleased to find him mirror her movements, while the eye contact never broke. This was working perfectly! She had his attention now, but she would have to be careful not to overdo it at the beginning. The seed was laid…

He seemed engulfed in her eyes for a little moment, then seemed to remember his manners, as he extended his hand and introduced himself.
”Hi. I'm Merlin.”
”Cara”, she answered with the name she had decided on, and shook his hand, her eyes never quite leaving his, and a sweet smile playing around her lips. She was already enjoying this very, very much. Then, thinking she should push her luck a bit further, she added: “You’re Arthur’s servant! Must be such an honor”, as if she had heard people speak of him. Her voice held a tint of admiration to it, though she was far from gushing. She was raising him on a little pedestal, making it clear that she was by far not holding such a high position. People liked being flattered like that, and she hoped Merlin would be no exception.

[consultingwarlock]

Cara. Even the name sounded beautiful. He noticed her hands were soft, her touch gentle on his. Merlin found that quite surprising, as normally a handmaiden bore all evidence of her work on her hands and as a result, their skin would be rough. Of course, he was basing these assumptions on Gwen - who had gone to pick up the same tray of food as Merlin earlier that week, and as a result their hands had collided - and his mother, back in Ealdor. But maybe Cara's duties were different than Gwen's, after all, Merlin wasn't to know how the serving staff were treated in the Kingdom of Mercia. And her face certainly didn't bear the lines that Merlin associated with the women back in his home village.

Merlin returned his attention from her hand in his as he heard her speaking. 'You're Arthur's servant. Must be such an honour.' His face split into a grin at the praise in her voice, but was quickly replaced by a look of mock-seriousness as he responded. He didn't want her thinking he was ungrateful for his position, even if he was serving that arrogant prat of a Prince. Nodding his head, he replied, "Oh, yeah. It is." He wanted to add that he should get an award for surviving this long, or that she should see some of the chores he was made to complete, but decided that it was probably wise not to voice these opinions out loud - especially taking into account the quiet reverance he had heard in her voice at his position in the Camelot household.

Looking down at the cushion in his hands, Merlin avoided Gaius' gaze; he knew he would be stepping over the mark with his next sentence, but he couldn't resist. "Well, someone's got to keep the place running." Still with the look of seriousness on his face, Merlin made eye contact with Cara again, but then felt his mentor's piercing look and turned his head slightly to meet it. He gave Gauis an expression of innocence, noting the crossed arms and disbelief on his face, before turning back to Cara and smiling.

Preoccupied with working out whether or not she'd noticed the exchange, he almost missed the soft 'Thank you Merlin' that she'd uttered. Humming slightly, a confused expression crossed his face as he tried to work out what she was thanking him for. As she pointedly looked at the cushion in his hands, he exclaimed "Oh, right!", and an embarassed grin spread across his face as he fumbled for words to say to cover up his confusion. He tapped the cushion with his hand, emphasising that he realised what she was saying - he could imagine Arthur's incredulous 'Idiot!' if he were here - and placed the offending object back on the pile of laundry she was carrying with an awkard "Er, yeah, no problem." He stepped back, unsure of what to say next. He was really grateful it was Gaius and not Arthur that had witnessed that... at least the teasing would stop after a day. Or so he hoped.

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Maybe her adoration for his task had been a bit too over the edge, but then the woman she was posing as was a little naïve and as such harmless – hopefully. Cara would not have watched Merlin as intently as she did, she would know almost nothing about him. And the handshake had been a critical moment as well, but she only realized that in hindsight. Of course her hands were not callous like a maid’s, because she had never worked like one. Small and occasional serving duties every priestess in training had to go through to show her respect to the High Priestess of course couldn’t compare to the lifelong hard work of a maid. But then, a High Priestess had her own duties and shouldn’t have to rely on her hands, she was far above such low tasks. And anyway, Merlin seemed smitten enough already to not even notice that inconsistency. Looks and a dazzling smile could really be of much use in her field of expertize: The art of deception.

"Oh, yeah. It is." "Well, someone's got to keep the place running."
Merlin really wasn’t that good of an actor, for that he was far too easy to read, but then that would only work to Nimueh’s advantage. Who said that she shouldn’t have a little bit of fun while she worked towards the fulfillment of her plans? This young man was truly amusing in his efforts to make a good impression on her. From watching him through her scrying font, Nimueh of course knew that Merlin often seemed to neglect his duties for Arthur in favor of saving his royal behind, and so there could be no doubt that Merlin did anything BUT keeping the place running in the way he implied. Cara, though, wouldn’t know that. So Nimueh hid the amused smirk behind another dazzling and slightly admiring smile, and made no further comment about his words that maybe could betray her true sentiments.
As Nimueh was trying to turn her back to Gaius for obvious reasons, she did only see half of the glance exchange that seemed to pass between the two men, but it seemed as if Gaius was as amused by Merlin’s bold claims as she was.

But every minute in Gaius’ close presence was a risk, and a risk she would do well not to underestimate. They had been friends for long, and if he might not recognize her in this attire, he might still recognize her voice, even though she had given it a rather sweet an innocent tint. And since it didn’t look like Gaius had any inclination to leave her alone with Merlin anytime soon, it might be better if she left it at that… for now. The first seed was sown anyway, she could see that perfectly in the way Merlin already reacted to her presence. He still had that pillow clutched in his hands, as if he had totally forgotten about it, only seeing her… perfect.
It was time to remind him of that little pillow again, she decided and said: “Thank you, Merlin”, implying she wanted to take the pillow and move on with her work. Merlin’s answer was as pleasing as it was comical. First he seemed to not even know what she was talking about – a sign of just how distracted he was! – and then he awkwardly hastened to hand her the pillow, excusing himself. When he laughed a little about his own foolishness, Cara gave a soft, short laugh of her own, then, when he didn’t seem to know what to do next, she took the initiative.

”It was nice meeting you”, she said, a meaningful glinting in her eyes, just so much that he might detect it. Walking past him, she kept eye contact for as long as she was able without spraining her neck, then she made her way down the hallway, hips swaying promisingly, but not too obviously. She had done all she could and left him with a promise in her eyes that it would not be the last time they talked. For now, she had to exchange the ceremonial goblet for Arthur Bayard intended to give as a gift, for the one she had been carrying around under the sheets, the poisonous one. Then in the evening, there would be the banquet, where her carefully laid out plan would finally blossom into bloom.

--

A few hours later, after she had succesfully exchanged the goblet, Nimueh actually had a little time for leisure, since she had expertly convinced one of the Mercian servants to take her work load on top of his, with nothing but a wink and a sweet smile. How easily men were played! It had worked with Prince Oliver back in Mercia, it had worked with Merlin… the only one she still wanted to try out was none other than young Arthur Pendragon himself. Would he also so willingly succumb to her wiles?
As she was skipping down the stairs towards the courtyard, she saw Merlin sitting nearby, something that looked like a red jerkin over his knee, his hand holding a polishing cloth. Thanking the Goddess for that excellent timing, Nimueh sauntered closer and addressed him. “Still hard at work I see. You’re really keep this place running indeed.”

[consultingwarlock]

By the time Merlin's mind had scrambled to form some words to reply to her soft 'It was nice meeting you' - aside from the quick nod of the head in agreement which was all he seemed to be able to manage - it was too late; she'd brushed past him with a smile and a lingering look, one which Merlin was entranced by. He found himself turning to watch her go, an awestruck smile playing about his lips, and it wasn't until Gauis uttered from his left "Shouldn't you be busy running the place?" with an amused laugh, that Merlin's focus on Cara's retreating form was broken.

He didn't bother answering his mentor's playful jaunt, choosing not to make the situation worse. He could only hope that that would be the last he'd hear from Gaius about what he'd just witnessed, although somehow Merlin knew he was hoping in vain. But Gauis was right; he did have things to do. Picking up the discarded sack of plates and goblets that he'd abandoned whilst conversing with Cara, he said his goodbyes to Gaius and made his way to the kitchens.

Hovering in the kitchen doorway for the second time that day, it wasn't long before Merlin was spotted by one of the cooks. She came hurrying towards him, wiping her hands on a scrap of cloth, and before Merlin could say anything, had relieved him of the bag he had clutched in his hands. "I was told to tell you that Prince Arthur has some errands for you. Leave this with us, we'll have to polish those. The Prince is waiting." She strode off then, muttering under her breath, "As if we haven't got enough to be getting on with..." Merlin stood there for a second at a loss for what to say or do, but one look from the cook sent him scurrying away from the kitchens towards Arthur's chambers.

- - -

A short time later, Merlin was sitting on the stone steps of the courtyard, trying to avoid drawing attention to himself as he sat and painstakingly polished every button on Arthur's ceremonial jacket. He had tried to carry this work out in his room, but the smell of the jacket kept assulting his senses, so he moved outside where there was a breeze wafting the odour away. It was Arthur's fault that the only cleaning the jacket would be getting was to the buttons. There was no way he'd be able to wash and dry the garment before the feast that evening... Unless he used magic. There must be a drying spell somewhere in the book Gauis had given him. Although he was half tempted to leave it and make Arthur look like a prat. Much like he himself was going to look like if those ceremonial robes Arthur had said he'd be wearing were anything to go by.

Scrubbing harder at one of the buttons, Merlin whispered harshly under his breath, "As if he expects me to wear them. It's ridiculous. The hat has feathers for crying out-" His rant was cut off by a voice from behind, and Merlin turned his head to see who it was. 'Still hard at work I see. You're really keeping this place running indeed.' Scrambling to his feet as he realised who was standing behind him, Merlin spoke, a smile creeping unbidden onto his face; "You have no idea how important this task is to the welfare of Camelot. If even one of these buttons isn't shining, then Arthur will be too embarassed to go to the feast. It's the vain side of him, you see. These buttons-" He went to gesture to the jacket, but realised that in his haste to stand up, he'd dropped it onto the floor by her feet. Flushing slightly at his clumsiness, he bent down and picked up the garment, brushing off the dirt that had materialised. "Sorry," he said, looking slightly bashful. In an effort to redirect the conversation, he spoke again, "Are you all prepared for the feast? I've yet to experience one, and judging from all the preparation it should be quite impressive!"

[Deleted]

A somehow musty smell kept assaulting Nimueh’s spoilt nostrils as she came closer, and soon she decided that it must come from the jacket Merlin was working on. Good grief! It spoke much for the state of Camelot in Nimueh’s eyes, if Camelot’s pride would present itself in such clothing: Polished to perfection but old and mouldy on second glance. Just like this kingdom was, slowly rotting from the inside, because there was one most important part missing: Magic. The source of everything. Uther could try to live without it, banish it, but sooner or later his house of cards that his realm had become, would collapse and perish, and if Nimueh had to help a little along so it would rather come sooner than later, who could really blame her?! She was only accelerating the inevitable outcome.

You have no idea how important this task is to the welfare of Camelot. If even one of these buttons isn't shining, then Arthur will be too embarassed to go to the feast. It's the vain side of him, you see.
Merlin’s words, said in a mixture of joke and seriousness, just proved her thoughts exactly right. Vain Prince Arthur… more worried about his polished buttons than about the wellfare of the kingdom he one day wished to reside over. Well, if Nimueh had her way, he soon would have another war to worry about. Peace could not come to Camelot, they all needed to see that life without magic was nothing but a dangerous and deadly affair, without support and safety line. And if this annoying boy would die as a result of it, then she could only congratulate herself for her ability to kill two birds with one stone. “Oh dear”, she exclaimed with a little laugh. “I doubt my master would be very pleased about that. Arthur Pendragon’s presence is vital to the happy ending of this long and gruesome affair.”

Vital yes… for the ending of a gruesome affair. Little did Merlin know that Nimueh-Cara wasn’t talking about the war and the peace talks at all, but about her own plans. And little did he know either that he would not outlive this day. Poor, guileless Merlin… but then, sacrifices had to be made. “Oh I am sure the feast will be remarkable, and remembered for a very long time”, she remarked, adding just the right tint of excitement to her voice. “I only know the feasts in Mercia of course, and usually I am not to attend. So… I am as excited about it as you are. By the way...“ she trailed off, biting her lip as if her own bravado scared her. “Would you mind if I sat next to you for a bit?”

[consultingwarlock]

Merlin's smile grew wider at Cara's laughter; he couldn't help it, the sound was like a melody to his ears. He had always thought that laughter was one of the most pleasing sounds, especially in Ealdor, where the sound was a welcome one after a hard day working on the fields. In his youth he was constantly trying to find ways to make his mother laugh, because despite how hard she tried, he saw the sadness in her eyes when she thought he wasn't looking. So when Cara laughed it reminded him of those times he had succeeded, and how that had felt like the best achievement in the whole of Albion. "Don't let Arthur catch you saying that," Merlin grinned, pretending to check that the Prince wasn't within ear shot. "His head's big enough as it is. Besides, it's the King who is probably the most important piece in these peace talks, aside from Lord Bayard of course. Without him, I doubt you would be here now."

At her question, he ceased his absent-minded scrubbing of Arthur's jacket where the dirt was non-existant, and looked at her with slight surprise. "Oh, erm, not at all!" he stammered out, gesturing to the stone step he'd previously been seated on, "Take a seat. Although I warn you, they're not as comfy as they look." Watching her sit down, he quickly followed suit; slightly more nervous at their proximity. He began fiddling with the Prince's jacket again, watching the fading light glint off the buttons. "What is it you do in the court of Mercia, exactly?" he asked after a moment's silence, curiousity getting the better of him. "If you don't mind me asking, of course." Merlin had never had the opportunity to meet servants from the households of other kingdoms before, and was curious as to how their routine differed from the one in Camelot. Of course, Melin knew he was of a higher rank than most of the servants he met, but he was familiar enough with the day-to-day routine of the other servants of Camelot to believe he would recognise the similarities and differences between Mercian and Camelot habits.

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This boy also had a good sense of humor, Nimueh had to admit that, but in the end it would of course not save him. Good thing Nimueh wasn’t prone to be senitmental, otherwise she would have to refrain from getting too ‘attached’ to him, for fear of regretting to kill him. But that way, she could make him trust HER even more, so that it would not appear odd to him, if she came to him first with her sorrows and not anyone else. If they had bonded a bit, maybe flirted in that innocent way he seemed able to, he would believe every word she said. Easy, right? Easy and oh so entertaining. For Nimueh there was nothing better than playing with people, and best playing them at their own games. For now, she would enjoy this conversation while it lasted, even though some things might still pose a challenge. Under no circumstances could Merlin know that she was not what she posed as: a low and innocent servant girl, who would run to him in her hour of need, having no idea how the events would unfurl.
She made a show of following his gaze, as if she, too, was afraid Arthur would be overhearing them. “Oh no, that of course can’t happen!” she joked and winked at him. “Is he really that much of a prat? And you’re only partly right. It was not Lord Bayard himself I owe this honor to, but his youngest son, Prince Oliver.”

There was one ground rule to every deception: Stick to one story, and stick to the truth as much as you are able to without giving yourself away. The chance of different people to meet you told different stories to and them actually comparing what they knew of you were slim, but it had happened before, maybe not to her,but history was full of such examples. Nimueh would not succumb to such a beginner’s mistake! It was true she had bewitched the youngest son, who was much of a womanizer anyway, to get a position in the travelling party, and so there was no reason why she should not tell that fact.
With a smile that went halfway between coy and just kind, she lowered herself next to him on the steps and said: “Well, it’s stone… but at least I can safely say I didn’t sit yet on such costly stone yet, that should make up for its uncomfortableness.” If she wasn’t totally mistaken, their proximity and her charm was already making good progress on Merlin. But he was far too innocent and still too much of a boy to make anything of that, so they would be relatively safe from getting… ‘distracted’ from her main purpose: Gaining his trust and goodwill.

Now it got a bit more difficult again, but then, she had already decided to stay true to the original storyline, in case Merlin happened upon another servant of Bayard’s entourage. “I usually work in the kitchen, but there is not much ‘usual’ yet. I’ve only worked in Mercia for two weeks when a rather fortunate event brought me into this peacetalk party.” She leaned a bit closer to him, as if she was about to tell him a secret. “I’ve been born in Camelot, and I remembered how this place works, so… when Prince Oliver found that out he asked for my advice.” She added a slightly girlish chuckle, as if she couldn’t quite believe her luck. “I’ve never had the luck of serving some high person directly… but tell me honestly, do you like Arthur?”