Playing The Player (Oliver)

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So far her plan was going smoothly. Of course it would, this whole scheme was HER, Nimueh’s creation after all, and she had worked long and hard for it. Ever since her game had been spoilt by this nuisance of a manservant called Merlin, she had plotted a way to get rid of him – while hurting Camelot most of course. No one got in her way like that and suffered no consequences! Merlin, in his strive to vanquish the Afanc, had shown her his dearest weakness. He did not value his life before others, and he also cared deeply for Arthur – for whatever stupid reason, how could anyone care for this spoilt brat of a prince?! So, there was a very easy way of going at this. She needed to convince Merlin Arthur was in mortal danger, and then he could not be stopped trying to save his master. He would get killed in the process and she would have her revenge. To make this even better, she would let it happen while a very fragile peace treaty would be signed in Camelot.

The kingdoms of Mercia and Camelot had been at war for years, and it had weakened both considerably. That was only to Nimueh’s liking. Now however they somehow had found an understanding, and would make peace. Nimueh did not like that at all, and so she would be very pleased to ground these plans to dust while getting rid of Merlin. Catching two birds with one stone so to say, a game Nimueh excelled at!
Even though the thought was not very appealing, the High Priestess had disguised herself as a commoner girl and had applied as a servant in the castle of Lord Bayard. That was the only way she could get into the party that would set out to Camelot soon, because if she wanted to shift the blame on Lord Bayard, she couldn’t simply breeze in and out like she usually did. And as she had served her mother, the last High Priestess, for many years before taking up that role herself, she knew how to act like a servant. She just didn’t like it.

But then, it was all for the pleasing outcome in the end, and it was not like this humble role would not hold some perks as well. Nimueh wouldn’t be Nimueh if she had not thought to use her many good qualities to her advantage. In her few days of being here, she had kept her eyes and ears open to look out for the one person she needed to sway to give her a passage with the others to Camelot, even though she was a very new ‘recruit’ in the serving department. It had not taken long for her eyes to fall on the young Prince Oliver, and that also in the figurative sense of the word. He was a true eyecandy indeed, and flirty at that. The other servant girls always gossipped about him, and even though Nimueh felt not inclined to take part in their mindless chattering, she knew this was the right path to take. What was even better: Oliver was the one in charge of the planning department. If anyone had a say in which servants were to accompany Lord Bayard, it would be him!

Now, it was time for stage two of her plan. Carrying a tray which held a goblet and a jug of wine, Nimueh made her way carefully towards the council chamber where she knew to find the young prince. The guards at the door challenged her with a single glance, and she lowered her eyes to the ground dutifully. “Wine, for his Highness, the prince.”
With a curt nod they showed their disinterested approval, and so Nimueh raised her hand and knocked tentatively on the door to announce her presence, but not awaiting any ‘come in’, as servants were to come and leave mostly unacknowledged.
Keeping her eyes still mostly lowered to her feet, Nimueh made her way towards the large table Oliver was sitting at and spoke with a low, humble voice.
”A little refreshment, your Highness.”

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

All alone in the council chamber after the meeting with the rest of the members, Oliver sat hunched over pieces of parchment in all shapes and sizes strewn all across the long table. One showed a map of the entire Albion with routes going to Camelot from Mercia lightly marked, while another had a closer view of the city of Camelot itself. Oliver was noting down every detail of his father, Lord Bayard, the King of Mercia’s trip to the Kingdom of Camelot to sign a treaty with King Uther Pendragon. The treaty would be one of peace, with the specific objective to end the decades-long war between Mercia and Camelot. Hostile feelings are still rife among the people of both kingdoms, but all of them have already suffered too much from the prolonged strife. Still, Oliver knew not to take any chances.

In charge of tying up all the loose ends of the journey, Oliver had stayed in the council chambers long after the rest had already left and retired. His brother and father had left an hour or so ago, and Oliver just needed to finalize the list of the traveling party to accompany his father before calling it a night. He and Edmund had insisted to go with him, strong fighters as they were, but Lord Bayard had ordered both of his sons to remain in Mercia and keep the kingdom and the people protected while he was away. Oliver had to make his father’s entourage just as strong and formidable in their absence.

A couple of scrolls lay open up near where his elbow was resting on the table as he tried to choose who among the knights, trusted nobles, and servants were to join Lord Bayard. They needed to be trustworthy, their loyalty to Mercia tested and unquestionable. Most names that were already in Oliver’s list had been in their employ for at least three years now. Oliver knew them himself personally and could vouch for their loyalty to the king. The last thing they needed was to have a traitor in their own midst who could put the peace talks, and his father, in jeopardy. Camelot was practically still hostile territory. Until the treaty is signed, they can never put their guard down.

”A little refreshment, your Highness.”

Oliver had not paid the door any attention when it opened as he was concentrating more on the task at hand. When he heard the soft courteous voice of the servant who came in, he lifted his head and smiled. “Thank you. I badly need a break,” Oliver remarked without putting his quill down. “What have you got there for me?” he asked with a smile as he rolled his head back and then side to side to try and shake off the numbness. He had never thought to call for some refreshments to be brought up to him as he had been too engrossed in the plans. So he greatly appreciated the thought of whoever it was from the kitchens who sent this wine to him. It was probably an hour before midnight now, but he knew he couldn’t rest until he got all these plans ready for his father’s assessment tomorrow.

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Oh, wasn’t thoroughly moving to see a man so engulfed in serious business? Adorable even! The dutiful son, meticulously planning a trip he would not even participate in, just so his father would not encounter any difficulties. And all for the sake of the kingdom as well. How responsible, truly, how thoroughly… boring.
Good thing she knew there was more to Prince Oliver than this, else she would certainly not have the time of her life getting out of him what she wanted. Not that she despised a clear head and a good planner in a man, but sometimes they really overdid it. Why not let women do the planning, they were far better at that, the Old Religion had seen the value of women, when the new one that replaced it made men dominate everything. Well, you didn’t even have to take such close a look to see where that led to.

And anyway, she wasn’t here to complain about the unfair ways of life, she was here to give them her own little amusing twist. She would start slowly of course, test the waters so to speak, but she would spin her web masterly until he was entangled without even wanting to break out. Time would tell how much of a challenge he would prove to be, but that was what Nimueh liked most about these games: Uncertainties, the need to improvise, to tread carefully in the beginning until you knew what you were dealing with. That was the most fun part of the whole affair… apart from when things got a little more… heated of course, but then Nimueh needed a good reason to let it get that far. Giving attention to men was a privilege coming from the High Priestess, they usually kept themselves very hidden and demure, for obvious reasons. Only a pure vessel could dare to even think wielding magic of such power she had at her command. Though, Nimueh wouldn’t be Nimueh if she wasn’t ready to bend certain rules for her own amusement. She was far too egoistic ever to be truly abiding to things that made no sense to her.

She gave a rather shy, but not too devotive smile at Oliver’s words. He was in need of a break? Oh that was excellent.So he would not ignore her altogether, too engulfed in his work. “If I may be so bold, you do look in need of a break indeed, Sire, you must have been working for hours”, she dared to comment, already testing and toeing the line of what was seemly to say and what not, showing him in not so many words that she might be a servant, but had her own head. It woul depend on how he responded to that, where her path of action would take her. If he was offended by her boldness, she would have to remain reserved and respectful for longer… however if he didn’t take offense she would get there sooner. It was up to him.

Walking around the table, she sat the tray beside him, making sure her body was, if not touching, then still already close to his. Teasing and testing… Nimueh knew she had many fine features to work with and show, and while she might not present them in a shameless manner, she knew how to present herself in the best light possible, all very subtle and sly.
”It’s red wine, Sire”, she answered his question with another smile. “Dilluted, I’m afraid, but then, your work is not finished, yes?”

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

“If I may be so bold, you do look in need of a break indeed, Sire, you must have been working for hours.”

"I have. You know my father is never easily pleased. I've given him two drafts and he always manages to find something wrong with them," Oliver blurted out with a chuckle not caring who he was talking to. He needed an outlet anyway. And besides, Oliver was actually more comfortable talking to the servants than to the nobles. He knew all too well how important it was to make friends with the very people who make and serve your meals.

He finally put the quill down and leaned back in his seat for a little rest, and stretched his legs out under the table. He reached his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, massaging it. He could feel a headache coming. It wouldn't hurt to take a few minutes break to keep that inconvenience at bay for the time being. This draft was almost done anyway. He just needed to check it one more time to make sure he doesn't miss anything.

"I'm almost done, but who am I to refuse such a perfectly timed break." This servant was only too gracious to offer him this respite, and Oliver would be a fool to refuse a well-meaning gift. If anything, he ought to be thankful to her. "Would you be so kind as to pour me a glass, umm...?" He looked at her trying to remember her name, but it seemed to escape him. He vaguely remember seeing her around the castle a few times, but she seemed to be more relegated to the kitchens as he hadn't seen her much up and about serving. Which is a shame really, looking at how attractive she is, Oliver mused. If he hadn't known her to be a servant, Oliver could easily mistake her for a noble woman with her fine features and a very lovely face.

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"I have. You know my father is never easily pleased. I've given him two drafts and he always manages to find something wrong with them,"
Nimueh would have liked to chuckle at that, as amused as she was, but of course she kept her behavior and facial expression checked. This was no time to behave out of character, not yet anyway. The poor dutiful son could not seem to please his strict father. A miracle he even stooped to trying nowadays. From what she had heard Prince Oliver liked to spite Lord Bayard with his rebellious ways and often enough did as he himself pleased. Seemingly not when the future of Mercia was at stake. That would have been admirable, had it not worked against Nimueh’s every plan. For a moment she amused herself with the thought of later telling him a few ridiculous customs that needed to be observed in Camelot at all costs, just to make a fool out of this whole Mercian party… but that was games, and games never came before duty.

“I am sure he appreciates your efforts, Sire”, she reassured him with a shy smile, as if not wanting to be so bold as to step as intermediary between father and son, but not able to help it. “He is a strict ruler, but he is just.”
Lord Bayard and just? He could be stubborn as a mule, probably why he had not bowed to Uther’s craziness until this very day. Why he had swayed now was beyond Nimueh and she did not like it one bit. Albion was better staying in turmoil as long as magic was still outlawed, so the people realized they could not do without it. That magic and peace and prosperity was one and the same thing.

"Would you be so kind as to pour me a glass, umm...?"Nimueh hid a grin. Ah they were already getting somewhere. He wouldn’t bother asking for her name if he didn’t intend to prolong this conversation. All the dutiful servant, she lowered herself into a quick curtsy, but flashed him a smile nevertheless. “Cara, Sire. At your service.”
She had come up with this name when she first applied for a place in the castle keep as one of the kitchen maids, it was one of the many little games she loved to play around her bigger schemes: coming up with a fitting name.
She poured something of the liquid into the precious crystal goblet and admired the way the candlelight reflected in the bloody red wine. Then she put it in front of him, ‘accidently’ brushing her hand over his arm as she retracted it again. Leaning forward, she feigned to start at seeing one of the maps, examining it more closely.
“Is this… Camelot?” she inquired, but then nodded to her own question and confirmed, a slight excited undertone in her voice. “Yes, indeed, it is!”

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Oliver oddly felt comforted by the words of this servant when she told him that his father would appreciate his effort. It wasn't because he expected his father to be, it was because the servant seem to want to comfort him, seem to care for him to ease his worries. Of course, Oliver getting all wild and crazy with his thoughts. She was a servant. It was her duty to please and appease her masters. She would never say anything unpleasant against the king, especially against the king, or it would be her head. Her next words confirmed all that. Indeed, Lord Bayard's a strict ruler, but there were times when Oliver just couldn't see him as fair and impartial. More often than not, Oliver feels like his father it seems is always out to get him. For sure, he knew that Edmund was the favorite son, and his brother need only do little to earn praises from his father while Oliver himself had to toil long and hard to get the old man's approval. It was no wonder why Oliver just had to defy him every now and then, and just leave the castle to go on his hunting trips. Tonight, Oliver was trying to get into Lord Bayard's graces, but he was doing it more for Mercia than for his father. The peace treaty with Camelot would mean a lot to the people of Mercia who had known nothing but war for centuries now. An era of peace was what everybody needed, to heal, to start anew. Oliver was determined to see this pact through.

"Cara. such a lovely name. Do you know that it means 'beloved' or 'dear'?" Oliver mused as he closely watched her pour wine into his goblet. "So if I call you by your name, I might as well have called you 'beloved'," he added with an impish little smirk. She was dangerously close as she moved to put the glass in front of him, brushing his arm in the process. Oliver felt a sliver of electricity race up his arm, but he made no effort of moving away or reacting in any obvious way. He was liking the view and the proximity as it is now. A move might only disrupt the current dynamics. It also didn't hurt that she smelled quite sweet...intoxicating, like he was being drawn in to her. It must be the smell of the fine wine, but Oliver was too pre-occupied at gazing at the sight before him to notice where it came from. This was definitely a very welcome respite after hours of poring over those maps and lists.

He took a sip from his wine, and couldn't help the small smirk that appeared on the corner of his lips when she excitedly recognized Camelot from the many maps strewn all over the table before him. Not a lot of servants were educated enough to know how to read maps, and she certainly impressed Oliver when she practically showed him she could. "Have you been to Camelot before?" he asked curiously. This should be interesting. None of their people had set foot in Camelot for a while now. If Cara had knowledge about the place, then she could prove to be helpful to him and to the kingdom in general.

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Of course Nimueh knew the meaning of the name, and it had been a neverending amusement for her to pick a name that was furthest from her intentions. Dear… beloved, could there be anything more pathetic? She was positively surprised though Prince Oliver knew about this name and even found it appropriate to call her out on it. He was already being flirty and they had just started! That was not snatching at the dangling bait, that was jumping into the fishing het with full force, not caring to get entangled. Was he such a philanderer indeed? Not that Nimueh didn’t know she was pretty and that it often enough needed only a little waggling of the finger to make the man fall to her feet in masses, it just never ceased to surprise her how easy it all was. But of course Cara did not have such intentions of waggling her finger, or just not yet, and so Nimueh forced a delicate blush on her cheeks, but she did not look away. Who knew, he might be gentleman enough to call off the hunt if she gave the impression of being too uncomfortable with his ways.
”I didn’t know, Mylord. The people who raised me were not the ones that gave me this name and they never bothered to tell me.” Then she cast her eyes down after all. “I fear I yet have to become someone’s ‘beloved’”

In fact, Nimueh had not been giving her cover story much consideration, so now she had to be careful her words still made sense.Taking a moment, she improvised the outlines from what she had already said and what she knew she needed to include later:
Orphan, raised by another couple who took her in for charity but never cared, became a servant once she was old enough. No blood relations left whatsoever and of no importance at all.That should keep suspicion away from her, and there was no one anyone could ask to confirm or deny. Easy.

Good boy. Oliver was asking the exact questions she wanted him to ask. Finally someone of royal blood that was compliant. With his kind help she could truly achieve her goal this time, and Merlin would die thinking he did the right thing and not the exact thing she wanted him to do. Men in general were so manipulative, all you had to know is were their weak spot lied. Merlin’s was Arthur’s safety and that he would put everyone’s life before his own. Oliver’s was… women of course, and she would prey on that weakness for all it was worth. That gave her far more amusement than trying to get Merlin to sacrifice himself for the greater good. Funny to watch of course, but far less… fulfilling.
”Yes, indeed I’ve been to Camelot”, she confirmed and tentatively, as if afraid of her own boldness, started to trace a finger over the familiar shapes of roads and streets outside and inside the city. “In fact, I’ve grown up there. I was an orphan, raised by a large family that lived near Camelot. But as soon as I was old enough to work, they told me I had to leave.” She shrugged, feigning bashfulness. “I am sorry Mylord, you’re surely not interested in my life story. But the bottom line is I came here in search of work and found it. I took this road while travelling”, she pointed on a line on another map, lowering her back to one level with his, bringing their faces side by side. “It’s the least dangerous.”

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

“I fear I yet have to become someone’s ‘beloved’”

Oliver gave her a playful little frown, but was inwardly rather pleased at the thought that she was currently emotionally unattached so to speak. Who was he fooling if he wouldn't admit that he was very much attracted to her? This seemingly new servant, who actually looked more like a princess than a kitchen maid, surely caught his fancy. Her beauty is wasted staying low like that. Perhaps, there was some way Oliver could help her, move her up the ranks of the servants. Granted she's still a servant, but she could very well be a handmaiden, maybe even to his mother no less. In return for alleviating her status, she would be more open and giving towards him. Now, wasn't that thought exciting. "Somehow, I do not believe that. Lovely woman like you. I bet you can ensnare any man you want, and that man would only be very grateful." Flirting with a servant, this was totally unheard of in the courts, not from any of the Mercian princes. Oliver himself didn't want to be in a place where he could easily use his position to get what he wanted from a helpless servant. But somehow, he couldn't stop himself with her. Must be the wine, his mind reasoned out.

When she told him that she had indeed been to Camelot, he couldn't help his interest in her increase a hundred-fold. Here he was hunched over parchments for his father trip to the southern kingdom, and a gift was given him in the form of a servant who had grown up there. "No, this is very helpful. Thank you for sharing, Cara," he reassured her. She was much too shy, Oliver wished she would loosen up a bit more. He looked at where she was pointing on the map and then made a note of it on the parchment, trying his best not get distracted by the dainty curve of her back as she lowered herself, their faces at the same level.

Up close, she was even more lovely as he thought she was. Her smooth skin, her deep blue eyes, her luscious red lips... "...dangerous." Somehow, the last bit of what she said lingered in his mind, but Oliver brushed it off as quickly as it had come. She was referring to a road that would take the Mercian party to Camelot without any danger. He wanted to know more. Also he didn't want her to leave just yet. He turned to face her and was simply mesmerized by how the faint light from the candles around them dances against her porcelain smooth skin. "Tell me more," he implored her as he took another sip from his wine, before offering it to her, gesturing for her to also have a drink. "This is starting to be tedious work, and I could use your knowledge about Camelot."

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Aah, he was playing along! Nimueh had to fight hard to not slip out of her role and allow herself a very pleased and suggestive grin. She knew exactly what potential this remark of his held, and everything inside her itched to explore it, give him back the full amount, but she dared not risk it just yet. For now, she had portrayed Cara quite bashful, and she needed to stick to that a while longer, or at least just step it up notch by notch, as if Cara slowly was warming up enough to reveal her true nature. So how should she best respond to that obvious flirting?
In the end she settled on a little chuckle that was half way between bashful and coquettish, portraying herself as a young woman that was only on the verge of learning what she was worth. A woman that had been complimented before, and slowly started to believe in the praises she was given. “I doubt I can give myself so much credit, Sire. There are always those grapes that hang far too high”, she sighed with a secretive smile. He could take that as hint towards him, or he could leave it. For the sake of this conversation and her plans, she hoped for the former to happen. It would be too funny to toy with him a little as her prize.

"No, this is very helpful. Thank you for sharing, Cara,"
This time Nimueh’s smile was a bit more dazzling and sure, as she received the thanks for her useful information. She could tell him much more, since it was by no means such a lie that she had ‘grown up’ in Camelot. Even if she had been trained on the Isle of the Blessed, she had enjoyed Camelot’s court and had been a well-received visitor there before the Purge had destroyed everything. Even today, twenty years after, she knew this kingdom like the back of her hand, and she would use that to her advantage.
”I am glad I could be of service. It is the least I can do to pay back the generosity I have been given by your family.” Now, Oliver was probably the first of the royal family even getting to know of her existence, but a little flattery was never misplaced.

Nimueh very well could guess that her proximity to the young prince had just the desired effect. She saw his eyes straying when he thought she didn’t see it, and they lingered just at the right places. This was going almost too well! His face was suddenly very close as well, when he turned to look at her, and involuntarily Nimueh inhaled his alluring scent. A mixture of leather, horse and generally manly odor – he certainly had no difficulty getting female attention. It was a good thing Nimueh was mostly beyond such temptations and was able to resist while she herself made an effort in being irresistable. Too bad she could not make him one of her playthings in the long run… she needn’t lose sight of her plans. An eyebrow rose in surprise as he offered her wine, and her fingers twitched towards the jug, but then retracted them again with an awkward laugh. “I couldn’t possibly… Sire, this is wine!” But then she smiled and leaned even a bit closer, as if overtaken by a sudden rush of excitement. “What do you want to know? Just say it and I will answer to my best abilities… Sire”, she added hastily as if she had momentarily forgotten herself.