Arthur stirred first.
“I am sorry. Am I crushing you?”
“No, I actually find it comforting...” She was interrupted by the sound of knocking below. She sighed and Arthur climbed off of her and helped her sit up. She quickly threw on a robe and ran down the stairs. It was still early so the shop would not open for another hour. When she opened the door a liveried footman stood before her, wig and all. Yes, white curly wig and full costume. He bowed to her and handed her a gilded envelope. She took it from him and he bowed again before leaving. She watched him walk down the sidewalk in the morning sunlight before she closed and locked the door. She stared down at the envelope, shrugged, and then opened it.
She ran her fingers over the embossed lettering. It was an invitation to a Samhain party in D.C. proper. Costume was required and a note scrawled at the bottom said that costumes would be delivered for her and her date. She stared at the invitation a moment longer. It was beautiful art. The paper was thick and deep navy blue and the lettering was gold and embossed. She had never gotten an invitation like this. A thrill of excitement shot through her at the prospect. Maybe things were starting to look up for her.
She laid the envelope on the counter and heard footsteps on the stairs. Arthur walked down completely naked and she smiled at his outright confidence, a level of confidence he did not even realize he carried. She approached him and he kissed her on the forehead.
“Who was it?” he asked
“A livery,” she said. He wrinkled his forehead and she gestured at the envelope on the counter. He walked over and read it, treating it gently.
A smiled broke across his face and she could not help but smile back.
“We’re going to a party?” he asked.
“It would seem so.” She moved toward him and ran her hands up his arms.
“Do you want to be my date?” she asked.
He smiled at her.
“We are going to have to teach you to dance,” she said, spinning away from him and heading back up stairs.
Chapter Twenty
Lancelot stood in the center of the courtyard, the wind whipping his shoulder-length hair around his neck and face. He had to confront him, he had to finish this, face the situation and end it one way or the other. He couldn’t live like this anymore. He couldn’t live here and see her every day and not be able to stroke her soft hair and coax a smile to her lips. It was killing him slowly from the inside out. He clutched his bare sword in his hand; the point rested angled out on the ground, he couldn’t bring steel to him even though that is all he wanted to do for so long. He hated himself for it. He’d always loved Arthur like a brother but Gwen was something else, Gwen had been his since the moment their eyes met. Arthur was the one in the way of that, not the other way around. If only he had found her first, maybe everything could have been different.
His thoughts continued to spin in dark circles, between love and hate, honor and frustration. He had no idea what to do, he was losing who he was and that was something he could never, ever do. Even at the loss of Arthur. The only thing he wouldn’t hurt, wouldn’t give up was Gwen. How could he convince her to be with him? How could he confront Arthur without hurting her?
He had been wracking his brain over that very question for what felt like centuries, and maybe it was. He never knew in this place. He picked his sword up and started moving through fighting stances. It cleared his mind, was second nature to him; he swung and parried with an invisible opponent and it helped ease the pain and helped him breathe a little bit easier.
He knew all he could do was confront Arthur. He had tried before, of course, but he never got far enough into the conversation before Arthur kicked him out of his room. He was going to make him listen this time, he had no choice.
Lancelot stood up, sheathed the metal and then followed the well-worn path to Arthur’s room. He kept a wary eye out for Gwen, because he didn’t want to upset her any more than he already had today. She wasn’t around as he strode up to Arthur’s door and knocked with vehement force. Silence enveloped him. He knocked again. Nothing.
“Arthur! Open up, I know you’re in there! We need to talk.” He didn’t quite yell it but he wasn’t quiet about it either. He knocked again. Still nothing.
Finally Lancelot took one deep breath, turned the knob on the door and opened it. He looked around the room but didn’t see Arthur anywhere. He knew he wasn’t in the stables or with the men, as Lancelot himself had been there all morning.
He crept into the room and shut the door gently behind him. He looked around at Arthur’s life. He had changed so much since they were young, so full of hope for their patched-up kingdom. Books towered from every flat surface available and Lance had to swerve around piles to keep from knocking them over. He definitely didn’t want to draw attention to this visit if Arthur wasn’t in his room. Where could he be?
Lance continued to glance around and wonder how he could know so little about this man now. He’d lived here with him for so long yet he knew nothing about him aside from the fact that he wanted to punch him in the face every time Gwen cried... That and a bone-deep loyalty to the bastard he just couldn’t shake, as much as he wanted to. Maybe if he could shake it then he could be free of this place. Yet, freedom from this place meant nothing if it wasn’t with Gwen. He would happily stay here with her forever if it guaranteed they could be together.
He thought longingly of the stolen days they had before and got angry at Arthur all over again for messing it up. He clenched his fists, itching for his sword and the confrontation. He kicked a nearby pile of books and it provided catharsis. He kicked another and another until all around him books lay like a twisted battlefield. It felt so good to fight back for once! He let out a cleansing breath and kicked a worn book near his boot. He walked further into the room, shuffling through books like they were puddles.
An unfamiliar sparkle caught the corner of his eye. He looked around for the source and he finally noticed the mirror by the bed. It was rippling slightly, like water; but when he approached it he didn’t see his reflection in the mirror, he saw Arthur.
Lancelot reared back and looked at the mirror from the side. If this magic had trapped Arthur he didn’t want to get trapped too. He continued to watch the surface ripple and then he heard it. A sound he thought he would never hear again: a certain man’s laughter. The surface of the mirror rippled and then settled. He stared at the scene, wide-eyed in disgust.
Chapter Twenty-One
When Merlyn showed up in the morning he instantly knew something had changed. He could feel the magical charge in the air surrounding Maggie’s shop. His magic and an odd looping of fairy magic intertwined with it danced along his skin. This had to be the key. He walked into the shop to find Maggie and Arthur surrounded by books in a heap on the floor, kissing passionately. He cleared his throat loudly and the pair separated. Maggie even blushed.
“Sorry, we didn’t hear you come in,” Maggie said.
“Obviously,” came the sardonic reply.
Maggie gave him a look and then sat back down in the floor amidst the stack of books she was cataloging.
Arthur moved around and started working on the stack of books near Maggie. Merlyn watched them for a moment. They were totally in sync and they didn’t even realize it. He could feel this entire place pulsing with magic and he could feel the connection they had forged. It was still just a tenuous connection, one that could be broken with the wrong word or action, but it was tangible to him.
“Did you guys get the invitation to the masque?” he asked, moving forward to sit on the floor near them.
“We did!” Maggie exclaimed, finally looking at his face. “I’m very excited; I’ve never been to a masquerade before.” Merlyn could see the joy radiating from her and he was happy he could give her a moment of happiness, as she certainly deserved it. He nodded his head and she smiled, going back to work.
“I actually need to speak to you Arthur,” he said. Arthur looked up at h
im and when their eyes met his smile faltered.
“You can speak in front of her.” Merlyn looked at them both again and then sat down in their circle of books.
“I took the book you gave me home. I have done extensive research based on it and what I have already amassed; I have some answers and some questions,” he said, rubbing the palms of his hands along his jean-clad thighs.
“I realize now my magic reacted powerfully with your being injured, from that final battle with Mordred, at the time my spell was cast and the fairy magic that saturated the area around the battle. So basically what it did was allow my magic and fairy to work together as a time portal for you to come forward when the right set of circumstances presented themselves. Usually the person who brought you to their time knew you were coming. I believe the book was passed down through families and then ended up here in Maggie’s shop as used when that family line died out, well, that branch of my family line.” He looked at them both to gauge their reactions. They both had excellent poker faces. He shifted slightly and then continued.
“So what we need to do is figure out the circumstances in which Maggie called you forth. I know you are already on the task in which you were called here for because I can feel the magic floating in the air. I can almost reach out and grab it.” To be honest it was starting to make him itchy and uncomfortable. He ran his hands through his already disheveled hair and tried to shake it off.
“To put the bottom line up front: This is my last chance to free everyone.” He again paused and watched them both closely.
“I am aging faster and faster the younger I get and I don’t think my magic will hold out much longer. It takes a mature brain, and body, to control magic and my control keeps slipping away the younger and younger I age. I will continue to get weaker and weaker.” He swallowed, allowing that one reaction to convey his emotions about the whole thing.
Maggie was the first to speak. Leave it to that girl to take the situation by the horns.
“Well then we figure it out, and soon. I can’t imagine how horrible it would be to be trapped somewhere forever if we couldn’t figure it out.”
She looked over at Arthur, her eyes softening. Merlyn could tell they already had feelings for each other and those feelings had something to do with Arthur being here. He narrowed his eyes and surveyed Arthur. Arthur had his stone face on. Sure it was softer in Maggie’s presence, but it was still a mask that he recognized well.
“We will figure it out. We have time.” He reached out and patted Arthur’s knee and the boy looked over at him and for a moment he saw a sliver of the pain he was masking. Arthur would rather die than be trapped again. Merlyn nodded and reached out to help with the books.
***
That night Maggie sat on the edge of the bed rubbing lotion into her skin. She thought about Arthur and everything he had been through. She thought about her own pain and trials. She finished with the lotion and crawled under the covers and curled up to Arthur, who was already there snuggled in deep. He kissed her forehead before she curled into the shape of his body. They drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Maggie and Arthur woke to the sound of knocking. Maggie reached out and snagged the alarm clock. Who knocked at seven in the morning? She crawled out of bed, her body stiff with the movement, and walked slowly down the stairs. She opened the door to yet another liveried courier. He bowed when she opened the door, immediately brushed past her to set down two large boxes by her checkout counter, and then disappeared back out the door. She closed the door still half asleep, climbed back up the stairs, crawled back into bed, and curled up against Arthur’s warm back.
Later after her alarm had gone off and she drank at least two cups of coffee, which Arthur was getting increasingly hooked on, she wandered downstairs to peek into the boxes. She figured they were from Merlyn again and when she opened the lid on the top box she gasped. Inside was the most beautiful gown she had ever seen; it shimmered in beautiful silver and black. She sat her coffee mug on the counter and sank to her knees with the box. No one had ever given her anything this beautiful. Sure, she didn’t dress up often, but come on—a girl can appreciate a beautiful dress.
She smiled as she ran her hands across the fabric and sighed as she pushed the gown back into the box. She needed to get to work; she could play dress up when it was time to get ready later. She wondered briefly what Arthur’s costume looked like; she hoped it involved tights. She would wait and see later.
She reached the stack of papers and had just started inventories when she spotted Arthur coming down the stairs. He took her breath away every time she saw him. He moved through the stacks and bent to kiss her gently on the lips, taking his time. When he pulled away he ran his thumb across her cheek. He stood up and grabbed her coffee cup from by the boxes, barely sparing them a glace.
“Those are the costumes?” he asked.
“Yes.” She smiled.
“You’re excited to go.” A blush crept up her neck. She was a girl, what did he expect? Every girl loved to get dressed up and go to fancy parties. He just chuckled before bouncing back up the stairs. She watched his butt wistfully as he climbed and then went back to her lists. Moments later he descended again with another cup of coffee.
She gratefully took it and sipped slowly, savoring the bitter and sweet flavors that perfectly merged on her tongue.
“Have you ever been to a ball?” she asked, looking up at him before realizing how dumb a question that was to ask a former king.
“Sure I have,” he said. “Never in this age though; this will be my first modern ball. What should I be expecting?”
“Well.” She put her lists down and cupped her coffee in both hands. “There will be music. I figure Merlyn has some cash so it will probably be a live band, most likely an orchestra. The invitation said dinner was included and I doubt in D.C. Merlyn would throw a buffet so there will be a bunch of tables and waiters serving everyone at their own respective tables. There will be dancing. I am sure everything will be decorated beautifully, that’s my favorite part, the decorations, oh, and seeing what everyone else is wearing.” She blushed again as she looked up at him, but he just smiled.
The day passed quickly and all too soon she was pulled out of the dusty stacks and smudged papers to the ringing of the bell above the door. She came around the bookcases in the back and standing before her was a young woman with long brown hair and a huge bag in her hands.
“You Maggie?” she asked, Jersey accent thick and strong.
“Um...yes.” Maggie replied, not sure if she was about to get knocked off.
The girl put down the bag and stuck out her hand.
“I am Jess. Mel sent me ta’ do ya’ hair and stuff.” She gestured at all of Maggie as she shook her hand.
“Oh. Ok. I’ll get the costume and we can go upstairs.” She gave Jess what she hoped seemed a friendly smile. It was good she was here, really. She didn’t do her makeup or hair very often so it was nice to not have to worry about it. She reached down and picked up the box just as Arthur came down the stairs again.
“Here, let me.” He took the box from her arms and took it up the stairs. She heard Jess whistle through her teeth behind her.
“He yours?” she asked Maggie.
“Yeah, I guess, for the moment.” Maggie smiled
“Lucky broad.” They moved up the stairs to the bathroom.
“I’ll get ready out here,” Arthur said as he kissed her cheek and moved around the women to get out to the main room.
Maggie followed Jess into the bathroom and the woman opened her bag with the precision of a military sniper. She laid out instruments and objects, some of which Maggie had never seen before.
“Turn around and sit here, love.” Jess gestured at the toilet and pointed toward the shower. “There’s enough room.”
“Can I shower first?” Maggie asked. Jess gave her a menacing look. “Five minutes, promise.”
“Fine
. I’ll be out here chatting with the hunk with the nice tooshie,” Jess said, opening the door and slipping out.
That lit a fire under Maggie. She took a record shower and left her hair up and unwashed. She had no idea what the Jersey diva wanted to do with it so better safe than sorry. She poked her head out and called for Jess. The girl sauntered down the hallway chewing away at her gum.
“Ok. Good you didn’t wash it.” She gestured at the toilet and Maggie sat down and waited. Jess took the hair band out of her hair and the long waves fell to her mid-back in a dark curtain. The girl brushed it out softly and carefully. Maggie was almost lulled to sleep by the gentle tugs and pulls at her scalp. It had always been a sensitive area. She closed her eyes and relaxed under Jess’s touch. Finally Jess told her she was done with her hair and now she would do her make-up. That woke her up quick. She opened her eyes and spun around to look in the mirror but Jess stopped her.
“Later hon. We’re on a time schedule here!” She quickly did her face up, a lot faster than she had worked on her hair and then finally announced her completion.
“You clean up good, doll.” Jess stepped aside so Maggie could stand and look in the mirror. She looked almost exotic. Her hair was up in coils and braids in a sort of medieval fashion, some of them falling down her back. It was arranged beautifully and there were even a few feathers braided in. She looked closer at her makeup. It was understated but Jess had made a domino mask of shimmer powder around her eyes and nose. It was a stunning affect and she instantly felt bad for judging the girl so harshly.
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