Fate, Merlin knew, could be a terribly unkind thing. It could kill the most righteous of kings, whilst letting the most cruel of madmen run free, but Merlin knew well that fate was simply the master weaver of humanity and oh how did he admire it. The subtleties it painted, soft and lilting in ways which could be so easily missed by the unobservant. Merlin was not that sort, indeed he had spent so very long doing nought but observe.
It was that very same ‘fate’ which could change the way histories were viewed; Merlin himself were victim of this, each legend different from the last until truly he was inclined to forget which were true and which were not. This woman too he wonders may be similar, captured in double meanings and ill begotten ‘facts’. How fascinating.
Broad smile graces features, arms spread wide as he bowed before once Queen (truly, the Kingmaker was beginning to lose track of all the monarchs running around these days! How delightful). “How fortunate I am to find myself in your presence, hm?” Soft flattery needled in, position righting as hand free of staff extended between them pastel pink lotus flower sat upon palm in cheery offering to her. “Merlin, at your service!”
@sikerausum
