Cursed 2

FORTY FIVE

In the thickets of that place, Nimue and the others walked among the long green trees that danced under sunlight as if celebrating something. After four days of an incessant flight from Pendraón, the atmosphere finally began to feel calmer and as they advanced the smell of the beach and the humidity grew more and more noticeable.
They decided to take a little break in the broad roots sticking out of the dirt of an old tree and the Weeping Monk took the moment to walk away with Squirrel and teach him some fighting tips and tricks. Each day they spent together they became closer and since they left Pendragon the monk decided to train him knowing that sooner or later the Church would attack again.

As they recovered their strength, the noise of voices coming from ahead alerted Nimue and Merlin, who were alone in those roots, glimpsing the figure of three people behind the trees in the distance. Nimue, surprised, relaxed her shoulders as she recognized them.

“Hey!” she yelled drawing their attention, making those people turn and run towards her.

Pym, who did not hide her overwhelming enthusiasm, hugged her friend tightly after so long without seeing her. On the other hand, while Arthur waited for his turn, Morgana put her arms around Merlin.
The young man hugged Nimue and after a few seconds she gently pushed him away looking at him confused. Arthur's eyes fell on the wizard before returning to hers.

“I knew Merlin would find you” Arthur began.

“What are you doing here? You're supposed to be with the Feys on the ships, at sea” Nimue said confused, waiting anxiously for the young man's response.

“Don't worry, the Feys are safe, they go to the island of Avalon accompanied by Red Spear's Vikings.”

“Avalon? Vikings? What is this all about, Arthur? You will have to explain yourself better.”

Nimue stared at him annoyed, confused and scared thinking that the fate of her people was in the hands of people she did not know and who were heading to an island she had never heard of.

“They're going to Avalon, that island is far enough away that they won't follow them” Arthur explained, trying to calm the atmosphere, “The church ambushed us on the beach before embarking all the Feys, some were killed, but Red Spear and her army helped us. They have helped us all this time.”

Nimue listened to his words carefully reflecting on how he described the new allies and the Viking leader.

“They'll be fine” Pym intervened, “If I have learned something from these people, it is that they are very stubborn... but above all strong and brave. If anyone can protect the Feys, it's them.”

Given the full confidence they placed in them, Nimue resigned herself and accepted it. They told impressive stories about the fury and courage of the Vikings, so that the Feys were under their protection didn't seem so bad to her.
Suddenly, two figures appeared among the trees behind Nimue and Merlin, causing the atmosphere to become even more tense.

“What is he doing here?!” Arthur said drawing his sword towards one of them, causing Nimue to come back to reality and put her thoughts aside.

Furious, he pointed his sword at the Weeping Monk who was standing still without moving a single muscle.

“Wait, Arthur! He's with us” Nimue interrupted stepping between them.

“It's a joke?! The monk? You can't trust him, he's not our ally.”

“Neither was Red Spear and you trust her” she argued with a clear and resonant voice.

The young man fell silent, he understood that they must have a story behind everything about why they ended up allying as he had his story with Red Spear and he couldn't blame her for her unusual union until he knew that story.

“Looks like you've both ended up with strange alliances and you both have a lot to talk about” Merlin pointed out, enjoying the situation, “The best thing will be to sit down and talk without sharp things in between.”

After a long and tense moment, Nimue and Arthur caught up on the new alliances and what had happened during all this time. It was incredible how much they had experienced separately and it seemed that time had passed very quickly, without waiting for anyone.

“Nimue, there's something else you need to know” the young man paused briefly before continuing, “Uther Pendragon is dead.”

“What?”

“Cumber killed him. Now he is the new king. We joined his army and--”

“Wait ... the Ice King is with the Church... and have you joined him?!” she interrupted suspiciously.

“I know what it looks like. We have both taken paths that perhaps the other does not understand yet but, although I don't like the idea of ​​having that monk around, I trust you Nimue, in your instinct, and now I'm not asking you to trust a Viking, I'm asking you to trust me. King Cumber is not a threat, he is not with the Church.”

Both had allied themselves with their enemies and, after those words, they could only hear the whisper of the treetops slowly dancing.

“I trust you, Arthur.”

For the first time in a long time, they were all together again. It was not the ideal reunion they had been imagining, but they were glad that fate had reconnected their paths.