Chapter 1: An Unbroken Cycle
Chapter Text
Caledonian Highlands 195 AD
The trail leading through the pass between the mountains was narrow, steep, and challenging to traverse in the best of weather. This was not the best of weather. It had been raining for six days straight and the trail was slick with mud and loosened rocks. Merlin had crossed the pass two weeks earlier, and while it had been thick with frost, the journey hadn’t been too difficult. He hadn’t particularly wanted to travel by himself, but Arthur had been needed to deal with a diplomatic issue between two of the neighbouring villages and hadn’t been able to come right away.
Part of Merlin had been relieved. Eight years ago, Arthur’s wife had died giving birth to his second son, Trevor. Merlin had not yet found Arthur then, but the lingering sadness in his companion’s heart even years later was painful to see. When Merlin was finally reunited with his other half, he had spent more time attending to the health of young women with child than he could have ever possibly imagined. He was a fairly skilled healer, trained in both magical and mundane methods, but he was no midwife.
Still, when the news arrived that Arthur’s only daughter, newly married last spring, was due to give birth in early March, he hadn’t been surprised that Arthur had insisted he be there to attend her. Efa had been the light of Arthur’s world after Elin died and she was a genuinely sweet and caring person. It had hurt Merlin to find Arthur so late this time, but he couldn’t bring himself to be jealous of the family and life his other half had made. His children were everything one could want and his eldest son had the makings of a fine clan leader when the time was right. In some ways, it would be a relief that in a few years his youngest would be grown enough to begin an apprenticeship and Arthur and Merlin might be more at liberty than they had ever been in previous lives. Free to pursue what they wished without the weight of familial expectation upon them. He doubted he would get his lover back this time, but that didn’t matter. He was just happy they were together again. The search had been long and frustrating and he had all but given up hope, when he had quite literally stumbled across Arthur hunting in the woods some four years past.
Thinking of the day he found Arthur made him smile, but it faded again quickly in the face of more rain and the sight of a mudslide ahead of him. Arthur was days late in arriving. Efa had given birth to a perfectly healthy baby boy three days ago, and Merlin was surprised Arthur hadn’t yet arrived. His business with the other villages should have taken him a week at most, and the journey to Efa’s new home with Greid took three days, even taking into account the slow going of the mountain trails. Merlin was worried, so he had packed his things and made his excuses before setting off on the road home.
Seeing the condition of the path ahead only added fuel to his concerns. He dismounted and carefully led his horse along the slick path, picking his way around a few fallen rocks that hadn’t been there two weeks ago and keeping his eyes sharp for more debris letting go after being loosened by days and days of rain. Once on the homeward side of the mountain, he could see the mudslide had been worse here, with the trail nearly obscured. His horse whickered nervously and then, to his startled surprise and worst fears, he heard an answering whinny of distress from further down the path.
Merlin moved as swiftly as he dared across the treacherous ground, giving his horse more freedom to choose her own steps as he struggled to find his own footing in the slick mess. Rounding the corner of a switchback, his heart stuck in his throat when he saw Arthur’s saddled bay mare, prancing and whinnying nervously, trapped in a short span of trail between a substantial fallen rock and an impassable river of mud, with no rider in sight.
“Arthur!? Are you there Arthur? Can you hear me?” he shouted frantically, but there was no response.
Raising his hand, Merlin took a steady, calming breath before drawing on his magic. “Delf sudra.”
The sodden earth in his way began to part until the path was open enough to allow the horse to bolt towards him. Merlin let go of the reins of his own mount, casting a quick spell to block the path beyond the switchback, and grabbed the lines trailing on the ground from Arthur’s horse. For a moment the mare’s eyes rolled and it squealed with fear at being restrained again, but quickly she settled under his calming hands and gentle voice. “Hush now, hush. Where’s Arthur then? What’s happened?”
When the horse settled and stopped throwing its head and flicking its ears, Merlin let it join his horse on the more stable path behind him and ventured forward. The slope of the hill was steep here and several trees appeared to have been uprooted in the slide. Casting a look downwards, he could see the mess of mud, branches and rock that cut a swath through the forest below. There was a drop of about forty feet before it levelled out again and near the bottom there was a flash of red amongst the chaos below.
“Arthur!” he called again, but there was no reply. There was also no safe way for him to get down there.
It was difficult to see clearly, his eyes blurry with rain and tears, but as carefully as he could, he used his magic to lift the muddy figure of a man from the disaster below. As Arthur came more clearly into view, he looked like a child’s tattered rag doll, limp and lifeless. There was no good place on this narrow trail to set him down; Merlin flung the rock blocking the rest of the path deep into the forest below, in his despair not caring particularly where it landed. A short ways ahead, the narrow path widened, and Merlin guided Arthur’s suspended body carefully down to a sheltered spot beneath an undamaged tree. When his battered form was laid on the ground, Arthur gave a low, pained moan.
Merlin frantically knuckled the moisture from his eyes, and knelt down beside Arthur. “Can you hear me? Arthur? Please! Arthur!”
He groaned again, and then quietly croaked, “Merlin?”
“Yes. I’m here. What happened?” Merlin asked, taking the sodden scarf at his throat, warming it and gently wiping away the dirt on Arthur’s face.
Arthur winced at the touch, but cracked a swollen eye to look at him. “Hillside gave way. Horse spooked. Thrown.”
“How long have you been down there?”
“Not sure. Two days?”
“Two days?!” Merlin gasped, fumbling with the clasp of his cloak and covering Arthur with it. “You must be frozen. I’ll get you warm and have a look at what you’ve injured in your fall.”
“Don’t,” Arthur said in a harsh whisper.
Merlin looked down at him, blinking through tears. “What?”
Arthur seemed to struggle for breath and shook his head. “I think... my back... my legs won’t move... arms are... not right either.” He was starting to pant heavily from the effort of speaking, but kept forcing words out. “Breathing is... worse... You can’t fix-”
“-Yes, I can! I will!”
“I’m dying.”
“No! I won’t lose you again! I’ve only just found you, and I can’t lose you. Not now!” Merlin shouted frantically, hands grabbing at Arthur’s shoulders.
“Again?” Arthur asked weakly.
“And again, and again. It’s more than I can bear, and yet every time I have to watch you die. Hold you as you leave me. And when I finally find you again, you won’t remember a damn thing, and I won’t be able to forget!” he shouted slightly hysterically.
“You’ve... seen me die?”
“Five times before. It hurts like someone ripping my own heart out of my chest every damn time!”
“How?”
Merlin shook his head. “You are destined never to remember our past... and I don’t suppose I’ve ever been brave enough to tell you about it before. We’ve always been together, for centuries. There’s always a warrior and a warlock.”
The pained expression on Arthur’s face lifted somewhat and he attempted a small curving of his lips. “You knew me.”
“Yes. I had such a hard time finding you, but I knew you the second I saw you.”
“I don’t...” Arthur shook his head.
“You never do. You never remember and I’m cursed to never forget.”
“I’ll... try harder... this time...”
“I can heal you!”
“I know... can’t fix... broken back...”
“I can try,” Merlin said angrily and summoned his magic, but he found himself too strung out emotionally to even attempt to bend it to his will.
Arthur struggled to move one of his arms and managed to lift it enough to grab at Merlin’s hand. “It’s too late.”
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered brokenly.
“You said... I’ll be back,” Arthur said with a pained smile. “I’ll try... remembering this time.”
“You never do,” Merlin whispered morosely.
“You’ve never... told me... before...”
“Please!”
“Take care... of... yourself...” Arthur forced the words out through gasping breaths that rattled and gurgled deep in his chest.
“Please! I... I...”
“I know... I... do too...” he spoke softly, breath barely moving past his lips. With a scarcely audible sigh, he whispered, “Merlin,” then spoke no more.
“Noooooooo!” The agonizing pain tore through his entire body, as Merlin felt his other half being separated from him, leaving him.
He clutched tightly to the broken, empty shell before him, but nothing could soothe the anguish he felt. They had failed, again. Whatever it was the Gods were trying to get them to accomplish, they had failed. He was alone, half a man, once more. The rain continued to fall, mixing with the tears that streamed down his face as he wailed his pain to the uncaring sky.
Weep by ~ReniMilchstrasse on deviantART
Camelot, 550 AD
The face he wore today was not his own, but was perhaps more familiar to him. After years of wandering from place to place offering what wisdom and skill he could the various lines, wrinkles, and age spots as well as the slightly wild hair and beard streaked with grey were like a well worn shirt -comfortable to wear, if not particularly attractive. Vanity wasn’t something he had suffered from in quite a long time, though repeatedly going through the awkward adolescent years was enough to test anyone’s self consciousness. The prospect of going through it all over again was less than thrilling, but his relief that the long wait was over more than compensated for any inconveniences in the near future. Wearing his true face, he would seem to be a man in the prime of his life, not older than his mid-thirties, but the mask he wore was closer to how he felt most days. Not beaten down with infirmity, but aging and weary.
And he was weary of this life. It had been three and a half centuries since he had felt truly alive, since his other half had died in his arms, and the wait had seemed interminable. However, the thrumming undercurrent of life and exuberance had begun nearly two years ago and grown stronger until he arrived here. Camelot. He had roamed the surrounding countryside for over a decade, learning what he could about the land as he sensed the time was approaching. Shortly after he arrived from further north, Uther Pendragon had ascended to the throne and waged several military campaigns to secure his rule before settling into marriage.
Several years passed, and still he had wandered through Camelot and the surrounding kingdoms until the thrill of energy he always associated with his other half pulled him towards the castle. On his first visit, the town was abuzz with the news that, after years of waiting, Queen Ygraine was expecting a child. He had passed through the castle gates and when he walked the corridors nearest the royal residence, his heart sang. In previous lives, reasonable certainty of a time and place were all he checked for before he made arrangements for his own rebirth, but something had held him back. He came and went from the town several times during the months that followed, savouring the joyful thrill of life that crept into his heart each time he was near, but also sensing that something was not as it should be. When the queen died in childbirth, the sizzling joy that danced on his skin was not enough to dispel the deep sense of foreboding that dwelled at the bottom of his stomach.
The actions of the grief ridden Uther were swift and terrible. All magic users were first banished, then imprisoned and, after less than a month from the first decree of the ban on magic, the executions began. Though he knew it was not yet his time to be an active participant, as events unfolded it was difficult to stand by and watch, yet impossible to leave. He had no idea where he could be born again that would be safe and yet tie him to Camelot in some way that would ensure his return, preferably peacefully, within fifteen to twenty years. He spent weeks searching for someone who could provide a suitable link and could be trusted. It was late one night while slipping past the door of the Court Physician that he found his opportunity.
“I tell you, Gauis, once Kilgharrah has been subdued, the Dragonlords will go the same way as the rest. I don’t trust the king any longer. I see the disdain in his eyes each time I am near him. He views us the same as any mage, sorcerer or druid,” a gruff voice said in a low, angry tone.
A softer, gentle voice replied, “Then you need to make plans for your departure. Have you any place you might go?”
“I’ve heard through various sources that my village was burnt to the ground a week ago. Even if this is untrue, my parents died years ago. I’ve lived within the borders of Camelot all my life. Where should I go? Ouch!” the first voice growled.
“Hold still,” the second admonished, and for a moment the tone and inflection made the voice sound oddly familiar, “I can’t bandage this if you keep moving.”
“Six months ago, you would have healed this enough that it wouldn’t require bandaging.”
“I swore an oath to Uther that I would not use the Old Ways in my practice. I know you disagree with my decision, but science based healing and medicine is better than none at all. I know the physicians of the other courts and I’m certain none with any skill would dare enter Camelot at this time. Given my options, I think it’s the best choice.”
“And you will sit back and watch as the others, those that aren’t lucky enough to have royal favour, are rounded up and killed?”
“I cannot change the king’s mind. His grief has made him deaf to all arguments on the subject.”
“You could help them escape!”
“Not all of them, Balinor,” the voice came as a sorrowful whisper, “I will do what I can, for those I can, but you know as well as I that saving everyone is impossible.”
The rough voice was soft with regret. “Will you help me?”
“Of course.”
“Where should I go? The druid encampments? Mercia? Someplace further? How can I start again in some place I have no connections with?”
As he listened to the gruff voice soften and occasionally crack with sadness, he felt compassion for the man. He had spent centuries wandering alone, starting new in places he had no link to, or if there had been a connection to the place it was long passed and he could not reveal it. It was a lonely life to lead, even if you weren’t missing your other half, as he was.
“I have an aunt,” the familiar voice said slowly, “who lives in a small village just beyond the border of Cenred’s land. I haven’t seen her in some years, but my aunt is both kind-hearted and stubborn. I’m certain she’d take you in and help you get on your feet again. Though it’s close to the border, I doubt Uther is prepared for the diplomatic difficulties that following someone there would bring.”
There was a long pause before Balinor replied, “I wouldn’t want to bring trouble upon your kin. It would be dangerous both to her and the village if I were to go there.”
“Think on it. There is still some time.”
“Some time, but not much. A week, perhaps two. I don’t know why I’m even doing this anymore.”
“Because you are a man of your word, just as I am.”
“You’re a good man, Gaius. Don’t mind my anger. It’s not directed at you, really.”
“I know. I have my own frustrations. I find grinding herbs for poultices helps to soothe them.”
Both men gave a small, low chuckle. “Yes, and I suppose I had best stick to taking mine out on dragons.”
The sound of chairs scraping across stone made him jerk and jump back from the door. He darted into a nearby alcove and waited to catch a glimpse of the voices he had heard talking. A village with direct ties to the court physician at Camelot but lay beyond the border was the most promising situation he had come across yet, but he wanted to be sure his link was trustworthy. A tall, lean man of maybe twenty-five years with dark hair came through the door first, followed by a slightly shorter, more sturdily built man who looked closer to forty with mousy hair already liberally peppered with silver. The elder was at once familiar, though he couldn’t quite place the man.
The younger tugged at bit at the bandage on his right arm and gave a half smile. “Thank you for patching me up, Gaius.”
“Get some rest. I would tell you to avoid strenuous activity for a day or two if I thought it would do any good.”
“You know me too well.”
“Goodnight.”
The lanky man nodded and stalked off down the corridor swiftly and silently. The older man watched him retreat, worry and sadness furrowing his brow. With a clear view, he recognized Gaius as a young physician he had met nearly fifteen years previously, newly finished his apprenticeship and eager to prove his skill. He had encountered the man working in the border villages where he met with druids to increase his knowledge of magical healing arts. He had spoken with Gaius several times over the span of a month and liked the man despite his youthful impulsiveness. Gaius seemed to have matured, but maintained the compassion and concern he had appreciated in those early days. Perhaps their meeting years ago had not been chance. Resolving to return the following evening, he disappeared through the dark corridors to make some final preparations.
It wasn’t quite so late when he returned the following evening, but the hallways were empty and the castle still. As a precaution, he placed a protective enchantment along this stretch of corridor to ensure he had complete privacy for his meeting with Gaius. He was fairly certain he could trust the court physician, but it would not do for any eavesdroppers to overhear their conversation just as he had done the previous evening. Raising his hand to knock, he looked at the lines and age spots on his weathered looking hands and crooked a small smile. Even in a body stuck at thirty-five, he felt the aches and pains of increased age. Starting over was always difficult, but it had its perks. The next time he returned here he would be a fresh-faced young lad again and nostalgia was good at blurring the less pleasant realities of going through youth again. He still wished to see his other half before he left, but it pleased him to think of them both in young bodies again. With a smile still playing at his lips, he knocked on the door.
It swung open to reveal the politely curious face of Gaius. “Yes. Can I help you?”
His smile unconsciously grew wider. “Gaius. You’re looking well.”
“Do I..?” The physician asked, a puzzled expression crossing his countenance before it cleared and his eyebrows rose. “I know you.”
“Yes, we met some years ago.”
“You were with the...” he trailed off, then pulled the door wider saying, “You had best come in.”
Entering the room, he was offered a chair. Gaius closed the door firmly and took the other chair, staring at him in surprise. “I must say, I never imagined I would see you again, especially not here.”
“It is curious the directions life pulls you in. Have you enjoyed your practice here?”
“I have had excellent resources both for my medical work as well as my experiments. I can’t complain.”
“And recent events? You are safe?”
“Safer than most, I expect. The king needs a physician at court and we have known each other for some time. I gave him my word I would practice only scientific healing arts and he has given me his assurance that my previous studies will be overlooked. The situation grieves me, but for my part it is not a particular hardship. My interests were always more academic than practical given the limits of my talent.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“And you give me too much. You may have concealed the true extent of your abilities from me, but I am no fool. I remember what the others called you when you weren’t around. I do have some idea what that means.”
“I would rather they hadn’t. I am far more content to be just Mael.”
“I can understand that. What I don’t understand is why you are here.”
“I’ve come to ask a favour.”
Gaius looked at him suspiciously. “What sort of favour? I will do nothing that breaks my oath to the king.”
He shook his head. “Not as such. I have a book, a very old book, of great importance. I need a place to conceal it where it might be protected.”
“Why are you asking me? And here, of all places?”
“Because very soon I will not be in a position to care for it anymore.” He drew a large, red, leather bound book from his satchel. “Did I ever show this to you?”
Gaius nodded. “It was your constant reference. What would make you leave this behind?”
“There is another who will be in great need of it, but I will not be able to bestow it upon him myself. I have given great consideration to my options, and you are my only guarantee that he will receive it, undamaged, when the time is right,” he said gravely.
“You’re leaving,” Gaius stated simply.
He nodded. “It is time.”
“How will I know who to give it to?”
“I cannot be certain of the details, but ten to twenty years from now a young man will arrive in Camelot in need of your help. He will be coming to you; because you are the only person he can trust who has the skills needed to assist him. Give him the book and help him learn to control and refine his talent.”
“I’m supposed to do this here? In Camelot?” Gaius blurted in disbelief.
He nodded. “I know it is a dangerous thing I am asking of you. If you will do nothing else, can you ensure he receives the book and has the ability to read it?”
Gaius stared at him for a long time before reaching out to accept the book. “I do not know what the years ahead will bring, but I do not think Uther will turn from the path he is on now. He is a prideful man and has lost much. I will give such assistance as I am able to this boy, but I can promise nothing more certain than the safe delivery of the book and my silence about his abilities.”
“I would not ask you to make grand promises you might be unable to keep.”
“Where will you go, Mael?”
“The best place that could be arranged in such times.”
“The boy... will he be...?”
He rose and placed his right hand upon Gaius’ head. “When the time is right, you will know. Until then, take care of that book and remember only what is essential.”
His eyes flared golden and Gaius slumped forward in his chair. After a moment, the physician blinked several times and smiled slightly inanely up at him. “It was nice to visit with you old friend.”
“Likewise, Gaius. Take care.” In a blur of robes, he turned and left the room quickly. There was one last important task to complete before his departure.
The nursery was the most lavish room he had seen in the castle and also the warmest. Spring’s chill still clung to the castle like a damp shirt, but the infant prince’s room was cosy and draft free. The hour was quite late, and the guards outside the door had been drowsy already. It was a simple matter of suggestion more than actual spells that left them snoring softly as they dozed propped up against the wall outside the door. The wet nurse was sleeping in the small antechamber inside the nursery, though he did send the woman deeper into sleep and barred the door to give himself complete privacy.
Approaching the crib, he dropped his disguise and felt energy dance across his skin and ruffle his hair. He had never experienced this before. He had always cast off the shell of his previous life before his other half was born anew, but this time was different. It felt to him that there was a great deal more at stake this time. A cherub’s face with wide blue eyes looked up at him from the crib. Tentatively he reached a hand towards the babe and a tiny hand reached up and clasped his finger. His body jerked with the jolt of pure sensation and joy that coursed through him at the contact. The baby smiled a wide toothless grin and waved chubby arms to be picked up. He found himself grinning as well and carefully lifted the squirming child into his arms.
“You are going to be the terror of the castle with a smile like that. Even if you weren’t the prince, no one would be able to deny you anything,” he whispered softly. The baby gave a soft giggle and made a grab for his nose. He shifted the bundle slightly and traced a finger across the soft rounded cheek glowing golden in the dim light of the few candles he had lit. “You are going to be on your own for a while and no one is left around here that can protect you the way you need to be protected. Uther has made a rash and ill considered choice in banishing magic. Already he has made many enemies. That’s why I waited. I needed to make sure you were safe before I can join you again. Of course, you won’t remember this... or anything from before. I’ve often thought yours is the blessing, to never remember as I do. It was a long and lonely wait this time, but perhaps that makes finding you again all the sweeter.”
He dug into his satchel and retrieved a small bottle of sandalwood oil he had liberated from Gaius’ stores and used several drops of the aromatic substance to anoint the child’s forehead. He corked the bottle and slipped it back into his bag then used his thumb to work the oil into the skin. He spoke softly. “Beorg fram feorhbealu ac thā frecne scinncræftas. Grow with strength and wisdom and do not let darkness taint your soul. When I return, I will be able to offer you greater protection than this, but until then, be safe.”
He dropped a brief kiss on the baby’s brow and felt a small hand pat his cheek before he pulled away and returned the bundle in his arms to the crib. The child cooed softly as he fussed with the covers and made sure there was no sign that he had been there. He smiled fondly at the wide eyed infant, brushing the petal soft skin of the rounded cheek one last time before turning to leave. He unbarred the nurse’s door and checked on the sleeping guards in the corridor before glancing back into the room. As he silently shut the door, he whispered once more, “Be safe, Arthur.”
Balinor’s prediction had been all too accurate. Three days after his clandestine visit to place protective spells upon the prince, the castle erupted with the noise of celebration. He watched from his hiding spot near the physician’s quarters as Gaius hurried from the room nervously carrying a haphazardly assembled bundle of supplies. Following silently, he moved with speed through the corridors and across the crowded courtyard into the lower town. Gaius ducked down back alleys, backtracking several times before knocking on the back door of a shabby, unassuming house. A blade appeared through the door first, but was soon lowered and Balinor’s dark head poked out through the opening. “Get inside.”
He remained concealed in the ally, but listened to the conversation inside with a particularly useful auditory enhancement spell.
“I overheard Uther speaking to the captain of the guard. The plan is to arrest you tonight while the city is occupied with the festivities. He means for your disappearance to be a secret. You must leave immediately.”
“I cannot say that I’m surprised. I’ve already prepared my things.”
“Here. Take this. There are provisions for a couple days and I’ve written a letter explaining things as best I can and asking Mererid for her assistance. Take my cob and ride west to the ford at Tineuur. Follow the north road out of town until it reaches the river and begins to turn east. If you cross the river there, you should find a reasonably serviceable trail heading west again. You pass the border shortly after crossing the river and Ealdor is about five miles beyond.”
“I won’t take your horse, Gaius.”
“You stand a better chance of escape on horseback than you would on foot. If you ride hard, you should be well passed Tineuur by nightfall. I scarcely leave the city anymore and when I have need the stables can provide me with a mount. If nothing else, my aunt would certainly appreciate the use of a horse; you can give it to her. Mererid is tall, for a woman, close to fifty and greying considerably. She also has a daughter, Hunith, who must be nearly twenty now. Her sons have already left home the last I heard. I do not know where you might find them if you cannot find Mererid, but should you encounter them their names are Caden and Trent.”
“Thank you, Gaius. I didn’t mean what I said to you the other night. If there were a way for me to stay safe and remain in my home, I would seize the chance as well.”
“You have every right to be angry. I hope you are able to find peace in Ealdor.”
“And you here. I know you have an agreement with the king, but do not become complacent. There may come a time when he turns on you as well.”
“I will be cautious. Farewell, Balinor.”
“Farewell, Gaius.”
Stepping back from the door, he slipped between the houses and watched as the hooded figure of Balinor moved cautiously out of the alley and was lost in the crowd of people gathered in the streets.
He made his own way towards the gates of the city, knowing the guard would already be instructed to prevent Balinor’s departure. When a study black cob lead by a man with his head bent approached, he ensured the guards were thoroughly distracted by a noisy dog fight breaking out on the street near some small children. Several of the gate keepers moved to intercept the dogs and the two that remained were focussed on the excitement in the street. He gave a slightly derisive snort at how easy Camelot’s protectors were to distract and cast a long glance back at the castle. He had done his best. It was time to leave. When he turned back to the city gates, the black horse and its rider were already halfway across the open fields and far enough to be anonymous to the casual observer. Intending to lay a second, more obvious trail to throw off the inevitable search party, he passed unnoticed through the gates and turned east.
The trail he had made worked exactly as intended and he was reasonably certain Uther’s men believed Balinor had made his way to Mercia to seek protection from Lord Bayard. It took him another ten days to make his way slowly to Ealdor. Not only was he travelling on foot, but each step that took him farther away from the castle was wrenching to his very core. Holding Arthur had been an exultant moment of joy and peace that had stripped away all the painful years of his wait. Now he was bent and aching, feeling every minute his age.
The small village of Ealdor was much the same as any other place in the surrounding countryside. There was a small collection of shabby houses and barns clustered together at the centre of an open expanse of freshly tilled fields waiting to be sown as soon as the weather turned fair. There were fenced-in pastures and small plots for vegetables nearest the buildings, and at the bottom of the slope beyond a good sized stream ran southwest towards a thickly wooded area. It didn’t look like the most prosperous of small villages, but the land seemed adequate to support the hundred or so people who lived there.
For several weeks he observed the people there as a shadow in the night, learning that Balinor had arrived to find Mererid had died of a fever early in the winter and only Hunith remained of Gaius’ family. None of the villagers had travelled anyplace close enough to Camelot to relay the message to Gaius. However, Hunith, as generous and determined as her mother, had taken the rough looking stranger into her home, much to the consternation of the other villagers. It wasn’t that he shirked at hard labour or was unkind to anyone. He spent long hours with the other men in the village tending to damaged fences, working the soil, gathering wood and occasionally hunting, but there was an uncomfortable air about him that put the others on edge. It was also obvious to anyone who looked, which was everyone, that young Hunith, all on her own the poor dear, was positively smitten with the solemn stranger.
As Beltane approached, he knew he could postpone no longer. His watching made the circumstances of his new life obvious, though it didn’t entirely please him. He had hoped to be born to mundane couple, preferably a part of Gaius’ extended family, keeping his own considerable magic, which had been difficult enough to contain the last time, but gaining no more. It was a fine idea, but not to be. He fervently hoped Balinor would remain safely hidden here, because Hunith appeared to be the only viable option. There was a wildness about Balinor’s magic he was certain would be added to his own. He would need Balinor there to help him in the early years to gain the control needed until he could train properly again.
The fires burned high in the fallow pasture where the community was gathered to celebrate. Grinning impishly as only a young woman can, Hunith took Balinor’s hand and encouraged him to jump across the fire with her. Many villagers shook their heads and tutted, but a few smiled fondly as the normally dour man laughed freely, leapt across the dancing flames and swept the smiling young woman into his arms, carrying her back towards the houses.
Within the trees at the edge of the field, he nodded slowly to himself and turned away from the merriment below. He had rid himself of everything but the tattered robe he wore and it was time. Lying down on the soft, wet ground between the trees, he could see the small pinpricks of light from the stars through the spring leaves. Everything up to this point had been difficult and filled with doubt, but this... this was easy. Decision made, he embraced the rippling energy of the night and cast off the shell of his previous life. Now nothing more than magic and consciousness, he found the sensation was both disorienting and liberating. His essence rose on the night air and swept past the revellers in the field, drawn as a moth to flame towards the darkened houses of the village. The Dragonlord’s wild magic sang to his strong, yet disciplined core and drew him nearer. In the last moment of clear consciousness he had, he spared a thought for his other half, then allowed himself to be lost in the swirling maelstrom of wild magic, and was gone.
Chapter 2: Searching For Answers
Chapter Text
Searching For Answers
Ealdor, 570 AD
An urgent voice hissing in his ear and rough shaking woke him. “Merlin, wake up! You’re doing it again!”
As he slowly came awake, the hands at his shoulders continued their shaking until there was a loud clatter about him and the shaking abruptly ended. Blinking his eyes sleepily, he looked up to see his mother’s worried face and slight shaking of her head. She smiled at him ruefully. “That’s four days in a row, Merlin, and three more times just last week. It’s getting worse.”
He sat up and looked around at the few pieces of furniture they owned that were shifted from their normal places. The bench at the table was lying on its side and the tools from the fireplace were scattered across the floor. He had been levitating things in his sleep again. This always worried his mother, though he hadn’t actually broken anything in his sleep in years. He frowned at the mess and offered a weak, “Sorry.”
Hunith shook her head at him. “There’s not much point in apologising. I know you don’t do it on purpose and it has been a while since you’ve broken anything. I am worried, though. Someone could easily have come in here and seen this.”
“I’m trying to control it,” Merlin said in exasperation, standing up and gesturing to the mess in the room, “but this is what happens when I’m trying not to use magic, and you asked me, no begged me, to try. It builds up when I don’t use it. It has to get out somehow.”
His mother rested a gentle hand on his shoulder and he was instantly soothed. She had the uncanny ability to calm him whenever he was rattled, despite looking rather shaken herself. She pulled him down into a comforting hug and mumbled in his ear, “I know. I don’t understand it all, but I know you mean well and are trying. I just feel badly that there isn’t more I can do to help you.”
When she released him, he could see her eyes shining in the grey morning light and he turned away to right the fallen bench. “Don’t feel badly. There isn’t anyone who can help me.”
There was a heavy silence between them as Merlin set about returning moved objects back to their rightful places in their home. His mother watched him for a long moment, then slipped outside with a bucket to fetch water for cooking. He knelt by the fireplace and used his magic to prod the coals back to life, adding a couple logs and noting he would need to fetch more wood today. That made him smile a bit. Felling and chopping wood was something he was actually good at and his mother didn’t complain too much about the fact he did it entirely with magic. Hopefully he would use enough magic to gain a few nights free of sleep-levitating. He might even take Will along for a bit of a laugh. His best friend was still so thrilled to see every little thing he could do with his magic and it was nice to share it with someone who wasn’t utterly terrified that he would reveal his secret to the village at large. Saying his mother was less than impressed when she found out Will knew about the magic was the understatement of his life, but after six months without so much as an odd glance Merlin’s way, she had relaxed slightly about him knowing.
Merlin started slightly when the door opened and his mother came in with the heavy bucket of water, but knew better than to attempt to assist her. He was ridiculously clumsy, and most of the time his attempts to help with these sorts of things met with disaster and the need to visit the well again. She smiled at him distractedly, and began fussing over breakfast. It was early spring, and they were still relying on their dwindling winter stores before the gardens started to produce fresh vegetables. However, the grain harvest had been good last fall and an early winter storm had kept any raiders from stealing it, so they did not lack for food, only variety.
He found the anticipation of spring harder in many ways than the cold, harsh monotony of winter. The earth was coming awake and bursting with new life, but it was a season of preparation and waiting. Sometimes, when the brambles along the edge of the forest were far enough along, he would use his magic to give them a bit of a nudge and eat blackberries by the handful long before they would ripen on their own. His mother always gave him a pointed look when she saw the purple stains on his fingers, but smiled all the same when he left a neckerchief filled with berries for her on the table.
The house was mostly to rights by the time Hunith set a steaming bowl of porridge on the table for him. She sat down across the table with her own bowl, but did not move to eat. She looked at him contemplatively for a long while, and then broke the silence. “There might be someone who could help you.”
Merlin jerked his head up and gaped at his mother. “What? Who?”
Her brow furrowed and she spoke slowly, reluctantly. “I have a cousin, Gaius, who once studied magic. It was a long time ago, but he would certainly know more about it than I do. Perhaps if you were to go to him, he could teach you how to control your powers.”
He dropped his spoon on the table with a clatter and gripped the edge of it, shaking slightly. “I don’t want to just control them, mother, I want to use them. What is the point of being able to use magic if all I ever do is try to hide it? I could help the village grow enough crops that no one would ever have to go hungry. I could make every roof here leak proof and every wall draft free. I could stop bandits from ever entering our homes. I’m sure I could do all sorts of other things, useful things, too if I only knew how. Instead I do none of those things. My magic is wasted if I never use it. It’s the only thing I’m actually good at and I want to be able to do good things with it, not just hide it.”
Merlin let go of the table and turned away, staring at the dirt floor and trying to get his shaking under control. He needed to spend some time gathering firewood. It would do a lot to soothe the roiling waves of magic he was trying desperately to contain. He loved his mother dearly, and knew she was trying her best to understand him, but she didn’t have the tiniest flicker of magic in her and had no idea how difficult it was to master the power and not let the power master him. It was times like this he really wished he knew about his father. Perhaps he had possessed the same powerful waves of magic and could have taught him how to tame the wildness that fought to escape.
“Gaius will understand much better much better than I ever could. He is a very kind, intelligent and patient man. I think he will be a good teacher,” his mother said gently, sitting beside him on the bench and pulling his head down to her shoulder.
His breathing calmed as she stroked his hair and the tremors began to subside. “Where does he live? Why have I never met him before?”
“He is the Court Physician of Camelot. I haven’t seen him since I was twelve or so, but we have had the odd correspondence over the years,” she explained.
“Camelot? That’s an interesting choice for a sorcerer.”
“He was always more of a scientist than a magician and above all a scholar. He agreed to stop studying magic when King Uther first banned sorcery in his kingdom. I worry about you going to Camelot and I know he isn’t as powerful as you, but he has studied a great deal and is learned in many things. I had hoped you would find a way to manage on your own, which is why I did not mention him before now, but if you wish to go, if you think it’s worth the risk, Gaius is someone I trust who might help you.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll manage.”
“I can’t just leave you here on your own.”
“I won’t be on my own. There is a whole village to help me if I need it, and I’m hardly helpless, Merlin.”
“But-”
“-If the only thing stopping you from going is concern for me, then I will toss you out on your ear and make you go, but there is more to consider than that. Camelot is a dangerous place for you to visit, even for a short time. Think about it for a while.”
He let his mother stroke his hair and hold him a little longer before pulling away and returning to his stone cold breakfast. His eyes flashed golden for a moment and steam rose from their bowls again. After a couple tasteless mouthfuls, he set down his spoon and stood. “I’m going to get some more wood. The pile is nearly gone.”
“Make sure you at least bring an axe with you,” she said, sounding close her normal tone of teasing exasperation.
He did his best to grin back at her in his usual cheeky manner. “Of course.”
Merlin retrieved the axe from next to the woodpile and disappeared out the door, deep in thought.
“Just what are you trying to do with that axe, Merlin?” a voice called from behind him.
He swung wide with the axe and lost his grip on it, sending it sailing into the trees. Merlin spun around to see the grinning face of his best, really his only, friend. “I should think that obvious Will. I’m splitting firewood.”
Will shook his head and chuckled. “Splitting your foot, more likely. You and I both know your history with sharp implements isn’t very good.”
Merlin cast his friend a mutinous glare. “You’d think your entire supply of firewood last winter hadn’t come from me, the way you’re talking.”
“True, but then you weren’t pretending to use and axe to chop it. Why are you chopping wood the hard way?” Will asked, his laughter trailing off. “Did you have another argument with your mum?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because every time there’s a disagreement between the two of you, you make a big production of being ‘normal’ for a few days. What was it this time?”
Merlin sighed heavily and sat down on the stump he’d been using as a splitting block. “I’ve been floating things in my sleep.”
“Again?”
“Four nights in a row and three last week. She’s worried someone’s going to walk in and see something.”
Will’s eyes widened. “No wonder. You haven’t had problems like that for a while.”
Merlin shook his head in response. “Not since before I told you. When I started using my magic more, it became a bit easier to control.”
“And attempting to chop wood by hand helps this, how?”
“It doesn’t, I suppose. I guess I’m just a bit rattled.”
“I’ll keep watch while you work, if it makes you feel better.”
“Ha. You just want me to refill your woodpile.”
“Well, if you’re offering.”
“Lazy twit,” Merlin jibed, but rose from the stump and began floating logs towards the small pile he had already made, breaking them into manageable pieces with a flick of his fingers. It felt good to set a task for his magic and the jumpy feeling he had felt all morning dissipated somewhat.
It didn’t take long for him to cut, split and stack a sizeable quantity of wood into a tidy pile. Will retrieved the axe Merlin had sent flying into the trees and set it down beside the chopping block. He then sauntered over to lean against a tree and rather lackadaisically kept half an eye out for people approaching.
When Merlin looked up from his work, his eyes swirled from gold back to blue and he smiled at his friend. “Thanks.”
“Feel better?”
“Yeah, actually I do. Don’t let that give you any ideas, though. I’m not going to do all your work for you.”
“You never do. You’re no fun.”
“And you are a lazy arse,” Merlin declared, giving Will a small shove.
Will affected an exaggeratedly betrayed look. “You wound me. I am your ever vigilant lookout.”
“Arse,” Merlin returned, and then gestured over his shoulder, “Come on.”
Together they ducked and wove through the undergrowth towards a circle of trees they often visited. Though it was still spring, the day had warmed considerably, and the shade of the vibrant new leaves was welcome. Will flopped down on a mossy log and Merlin lay back in his favourite spot against a sizeable oak tree.
They didn’t talk for a long while, just enjoying the quiet of the shady grove, disturbed occasionally by birdsong and the chatter of squirrels. After a time, Merlin broke the silence. “Did you know my mother has a cousin?”
“What? I thought you had no other family.”
“So did I, until this morning.”
“Who is this, until now unheard of, cousin?”
“His name is Gaius. Apparently he is the court physician at Camelot.”
“Sounds impressive, I guess.”
“Yeah, and apparently he used to study magic, before it was banned.”
Will looked at him disbelievingly, “Uther Pendragon’s court physician is a sorcerer? Are you sure he isn’t someone your mother made up?”
Merlin shook his head. “I doubt that. She’s suggested I go to him and see if he’ll teach me how to get control of my magic.”
“You? Go to Camelot? That’s madness.”
“Perhaps,” Merlin said quietly.
“And you’ve decided to go, haven’t you?”
“No! Yes... maybe. I don’t know. What’ll Mum do without me here to help her?”
“Forget your mother, what’ll you do if you’re caught?”
“I’m serious, Will. If I leave, she’ll be all alone.”
“With an entire village that has helped her since you were a baby. Really, I think that is the smallest concern you should have with the whole idea. What are you going to do in Camelot?”
“Become an apprentice under Gaius, I suppose. That seems to be my mother’s plan.”
“And you’re going to go along with it,” Will said in a resigned voice.
Merlin stood from his resting place and began pacing around the grove. “I don’t know what else to do, Will. I know you try to understand, and believe me, that means the world to me, but you don’t know what it’s like. A lot of the time it’s just a hum under my skin, but sometimes it feels like a whirlwind tearing me apart from the inside. Sometimes I think my magic is going to rip me apart and everything and everyone around me too.
“I don’t like the idea of venturing into the heart of persecution of magic, but let’s be honest; it’s not exactly condoned here, either. I’ve had to hide what I can do my entire life. It would be nice to actually meet someone who might be able to help me. I know I can do more than chop wood and play silly pranks on old Simmons. I have to believe there’s a reason I am the way I am, some purpose for it. Perhaps this Gaius fellow will have some idea of what it could be.”
Will rose to stand beside Merlin and stopped his pacing with a hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps. I still don’t think you should go.”
Merlin met his friend’s eyes, unblinkingly. “Don’t think I should go, or don’t want me to go?”
“Either. Both,” Will said with a shrug. “It doesn’t really matter, though. I can tell you’ve already decided. You just haven’t admitted it to yourself yet.”
“It’s not that I want to leave here.”
“You’re going to have to work harder at staying out of trouble, especially without me around to stand watch.”
“Would you look out for my mother? Give her a hand when she needs it?”
“Of course. You don’t even have to ask.”
“You’re a true friend, Will. I’d have gone mad without you.”
“I hate to break it to you, Merlin, but you are a bit mad. It’s going to be dull around here with you gone.”
“I’ll miss you too,” Merlin said, slinging an arm around Will’s shoulders.
Will elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “You’re a sap. Come on. There’s a giant stack of wood to bring back.”
“Which you didn’t lift a finger to help with.”
“My fingers aren’t as talented as yours. Can you do that trick you did last time where you made everything feather light for us to carry?”
“You are going to realize just how spoilt you’ve been having me around to magic your life easier.”
“I’m sure I will,” his friend said, a hint of sadness seeming to colour his voice, but the grin on Will’s face remained and Merlin chose to let it go.
They jostled each other good naturedly on the way back to the woodpile and set about carrying it down to the village.
Merlin paused on the road when the city of Camelot came into view. He was momentarily overwhelmed by the feeling he had been there before. It must all be in his head, as he had never been more than ten miles from Ealdor in his life. The feeling of familiarity was strong, however, and he hoped that if it meant nothing else, it at least meant he had made the right decision in coming here. The castle was the largest building he had ever seen and his mother had said a few thousand people lived there. The scale of everything seemed so large and he wondered if he mightn’t get lost in the crowd completely... which would be a good thing, he supposed, all things considered.
The gates in the city walls were open wide, allowing a steady stream of traffic in and out of the lower town. The walls here were not as high as those around the castle itself, but he couldn’t help but stare up at them, impressed. There were four men dressed in the red livery of Camelot standing watch at the gate and observing the flow of people with ill concealed disinterest. Merlin gaped at his surroundings like a landed fish, but his attention was drawn quickly by the sound of angry dogs fighting. He whipped his head around to find... nothing. There were no dogs, only a group of children rolling barrel hoops in the street, laughing and shrieking with delight. Shaking his head to clear it, he glanced around a second time, and, spotting no dogs, began working his way through the crowded streets towards the castle.
Being who he was, it really shouldn’t have surprised Merlin all that much that he got completely turned around in the largest crowd of people he had ever been in and had become lost. He ended up ducking into an alley to get away from the press of people and find his bearings. When he looked around once again he was again struck by a feeling of familiarity. After a moment’s pause, he walked up the alley and followed several twists and turns with confidence before popping out directly in front of the castle gates. He was startled, and looked back at the alley in confusion, but before he could think on it he heard horns blaring from the courtyard beyond the gates and saw a large crowd gathered. Once again shaking away the odd feeling, he passed through to have a closer look at what was going on.
He wished he hadn’t been so curious. The crowd was gathered round a raised platform in the courtyard, assembled to watch a man lose his head... for the crime of sorcery. His ears were filled with the throbbing roar of his own pulse as the king signalled the headsman and the blade fell. However, he heard the sickening thud it made as it sliced through bone and sinew and stuck into the block with perfect clarity. He shuddered at the sight of crimson blood staining the rough wood of the platform and was certain he would have nightmares of this moment. Doubt flashed through his mind. What had he been thinking, coming here?
The mother of the man railed at King Uther as the crowd dispersed, people backing away from her fearfully as if proximity might imply complicity. When the woman disappeared in a swirl of wind, everyone rushed to get away from the place where magic had been performed, yet no one seemed in the least disturbed by the headless body slumped to the side of the block. Uniformed men picked up the body and roughly heaved it into a cart, tossing the head, which had rolled off the platform and onto the ground, in beside it as one might do with a stone while preparing a field for ploughing. The men were expressionless as they performed this task and began to drag the cart away from the square. Merlin shivered again and ducked into the first door he found, breathing rapidly and fighting down the bile that threatened to rise in his throat.
By some stroke of good fortune, he happened to find himself relatively close to the Physician’s quarters. The nervous shaking of his limbs eased somewhat with the courtyard out of sight and the dim light of the cool stone corridors was strangely soothing. He came to a door standing slightly ajar, pungent odours and odd bubbling noises emanating from within, and knocked on the doorjamb. A faint voice from within bade him enter, and he found himself once again overwhelmed by a sense of familiarity. The beakers and jars of colourful liquids were unlike anything he had ever seen, yet it was as if their properties and uses were somewhere at the back of his mind, just out of reach. He looked around for a few moments, trying to make sense of his swirling thoughts, but it was like trying to hold onto a handful of sand; the tighter you grasp, the faster it slips through your fingers.
The owner of the voice, presumably Gaius, was nowhere to be seen, and he glanced around again, calling out, “Hello? Gaius?”
There was a startled noise from above, and Merlin looked up to see an elderly man on a haphazardly built high platform overbalance and begin to fall backwards. The drop was over twenty feet, enough that the man would surely be gravely injured, if not killed outright, and Merlin threw out a hand instinctively to slow the fall. He had done this on only a few occasions, slowing time, and he surveyed the room quickly for something to prevent disaster. Noticing a cot in the corner of the room, he grabbed for it with his magic and pushed it across the room. The man landed heavily on it, but rose immediately, unharmed.
“What did you just do?” the man asked imperiously. If he had been unsure of the man’s identity before, his sharp gaze and strong tone left him with no doubt that he was related to his mother.
“Erm...” Merlin glanced around nervously.
“Tell me.” Gaius demanded.
He shook his head frantically. “I have no idea what happened.”
“If someone had seen that-”
“That was nothing to do with me!” he stated.
Gaius narrowed his eyes at Merlin. “I know what it was. How is it you know magic?”
“I don’t.”
“Where did you study? Answer me!”
Merlin gestured wildly with his hands, as if flailing around might make his words more believable. “I’ve never studied magic, or been taught.”
“Are you lying to me, boy?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth,” Gaius said harshly.
“I was born like this,” Merlin admitted.
Gaius shook his head. “That’s impossible. Who are you?”
“I have a letter. My mother sent me. I’m Merlin.”
“Hunith’s son?” Gaius said with recognition.
Merlin nodded and smiled nervously.
Gaius looked puzzled by this information. “I wasn’t expecting you until after the planting was finished.”
“Wasn’t expecting...” Merlin started, returning Gaius’ look of confusion. “You were expecting me?”
“Of course. Your mother wrote to me last fall asking me if I would consider taking you on as an apprentice.”
“She did? But... she never... I didn’t even know you existed until a week ago! She planned this...” Merlin trailed off, his mouth hanging open in shock.
Gaius put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. “She told me she didn’t think you fit in, that Ealdor was too small for you. I understand what she meant now.”
Merlin shook his head in disbelief. He’d had no inkling of his mother’s plan. It hurt a bit to think she had been planning on sending him away for so long but never mentioned a word to him. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. It occurred to him that the timing of the letter likely coincided with her discovery that Will knew about the magic. She really hadn’t trusted anyone to keep his secret.
“I started clearing the storage room for you to use,” Gaius said, nodding towards a door at the top of several stone steps. “There’s a bed in there already, though the rest is still quite a mess. I rather expected to have a bit more time to sort through everything. By the time you get to be my age, you tend to accumulate more possessions than is easy to keep track of.”
“Right,” Merlin nodded, still somewhat dazed. “I guess I’ll work on tidying things in there for you.”
Gaius smiled ruefully. “Don’t be upset with her, Merlin. She only wants what’s best for you.”
“I know,” he said, and walked up the steps to his new room.
“And Merlin,” Gaius called out after him. The older man gestured to the rumpled bed littered with bits of broken railing. “Thank you.”
He smiled weakly in acknowledgement, and disappeared into his new room.
Though Gaius had implied the storage room might take several days to clean up properly, in truth it only took a few hours of them both working together to redistribute the items stored there throughout the rest of Gaius’ rooms. Merlin had also helped to restore and reinforce the broken railing, with magic, and he wondered how someone’s expression could be both pleased and disapproving at the same time. It was nearly dark when Gaius declared them finished and began fussing with a pot of soup over the fire. The contents looked and smelled less than entirely appealing, but Merlin wasn’t one to complain in the face of generosity. Though the soup was bland at best, and appalling if he were truly honest, the tea Gaius brewed for them was quite good. Merlin tidied the bowls away and returned to sit with Gaius at the table, unsure of what to say or do.
Gaius smiled at him kindly. “How is your mother, then? I have often meant to visit, but you will notice that around here things always seem to crop up when you least expect it.”
“She’s well,” Merlin said simply. “There isn’t much excitement in Ealdor, but we keep busy. It was a milder winter and the harvest last year was quite good.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I haven’t seen Hunith since she was younger than you yourself. Perhaps, now that you are here, she will find cause to visit me.”
“Perhaps. Did you two correspond much? To be truthful, I had no idea we had any family left. She had never spoken of you until a week ago.”
Gaius shook his head. “We exchanged a few, very intermittent letters. Do you read?”
“Yes,” Merlin replied a bit too emphatically, then coloured a bit. “I mean, I know my letters and how to write things down, but there aren’t a lot of books in Ealdor, so I haven’t had much practice. I’m probably a bit slow at it.”
“Not to worry, Merlin. I understand. If you have the basics, that’s a good place to start. I expect you will get a lot of practice in the near future. I take it you don’t know Greek or Latin.”
Merlin shook his head, embarrassed. “No.”
“Don’t trouble yourself about it. You came here to learn. It would rather defeat the purpose if you arrived knowing everything already,” Gaius said, gesturing a touch wildly with his hand and knocking the teapot off the table.
Startled, Merlin froze the falling crockery and its scalding liquid in midair.
Gaius’ eyes widened and he muttered, “Incredible.”
Merlin stared back at him with a look of startled horror. “I’ve done it again.”
“Can you return it to the table?” Gaius asked with great curiosity.
With no more than a steady gaze, the pot righted itself and the suspended liquid poured itself back inside with a small splash.
“Sorry,” Merlin apologised.
“Absolutely incredible. Do you say the incantation in your mind? How do you do it?” Gaius inquired, still sounding rather astonished.
Merlin shrugged. “There’s no incantation. I don’t know how I do it. A lot of the time, it just happens by accident. I saw the teapot falling and I didn’t want it to break, so I stopped it.”
“How long have you been able to do this?”
“My whole life. My mother says I was moving things with magic before I could talk.”
“You will have to be very careful to keep your abilities secret. I scarcely need remind you the penalty if you are caught.”
“I’ve not done badly until now. No one back home ever caught me,” Merlin said, conveniently telling himself that Will didn’t count. Will hadn’t actually caught him; he had told Will.
“I hope for your sake you manage that here, as well,” Gaius said, emptying his cup of tea and putting the pot away. He turned back and nodded to Merlin. “Go on to bed now, Merlin. I expect you’re tired after your journey.”
Merlin, who had been trying to conceal his tiredness since they finished working, allowed himself a proper yawn and headed towards his room. “Goodnight Gaius.”
Gaius had been self deprecating about the accommodations he was able to provide, Merlin woke after a good night’s sleep in the most comfortable bed he had ever slept in. When he had been very small, he had shared the only bed in their home with his mother, but when he had become too gangly and fidgety his mother had moved him onto a pallet on the floor near the fire. It hadn’t ever seemed particularly uncomfortable, but even his mother’s straw filled mattress hadn’t been as comfortable as the one in his new bed. During the night, he had been able to hear a good deal more noise that he was accustomed to, but sleep came easily to him and he woke feeling refreshed. Something odd niggled at the edge of his mind, like a dream he couldn’t quite remember, but he pushed that aside and rose for the day.
Gaius sent him delivering remedies to various members of the court claiming it would help him get to know his way around the castle quicker, although it had mostly succeeded in getting him completely turned around and needing to ask for directions several times. After that, he ventured down to the market for some supplies that needed to be picked up. He managed to get lost trying to find the right street and ended up at the gates of the city watching a group of burly looking men pick on a boy not much younger than himself. The apparent leader of the group began throwing knives into the target the boy was carrying. Without realizing he had made the decision to do something, Merlin found himself confronting the rude blond hurling knives and insults.
“Come on, that’s enough,” he said, going for a friendly cajoling tone, but beginning to feel nervous as the muscular man with the weapons turned his focus.
The man gave him an astounded look. “What?”
Merlin knew he was committed now and tried desperately to keep his tone light. “You’ve had your fun, my friend.”
His heart began beating quickly in his chest as the rather obviously stronger man sauntered towards him. “Do I know you?”
Keeping his most amiable smile in place, Merlin extended a hand and tried not to look nervous. “I’m Merlin.”
“So I don’t know you,” the man responded flatly, completely ignoring Merlin’s hand.
“No,” Merlin said a bit weakly, dropping his hand.
“Yet you called me ‘friend,’” the man said, voice dripping with condescension.
Merlin’s heart was still racing. The blond had stopped advancing on him, but something about the man’s presence made his magic crackle just beneath his skin. He had the sudden feeling that things might go very badly, very quickly. “My mistake.”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Taking a step backwards and turning away, he said, “I’d never have a friend who could be such an ass.”
There was a small frisson of amusement from the man’s companions. “Or I one who could be so stupid. Tell me Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?”
He knew he had made a very serious misjudgement in stepping in, but he had committed himself now and wasn’t going to back down. His magic wouldn’t let him back down, thrumming through him as it was. In the face of arrogance, he threw arrogance back. “Nope.”
“Do you want me to help?”
“I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“Why?” the blond said with a laugh. “What are you going to do to me?”
“You have no idea.”
“Be my guest. Come on. Come on! Come ooooonnnnn!”
It was a stupid thing to do, Merlin knew that, but he couldn’t help himself. His magic was clamouring at him to do something and if he didn’t find a mundane way to release the energy, there was going to be a very visible display of magic. He threw a punch.
Which the arrogant blond caught neatly and twisted his arm behind his back. “I’ll have you in jail for that.”
“Who do you think you are? The king?” Merlin spat back.
His arm was twisted harder. “No, I’m his son. Arthur.”
Merlin’s stomach bottomed out, knowing he’d made a right mess of things, astoundingly quickly, but a traitorous part of him, the part of him that was magic, felt an odd thrill at being manhandled by the prince. For a split second, his mind flashed with an image of a very different hold from someone who both was and wasn’t the man at his back. A warm smile of affection and a hearty slap on the shoulder flickered in his memory, and were gone.
As soon as he was shoved away into the iron grip of two men at arms the pounding thrum of his magic departed as well, leaving Merlin suddenly drained and clumsier than usual as he was dragged roughly towards the dungeons. The only thing that made the horrible leaden feeling in his gut more bearable was knowing that the wild magic that had threatened to break free and expose him was now manageable again. He might be locked up for who knows how long, but he wasn’t bound for the block... at least he thought not. He had no idea what the punishment for throwing a punch at a prince was, but it couldn’t be execution, could it?
It had been a long, chilly night in the dungeons, but ultimately, Merlin had slept in far worse places. He woke to the low sound of someone calling his name. Jerking awake, he looked to the door, but no one was there. The voice called again, and it sounded like someone was speaking to him through the floor, which couldn’t be right. The dungeons were underneath the castle. Even if there happened to be something below him, the floors were solid stone. He crouched and pressed his ear to the floor, but the voice was still vague and directionless. Merlin had no idea what to make of it.
He didn’t have much time to think on it, however. Gaius arrived shortly after the voice faded away with the news that a day in the stocks was to be his punishment for taking a swing at the prince. It certainly wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to him, all things considered, but being pelted with rotten vegetables was rather humiliating. A few people came up to talk to him while the younger children scrounged around for more projectiles once they had run out, and generally they were kind to him. He even received a hand in friendship from Lady Morgana’s handmaiden. Guinevere had said he was brave to stand up to the bullying prince, but Merlin only felt foolish.
He wasn’t sure what had come over him. Stunts like the one he had pulled yesterday were more like something Will might do. He often got dragged into his friend’s foolish antics, but he never initiated them. Also, for all the difficulties he had been having with his magic, he had never felt quite so out of control as he had when Prince Arthur had moved into his space, close enough for them to touch. Merlin had felt jittery with pent up energy he could barely contain. In the dark hours of the long night, he had ample time to reflect on just how close he had come to letting loose a torrent of magic for all of Camelot to see. The thought of it filled his heart with a cold dread.
Sometime after midday, one of the castle guards came to unshackle him. His legs ached and his back was stiff, but he managed a small smile at the man. The guard ignored him and replaced the heavy wooden yoke, then disappeared into the guardhouse, manacles in hand. Merlin ruffled his hair to shake out the worst of the vegetable matter and shuffled back towards the castle in embarrassment. His wrists were a bit raw and his shirt was a mess, but on the whole he hadn’t come out of his lapse in judgement too badly. The thought of Gaius’ disappointment waiting for him made his heart heavy, but there was little help for that now.
Merlin tried to sneak through the main room and into his own without being noticed. He knew getting through without being berated was too much to hope for, but he wished for it all the same. Gaius looked up from his work with a raised eyebrow and a moderately disapproving expression, yet said nothing. When Merlin opened the door to his room he managed a smile at the sight of a washbasin, soap and a cloth sitting on the small table. Merlin picked up the bucket of water from the floor and filled the basin, heating the water by magic without a second thought.
“Thanks Gaius,” he called softly through the door, before shutting it and trying to regain some of his battered pride.
When he had washed and changed his shirt, Merlin slunk out of his room, eyes downcast. He knew Gaius had more to say on the subject of his altercation with the prince and the reprieve he had been granted was certainly over. It wasn’t the words that made a dressing down from his mother awful; it was the look of disappointment on her face that hurt him most. Merlin had no doubt Gaius had an equally guilt inducing expression that would make whatever he was about to hear that much worse.
Gaius set a bowl of soup in front of the empty chair and sat down across from it with a cup of tea in hand. Merlin accepted the meal gratefully, as he hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day, and sat down to take what was coming to him.
“Care to explain what happened yesterday?” Gaius asked in a voice that was wry but not unkind.
Merlin kept his eyes fixed on the bowl in front of him. “Didn’t they tell you?”
“I have some idea of what transpired, though I do believe I have very much gotten only one side of the story.”
“I got lost on my way through town, and then I stumbled into this group of men picking on a boy. They were throwing knives at him!” Merlin said hotly and glanced up.
Gaius’ eyebrow quirked upward, speaking volumes without saying a word.
“He was trying to move the target for them, and this bully kept throwing knives at him! I told him to stop.”
“That bully, Merlin, was Prince Arthur.”
“I know that now. That doesn’t make what he was doing right, though.”
“I happen to agree with you, but antagonizing him wasn’t a wise move.”
“I’d do it again.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. Still you don’t seem the sort to resort to fists. Or was that an exaggeration on the Prince’s part.”
Merlin shook his head. “No, I threw a punch.”
“What on earth possessed you to do that?”
“It was doing that or something much worse. The closer I got, the harder my magic was to control. It was almost like a swarm of flies, buzzing on my skin, and if I didn’t do something, they were all going to fly off me and everyone would know. Throwing a punch seemed like the safer option.”
Gaius let out a snort of exasperated mirth. “Only you would think starting a fist fight with the prince a safe option.”
“Safer. And for the record, Arthur was literally begging me to hit him.”
“That’s Prince Arthur to you, Merlin.”
“Prince Prat, if you ask me.”
“Getting into the habit of referring to him like that won’t help your cause.”
“He’s a bully, Gaius. What kind of king is he going to be if no one tells him he’s being an ass?”
“I’ll admit the young prince lacks a bit in the areas of empathy and compassion. I’m certain he will mature with age.”
“What does he need for that then? Grey hairs? Come on, Gaius, he must be about the same age as I am, and you don’t see me throwing knives at people.”
“Just punches at royalty.” Merlin opened his mouth to respond, but Gaius raised a hand in supplication. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, Merlin, but it isn’t your place to interfere. In fact, if being close to him affected you magic so greatly, I suggest you do your best to avoid the prince as much as possible.”
“You won’t get any argument from me. I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“And be respectful if you do encounter him. Now, if you’re done, I have a list of things I need from the market. I sent someone to fetch them yesterday,” Gaius said, quirking his lips into a wry grin, “but they never returned. It’s so hard to find good help these days.”
“I’m sorry about all this, Gaius. I hope I haven’t caused you too much trouble,” Merlin said quietly.
Gaius shook his head. “I actually think the king was more amused than upset by it, but do try to stay out of trouble this time.”
Merlin nodded and accepted the list Gaius handed him. “Straight there and back.”
Merlin was certain he had felt Arthur’s, that is Prince Arthur’s, presence before he saw the blond head come around the corner. Merlin kept his eyes downcast and did his best to ignore the sudden buzzing sensation his magic caused as it crackled on his skin. It was too much to hope, however, that the prat would ignore him.
“How’s your knee walking coming along?” called Arthur.
Merlin gritted his teeth and kept walking, determined to stick with his plan of avoiding and ignoring the prince.
Of course, the massive pillock couldn’t leave it there. The mocking voice followed him. “Aww, don’t run away!”
Merlin clenched his fists at his side and stopped walking. This wasn’t going to work. His magic was screaming at him to be used. He could feel his body trembling with it. This was bad, so very bad.
Merlin spoke without turning around. “From you?”
“Oh thank god! I thought you were deaf as well as dumb.”
“Look, I’ve told you you’re an ass,” Merlin said, turning around. “I just didn’t realize you were a royal one. Oh, what are you going to do? You got your daddy’s men to protect you?”
Arthur laughed, shaking his head. “I could take you apart with one blow.”
He knew the bravado was stupid, he really did, but the prat had confronted him and Merlin couldn’t seem to stop himself from saying, “I could take you apart with less than that.”
“You sure?” Arthur asked snidely.
Merlin set his jaw and pushed up his sleeves. There was something about this infuriating ass that wouldn’t let him back down. Arthur and his few companions roared with laughter, but when they saw him stand his ground, one of them handed the prince a mace.
Arthur tossed the weapon towards Merlin. “Here you go, big man.”
The mace fell on the ground in front of him, and Merlin bent down to pick it up while a second weapon was handed to the prince. Arthur accepted it and began spinning the spiked metal ball above his head confidently. “Come on, then. I warn you, I have been trained to kill since birth.”
Merlin gripped his mace handle tightly, trying to remain calm and will away his magic. With more swagger than he felt, Merlin sniped back, “Wow, and how long have you been training to be a prat?”
For a moment, Arthur stopped spinning his mace and grinned in what looked like genuine amusement. “You can’t address me like that.”
Hoping levity might diffuse the situation; Merlin returned with, “I’m sorry. How long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?”
The prince was grinning widely as he exchanged a glance with one of the men at his back, then suddenly came swinging at Merlin with the mace. Quick reflexes allowed him to duck in time, but it was a near miss. The amused grin dropped from Arthur’s face and Merlin began backing up frantically.
Merlin didn’t actually want to fight the prince. He didn’t want anything to do with the prince, but he hadn’t been able to just walk away either. His magic wouldn’t let him walk away. His magic also wouldn’t let him lose the fight outright, either. As he was chased through the market by the mace wielding prince, his magic leapt out to objects around him with less than a thought. Obstacles moved into Prince Arthur’s path, hanging displays in the booths tangled with the mace, and rope uncoiled to trip him up. Merlin was horrified by his complete lack of control, but no one else seemed to have noticed. The people gathered around watching only saw their arrogant prince turn into a stumbling fool. Merlin would have laughed if he hadn’t been so frantic to rein in his magic.
When Arthur stepped in a bucket and fell over backwards, Merlin used every ounce of concentration he had to pull the wild magic back into himself. After a long moment, the buzzing sensation on his skin diminished significantly, and Merlin felt like he could breathe again. Then something hard hit him across the back, a foot impacted with his knee and he was smacked on the head with a broom. He fell down in a painful sprawl of limbs and looked up to see Arthur’s flushed face looking down at him with self satisfied smugness. Once again, Merlin had a brief flash of an Arthur who wasn’t the prince, who was flushed with happiness and looking down at him with...
The moment ended abruptly when Merlin was hauled to his feet by a pair of scowling city guards. Before he could be hauled towards the dungeons, the prince waved them off.
“Let him go. He may be an idiot, but he’s a brave one...” Arthur said to the guards, then fixed his gaze on Merlin.
Furrowing his brow, Arthur shook his head. “There’s something about you Merlin... I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
As the prince walked away, the crowd of observers dispersed and the magic that had crackled across Merlin’s skin faded to what for him passed as normal. His head felt like it was spinning. Perhaps he was going mad. He staggered away from the market street and leaned against the side of a building, his entire body trembling.
The prince had said there was something about him... well there was something about Arthur too. Something about Prince Arthur sent him reeling, just from being close and when Arthur walked away, that something made his stomach drop and his body ache. Something about Arthur made Merlin see tiny glimpses of a man who wasn’t a prince. Whatever that something was, it was going to get him killed if he wasn’t more careful.
It took him a long time to stop shaking. The people in the market had long since gone back to their business by the time Merlin felt composed enough to attend to his original task. Gaius’ handwriting wasn’t the easiest to decipher, but most of the vendors already had a fair idea of what the physician normally purchased and he was able to acquire all the items in relatively short order. A few people gave him appraising looks or disparaging glances and Merlin ducked his head in embarrassment. The plan had been to blend into the crowd. Then again, the plan hadn’t really accounted for the unpredictability of his magic, and really it should have.
Gaius was waiting rather impatiently when Merlin returned. It was obvious from the disapproving look he got as soon as he walked through the door that word of the altercation in the market had already spread through the castle. The small frown and raised eyebrow were more potent than any words Gaius could have said and Merlin left the collection of supplies on the table before slinking into his room.
In the end, he had gotten off remarkably lightly. There were scrapes on his hands and a few bruises on his back, but the hardening lump on the back of his head where he had been hit with the broom and the swelling on his left knee were the worst of it. Gaius came in to give his injuries a once over, but thankfully didn’t say a word about how he had gotten them. Instead he offered Merlin a tonic to ease the pain and a salve to work into the swelling bruises, then sent him off to deliver remedies throughout the castle.
The castle was a remarkable building. The thick stone walls echoed with the footsteps of countless courtiers, servants, knights, and nobles. Growing up in Ealdor, his experience had been of simple wooden houses built for function, but here everything was richly ornamented. There were tapestries and statues throughout the corridors and even the door lintels were decorated with elaborate carvings.
He had to backtrack a few times, but in the end Merlin found all of Gaius’ patients reasonably quickly. The last remedy to deliver was a small bottle of something yellow that was for one of the guests who had arrived last night. Gaius had told him the Lady Helen was to perform at a special feast the following evening and the yellow concoction was for her voice. Personally, Merlin couldn’t imagine anything that vile looking being beneficial, but he made his way to deliver it all the same.
Merlin knocked on the door, which was standing ajar, and when no one answered he poked his head inside. The room was quiet, and Lady Helen was obviously off doing... whatever it was ladies did with their time. Merlin set the bottle on the table by her mirror and was about to leave when he noticed something out of place. Amidst the fancy combs and fine jewellery on the table was a plain corn doll. It looked very much like the sort of thing young girls in Ealdor might play with, though this one was new and well made. What would a noble woman, one unmarried and without children, want with a doll?
He surveyed the table more carefully and noticed a book tucked away under an ornamented shawl. He pulled back the fabric to pick it up, but when his fingers brushed the cover he received a shock. Snatching his hand back, he rubbed the pads of his fingers and held his other hand over the book, close, but not touching. Nothing happened. Merlin shrugged and was about to try picking up the book again when he heard footsteps approaching the door. Not wanting to get caught snooping, he hastily rearranged the shawl and picked up the bottle of medicine.
Lady Helen breezed into the room, and started when she saw him. “What are you doing in here?”
“I’m... I...” he thrust the bottle little bottle in his hands out towards her and fumbled for the right words. “I was sent to deliver this. It’s for your voice.”
She took the medicine from him with a distasteful expression on her face, careful not to touch his hand. He gave his best unassuming smile, nodded a little, and left the room quickly. Lady Helen didn’t seem to be the friendliest sort and he felt the urgent need to get well away from her. Once out in the corridor, Merlin glanced back, feeling unsettled, as if something important might have just happened, but he brushed it off. Nobles were probably all a bit cold and discomfited by peasants; at least the ones that weren’t trying to smash your head in with a mace.
When he returned to Gaius’ rooms, he was put to work grinding some very pungent herbs into a fine paste while the physician nattered on about the properties of various plants and the different concoctions that could be made from them, but Merlin didn’t take much of it in. He knew he should be paying closer attention, however his mind was full of the oddities of Camelot. As he pounded away, his mind wandered the castle and the town trying to take in all he had seen. After a while, Gaius noticed he wasn’t paying attention and stopped trying to instruct.
“Did your mother teach you how to cook?” the physician asked, giving him a sceptical look.
Merlin was startled to attention, but nodded. “She tried. I never manage to get bread right, but I can make a fairly decent soup and roast a chicken without burning the house down.”
Gaius smiled and stated dryly, “I am filled with confidence by that assertion. All right then, stop mangling those herbs and see if you can manage supper for us.”
Merlin set down the mortar and pestle and did a quick survey of Gaius’ pantry before collecting a bucket to retrieve water from the well. On his way out the door, Merlin saw Gaius examine the paste he had been working on and shake his head. Merlin sighed heavily as he shut the door behind him. He really wished he was good at something besides getting into troublesome situations.
Despite being as tired as he had been after four days travel, Merlin found himself restless that night. He tossed and turned, unable to settle. Just as he felt himself dropping off, he was startled awake by the sound of someone calling his name.
Merlin
He jerked up in bed and looked to the door. It was closed. Feeling slightly rattled, and very curious, he slipped his feet into his boots and pulled on a jacket against the cool night air.
Merlin
He heard the voice again, but when he peered out of his room, it was obvious Gaius was deeply asleep. The voice was deep and raspy, but it sounded like it was coming from a long way off. Merlin wondered how it was Gaius hadn’t been woken by the sound. He moved as silently as he could across the room, knocking a tin cup to the floor rather noisily as he passed the table, but Gaius didn’t wake. Perhaps the man was simply a sound sleeper.
Merlin
He followed the sound down through the castle towards the dungeons. The staircase he found was not the one that led to the cells where he had been held the previous evening. This one was much steeper and went deep under the castle. At the bottom of the stairs, there were lit torches and two bored guards sitting at a small table playing dicing games. He distracted them easily with a flick of his magic, sending the dice skittering down a dark passage where the guards had to crawl around in the shadows to find them. Merlin slipped past them quickly, grabbed and lit one of the unused torches and ducked through the gated entrance down a narrower set of steep stairs.
Merlin
The ceiling was lower here and the stone walls felt close. There was plenty of dust on the steps and cobwebs collected in the corners. It didn’t look like anyone came down here, which made Merlin wonder why there had been guards stationed at the top. Judging by their expressions, it was obvious guards couldn’t hear the voice calling from below. When the steps levelled off, he followed a low tunnel with broken remnants of statues and old furniture. The voice was getting louder.
Merlin
He turned another corner and stepped out onto a ledge in a vast cavern. The walls were not made of carved blocks, but rough and imperfect. It looked like a natural cave with stalactites hanging down from the parts of the ceiling he could see and the bases of large stalagmites jutting up from the floor, though most appeared to have broken tops. Reaching his torch out over the ledge, Merlin tried to see into the shadowed crevices, but the cave was too large for his small light to do much good.
Uncertainly, he called out, “Hello?”
A raspy chuckle echoed off the walls, but no one answered.
“Where are you?” he asked, his eyes darting around, trying to find the source of the sound.
There was a heaving clanking of metal, and strong burst of wind and something massive dropped down from above. Merlin took a couple steps back from the ledge and watched in astonishment as a massive dragon landed heavily on a rocky mound just visible in the light cast by his torch.
He noticed the beast’s keen eyes and massive teeth as it stretched its neck towards him and spoke, “I am here.”
For a long moment they both stated at each other appraisingly. Merlin felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, but the alarm he felt at the sight of such a fearsome creature was tempered by curiosity. He had heard plenty of stories about dragons, but he had thought them just that, stories, tales too impossible to be real. Yet here in front of him was one. It could have easily snatched him off the ledge when it swooped down from its hiding spot in the cave, but it didn’t seem interested in attacking him.
It cocked its head from one side to the other, studying him, then said, “So young and small. I hadn’t expected you to look so young. Such a great destiny for shoulders so small.”
“What do you mean? You expected me?”
The dragon gave a small nod. “Your arrival in Camelot is no accident. You are here for a reason.”
“I’m here to try to learn to control my magic,” Merlin stated.
“In some respects, I suppose, but that is not the real reason you are here.”
“Is there a reason why I’m like this?”
“Arthur is the Once and Future King who will bring unity and peace to the land of Albion, but he faces many threats from friend and foe alike.”
Merlin furrowed his brow. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Everything,” the dragon stated. “Without you, he will never succeed. You and your magic exist to protect him.”
“No,” Merlin shook his head, “no you’ve got this wrong.”
The dragon smirked. “There is no right or wrong, only what is, and isn’t.”
“I don’t generally wish anyone ill, but if someone wants to kill him, I think they’d be doing the world a service.”
The dragon chuckled at him. “None of us can choose our destiny, Merlin... and none of us can escape it.”
“No. No. No way. You must have made some mistake. I don’t want anything to do with Arthur. I can’t have anything to do with him.”
“Those are two very different things, warlock. The first is quite untrue. He makes your magic sing.”
“He makes it go crazy. I can’t be around him.”
The dragon ignored him and continued, “And without him your powers will never be stable. You need each other. You always have.”
“What do you mean?”
“You will remember in time,” the dragon said, stretching his wings.
Scales rippled in the flickering torch light as muscles bunched beneath them. With a mighty push and heavy flapping, the dragon rose above Merlin and disappeared into the darkness of the cave above him, a heavy metal chain clanking and rattling against the stones behind it.
“Hey wait! What do you mean? Remember what? I need to know more!” Merlin shouted after the dragon, but no response came.
Merlin was left alone in the small circle of light his torch cast, staring into the darkness and trying to make sense of what he had just been told.
Merlin spent the following day running errands in a sleepy haze. When he had returned to his room after meeting the dragon, he had not slept well. The words the dragon had spoken about needing Arthur rattled him. There was something between them, that was undeniable, but it scared him. His magic was next to uncontrollable when in close proximity to the prince. Sure, his magic had the potential to be a fine tool to protect the arrogant prince, but that couldn’t be his purpose in life. Even if he wanted to protect the ass, doing so would get him killed. Magic was outlawed. His very existence was illegal. Why on earth would he want to protect someone who would kill him the second his magic was exposed? What good would that bring Albion? Those with magic wanted peace too, but a unified kingdom with a Pendragon as ruler wasn’t going to be very peaceful for them. The dragon had also said he would remember, but remember what? He thought his memory was generally pretty good, and he had only met Arthur a day ago. What could he possibly have forgotten? There was nothing to remember.
The questions tumbled around in his head over and over as he delivered medicines and fetched things for Gaius. In his distraction, he even managed to wander into Lady Morgana’s chambers while she was changing behind a screen, but thankfully Gwen turned up and saved him from a horribly embarrassing moment, and potentially another trip to the dungeons. It seemed that missteps were by far easier to make in Camelot, and the consequences for them were much more dire than in Ealdor. Back home, accidentally walking in on a woman changing would get him a slap across the face and endless teasing from the village. Merlin knew he needed to be more careful here, but his racing mind made it difficult to focus, and he didn’t know what was considered a serious offense until he blundered his way into it. For all he had found life in the small village restrictive, it was also more lenient.
In the evening, Gaius brought Merlin to the banquet hall to help attend at the feast served in Lady Helen’s honour. Merlin trailed behind the physician as he made his way through the room, checking on the health of nobles and servants alike and listening patiently to questions and concerns. It was obvious that Gaius was well liked by everyone, and accorded more respect than his position alone might dictate. For the most part, people ignored Merlin, but those he had delivered medicines to acknowledged his presence with a small nod or brief smile, which pleased him. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as terrible at this as he thought.
When Prince Arthur entered the room, Merlin knew about it immediately. Like the times before his magic crackled along his skin and raced down his spine. Gaius gave him a concerned look, but Merlin shook his head. He would be fine, so long as he was able to keep his distance. He made certain to stay as close to Gaius as possible and did his best to ignore the prince. It felt a bit like trying to ignore an angry bear you were trapped in a cave with, but keeping up with Gaius’ continuous stream of information was a good distraction. He knew he would have a hard time keeping straight all the names, positions and relations, but Merlin hoped he would pick it up quickly. He had a knack for faces and regardless of whatever it was the dragon figured he didn’t remember, he wasn’t bad at retaining information... so long as he was interested in it.
Gradually, the gathering began to find their places at the tables and Merlin found a spot on the wall to watch. Gaius was accorded a position at a table, but Merlin was not. The hall rose as the king entered and welcomed Lady Helen to the small performer’s platform at the end of the room. When Uther was seated and everyone had shifted into a comfortable position to watch the performance, Lady Helen began to sing. Merlin could see why everyone had been so excited. She had a rich, full voice that seemed to fill the hall to the corners. He was no expert, but it was obvious she was quite talented. He smiled and looked around the room at all the people watching her, as if spellbound.
When the first head began nodding, a sinking feeling in his stomach told Merlin that spellbound might be all too accurate. The richly dressed nobles and ladies leaned forward on their arms and rested their heads against their plates. Even the king was beginning to nod. When he felt drowsiness begin to affect him, he clapped his hands to his ears and watched in wide eyed shock as the entire room fell into an enchanted sleep. Servants leaned against the walls and slumped heavily to the floor. The candles dimmed and went out and everything was still, except for Lady Helen who was moving across the room, towards the head table.
A flash of silver came from her wrist as she pulled a dagger from her sleeve and Merlin could see her eyeing both the king and the prince with vindictiveness, her voice never faltering. He glanced around the room frantically, trying to decide what he was going to do. She was a sorceress, clearly, but Merlin knew nothing about fighting people with magic. He was good at making things float and moving objects, but he didn’t know any spells that might stop her. His eyes caught sight of a large chandelier suspended from the ceiling, directly over where Lady Helen was standing. His magic leapt towards it, breaking the chain it hung from and sent it crashing to the floor, trapping the sorceress beneath it. She stopped singing, and her face, which had once been young and beautiful, became distorted with wrinkles and age spots. Her lustrous dark hair turned coarse and grey. She looked... she looked just like the woman he had seen in the courtyard, the one who had railed against King Uther for executing her son, the one who had disappeared in a swirl of wind and magic.
The hall around him slowly began to awaken. Everyone was groggy and bemused. The king and Arthur stood from their seats, looking down at the woman pinned beneath the chandelier in shock. All eyes in the hall turned to her as she pushed herself up on her arms and seized the dagger. Merlin watched as the old woman threw the dagger with incredible strength and accuracy towards Arthur.
Without pausing to think, Merlin sprang from his place against the wall. The world around him seemed to slow, as if everything was moving underwater, the dagger included. In three steps he was beside Arthur, pulling on his shoulders and dragging him out of the dagger’s path. They collapsed in a heap on the floor as the weapon embedded itself deeply into the back of Arthur’s chair. Merlin’s body was vibrating with energy at every point where he was touching the prince. He glanced up at the dagger, then down at Arthur, drawing a shaky breath at what he saw.
The blade in the old man’s hands sunk deeply into Arthur’s chest, crimson blood welling up from the torn flesh and sliding over pale skin as he watched in horror.
The feathered end of an arrow stuck out of Arthur’s neck, his face a mask of shock as he gasped for air.
The dirt stained face of Arthur looked up at him, lips blue-grey with a bright smear of blood at the corners of his mouth as he gasped for breath.
And then, he saw the prince again. Prince Arthur looked back at him, obviously startled to find himself tackled to the floor. Merlin scrambled to his feet and took several steps back as Arthur found his feet again.
Uther looked at him in surprise. “You saved his life. That debt must be repaid.”
Merlin took another step backwards, stumbling over his words. “Um... well...”
“Don’t be so modest. You shall be rewarded.”
“No, honestly, you don’t have to, your highness,” he said, eyes focussed on Arthur who was staring at him in dumbfounded shock. Merlin expected a very similar expression graced his own face.
“Absolutely,” Uther said, ignoring his protests. “A deed such as this merits something quite special. You shall be given a position in the royal household, as Prince Arthur’s manservant.”
The hall around them came to life with a smattering of applause and the low thrum of conversation starting up again. Merlin stared at Arthur in horrified shock, and found the expression returned with equal sentiment. What had he done?! He couldn’t be Arthur’s manservant. He could scarcely be in the same room without a dangerously obvious display of magic. He’d be dead within a week, surely.
Arthur appeared to recover himself first, turning suddenly and striding from the room without a word. Merlin was still staring after him when Gaius reached him and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“What did you do?” Gaius asked softly.
“Made a big mistake,” Merlin breathed.
“Let’s go back to my rooms,” Gaius said, steering them through the crowd towards the door.
Chapter 3: Destiny Unlooked For
Chapter Text
Merlin sat slumped on the stool next to his small table, staring at the flickering candle flame, for once not doing anything to make it dance and sway in unnatural ways. He was going to have to leave Camelot. That seemed to be the only solution to his problem. Three days, and he had come closer to exposing his magic than he had in his entire lifetime in Ealdor. He couldn’t imagine going back to his mother and telling her he had failed. He couldn’t continue to bring her danger, just by his presence, either. Perhaps if he travelled far enough, he’d find a place where magic was accepted. Maybe there were druids somewhere who would take him in. Maybe some place far away...
His thoughts were interrupted by Gaius coming into his room. The old physician was smiling. “It seems you’re a hero.”
“I’m an idiot.”
“No, you’re just too kind hearted for your own good. I knew that from the moment I met you.”
“I used magic, Gaius, in front of all those people.”
Gaius nodded. “You did, but in a way no one noticed. You did a very good thing tonight, Merlin. Perhaps you’ve found a use for your magic.”
“What do you mean?”
“You saved Arthur’s life. Perhaps that’s its purpose. Perhaps that’s the reason it reacts so strongly to his presence.”
“My destiny...” he said sceptically.
“So it would seem,” Gaius said and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, holding a package wrapped in red cloth in front of him. “I have something that belongs to you, Merlin.”
“What is it?” Merlin asked.
Carefully, Gaius pulled back the fabric to reveal an old book, bound in red leather with tarnished metal clasps. “This book was given to me almost twenty years ago. I was told a young man would come seeking help and that this book belonged to him.”
“Twenty years ago?” he asked, accepting the book and tracing his fingers over the worn leather cover. “I wasn’t even born yet.”
“I know. I wasn’t sure at first, but now I’m certain it’s for you. I hope it will help you in ways I cannot.”
Merlin unlatched the clasps and let the book fall open in his hands. The pages were filled with notes and pictures and scraps of paper were tucked in here and there with quickly scribbled words. It would likely take him a long time to read any of it, but even at first glance the subject matter was obvious. “It’s a book of magic.”
“You must keep it hidden,” Gaius said in gentle warning.
He looked up with a smile on his face, which broadened when he saw it echoed on Gaius’. “I’ll study every word. You’ll help me if I have trouble with the reading?”
Gaius nodded. “I promised I would.”
There came a knock on the door to the outside chamber and a voice called, “Merlin, Prince Arthur has sent for you right away.”
“What am I going to do?” he hissed softly.
“It sounds like destiny is calling. You’d best go find out what he wants.”
“How am I supposed to keep my magic secret?”
“It’s obvious to me now that keeping the two of you apart would be next to impossible. Perhaps being close to the prince is what your magic wants. Try working with it, instead of against it.”
“Merlin?” the voice called again.
“Just a moment, I’m coming,” he called back.
Merlin carefully closed the book and wrapped it up in the fabric again. For lack of a better hiding place, he stuffed it under his pillow. Gaius smiled, but Merlin gave him an uncertain look. “Wish me luck. I’ll need it if I’m going to make it to the end of the week alive.”
Arthur stood at the window of his room, overlooking the courtyard frowning. Merlin could already feel the prickle of magic dancing on his skin and was incredibly nervous. The man who had escorted him to the prince’s rooms made a short bow and exited the room, leaving Merlin alone with the prince.
They stood in silence for a long time, before Arthur spoke, "I do not approve of my father's decision."
"Neither do I," Merlin agreed.
"I didn't ask for your opinion on the matter. Don't you know that servants are to be respectful and largely silent?"
"I've never been a servant. I wouldn't know."
"I can tell you don't know much,” Arthur said snidely. “You will be responsible for the running of my chambers as well as attending me throughout the day. I take breakfast in my rooms at first bell in the morning. I expect it to be here on time. Generally, I join the king at council in the morning. While I am occupied with that, you are to clean my room, change the linens, and attend to the laundry and any other tasks that require your attention within my chambers. On most days, I take the midday meal with my father and Lady Morgana in one of the smaller halls. You will attend me at the meals there.
“In the afternoons I will be either training with the knights or on patrol in the lower town or surrounding villages. As there are plenty of competent squires amongst our number, I am not likely to have need of your dubious services at that time. If there are no jobs requiring your attention, you will be at liberty until after training or patrol is finished. When I return, I expect a bath to be waiting for me. Where I take the evening meal depends on events within the castle. You will be kept advised as to where you will be needed to serve. After supper, my armour will need to be cleaned and polished and my swords and knives sharpened. Once these tasks are complete, you will be free for the day, unless otherwise instructed. Is that clear?"
"Hold on, I don't even know how to do most of those things. I've never cleaned armour before."
"I suggest you spend tomorrow afternoon in the armoury figuring it out. One of the squires can teach you. Ignorance is no excuse for incompetence. That goes for everything else as well. Understood?"
"Yes sire," Merlin said condescendingly.
Arthur turned his head sharply and glared. "You will watch your tone, Merlin."
"Yes sire," Merlin said, a touch more respectfully.
"You are dismissed. Remember, breakfast at first bell. Do not be late."
Merlin glared, but said nothing as he turned and strode from the room.
He couldn't do this. The day had barely started and he was already making a mess of things. Merlin had thought he wasn't doing too badly when he arrived in Arthur's chambers just as the morning bells finished striking. Navigating the kitchens had been an overwhelming experience, but he managed catch the attention of a harried looking kitchen maid who had helped him put together a tray of breakfast. He had even managed not to get turned around in the labyrinth of corridors leading to the royal chambers, nor had he tripped and spilled the whole lot on the way there. He was feeling rather pleased with himself when he set the tray on the table. Arthur, however, was less impressed.
"What is this?"
"Breakfast," Merlin responded, guilelessly.
"Is this your idea of a joke?"
Merlin was genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"
Arthur took the spoon and scooped up some porridge, letting it slop back into the bowl wetly. "You may think you're being amusing, but I don't have patience for this, especially not in the morning."
“I honestly don’t know what the problem is. You asked for breakfast in your rooms by morning bell, this looks very much like breakfast to me.”
“Exactly,” Arthur said, cuffing Merlin on the back of the head, “it looks like breakfast for you, but I’ve never been served a breakfast that looked like this.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“You bring me runny porridge and rye bread with no butter and you have the gall to ask what’s wrong with it!?”
“It’s what the kitchens gave me. How was I supposed to know you wanted something special?”
Arthur let out a very put upon sigh. “What, exactly, did you ask the kitchens for?”
“I said I was there to get a tray for breakfast.”
“And it didn’t occur to you to specify who it was for?”
As his irritation grew, Merlin felt the hum of his magic rise as well. The increased intensity of the sensation that being near Arthur brought was easier to deal with this morning than it had been the first time, but strong emotions had always affected his magic and the calm he had been clinging too was slipping away like sand through his fingers.
“This may come as a surprise to you, your highness, but I’ve no idea what I’m doing here,” Merlin said in clipped tones. “I’m not a mind reader. I didn’t grow up in this castle. I’ve not been here a week. How am I supposed to know I’m making a mistake when I don’t know there’s a mistake to be made?”
“Ignorance is not an excuse,” Arthur snapped.
Merlin snapped right back. “Well then sack me and get it over with.”
“I can’t,” Arthur said through gritted teeth.
“Why not?” Merlin asked. “I know you want to.”
“Because my father, who just so happens to be the king, thinks this is a good idea. He won’t let me sack you, at least not until you’ve done something publicly unforgivable, which shouldn’t take too long.”
Merlin glared at the tray with a bowl of steaming hot, milky porridge and two thick slices of fresh bread. It looked better than most of the breakfasts he had eaten in Ealdor and definitely better than anything Gaius was likely to serve him. Drawing a deep breath through this nose, Merlin released it slowly and tried to calm down. If his magic would only settle down a bit, dealing with Prince Prat would be a whole lot simpler.
When he spoke, his voice was even and respectful, mostly. “I’ll return this to the kitchens then. What would you like me to bring you instead? I have no idea what princes eat for breakfast.”
“Don’t bother. By the time you get back, I’ll be expected in council. I’ll send someone capable to bring me something there. Do make sure to ask someone for pointers if taking care of the laundry proves too confusing for you,” Arthur said nastily and stormed out of the room.
Merlin winced as the door slammed shut and slumped into a chair at the table. As bad as it was trying to control his magic around the prince, the void that was left behind when Arthur walked away was worse. If the dressing down hadn’t been enough to make him feel terrible, the drained feeling that weighed heavily in his limbs certainly was. There was an ache in the pit of his stomach, like he had been punched, and for a few minutes all he could do was stare at the small wisps of steam rising in the cool morning air.
It must have taken him longer than he realized to summon the energy to move; because word of his mistake had already spread by the time he exited the prince’s chambers to return the tray of uneaten breakfast to the kitchen. Gwen was hurrying down the corridor towards him, and an expression usually reserved for injured song birds and baby lambs filled her eyes when she caught sight of him.
“Oh Merlin, I was with Lady Morgana when I heard,” she said sympathetically.
Merlin furrowed his brow. “Heard?”
“About the thing with breakfast. Arthur was ranting about it to Sir Leon on the way to council. I think Morgana is going to tear a strip off him for you. She sent me to give you a hand. She’s thoughtful like that.”
“Oh,” said Merlin, “Thanks. I’ll just get this back to the kitchen.”
“Did you get breakfast yourself?”
He shook his head. “I was too worried about being late.”
“Well, there’s no use in letting that go to waste, and you are entitled to two meals a day from the kitchens,” Gwen told him. “Once you’ve eaten, I’ll show you all the secrets of getting things done around the castle.”
“Let’s see if you can turn me into a proper servant,” Merlin said and followed her back into Arthur’s rooms.
She smiled sweetly and shook her head. “Don’t let him get you down, Merlin. Of course you’re going to make mistakes. It’s not like you grew up around the castle or in some nobleman’s household. He’s being completely unreasonable.”
“Ignorance is no excuse,” Merlin said, doing a fair impression of Arthur’s angry tones as he sat once more at the heavy wooden table by the fireplace.
“Oh dear, did he say that?”
Merlin nodded and poked at his food grumpily. It was good, but he wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it much.
“That was uncalled for,” said Gwen. “Not out of character, mind you, but uncalled for all the same. It’s good you stand up to him, Merlin. I don’t suppose it’s easy, but it is really admirable. You don’t know how many of the serving staff he’s had a go at, knowing they wouldn’t dare talk back to him.”
“It was easy when I had no idea he was a prince,” Merlin muttered.
Gwen looked at him in surprise. “You had to know he was someone important when you confronted him the first time. I mean, he was obviously a knight, with swords and knives and armour and all.”
He shrugged. “I’ve not seen many knights. I wouldn’t know what they look like.”
“Don’t the knights patrol the villages?” she asked, while starting to gather clothing into a basket and making small tutting sounds as she picked up items discarded on the floor. “You must have seen them from time to time.”
“I’m not from Camelot,” Merlin explained. “Ealdor is in Cenred’s kingdom, not that you’d know it. We’ve been pretty much ignored. No knights have come through on patrol in years and even the tax collectors don’t make it every harvest. Not sure why we’re expected to pay taxes, anyway. It’s not like we get any protection for it.”
Gwen dropped the rumpled shirt she was holding in shock. “Really? But that’s awful! I can’t say I like everything about the way Camelot is ruled, but Uther generally looks after the villages. I know there are regular patrols going out all the time, though I suppose I don’t really know if there are places that get missed.”
“Ealdor isn’t very prosperous. It must not be worth it to Cenred. Besides, sometimes being ignored is a good thing. We pretty much do things how we want there. We plant the crops that grow best and look after our own. It’s not great, but we haven’t had too many difficulties with bandits in the last few years so it could be a lot worse.”
“I guess I’ve been lucky to have always had the protection of Camelot’s knights.”
Merlin gave her a weak smile that could be interpreted as agreement and set down his spoon. “I feel terrible, sitting here and letting you do all the work. What should I be doing?”
Gwen’s shocked expression faded, and she handed him the basket filled with dirty clothes. “We’ll take care of the laundry first. You want to get there early. The kitchen is always busy and it doesn’t really matter when you bring the dishes in, but you shouldn’t wait on the laundry. There’s always a rush about mid-morning and you don’t want your items to get confused with anyone else’s. It also saves a trip if you pick up the linens while you’re down there.”
By the time Gwen loaded his arms with a heavy serving tray for the midday meal, Merlin was thoroughly overwhelmed, but had a much better idea of what was expected of him as a manservant. Granted, being Arthur’s manservant was bound to be more difficult, but at least he knew more or less what could and couldn’t be asked of him and which tasks he could delegate when it came to running the prince’s chambers. Gwen had kept up a steady patter of tips to get things done more easily, protocol for attending formal audiences and meals and information about who was who within the castle. He’d be lucky if he remembered any of it by tomorrow morning, but her efforts had been greatly appreciated.
They were placing the serving dishes on the table when they heard voices coming from the corridor.
“Really Father, I don’t see why you are forcing the issue. I don’t want him for a servant any more than he wants to be one,” Arthur said in aggravation.
Uther spoke sternly. “You would do well not to disregard someone who would put themselves in danger for you. That has value, even in a servant.”
“But he’s not a servant, he’s a village boy. He is completely clueless,” Arthur responded with a definite whine in his tone.
“And you’ve done so much to let him know what you expect,” said Morgana in her snidest voice. “You can’t get angry at him for something as silly as bringing you the wrong breakfast if you’ve not told him what your idea of breakfast is. Really, Arthur, has it never occurred to you that we have privileges others do not? It’s not like eating porridge for one day would kill you.”
“I don’t see you volunteering to eat that slop,” Arthur countered.
Morgana’s voice was calm but scathing. “Before I came to court, my life was much less extravagant than it is now. I appreciate the finer things in life far more for having known their lack. A bit of simple living would do you good. Perhaps then you would get your head out of your-”
“-That is enough, both of you,” Uther said, cutting off the sniping. “Arthur, it is your responsibility to ensure he has the knowledge he needs to do his job.”
“Father-”
“-I will not hear another word on the subject. If you are entertaining the notion of someday being king, then you will need to learn to utilize the resources at your disposal, as well as interact with people you do not care for. Consider this a lesson in leadership, one I will be watching closely.”
“Yes, Sire,” said Arthur grudgingly.
Gwen caught his eye and smiled, but Merlin couldn’t find it in him to return it. Beneath the rushing buzz of his magic once again reacting to Arthur’s proximity, he felt a heavy sense of resignation. Clearly there would be no reprieve from the king. It was very nice of Lady Morgana to speak in his defence, but he was stuck as the prat’s servant, and apparently had become some sort of test for Arthur. That was just what he needed, the scrutiny of Uther Pendragon, executer of sorcerers. Merlin carefully filled the goblets with wine, doing his best not to spill, and stepped back to stand against the wall beside Gwen as the king, his son and his ward entered the room and sat down in stormy silence.
Merlin had thought he might need to revise his life expectancy from the end of the week to sunset tomorrow, but at the end of the day, Merlin was forced to admit to himself, and only to himself, that perhaps the king’s scrutiny wasn’t an entirely terrible thing. Arthur had been forced to accept his father’s final decision about sacking his new manservant and was forced to put some effort, or at least be seen to be putting some effort, into making the situation work.
Merlin had fumbled his way through serving the midday meal with Gwen without so much as a raised voice when he missed the cues she had been coaching him to notice. From there, he had been shown to the armoury where Gavin, Sir Ewan’s squire, very patiently showed him how to polish chainmail, remove dents from plate armour and sharpen blades. Gavin was actually friendly towards Merlin and chatted amiably with him while they worked, occasionally making a gently teasing comment about the fight in the market street. Apparently, his run in with Arthur was the best piece of gossip the lower town had had in a long while. According to Gavin, even the knights were amused by the story and most privately thought the prince occasionally needed someone to put him in his place. Merlin didn’t really fancy being the one to do that, but it was nice that some of the knights also thought Arthur could be an ass.
After a couple hours of instruction, he felt fairly confident he would be able to deal with the prince’s armour that evening and he left the armoury before the training session was over. He needed enough time to draw a bath, though Merlin had decided that he was going to cheat a bit with the water. He needed to be seen drawing the water from the well, but he risked a small enchantment on the buckets to make them a bit lighter and help keep the water from spilling. He poured the cold water straight into the large tub he had dragged from the storage room at the end of the corridor and set up behind Arthur’s changing screen. It took a lot of trips, but when the bath was full, Merlin simply heated the water by magic.
Gwen had offered to help him with this chore when she showed him where the storage room was earlier, but he had waved her off. There wasn’t too much he could get wrong and he felt badly for adding to her workload so much already. A small part of him also felt a bit guilty for not wanting her there so he could use magic to make it easier, but he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered all that much. He had to find discreet outlets for his magic, especially now that he would be stuck spending time around the prince. It was risky, but if he was going to be forced to remain in this situation, he was determined to make it as easy on himself as possible.
Watching Gavin in the armoury had given him ideas about which tasks could be done more easily, and probably better than he would ever manage by hand. There might be spells in his magic book, but Merlin hadn’t had a chance to do more than glance through it. Still, if he could chop wood quickly and neatly with very little effort, controlling the whetstone by magic would be equally simple. Certainly caring for the rents and dents to the plate armour would be vastly easier with a bit of carefully applied magic. He had manipulated metal in broken pots plenty of times before.
Merlin felt the rise in his magic shortly before he heard the clink and swish of armour on chainmail indicating Arthur’s approach. He jumped up from the chair he had been sitting on and quickly tested the water to be certain he had gotten the temperature right.
Arthur startled a little upon entering his rooms to find Merlin stepping out from behind the privacy screen, but kept his face and voice carefully neutral. “Is my bath ready?”
“It’s all ready. I set the tub up behind the screen... Sire,” said Merlin, very nearly forgetting the title but managing to use it without sarcasm.
“Well that’s something,” said Arthur.
The prince removed his sword belt and set it down on the table before standing with his arms loosely at his sides and looking pointedly at Merlin. They stood looking at each other for a long moment.
“Any time now, Merlin,” Arthur said.
“Any time now what?” asked Merlin.
Arthur heaved a highly put upon sigh and visibly held back a scathing comment. “I require assistance with my armour.”
“Oh. Oh, right. Of course. Sorry,” said Merlin.
He set to work unfastening buckles that were well out of Arthur’s reach. It hadn’t even occurred to him that armour might be nearly impossible to put on or remove by oneself. Though Gavin had rattled through the basics of the standard pieces of armour, removing it from Arthur’s person was not particularly straightforward. Slowly, however, he managed to remove each item and place it carefully on the table beside the sword belt. To his credit, Arthur managed to keep his impatience to himself for the most part, only letting out small huffs when Merlin fumbled with a section of armour and failed to unbuckle all the fastenings. Merlin’s fingers brushed against the bare skin of Arthur’s neck, sending a shock of sensation through his entire body.
‘Stop grumbling about the state of my armour. You’ll have it fixed with a wave of your hand,’ a teasing voice said.
He gave a small laugh and plucked a leafy twig from where it had snagged in a joint. ‘You are getting a bit careless. Magic can’t fix everything you know.’
Merlin snatched his fingers back and shook his head to clear it. For a moment, the armour Arthur was wearing looked very different, but when Merlin blinked all was as it should be again. Arthur was standing quietly, if somewhat impatiently, waiting for him to finish removing the last piece, and there were no bits of leaves and twigs caught in any of the items lying on the table. He helped Arthur pull the heavy mail off, still shocked by just how heavy it was as he dropped it noisily onto the thick wooden tabletop.
For a moment, Merlin wondered if he was expected to help the prince remove the rest of his clothing, but Arthur stepped out of his reach and walked behind the privacy screen. Merlin heard a small splash of water and Arthur’s surprised grunt of approval.
“The bath is acceptable. At least you managed to get that right. You can take my armour with you to polish. I trust Gavin showed you what you need to do.”
“I think I got it.”
“You think... I very much doubt that. You will have it ready by tomorrow morning. I’ll be taking supper in my rooms tonight. Do make sure you inform the staff in the kitchens who you are serving. I expect something appropriate this time,” Arthur said, tossing his sweaty, red shirt over the top of the screen so it landed on the floor by Merlin’s feet.
Merlin frowned and bit his tongue to stop himself from saying what he was thinking. Instead he forced himself to politely say, “I’ll return shortly with supper.”
He gathered up the awkward and heavy armour and left the prince to his bath, grateful that he had, at least, gotten something right today.
In the next two weeks as Arthur’s manservant, Merlin slowly become accustomed to his new role in the castle. After word of his first ill fated trip to the kitchens had spread, all of the kitchen maids knew who he was. Alys, the girl who had prepared his tray that first morning had been profusely apologetic the next time she saw him. If he arrived early enough, she insisted upon giving him a proper meal and always snuck him something special, a dollop of honey to sweeten his porridge, an extra pat of butter for his bread, or even a few spoonfuls of the blackberry preserves he knew with certainty were not meant for the likes of him. He had tried to assure her he wasn’t upset about the mix up, but after a mouthful of the delicious preserves he made no effort to rebuff her kindness. Merlin wasn’t fond of being Arthur’s manservant, but if he had to put up with the prat, he was going to enjoy some of the perks.
Merlin licked carefully at the corners of his mouth to make sure any signs of his indulgence were gone before he gave a small knock on the prince’s door and let himself in. Although the first morning bell had only just finished ringing, Arthur was already out of bed and dressed for training.
Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Merlin offered a startled, “Good morning.”
“There you are. Come on. I’ve got better things to do than wait around for you,” Arthur said with impatience.
“Hey, I was at the top of the stairs when the morning bell rang. You can’t have been waiting more than ten seconds,” Merlin squawked indignantly.
He set the tray down on the table and arranged the plates in front of the large, comfortable chair Arthur favoured. He retrieved the jug of water from its place on the nightstand and poured the prince a full goblet, leaving the jug on the table. Arthur sat down to his meal, ignoring Merlin entirely. Merlin rolled his eyes and turned his attention on the rest of the room, collecting the clothing scattered about on the floor.
How Arthur managed to go through so many items of clothing in one day still baffled Merlin. He only had four shirts to his name, and even with his clumsiness, Merlin was usually able to wear the same shirt for more than one day, or he had been able to, until he started working for Arthur. The prince seemed to delight in assigning him the messiest chores possible. In the past two weeks he had cleaned the large fireplace twice getting covered in soot from head to toe both times, scrubbed the floors and ended up soaked in dirty wash water and polished all of Arthur’s boots which had left greasy black stains on his clothes that had only come out with the aid of magic. That didn’t even take into account the times he had mucked out the stables, which wasn’t even a part of his job. However, when Merlin had protested that there were stable boys to do that sort of thing, Arthur had threatened him with an afternoon in the stocks for his cheek and he had given up on fighting against it.
Merlin was about to leave the room with the basket of washing when Arthur stopped him.
“Get one of the chamber maids to take care of the bed today. I have other duties for you this morning. Take that down and hurry back with my armour.”
“Your armour? First thing in the morning? How come?”
Arthur heaved a put upon sigh. “I am certain I have informed you that it is not your place to question my instructions.”
“It’s just out of the ordinary, that’s all. I really don’t see how a bit of curiosity or attempting a conversation is disrespectful.”
“I have no desire to have a conversation with a servant.”
“Gwen says she and Lady Morgana talk all the time. It seems like a perfectly normal thing for two people who are around each other that much to do.”
“I am not Morgana.”
“No,” Merlin agreed and grinned cheekily. “She’s a lot nicer than you. Prettier too.”
“Merlin!”
“Right. I’ll just get this down to the laundry and bring you your armour, shall I?” Merlin said and slipped out the door quickly. Behind him he could hear the prince’s aggravated growl, and couldn’t help grinning. He’d likely pay for it later, but winding up Arthur was turning out to be quite entertaining.
Merlin should have known that a change in routine couldn’t possibly be a good thing. After he had fumbled his way through helping Arthur into his armour, Merlin found himself sent to the armoury for protection of his own. Apparently, Arthur had given up on finding an excuse to have him sacked, and was going for the option of killing him outright.
The armour Merlin found was heavily dented and didn’t fit well, but at least the helmet sat securely over his head.
“I thought you had squires for this sort of thing,” he said petulantly.
“I realize that you are rather dimwitted, but surely it hasn’t escaped your notice that I do not have a squire. In the absence of one, I am forced to make do with you. Now, shield up, sword ready!” Arthur barked.
The prince advanced on Merlin, sword swinging. Merlin flailed his arms around in an attempt to block the blows, but his foot slipped on the wet morning grass, and he was sent sprawling on his backside.
Arthur loomed over him, frowning. “Take me apart with less than one blow, you said. I’m still waiting to see that. Get up, Merlin!”
“If you’re trying to kill me, there are simpler ways of going about it, my lord,” he muttered getting stiffly to his feet.
“If I were trying to kill you, you’d be long dead. Ready?”
“No!” Merlin protested, but as anticipated the prince ignored him.
Arthur called out the different attacks, but Merlin wasn’t able to keep up. “Shield. Body. Body. Shield. Body. Head.”
Merlin’s ears rang and his vision blurred as the sword clanged loudly against his helmet. His magic was itching to break free and trip Arthur, or send the prince’s sword flying or enlarge his shield to ridiculous proportions or anything really that would even the odds, but Merlin held tight to his control with an iron will. Being in Arthur’s presence had become easier over the past two weeks, but it was still challenging to keep from moving things with his magic around the prince.
Merlin staggered around and raised his sword again, determined to get a hit of some kind on the smug git. He squawked loudly when the flat of Arthur’s sword smacked him across the backside.
“Come on. You’re not even trying.”
“Don’t you have knights to do this sort of thing with? I’d think they would offer you better practice than beating on me.”
Arthur stared at him open mouthed. “You aren’t really that thick, are you? Surely it hasn’t escaped your notice that there is a tournament tomorrow.”
“What?” Merlin asked.
“Knights from all over have been arriving in Camelot for the past week. There’s always a tournament in the spring, once the planting is finished and nobles can release their sons to Camelot for the summer.”
“How on earth would I know that? I’m not from Camelot. Remember?” Merlin snapped, dodging Arthur’s renewed offensive.
Arthur dealt him a heavy blow to the head, and Merlin fell backwards again, choosing this time to stay on the ground. When it became clear he wasn’t getting up on his own, Arthur offered a hand and pulled him to his feet. With the brief contact came another of the increasingly regular flashes of images and sensation that made him think he might be going mad.
A strong calloused hand pulled him to his feet. ‘Here, let me help. Are you alright? I didn’t see you.’
His heart leapt in his chest and his magic sang. ‘I’m not hurt. Sorry about the deer.’
He was given a rueful, but warm smile. ‘There’ll be others. You seem familiar. Have we met before?’
Arthur didn’t notice Merlin’s distraction and was shaking his head, incredulous. “You really do live in your own little world.”
“I could say the same of you,” he stated.
“Let me explain this to you. I’ll use small words so you should be able to follow me.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” Arthur said flatly and ignored any further protests. “Tomorrow morning the tournament will begin and all the knights who have come will fight to be named champion. Are you following me?”
Merlin scowled, which Arthur seemed to take as a yes.
“As I will be competing against said knights, including those from the city’s garrison, we do not spar together the day before the competition.”
“And sparring with me is somehow useful to you?” Merlin asked his tone dubious.
Arthur shook his head. “Not really, but it is somewhat amusing. You are rubbish as a servant, but your one redeeming feature is that you are moderately entertaining on occasion.”
Merlin responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “I’m so glad I can be of service, Sire.”
“No you’re not, Merlin. However, as disrespectful and insubordinate as you are, at least you’re honest, which is more than I can say about every other manservant I’ve had.”
“So glad you approve.”
“You should be. Now, sword ready.”
Merlin wrestled with the awkward, dented bits of armour he had hoped would protect him from permanent damage while sparring with Arthur as he shuffled into Gaius’ rooms and dropped them at the end of the table with a clatter. He slumped heavily on the bench and looked mournfully at Gaius.
“Maybe I should just leave,” Merlin said.
Gaius glanced up at his words, looking at him sharply. “Did something happen?”
Merlin shook his head. He hadn’t said anything about his visions, so vivid and rich with sensation that they seemed like memories, to Gaius before. He had no idea what to make of them, but for all that he felt comfortable sharing his thoughts and concerns on magic with his mentor, some part of him balked at revealing this to Gaius. The moments he saw seemed too... private to be shared.
Instead of revealing what was truly bothering him, he tried to reassure Gaius. “Not in a highly dangerous, expose my magic way, no. I’m just sick and tired of being made to feel an idiot.”
“I thought things had been getting better between the two of you.”
“A very little bit, perhaps, but then there’s something else I have no clue about and it starts up again. How was I supposed to know there was a tournament starting tomorrow? Everyone just assumes I know these things, then berate me when they find out I don’t.”
Gaius raised an eyebrow. “Everyone?”
“Well, mostly Arthur, but you do it too. You expect me to be aware of things I’ve never had any reason to know about.”
“I am sorry, Merlin. I was far younger than you are now when I first began my apprenticeship and I have lived most of my life since in the rhythms and routines of the castle and town.”
“At least when you do it, I know you aren’t trying to make me feel stupid. Every time I think I’ve gotten a handle on the endless list of duties his Royal Bossiness has given me, there’s something else to add, and nothing I do is ever good enough,” he complained, wincing at the sharp stab of pain in his shoulder from one of the many blows he took.
Gaius noticed the grimace and moved to help examine the offending joint. While rotating the shoulder and pressing strong thumbs deeply into the sore muscle, Gaius said, “Arthur’s list of duties is most likely just as unending. He’s under a lot of pressure, especially with the tournament coming up.”
“I don’t see the point of the whole thing anyway. Why would fighters come from all over to bash each other around, possibly getting injured or even killed, for fun?”
“The tournament isn’t meant to be fun, Merlin. It’s an opportunity for knights to put their skills to the test under controlled conditions and it is a venue for Camelot to display its strength to other kingdoms. There is a good deal more at stake for the prince, as well.”
“Like what? He won the thing last year. It’s all I’ve heard about today.”
“And he’s under a lot of pressure to hold onto the title of champion. Uther expects a great deal of him, and if Arthur were to lose the tournament it would weaken his position at court.”
Merlin scoffed, “But he’s the king’s only son. Losing a tournament won’t change that.”
“Until his birthday this winter, Arthur must constantly prove himself. He is not officially crowned prince yet and until he becomes the direct successor to the king, his position is unstable. Technically, if Uther were to die tomorrow another noble would take the throne as regent until Arthur comes of age,” Gaius explained.
“But even if that were to happen, it would only be for a few months.”
“A few months is a lifetime in political intrigue, Merlin. A great deal could change very quickly, even in the most cautious and prepared kingdom. If Arthur is seen to be weak, it will damage his future.”
“So Arthur has to win,” Merlin stated.
Gaius nodded. “Arthur has to win, and your job is to make sure he has everything he needs to do so.”
“Well then,” he said, sighing heavily, “what do I need to know about tournament etiquette before tomorrow?”
Merlin had expected watching the tournament to be much the same as watching the knights fight practice duels on the training grounds, but he discovered quickly that those training sessions were a pale shadow of a tournament battle. He hadn't much cared for watching men hit each other with swords, but the tournament was actually quite exciting. The fighters pushed themselves far beyond what they might in practice and the crowd of spectators added a great deal to the air of excitement. People clapped and cheered loudly for their favourites and shouted and jeered with equal fervour at those they disliked. Just watching individuals in the crowd gasp and teeter on the edge of their seats was entertaining. When he focussed on the actual fighting, he could understand it. It was easy to get caught up watching the heated struggles in the arena.
Arthur had laughed at him when he had been caught watching with interest, but Merlin detected a note of amused pleasure as well at his interest in the match. The prince was testy and on edge as Merlin fumbled with the final adjustments to Arthur's armour, but only made a few scathing comments about his lack of skill.
"Are you nervous?" he asked.
Arthur's voice was tight. "I don't get nervous."
"If you say so. What do you think of your first opponent?"
"Sir Cadwogen is a worthy opponent."
"Have you fought him before?"
"He was a part of the tournament last year."
"Will he be difficult to beat?"
Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. "You don't have to pretend to be interested, Merlin. You do, however, have to finish the last adjustments before I am called in to fight. Focus on your job."
"I'm just trying to make conversation."
"And I distinctly remember informing you that I have no desire for conversation with a servant."
"If I were your squire, would you talk to me?"
"You're not my squire."
"But if I were."
"If you were, you would be a nobleman's son and I would no doubt be obliged to converse with you on occasion."
"Well, I'm doing the job of a squire-"
"-Quite badly-" Arthur interjected.
Merlin ignored the comment and blithely continued. "-So you could just pretend I am one. I'm just trying to make sense of all this tournament whatnot."
"And I am just trying to take the field. Have you finished with the straps or not?"
Merlin finished fiddling with the last buckle and tugged at the leather strap one last time to check that it was fastened securely. He had a moment’s impulse to secure it with magic, the command afaestne springing to mind, and hastily took a step back. He nearly tripped over the rack full of swords in his shock. Sure, he cheated on his chores with magic all the time, but what on earth had possessed him to think of using it on the prince moments before he entered the arena? Rather than becoming distracted by how a spell he had never used before had sprung to mind so readily, Merlin ruthlessly ignored it for the moment. Instead, he handed Arthur his helmet.
“There you are. All ready,” Merlin stated with what he hoped was a confident grin.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” asked Arthur scathingly.
“What’s that then?”
“My sword.”
Merlin flushed and pulled Arthur’s sword out of the rack, dropped it, nearly sliced his thumb off fumbling to pick it up again, and clumsily sheathed it in the scabbard. Arthur huffed in annoyance and frustration, then turned on his heel and stormed away, cape billowing out behind him.
Watching the figure of the prince disappear into the arena, Merlin let out a long, shuddering breath. The book of magic Gaius had given him was filled with countless spells and enchantments, but he had scarcely had time to open it. Reading was not something he found easy and the script of the author was often difficult to decipher. The words seemed antiquated and sounded foreign when he spoke them aloud, and on the whole learning from the book was far more difficult than he had anticipated. As a child, magic had come instinctually to him and he had never needed words to make it work, though it didn’t always do exactly what he wanted it to. The sudden knowledge of the word for a spell startled him, but somehow he knew that when he searched in the book hidden under the loose floorboard beside his bed he would find a spell to secure fastenings just as it was in his head at this very moment. As useful as a spell to keep the buckles of a spaulder from coming undone might be, he was not about to use magic on Prince Arthur of Camelot out in the open in the presence of several dozen heavily armed knights.
In an attempt to ward off the panic that had settled sickeningly into the pit of his stomach at what he had nearly done, Merlin walked towards the arena himself to watch Arthur in combat. Given the excitement of the earlier fights, it was sure to be thrilling to watch. He also hoped that maybe, if his magic was in any way sentient, he might scare the power that leapt to his fingertips without so much as a moment’s hesitation these days into submission. That might, however, be wishful thinking on his part.
Arthur won his first matches easily, or at least that’s what he had said to Merlin as he dropped his gloves onto the table in his tent and held his arms out to have his armour removed. As Merlin worked the fastenings free, several with great difficulty due to dents in the plate that made the buckles difficult to get at, he hummed in a way that might be interpreted as agreement.
“So, Merlin, what do you think of the tournament so far?”
“I thought you didn’t want to have conversations with me.”
“I am possessed of a modicum of curiosity, particularly where swordplay and combat is concerned.”
“You mean you want me to praise your skill at swinging a sword around.”
“Forget it. This is exactly why I don’t attempt to have conversations with you.”
“I don’t think I’m much of judge of skill, but it seemed like you were doing well out there today. Your second opponent already seemed a little worse for wear when he started, though. He had been injured in the first round, hadn’t he?”
“Yes. He won his first bout, but had a gash on his leg. I heard Gaius say something about needing stitches when he didn’t get up after the fight. Will Gaius be needing you for that?” Arthur asked.
Merlin shook his head as he laid the vambrace he had just removed next to the spaulder, couter, and rerebrace on the table and moved to help Arthur out of his mail shirt. “I doubt it. I’m more of a delivery boy to Gaius than an apprentice, it seems like. He probably also expects I’ll be busy attending you at the moment.”
“So you are,” Arthur stated.
The prince lifted his arms to assist in the removal of the mail, grunting a bit as his shoulder rotated. Merlin wondered if Arthur’s shoulder had been hurt from the blow that had dented the metal of the plate armour.
“Is your shoulder alright?” Merlin asked as he dropped the heavy mail with a clatter.
Arthur rotated his shoulder and pressed a spot with his fingers experimentally, and nodded. “It’s just a bruise.”
“I could get something for it from Gaius,” he offered.
“No,” Arthur shook his head, turning to leave, “I have a salve in my rooms.”
A loud cheer rose up from the crowd as Arthur ducked out of the tent. Merlin followed in time to see Valiant striding confidently from the field.
Tossing his helmet carelessly at one of the page boys, the foreign knight snapped, “Make sure it’s properly cared for this time,” and turned to give the prince an insincere smile.
“Congratulations on your victories today.”
Arthur appeared to ignore the condescending tone and simply nodded. “Likewise.”
“I hope to see you at the reception this evening,” Valiant said blandly and disappeared into his tent.
Merlin felt a shiver run down his spine. There was something about Valiant that made him uneasy in a way none of the other knights he had met did. Unconsciously, he muttered, “Creep.”
An unrestrained snort came from Arthur and for a moment they shared a small smile. Quickly, however, the mirth was gone from the prince’s face.
“You need to repair my armour, sharpen my sword, fix the dents in my shield, clean my boots and wash my tunic. You will be required to serve at the reception tonight as well.”
Merlin bit back a scathing comment about being expected to do the job of three servants, and nodded. Even with magical assistance, it was going to be a long night.
Yawning widely, Merlin stumbled into the armoury early the next morning. Arthur had decided his helmet from the previous day impeded his vision too much and wanted to use one of his others today and sent Merlin down to fetch it when he arrived with breakfast. It was dark and quiet in the armoury, a stark contrast to the hum and clatter that usually filled the building as squires and knights tended to their equipment. Arthur had described the helmet he wanted quite clearly, but when confronted with several shelves of very similar looking helmets, it took Merlin several minutes to find the right one.
He had just found what he thought was the helmet the royal prat wanted when he heard a strange noise coming from across the room.
Merlin glanced around. “Hello?”
No one answered. He set down the helmet and moved quietly around the room. His head jerked when the sound came again. It sounded like... hissing. Along the far wall was a space provided for knights who were visitors to Camelot. The shelves were filled with highly polished armour and well sharpened weapons hung on the rack. On the floor, leaning against the wall, were several shields, each bearing unfamiliar coats of arms identifying the visiting nobles. One shield bore a design of three snakes intricately intertwined. He was certain the sound had come from this side of the building and he had thought it had been hissing. He raised a hand towards the shield, feeling the skin of his hand pricking, and then snatched his hand back when he thought he saw one of the snakes blink. Just then, he heard footsteps approaching.
He had just stood and was backing away from the wall when Valiant entered.
“What are you doing?” the knight demanded.
Merlin was startled and momentarily struggled for words. “I was... I just needed... My master sent me to fetch his helmet... my lord.”
He quickly grabbed the helmet from the table, silently praying it was the right one, and left the armoury as quickly as he could without seeming to be fleeing. On his way back to Arthur’s rooms, Merlin wondered if he had been imagining the hissing. Perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Valiant gave him the shivers in a way most other knights didn’t, but the snakes on his shield were just decoration, surely, nothing more. Besides, he thought resolutely to himself, it was none of his business. He had enough troubles keeping up with Arthur and his ridiculous list of duties. He really didn’t have time to worry about a shield that he may or may not have heard hissing early in the morning following a night with very little sleep.
The second day of the tournament, the fighting became more intense. It was plain to Merlin now that the first day had been a chance for the serious contenders to feel out their opponents and watch to see who might present the greatest challenge. When Arthur wasn’t fighting, the prince observed the matches with several of Camelot’s knights, including those who had already been knocked out of the competition. Merlin stood close by, listening to their critiques of the different competitors. The most commentary and speculation arose during the fights where Sir Valiant was involved. Apparently, Merlin hadn’t been alone in his assessment of the knight as someone who rubbed a person the wrong way.
Sir Ewan was up next to fight Valiant. Just before he left to ready himself, Arthur pulled him aside briefly and gave what appeared to be some last minute advice. Ewan nodded and left for his tent, where Gavin no doubt was waiting to recheck his armour and weapons.
When Ewan and Valiant took the field, it was clear that Camelot’s knight was gaining the upper hand. A few of the other knights commented that the foreigner had started too strong in his earlier matches and was suffering for it now. Valiant, however, didn’t have the look so many other knights had worn when they were outmatched. Swords clanged loudly against each other and after several easily blocked attacks, Valiant managed a lucky blow that threw Ewan off balance and sent him falling backwards. As Ewan attempted to rise, Valiant blocked his ascent with his shield and pushed him back to the ground. There was a struggle as both men pushed desperately against their shields, then Ewan slumped and Valiant raised his sword in victory.
The cheers of the crowd died out quickly when it became obvious Ewan wasn’t able to get up. Merlin retreated to where Arthur was fussing with his gloves for the next round, occasionally glancing at the prostrate form of one of his knights and attempting to look unconcerned.
“Do you think he’s badly hurt?”
“Gaius will tend to him,” Arthur replied, sounding less than entirely confident. “Check the straps of my rerebrace, Merlin. It feels loose.”
Merlin cast one more glance at where Gaius was kneeling beside the injured knight, and then turned his attention back to Arthur.
When Merlin returned to Gaius’ chambers that evening, it became apparent that Sir Ewan’s injuries were quite serious. The knight lay on a cot beside the hearth, stirring occasionally, but otherwise unconscious as Gavin knelt beside him, wiping his brow with a cool cloth.
“How is he?” Merlin asked.
Gavin shook his head. “He hasn’t woken up properly since the fight and now he has a fever.”
“Mmhm.” Gaius’ distracted hum of agreement came from behind a tall stack of books. “It’s most odd.”
The physician rose from his desk and came around to the stool beside the cot. He sat down and put a hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “Merlin can assist me for a while. Why don’t you go and get yourself some supper.”
“Are you sure?” Gavin asked, his voice betraying his worry.
“Yes. Until I have a more complete diagnosis, there is little to be done. You won’t be doing him any good by starving yourself. Go on,” Gaius said shooing Ewan’s squire away.
When the door closed, Gaius gestured to Merlin and pointed at a spot on the unconscious man’s neck. “Have a look at this.”
Merlin leaned in and saw two small puncture wounds side by side. His brow furrowed and he said, “That doesn’t look like something a sword would do.”
Gaius nodded in agreement. “Nor any other piece of weaponry or armour. It looks like a snake bite.”
“A snake bite? How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. The distance between the puncture wounds is too great for any kind snake generally found around here, but the symptoms are consistent with poisoning. Slow pulse, fever, paralysis...”
“Can you heal him?”
Gaius stood and picked up a book from the top of the pile on his desk. “If it is a snake bite, I’ll need to extract venom from the snake that bit him to make an antidote. The wounds don’t match those of any snake I have a sample for.”
“Aren’t snakes all more or less the same?”
“Each snake has slightly different toxins in its venom. Using the wrong antidote will in all likelihood speed his decline.”
“And if he doesn’t get the right antidote?”
“Then I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for him. He’s going to die.”
Merlin looked at Sir Ewan, normally strong and full of life, laying helplessly on the cot and frowned. A snake bite on the neck in the middle of a tournament battle was utterly preposterous. There might be a slim possibility that an adder of some kind might go unnoticed on the ground, but there would have been some sign of it when Gaius arrived to tend to Ewan in the arena. Besides, Gaius was right, the fangs that made a wound like that must have come from a far larger snake than anything he’d ever seen. Still, he had heard some strange hissing in the armoury that morning...
“He was fighting Valiant,” he murmured, jaw dropping slightly as a horrible thought occurred to him.
Without another word, he spun on his heel and strode from the room. The visiting knights had all been given rooms on the first floor on the north side of the castle. The hour was late, but there were still a few servants hurrying back and forth. The tournament had brought plenty of extra guests and everyone was busier than usual. He attempted to smile at people he recognized, but knew it probably looked strained. Fortunately, everyone else seemed to look either frantic or exhausted, so his less than genuine smile wasn’t likely noteworthy in any way.
Valiant’s room was only two doors away from the broad landing where all the staircases from different corners of the castle met. For the moment everyone seemed to have gone their own way, but there wasn’t anything particularly useful for hiding behind in case someone came. The last thing he needed was to be caught spying on a knight and end up in the dungeons again, or worse.
Glancing around nervously, he began muttering to himself as he tried to come up with a solution, “I need to not be seen. I need everyone to ignore this corridor, or something. How can I keep anyone from looking down here? I need something like... bedigle.”
A warm shiver ran down Merlin’s spine and all the skin on his body prickled. He stumbled in his nervous pacing and froze as he heard footsteps coming down the east stairs. A page boy he recognized came bounding past him and knocked on door near the end of the corridor. Light spilled out the room and a hand from within accepted the note the boy carried and sent him on his way. The page walked back towards him, much less hurried this time, but although Merlin raised his hand in a small wave, the boy passed by without so much as a nod in his direction. A moment later, the boy disappeared back up the stairs.
Slightly disconcerted, Merlin looked down at himself, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. He looked much the same as he always did, but his skin still prickled faintly. For the second time in as many days, a completely unfamiliar word had sprung to mind, but this time he had actually said it aloud. Screwing his eyes shut again, he tried to remember what exactly he had said.
“Bedigle,” he whispered and felt the prickling on his skin increase.
Still baffled, but desperately hoping that whatever it was he had just said was some kind of spell to keep him hidden, Merlin moved quietly towards Valiant’s door and peered through the keyhole. He could see the shield decorated with twining serpents propped up on a chair. Booted feet walked heavily on the floor and a moment later the knight appeared in his line of sight with a small covered basket. Valiant reached inside and pulled out a mouse, holding it by the tail as it squeaked and twitched trying to get away.
“Dinner time,” he said with a mean little chuckle and sat down on the bench across from the chair with the shield.
Merlin heard it first, the same hissing that had grabbed his attention in the armoury that morning, then gaped he saw one, then two, then three large snake heads come out of the shield, swaying back and forth on the sinuous bodies that followed after. Valiant tossed the struggling mouse in the air and one head struck forward, snapping it up. Two more mice were pulled from the basket and each of the other heads devoured them.
Startled by what he had just witnessed, Merlin pulled back from the door, stumbling and knocking it hard with his foot. He could hear the knight jump to his feet and the clatter of what must be a sword. For a moment he forgot about being magically concealed and dashed back towards the staircases. There were a couple large pillars at the landing and he pressed himself against the nearest one, whispering his spell again and praying that it actually worked.
Valiant appeared a moment later, sword drawn, and he circled around the landing. Cocking his head a couple times as if he heard something, the knight frowned and looked directly at the spot where Merlin was peeking out from behind the pillar, glanced around the landing once more then turned and went back to his room. Merlin’s heart was in his throat, pounding frantically, as he listened to the footsteps retreating. For one horrible moment, Valiant had looked directly at him, but there had been no recognition, no obvious sign he had been seen. He had gotten very lucky. On shaking feet, he took the stairs that led up to Gaius’ chambers as quickly and quietly as he could.
When Merlin burst through the door, Gaius was sitting at his desk searching through a thick dusty tome. Gavin had yet to return and Merlin let his story spill out unchecked. “I just saw the snakes on Valiant’s shield come alive. That’s how Ewan was bitten by a snake. Valiant’s using magic!”
“You saw this?” Gaius’ expression was dubious. “It’s hard to believe a knight would be foolish enough to use magic right under the king’s nose.”
“I know what I saw. He was feeding them mice. He threw them up in the air and the snakes struck out and ate them. It must have worked the same way during the fight. Valiant had Ewan pinned under his shield. No one would have been able to see it.”
“True.”
“I have to tell Arthur.”
“Now hold on just a minute. You can’t just go running around making accusations against a knight.”
“Why not? It’s the truth.”
“Do you have any proof?”
“Don’t you believe me?”
“Yes I do, but Uther will never believe the word of a servant against the word of a knight. You’ll land yourself in trouble. How will you explain what you were doing in Valiant’s chambers?”
“What does that matter? He’s using magic to cheat in the tournament!”
“You can’t make accusations against a knight. That’s not the way the world works Merlin.”
“Doesn’t my word count for anything?”
“Very little, I’m afraid.”
“So what am I supposed to do? Let Valiant kill someone else in the next round? Let him kill Arthur?”
“You do what you can, and you stay out of trouble. If Valiant is cheating in such a manner, then he is a dangerous man. Do not underestimate him.”
Merlin and Gaius stared at each other for a long moment, before Merlin turned and moved to Ewan’s bedside. He picked up the cloth on the man’s forehead, rinsed it in the basin of cool water and dabbed at the sweat beading on Ewan’s face. They didn’t speak, and when Gavin returned to attend Ewan, Merlin disappeared into his room without a word.
Watching Valiant fight the next day while holding his tongue was difficult for Merlin. There weren’t any more snake attacks, but the foreign knight thoroughly trounced each of his opponents. The knights of Camelot all grumbled in discontent and more than one made comments about unreasonably good luck for someone who had seemed to be flagging the day before. Merlin did his best to look unfazed by the words, but inside his sense of justice was screaming at him to do something. Arthur cut his way through all of his opponents as well, but while several of his competitors had been injured, none had needed to be carried out of the arena on a stretcher. Nearly all who came up against Valiant were not able to exit under their own power. Valiant was vicious. Even when his victory seemed assured, Valiant fought not just to win, but to completely defeat his opponent.
When the combat was done for the day, Arthur excused him to assist Gaius with the many patients under the physician’s care. The prince frowned as he said it and Merlin felt heartened somewhat that Arthur didn’t approve of Valiant’s ruthlessness either. It took several hours to attend to all the injured knights in Gaius’ surgery, but fortunately all were released from the physician’s care by early evening. A few that had taken particularly strong blows to the head had instruction given to their squires to attend them throughout the night which they accepted with a minimum of good natured grumbling.
Merlin left to dress Arthur for the evening meal and returned to find only Gaius and the unconscious Ewan remaining. He set a bowl of stew on the table in front of the tired looking physician, but still didn’t feel able to make polite conversation.
Gaius broke the silence. “About what I said yesterday, Uther really wouldn’t believe you or me, but you are right. We can’t let Valiant get away with this.”
“But we have no proof.”
“If we could heal Ewan, he could confirm your observations. The king would trust the word of another knight. The trick, however, is getting the antidote.”
Merlin looked at Gaius for a long moment over his bowl, then abruptly stood from the table. Valiant would be at dinner with Arthur and the king, which meant he had a small window of opportunity to get at the enchanted shield. After last night, he was certain the shield would be secured in Valiant’s chambers. As Merlin left the room, he heard Gaius call out after him, but ignored it. He didn’t have much time.
Once at the main landing, he ducked behind one of the large pillars and muttered, “Bedigle.”
The stairs were still busy with servants dashing up and down with trays heading to and from the kitchens. Mealtimes were always the busiest on the stairs and in the corridors as nobility were not especially patient when it came to food. Once again hoping he was unnoticeable, Merlin slipped down the corridor and tried to open Valiant’s door. It was locked, but it took nothing more than a wave of his hand to unlatch the door. Slipping inside, he shut the door behind him and glanced around hurriedly for the shield.
As it had been the night before, the snake shield rested on a chair beside the table. At a glance, it really did look ordinary, but his skin shivered with the memory of the snakes coming to life and eating mice the night before. Merlin grabbed a sword that was sitting on the table, sharpened and polished for the next day already, and touched the tip to the painted heads.
Nothing happened.
There was a noise somewhere in the corridor outside, and Merlin jerked his head towards the door, listening for the sound of Valiant returning. The footsteps he heard retreating were quiet and light, like those of a maid or a page boy. He was just about to return to poking at the shield with the sword when he heard a low hiss just behind him. In the shadows cast along the wall, he saw the sinuous silhouette of a snake. Gripping the sword tighter, he spun around and swung it wildly. Blind luck was likely all that accounted for him actually managing to cut off one of the heads. The body jerked and retreated back into the shield, though the image of the head was still there. The two remaining snakes extended further out of the shield, but Merlin jumped back as they attempted a strike. He snatched up the severed head of the first snake, tossed the sword back towards the table and bolted from the room, forgetting about concealment or stealth entirely.
After Gaius extracted the venom from the snake’s fangs, Merlin left him to brew the antidote. He bumped into Gavin in the corridor, returning to care for Ewan, and smiled at him encouragingly. “Gaius is working on a new medicine for Ewan. I think it’s going to work.”
“Really?” Gavin asked in surprise.
“We found the snake that bit him,” Merlin stated with confidence and strode towards Arthur’s chambers.
When Merlin entered the prince’s chambers without knocking, Arthur frowned up at him. “What are you doing here?”
“Look at this,” he said, dropping the snake’s head on the table beside Arthur’s goblet.
Arthur gave him puzzled look. “It appears to be a snake’s head.”
“It’s the head of one of the snakes from Valiant’s shield.”
“What?”
“Valiant’s shield, it’s enchanted. The snakes on it aren’t just painted, they can come to life. One of them bit Ewan. That’s why he’s not been getting better. I cut off one of the heads so that Gaius could make an antidote for the venom.”
“You’re telling me Valiant has a magic shield.”
Merlin nodded.
“In Camelot.”
Merlin nodded again.
“And you cut off the head of an enchanted snake.”
“Yes,” Merlin said, nodding emphatically.
Arthur burst out laughing. “That’s utterly ridiculous, Merlin!”
“If you don’t believe me, ask Gaius. He’s working on the antidote now. When Ewan wakes up, he’ll tell you too.”
“No one would be foolish enough to try something like that in Camelot.”
“Ewan was beating him. You saw it yourself. He had to cheat. Valiant pinned him under the shield so no one could see the snake bite him.”
“Look, I don’t like the guy, but that doesn’t mean he’s cheating.”
“The puncture wounds in Ewan’s neck match this snake. He used it when he wasn’t good enough to beat Ewan and he’ll use it again to win the tournament. It’s the only way he can beat you.”
Arthur shook his head dismissively and turned away. Merlin snatched up the head and shoved it in front of Arthur’s face. “Look at it. Have you seen any snakes that look like this in Camelot?”
Arthur leaned back a bit from the severed head pushed towards him, but took the snake to examine. After a moment, he grudgingly admitted, “No. This doesn’t look like any snake I’ve seen before.”
“I know I’m just a servant, that my word doesn’t count for anything, but I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“I want you to swear that what you’re saying is true.”
“I swear it’s true.”
Arthur looked in his eyes for a long moment. Caught in the gaze, Merlin was suddenly elsewhere.
Arthur, much older, dressed in coarse wool and a fur cloak looked at him in admiration and respect. ‘You have been such a boon to me, Mael. To know I can trust you without question is a blessing of immeasurable value.”
Merlin was jerked abruptly back to the present when Arthur said, “I believe you. I will summon the council first thing in the morning.”
He nodded and took back the snake from Arthur. “I’ll bring this back to Gaius. In case he needs it again for his remedies.”
There was plenty of speculative chatter as the council convened the next morning. Arthur rarely summoned the council himself, though he was within his rights to do so, and everyone was staring at him, wondering what was happening. Merlin stood as confidently as he could beside the prince and tried to look like he belonged there.
Uther strode into the room, cloak billowing menacingly and looked sternly at his son. “Why have you summoned the council?”
“I believe Knight Valiant is using a magic shield to cheat in the tournament.”
“Valiant what do you have to say to this?”
“My lord, this is ridiculous. I’ve never used magic. Does your son have any evidence to support this outrageous accusation?”
“Do you have evidence?” Uther demanded of Arthur.
Arthur nodded and gestured to Merlin. “I do.”
Merlin stepped forward and handed the snake’s head to the king. As Uther examined the snake, Merlin turned to see Gaius enter the room looking concerned. When the physician waved him over, Merlin cast a troubled glance at Arthur and went to see what was wrong.
Gaius whispered softly, “Ewan is dead.”
“What?” he hissed back.
“Ewan regained consciousness after I administered the antidote and I left Gavin with him when I went down to the herb garden to get some fresh basil and gentian. When I returned, I found Gavin collapsed on the floor and Ewan was dead.”
“How could that have happened?”
“Gavin has a snake bite.”
“What?”
“There were puncture wounds on his wrist. If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say he was trying to fight off a snake without a weapon.”
“Will he be alright?”
“I was able to administer the antidote, but it takes time for the effects to work through the system.”
“And Ewan?”
“A second bite so soon... there really was no chance for him to survive. I had best return to Gavin.”
“Be careful Gaius.”
Merlin heard the king call for the shield, and he knew there would be no snakes there. The snakes must be more enchanted than he originally thought and be capable of moving independent of the shield. Valiant was a suspicious sort, and had prepared himself well.
“As you can see, it’s just an ordinary shield,” said Valiant, the picture of calm composure.
“I have a witness,” Arthur interjected, “Sir Ewan was grievously injured by the snake’s venom, but has been administered an antidote. He will confirm that what I say is true.”
“Where is he?” demanded Uther.
When Arthur looked anxiously over at Merlin, his heart sank. This had all gone horribly, horribly wrong. Arthur came over to where Merlin was watching Gaius retreat and asked, “Where’s Ewan?”
Merlin closed his eyes and shook his head. “He’s dead.”
“What?” Arthur asked in shock.
“I’m waiting,” barked Uther.
Arthur looked around the room helplessly then met his father’s eyes. “I’m afraid the witness is dead.”
The king gave his son a cold, hard look. “So you have no witness to support these allegations. Have you seen Valiant using magic?”
“No,” Arthur said slowly, nearly choking on the word but doggedly continuing on, “but my servant fought-”
“Your servant! You make these outrageous accusations against a knight on the word of a servant,” Uther spat in anger.
“I believe him to be telling the truth,” Arthur stated with conviction.
“My lord,” Valiant drawled, “Am I really to be judged on some hearsay from a boy?”
Merlin felt a surge of anger flare within him, causing his magic to leap to attention as well. Scarcely in control, he ignored the fact that he was speaking in front of the king and shouted, “I’ve seen those snakes come alive!”
“How dare you interrupt! Guards.” Uther roared.
Two armed men took hold of Merlin’s arms and yanked him towards the doors. He heard Valiant address the king and the guards halted.
“I’m sure he was merely mistaken. I wouldn’t want him punished on my account,” Valiant said in a credible imitation of magnanimous kindness.
Merlin craned his neck to see Valiant, and there was a faint glimmer in the man’s eye that set his teeth on edge. Uther clearly didn’t see the dangerous edge to the knight or simply refused to believe a nobleman might have less than noble intentions.
The king gave his son a hard look. “You see, this is how a true knight behaves, with gallantry and honour.”
“My lord,” Valiant began again and the tone of his voice was definitely condescending now, “if your son makes these accusations because he is afraid to fight me in the final, will graciously accept his withdrawal.”
Merlin saw the muscle in Arthur’s jaw flex as Uther stepped towards him menacingly. “Is this true? Do you wish to withdraw from the tournament?”
“No!” Arthur stated emphatically.
“Then what am I to make of these allegations?”
“Obviously there has been a misunderstanding. I withdraw my allegation against Knight Valiant. Please accept my apology,” Arthur said with as much dignity as could be managed.
“Accepted,” said Valiant.
The look on Arthur’s face as he turned away from his father and strode from the room was painful. It was obvious he was upset that Uther would question his bravery and the look he fixed Merlin with felt like a blow. Merlin glanced back to where the king and Valiant were standing and saw the knight’s lips twitch for want of a smirk and the dangerous gleam flash within them again. Pressing his lips together firmly to stop himself from saying anything more, he glared at Valiant and followed Arthur from the room.
“I believed you, I trusted you, and you made me look a complete fool,” were Arthur’s hurt and disappointed words the moment the door to his chambers were shut.
“I know it didn’t go exactly to plan.”
“Didn’t go to plan? My father and the entire royal court think I’m a coward. You humiliated me!”
“We can still expose Valiant.”
“There’s no we. Leave.”
“What?”
“I no longer require your services.”
“You’re sacking me?”
“I need a servant I can trust.”
“You can trust me!”
“And look where it got me this time. I believe this certainly counts as doing something publicly unforgiveable. It took you longer than I thought it would. Now, get out of my sight!”
Merlin stared disbelievingly at Arthur for a long moment. He felt a heavy stone of misery settle in his stomach and took off down the stairways and into the depths of the castle. He had only been trying to do what was right, to protect Arthur like he was supposedly meant to, but it had all blown up in his face.
At the bottom of the dusty, disused staircases, Merlin walked out onto the ledge and waved his torch around trying to illuminate the dragon’s cave. “Are you there? I just came to tell you, whatever you think my destiny is... whatever it is you think I’m supposed do... you’ve got the wrong person!”
The cavern was quiet, only a few drops of water breaking the silence and Merlin shook his head. What was he doing here? The dragon wasn’t going to have some perfect solution to his problem and really he shouldn’t be listening to words about great destinies spoken by a half mad creature that had been chained beneath a castle for twenty years.
Merlin called out, “I’m doing what I should have done weeks ago. I’m leaving... Goodbye.”
“If only it were that easy to escape one’s destiny,” the dragon said, his voice seeming to come from all directions, filling the cave.
“How can it be my destiny to protect someone who hates me?” Merlin asked as the dragon descended from wherever it had been in the cavern.
“The half cannot truly hate that which makes it whole,” the dragon stated, settling down on the rocky outcrop on the floor of the cave and leaning towards Merlin. “Very soon you shall learn that.”
“Oh great, just what I needed... another riddle.”
“That your and Arthur’s destiny lies together is but the truth.”
Merlin waved his arms in the air in frustration, nearly sending the torch flying. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You know, young warlock, this is not the end. It is only the beginning,” the dragon said cryptically and took flight, disappearing once more into the dark recesses of the cave.
“Why can’t you give me a straight answer?!”
Merlin glared at the spot where the dragon had stood, upset at himself for coming down here. It didn’t matter what the dragon said, he was leaving. There was nothing to keep him here. Decision made, Merlin stormed back up the stairs, the leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach growing with each step he took.
Not able to bring himself to face Gaius before he left, Merlin resolved to simply walk of out Camelot with the shirt on his back and nothing more. He could use magic to get what he needed; he just had to get out of here. When his feet brought him close to the gates of the castle, however, his heart would sink and he would be irresistibly drawn back towards the steps to the citadel. He tried three times before giving up and slumping down on the steps out of the way of the various people who hurried past. He felt miserable, not just upset but also physically unwell. The sensation of something heavy weighing down his insides had intensified and walking up to the gate the last time had given him pangs that had nearly doubled him over. He was sitting now, arms wrapped around his middle to try to contain the pain when Gwen came and sat down beside him.
“Hey there, Merlin,” she said gently.
He managed a nod, but still felt too nauseated to speak.
Gwen turned to look at him directly. “Is what you said true? About Valiant using magic?”
He nodded again.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, not unkindly, but with definite expectation in her voice that she figured he would fix things and save the day.
“Why is it everyone seems to think it’s down to me to do something about it?”
“Because it is, isn’t it? It’s a part of your job to take care of the prince just like it’s a part of my job to take care of Lady Morgana.”
“No it isn’t. Arthur sacked me like he’s been wanting to since the beginning.”
“But that’s not fair. You have to show him -show them- that you were right and they were wrong.”
“And how do I do that?”
Gwen wrung her fingers and bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”
Merlin shook his head and turned away from her. Gwen was very nice, too nice sometimes, but there wasn’t anything she could do to help. It wasn’t like she could make the snakes on the shield come to life in front of everyone so they could see... Merlin froze, his eyes widening. He looked at a stone statue of a dog sitting on its hindquarters at the base of the staircase and shot to his feet.
“That’s it,” he said to himself.
Gwen’s voice was puzzled, but he ignored her question. He stood in front of the statue and looked at it critically. It was very lifelike, and could probably be made to come alive just like the snakes in the shield, if he could figure out how to do it.
Attempting to pick up the statue, he grunted and asked Gwen, “Do you have a wheelbarrow I could borrow?”
She looked at him in utter bafflement, but nodded and went to fetch one from the smithy.
Gaius also gave him a baffled look when he banged and crashed his way into the physician’s chambers with an unwieldy statue of a dog in a wheelbarrow.
“What on earth are you doing?”
“If the king doesn’t believe there are snakes in that shield, I’ll let him see them for himself.”
“Merlin,” Gaius said in a warning tone.
“I’ll be careful. I just need to figure out how to do it. How is Gavin?”
“He hasn’t regained consciousness yet, but his fever has broken. I expect he’ll wake sometime in the night.”
“So long as he doesn’t get bitten again.”
“You see that he doesn’t. Valiant has no idea about young Gavin and I’d like to keep it that way. The boy may be young and not yet sworn to the king’s service, but he’s still from a noble family and Uther might be disposed to listen to him if it comes to that.”
“I don’t think the king will listen to anyone, not after what happened in the council.”
“Then I suppose you need to do something to keep Arthur from getting killed in the final.”
“Right,” Merlin said, “no big task there, then.”
Getting a wheelbarrow containing a heavy stone statue up several narrow steps into his room was not easy, but he managed it with only one large scrape to the doorjamb and a half dozen bruises to his elbows, knees and shins. With the dog statue sitting on the floor at the end of his bed looking at him expectantly, Merlin pried up the floorboard where he had hidden his magic book and began to flip through pages. He hadn’t had nearly enough time to really make any progress with reading the book, but he had noticed that for all it seemed to be a haphazard collection of spells and potions, there was some order. Whoever had compiled the majority of the spells had tended to group them together by purpose. The author had written titles at the top of some pages, Spells of Healing, Spells to Aid the Harvest, Breaking Enchantments on People, Herbs used in Potions of the Mind and so on. Most of these titles appeared more than once as clearly not enough space had left in each section and, pages had been added to the book itself. He searched within the sections titled Making and Breaking Enchantments on Objects, mumbling his way through a dozen pages before finding a spell intended to make lifeless objects come alive.
After repeating the words several times to be certain he was saying them correctly, he stood in front of the statue, held out a hand and intoned, “Bebe ordethe arisan cwicum.”
His magic, which most of the time was all too quick to leap to his fingers, did absolutely nothing. The heavy stone feeling in his stomach felt like it was weighing down his magic as well. He tried saying the spell again, but his magic was listless and didn’t respond. Again and again he repeated the words, getting more frustrated each time, until he shouted them and kicked the statue in anger when it remained as lifeless as the stone it was carved from. He regretted that almost instantly, hopping up and down on one foot swearing at the sharp pain throbbing in his toe. He sat on his bed, searching through the pages again for a different spell that might be better, but came up with nothing.
Night fell, and even lighting the candles, something he had been able to do without thinking since before he could walk, was difficult. The tiny flames flickered weakly before taking hold of the wick and burning properly. Merlin began to shake and clutched at his middle again. He felt sick and weak in a way that had nothing to do with normal illness. His magic wasn’t working properly and he had no idea why.
For as long as he could remember, he had wished for his magic to be easier to control or less powerful than it was. He had wanted to be normal, thinking that if he were the worried looks his mother gave him would disappear. When he was old enough to understand what it meant to have magic in a world that reviled it, he had wanted nothing more than to be rid of the fear and insecurity that it brought to his life. That small undercurrent of fear became a wave of outright terror at the thought that his magic might stop working altogether and disappear. He may have wished it gone before, but Merlin didn’t truly want to lose his magic. It was part of who he was. Barely able to light a candle, he felt helpless and more than a little afraid.
Swallowing down the bile rising in his throat, Merlin almost ran from the room in search of Arthur. If he couldn’t use his magic to keep the prince from getting himself killed, he had to somehow convince him not to fight.
The door to Arthur’s chambers was ajar, framing the prince where he stood looking at the fire blazing in the hearth in resignation. The meal sitting on the table was untouched. Arthur, who was normally in constant motion, was very still. Merlin stepped into the room quietly and hovered by the door.
“I thought I told you to get out of my sight,” Arthur said without turning to look at him.
Merlin tried to keep his voice calm against the rising panic within him. “Don’t fight Valiant in the final tomorrow.”
Arthur shook his head slightly, but said nothing.
“He’ll use the shield against you,” he said more urgently.
Arthur was quiet and resigned. “I know.”
Merlin goggled a bit at that. For all of Arthur’s anger earlier, the prince still believed him. Somehow, knowing that made the heavy, nauseous feeling in his stomach ease a bit. “Then withdraw. You have to withdraw.”
“Don’t you understand?” Arthur said tightly and turned to look at Merlin, his face betraying his emotions. “I can’t withdraw. The people expect their prince to fight. How can I lead men into battle if they think I’m a coward?!”
“Valiant will kill you! If you fight, you die.”
The swell of emotions playing on Arthur’s face faded and he turned to look at the fire again. His voice was calm when he spoke. “Then I die.”
“How can you go out there and fight knowing that?” Merlin asked, unable to comprehend what could make Arthur so willing to throw his life away in a fight he knew wasn’t fair.
“Because I have to... It’s my duty.”
Merlin stared at Arthur for a long moment. Standing there wasn’t the arrogant ass who had bullied him in the street when he first arrived in Camelot or the petulant child who had pestered his father to get his way. The Arthur standing there was more like the one he occasionally saw in some of the flashes of thought that seemed to happen to him more and more whenever he came into contact with Arthur, a noble man with great dignity but also an air of sadness around him. Merlin still had no idea what to make of the snatches of sensation, thought and conversation that jolted through him with regularity during the daily course of serving the prince, but somehow he knew that they were in some way Arthur. His magic, usually struggling to leap from his body in the presence of the prince, did flare slightly from the dull listlessness that made his whole body ache. He would have to try harder, even if the effort might burn out his magic.
It was a long night, and he had gotten nowhere. Whenever trying to draw on his unresponsive magic became too frustrating, Merlin left his room and sat beside Gavin’s bed. The boy was still young, maybe fourteen summers old, but he was already starting to build the muscle of a knight. Merlin knew his lanky limbs were strong from the various chores Ewan assigned him, as well as the preliminary training he received from the knight. Occasionally, Gavin twitched restlessly in his sleep, at one point, waking almost completely and crying out about the snake that had attacked him, but he settled again after Merlin wiped his brow and squeezed his hand reassuringly. Merlin wasn’t sure what would become of Gavin, now that Ewan was dead, but at least the young squire who had been kind to him would live.
As the grey light of dawn crept in through the window of his room, Merlin dozed a little exhausted and unable to make his magic work. The statue was still stubbornly made of stone and while the painful edge to the heaviness in his gut had eased, he still felt weak and unwell. In his mind, he could see the resigned look on Arthur’s face as he entered the arena, the stern disapproving glare of the king and the moment of sneering confidence on Valiant’s face. The dragon was wrong. It was all going to end and Arthur was going to die. So much for destiny.
“So much for books of spells and magic that could get me killed that doesn’t even work when I need them to. What use is my magic if I can’t tell it what to do?” he said, feeling the burn of angry tears behind his eyes. “Bebe ordethe arisan cwicum!”
His magic flared slightly, then faded into listlessness again. Merlin curled in on himself, holding his knees tightly to his chest and burying his face. Around him, the sounds of morning rose up from the castle. He could hear the sound of horses’ hooves on the stones of the courtyard as the nightly patrols returned. Voices murmured, carts creaked and groaned with their loads, the crank at the well squeaked as servants drew water and occasionally the clatter of something being dropped drifted through the window. There was also someone panting very loudly. Actually, it was more likely to be someone or something panting quite close to him.
Lifting his head, Merlin looked up and saw a very large, very alive, dog sitting at the end of his bed panting eagerly. The dog whined and barked in excitement and Merlin jumped up. He had done it! Dashing out of his room, he met Gaius by the door.
“I just saw Arthur leave for the arena,” Gaius told him. “The fight with Valiant will start very soon.”
Merlin nodded. “I know. I’ll take care of it. Umm... you might want to stay out of my room. I promise I’ll get rid of the dog once this is all over.”
“What dog?” Gaius asked, but Merlin was already racing down the corridor.
Out of breath, Merlin arrived at the entrance to the arena and bent over gasping for air. The stands where full to bursting with people eagerly watching the fight. Merlin arrived just in time to see Arthur deliver a sound blow to Valiant’s head which knocked his helmet off. The knight regained his balance and prepared for another attack as Arthur shed his own helmet.
Valiant was outmatched by Arthur in skill, but the knight had a confidence that made his less than refined movements no less effective. Valiant pushed at Arthur with his shield every opportunity he got. Merlin watched in mounting frustration for an opportunity to try his spell on the snakes, but he didn’t want to set them loose only to have them within striking range of Arthur. A forceful blow to the jaw sent Arthur sprawling backward and the crowd gasped as Valiant shouted and came charging forward. Valiant pinned Arthur’s shield under his boot and brought down a wild blow which Arthur only just managed to avoid. Rolling away and onto his feet, Arthur shifted his grip on his sword and prepared for another assault.
Several forceful strikes from Valiant made Arthur lose his grip and drop his sword. Pressing his advantage, Valiant advanced on Arthur who moved in close to stop the sword arm by holding it. They were struggling close together, more wrestling than anything, and Valiant’s slight advantage in size allowed him to back Arthur up against the stone wall only a few feet away from where Merlin was standing. Arthur used the wall at his back for leverage and managed to push Valiant off and create some space.
Without a sword or even a shield, Arthur’s options were limited. Merlin focussed on the painted snakes of Valiant’s shield and did his best to tug his magic into compliance.
“Bebe ordethe arisan cwicum.”
The heaviness that had weighed him down since Arthur’s dismissal eased and Merlin gasped along with the crowd as his magic summoned two snakes from Valiant’s shield. Arthur’s eyes visibly widened and he took several steps back. Valiant looked down in shock and the beginnings of fear when he saw the enchanted snakes coming to life without his command.
“What are you doing?” Valiant said frantically. “I didn’t summon you.”
“Now they all see you for what you really are,” Arthur spat at Valiant.
Valiant chuckled cruelly. With a gesture, the snakes dropped from the shield entirely and slithered towards Arthur.
“Kill him!” Valiant commanded.
Panic gripped Merlin. He didn’t have any way of making the snakes stop, and Arthur was weaponless. His plan had only really been to expose Valiant. He hadn’t even begun to think what might happen once the snakes were loose. Backing away from the snakes, Arthur came near the royal box where Uther and Morgana were on their feet watching events unfold. Lady Morgana, clearly a quick thinker, grabbed a sword from one of the men at arms and shouted to Arthur. He glanced away in time to catch the sword Morgana threw to him. With a fluid motion, Arthur decapitated the snakes poised to strike him and advanced on Valiant. Merlin could scarcely make sense of the flurry of motion and clash of swords, but he did see Valiant go still and watched as Arthur whispered something in the man’s ear before the knight fell to the ground.
The crowd exploded with cheers and even the king looked visibly shaken by the sudden turn of events. Arthur raised his head and acknowledged the applause with grace, even though he looked tired and sweaty with a definite wobble to his walk. Picking up his own sword from where he had dropped it, Arthur lifted it in victory, nodded to his father and left the arena. As he passed Merlin at the entrance, Arthur gave him a small, tired smile and a friendly punch to the shoulder before retreating to his tent.
Merlin stood at the back of the banquet hall watching Arthur escort Lady Morgana through the parted crowd. Around him noblemen and ladies offered their congratulations and the king gave a small smile and nod of approval. Merlin frowned. The king and everyone were acting like they hadn’t just yesterday accused the prince of lying and cowardice.
Gaius nudged his shoulder gently to draw his attention. “What has you so upset?”
“Nearly everyone in this room spent all of yesterday calling Arthur a coward and a liar behind his back and now they’re all smiles and congratulations. It’s insane.”
“I’m afraid that is what the royal court is like. It always has been.”
“But it shouldn’t be. The king would accept the word of a noble over the word of a servant, but it’s not like they’re great role models or anything. Why is it commoners are supposed to look up to them? It’s ridiculous.”
“Privilege often interferes with judgement, but there is little we can do about it.”
“It’s not right.”
“I didn’t say it was. Just don’t let it change the person you are. What you did today won’t earn you praise, but you did a good job. I’m proud of you.”
Merlin sighed. “I suppose. At least with everything that happened I won’t have to spend my days polishing boots and mucking out stables.”
“I have a couple leech tanks that need cleaning,” Gaius said with a grin.
Merlin groaned and slumped back against the wall as the physician moved to speak with one of the ladies of the court he had given a restorative tonic to the previous day.
The hall was full of bustle and merriment, which was a relief after the tension of the tournament, but Merlin still felt ill at ease. He felt in some way diminished and not in full possession of his magic. He didn’t like the feeling at all. For once, when his magic tingled at Arthur’s approach, Merlin relished it. Being near the prince made Merlin feel almost himself again.
“Can you believe Morgana? She’s saying she saved me. Like I needed any help,” Arthur huffed leaning slightly against the wall beside Merlin.
Merlin could help a small grin at that. “Did she?”
Arthur shook his head and rolled his eyes. There was an awkward pause and Arthur’s bravado faded away. He looked at Merlin and spoke with sincerity. “I wanted to say, I made a mistake. It was unfair to sack you.”
Merlin shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve saved me a lot of late nights and early mornings.”
“What I said, about needing a servant I could trust... I need someone I can trust to be honest, even when it isn’t in their best interests to be. You may be rubbish as a servant, but you never hold back the truth of what you’re thinking. Perhaps...”
“What?”
“You’re probably the only servant in the castle who doesn’t want my ear. I think that makes you exactly the one I need.”
Merlin shook his head. “I’m not a servant. I came here to be Gaius’ apprentice.”
“You managed to do both.”
“Both badly, you mean.”
“If I speak with Gaius, make some changes to your duties...?”
“You seriously want me back?”
“I’m beginning to see my father’s point about the value of having people who would put themselves at risk for me. I want you back.”
“With a more reasonable list of duties?”
“With some consideration given to the fact that Gaius also has claim to your time, yes.”
Taking a deep breath, Merlin let it out shakily and nodded. “Alright.”
“Good,” Arthur said with a confident nod, as if he had been completely confident in Merlin’s agreement.
Merlin smiled weakly as Arthur began to rattle off a list of things that absolutely needed doing as soon as possible and Merlin barely contained a groan. It was really unlikely his list of duties was actually going to get any shorter, but the thought was nice, he supposed.
Gavin was on his feet and back to helping the knights on the training field after a few days, much to Merlin’s relief. It was still a bit nerve wracking to see the normally cheerful boy so weak, even though he had been treated right away. When he returned to his duties they chatted companionably while sharpening swords on the sidelines of the practice field, and Merlin learned that Arthur had made arrangements for Gavin to continue on at Camelot.
“Ewan was my cousin,” Gavin said sadly, “on my mother’s side. I didn’t think there would be another knight who would take me on, but Sir Pellean has offered. Pellean’s related to Ewan by marriage I think... His mother’s sister’s husband’s brother is married to Ewan’s father’s brother’s wife’s sister.”
Merlin looked at Gavin in confusion. “How do you keep all that straight?”
Gavin shrugged. “That’s what family trees are for. Don’t you know all your family?”
Merlin snorted at that. “I think you’ll find most peasants don’t keep detailed accounts of family lineages. I don’t even know who my father was.”
“Really?” Gavin asked, genuinely surprised.
“Mum never wanted to talk about him and I never asked.”
“I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
“It’s not like anything, Gavin. It just is. I’m not bothered by it.”
“Perhaps your father was someone important who had a whirlwind romance with your mother,” Gavin said wistfully.
“I really don’t want to think about my mother having romances of any kind, but thanks for putting the thought in my mind.”
The young squire grinned wickedly. “Glad I could help.”
“So will Pellean be beating you up with a stick later then?”
“I’m not that bad at sword fighting. Ewan taught me a lot.”
“I didn’t say he hadn’t. I just don’t see how someone coming at you with a weapon with no instruction is particularly helpful.”
“Did Arthur do that to you?”
Merlin nodded.
“He should really teach you how to handle a blade, even if it’s just a dagger or throwing knives.”
“Not much point, is there? The prince can handle whatever is thrown his way.”
“If you’re his manservant, you might be around him when there are attacks as well. Better to be an asset than a liability.”
A shadow fell across them and a voice said, “I couldn’t agree more.”
Merlin looked up to see Arthur looming over them, red faced and sweaty from exertion. Merlin handed him a water skin, which Arthur took with a nod and gulped down several mouthfuls. Since the tournament, the prince had been making some effort to be, if not polite, then less prattish. Recorking the skin, Arthur tossed it back to Merlin and sat down on a stool beside Gavin with a sigh.
“Feeling back to normal, Gavin?”
“Yes sire. I was a bit tired when I got done my duties last night, but I’m feeling fine again today.”
“Good,” said Arthur with a nod. “Pellean and I will give you a lesson once everyone is done here today. You can spar with Merlin.”
Hearing this, Merlin groaned, but Arthur just laughed. “Don’t be such a girl, Merlin. I’m sure Gavin won’t be too hard on you.”
“I really don’t remember this being on my new list of duties.”
“I think this falls under the heading ‘other duties as assigned’ Merlin.”
“I hate you,” he said without heat.
Arthur grinned. “You love me. Everyone does. Don’t they Gavin?”
“Um...” said the young squire, sounding unsure as to whether the prince was joking or not and if he was if it would be alright for him to join in.
Arthur sighed a little and pushed his sweaty fringe out of his eyes. “I really never noticed just how unique your teasing disrespect was, Merlin. It seems no one else quite has the knack of it.”
Merlin snorted. “Thanks, I think.”
Arthur let out a burst of full, ringing laughter at that and Merlin couldn’t help smiling.
Arthur broke through the surface of the water and shook his wet hair like a dog, spraying droplets all over him. He waded into the water to join Arthur, watching the way the light glistened on the wet skin of Arthur’s chest. Reaching out a hand, he pulled Arthur close and lowered his mouth...
Merlin jerked in surprise, very startled by the nature of the latest image that overlaid itself on reality. Neither Arthur nor Gavin seemed to have noticed his distraction, however. Arthur was still chuckling and Gavin was watching him with a smile that still held a small nervous edge to it, as if the boy wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea of his prince laughing and joking around. Sir Pellean noticed their good humour and came over to discuss training and Merlin managed to pull himself together before anyone noticed his distraction. Talk turned to weapons and sparring, which made Merlin slightly nervous at the prospect of once again being on the receiving end of a beating disguised as training. The thought of bruises and ringing ears was enough to take his mind off of the strange, unsettling images of Arthur, for the time being.
Though it had been a miserable day and night, getting sacked by Arthur during the spring tournament had actually turned out to be a good thing overall. Instead of the situation being one they were both forced into, Arthur had chosen to take Merlin back as his manservant, and he in turn had accepted that serving Arthur was something he wanted to do. At least as long as it didn’t involve mucking out the stables. Although his duties were still considerably more numerous and time consuming than he’d like, they weren’t nearly as onerous or distasteful as they had been those first two weeks.
Things weren’t exactly what one might call easy between them, but there was an underlying respect that kept the criticisms and the insults on both sides from being particularly hurtful. Arthur still got exasperated at having to explain things he couldn’t imagine someone not knowing and Merlin still mocked the prince for being a prat, but for the most part it was good natured. Arthur also stopped threatening to send Merlin to the stocks every time they had a disagreement. Well, he stopped threatening with any seriousness anyway. It was still something that rolled off of Arthur’s tongue far too easily, but they both knew it was mentioned mostly out of habit and it became something of a joke between them.
The agreement the prince had worked out with Gaius allowed for Merlin to have more time to study with the physician, and study magic from the book on his own, though Arthur certainly wasn’t aware of that aspect of his education. The fear he had experienced when his magic failed to respond while trying to bring the statue of the dog to life seemed to be unfounded and his magic was advancing in leaps and bounds. The nearly uncontrollable surges he had initially felt when in the presence of the prince had become far more manageable. Merlin still felt it when Arthur walked into the room, but now his magic did more of the equivalent to a happy sigh than a barely contained explosion, for which he was extremely grateful. It was still somewhat disturbing to think that his magic was happy to be near Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther the executioner of magic users without mercy or evidence, but even the phantom sensation of an axe against his neck every time he saw the king didn’t seem to dampen his magic’s enthusiasm for Arthur to any measurable degree.
More troubling were the strange, and all too frequent, flashes of sensation that happened when Merlin was around Arthur. There was no discernable pattern to them, and though some of them were obviously related to each other the details changed in each. But the experience of them was the same. One moment he’d be with Arthur in the here and now and the next everything would be overlaid with strange images, sounds, sensations, even thoughts and emotions, and as suddenly as it started it would end. Most seemed to last only seconds, but they usually left him shaken for a long while afterwards.
His life in Camelot was far busier than it had ever been in Ealdor. When Arthur informed him that they would be away from the castle for several days hunting for the May Day celebrations, Merlin was startled to realise he had left his mother nearly two months ago and had scarcely had time to miss her. When he had left home, he couldn’t really imagine life without his mother’s presence and he had thought she would be on his mind constantly. In reality, Merlin was so caught up with his life in Camelot that he scarcely gave a thought to his mum and Will.
Arthur wanted to travel further from the city than his regular hunts took him and assembled a small group of knights to travel with him. They rode north for a day in the hopes of finding more game in the denser forest there. During the trip, Merlin listened to the knights and the prince rattle on about tracking boar and the best places to look for deer. Once they made camp, Merlin was put to work tending the fire, fetching water, cooking and generally being everyone's servant. None of the others had even brought their squires, though Arthur was selfish enough to keep them from ordering him about too much. He was kept surprisingly busy tending to the prince's things.
They spent several days setting snares for small game and tracking larger animals. Merlin felt rather useless during most of the actual hunting; though Arthur had given him a spear and informed him it was his job to flush out game. They walked as quietly as they could in search of tracks, with Arthur regularly hissing at Merlin not to makes so much noise. The first sign of boar came on the third day when Sir Leon spotted tracks in the wet mud by a stream. Arthur led the group along a narrow trail that seemed to be well used by animals that were all much shorter than Merlin if the branches that constantly swatted him in the face were any indication. Arthur halted them several times, examining the signs left on the trail and trying to determine how close they might be. When they approached a small clearing, even Merlin could hear the grunting close by. Arthur froze, then proceeded to make all kinds of bizarre hand gestures which Merlin really had no clue how to interpret. From the rather pointed look Arthur threw him followed by an exaggerated circling motion when he didn’t move, Merlin gathered he was supposed to go around and try to chase the boar into the clearing. With a quiet sigh, Merlin brushed away a fly that was buzzing around his head and set off to get on the other side of their quarry.
In the end, their quest for wild boar was successful, though Sir Owain had come very close to being gored by a tusk. He had managed to escape with only a shallow scrape and a rather painfully twisted ankle, but the knight didn't seem to mind. Owain was helped back to camp by Sir Bedivere while Arthur and Leon took it upon themselves to tend to their prize. In the process of scrambling through the dense underbrush from where he had first scared the boar to where it actually fell, Merlin managed to get completely caught up in a tangle of vine and called out for assistance.
"Arthur? I'm... um... I seem to be stuck."
"Quit fooling around, Merlin, and give us a hand with this."
"I would, but I can't get over there. I'm all tangled up in this vine thing. I'm stuck."
Arthur heaved a highly put upon sigh and left Leon to finish trussing up the boar. The prince's expression was one of amused exasperation more than genuine irritation, but Merlin still felt embarrassed. Arthur was very good at making him feel foolish, even when he wasn't trying.
"You really are something, Merlin."
"It's not my fault the stupid boar decided to run through the thickest bit of forest it could find. Anyway, I think it's your extra quiver that's gotten tangled up the worst."
Arthur started tugging at the vine, searching for someplace where the plant might give way. He reached up behind Merlin's head and tried to unwrap the mess of vines from where it was hooked on the quiver at Merlin's shoulder. Effectively pinned in place, both by the plant and the prince, Merlin’s face was trapped rather close to Arthur's when another vision overtook him.
Arthur looked at him with a burning intensity. As he leaned in closer, his grin turned wicked. "It seems I've caught you."
He was panting heavily, both from exertion and from the heat pounding though his veins. "What are you going to do with me?" he asked breathily.
"I'm sure I'll think of something," Arthur said, then closed the space between them.
Warm, slightly chapped lips pressed against his own and his thundering heart raced faster still. A hand reached up to grasp the back of his neck and held him close, but he had no intention of pulling away. The tip of a warm, wet tongue startled him into parting his lips, and then his mouth was being overtaken by a questing tongue sliding against his own.
Arthur gave a sharp yank and the last bit of vine trapping Merlin in place came free. The prince looked at him closely for a moment, then asked in concern, “You alright?”
Merlin could feel his face flush with embarrassment and nodded. “Yeah. Just a bit winded... from chasing the boar.”
Arthur shook his head, sighing heavily, and went to help carry the boar. “Hurry up, Merlin. Your skills as a healer may be dubious at best, but I’m sure Gaius sent you with some vile tonic that might be of some benefit to Owain.”
“I have a couple things that might do,” said Merlin. His legs were as shaky as a newborn foal as he followed Arthur and Leon back to camp, carefully keeping some distance between them as he tried to regain his equilibrium.
Merlin was grateful that both the large kill and Owain’s injury meant the end of their hunting expedition. He was very careful not to touch Arthur again, even a small brush of the hand, and thankfully no more flashes came. The sensory memory attached to the last was enough to keep his head spinning without adding any more.
Upon arriving back to the castle the following evening, Merlin hurried to complete the list of tasks Arthur had given him and waited impatiently for the quiet of night. Gaius had gone so far as to compliment Merlin on his care and wrapping of Owain’s foot, but his anxiety was great enough he didn’t really hear it. Although he was exhausted from days tramping around in the forest and a long ride home, he forced himself to stay awake and wait for Gaius to fall asleep.
In the stillness of the night, Merlin snuck out of his room and travelled the disused corridors and stairways that lead to the dragon’s cavern. He still couldn’t bring himself to talk with Gaius about the visions he was experiencing. The old man was already concerned enough about the wildness of Merlin’s magic and he felt like even mentioning the idea of visions of any sort would cause more worry. His flashes concerned him, but he wanted to understand them more than he wanted to get rid of them. The dragon seemed like the only other option he had, and for some reason talking about them with him seemed right.
The guards on watch at the top of the stairs were already dull with fatigue and Merlin used one of his newly learned spells to send them to sleep where they sat leaning on the table. He quietly tiptoed down the stairs with a torch and stepped through the passage out onto the ledge.
“Hello?” he called into the shadows.
There was no response for a long time, and though he couldn’t think of anyone else to talk to Merlin was starting to have second thoughts about discussing the strange flashes of sensation with the dragon. Perhaps he should talk to Gaius about them. More quietly, he called, “Are you there?”
For such a large creature, the dragon could be very quiet. Merlin could hear water dripping and air moving through the unseen recesses of the cavern, but oddly enough he couldn’t hear the faintest sound that might have been made by the dragon.
“Kilgarrah?” Merlin said tentatively and started. Where had that come from? He thought it must be the dragon’s name, but like so many other things that sprang to his mind lately, he had no idea how he knew that.
A low rumbling chuckle filled the cave and the sound of a heavy metal chain clinked in the darkness. Merlin heard leathery wings beating in the air above him and the dragon descended into the main chamber. Glowing eyes stared intently at him and an expression that might be considered a grin, if such a thing were even possible, wrote itself across the dragon’s face.
The dragon’s voice rumbled with amusement. “So you have regained some of your memories. I was beginning to wonder.”
“Memories? What do you mean?”
“I admit to being surprised that you had not yet remembered anything when you first came to visit me, but I see that it was merely a delay, not an absence of memory entirely.”
“Do you know what’s happening to me?”
“In what way?”
“Since I first came here, I’ve been having these... flashes, moments where I can see, hear, smell, even feel things that aren’t there. It’s not just that, either. There are words, spells and things, that just pop into my mind and I don’t know how I know them. I feel like I’m going mad.”
“Have no fear for your sanity, warlock, you are simply beginning to remember things that you have forgotten.”
“Forgotten? But I’ve never studied magic before. I never learned any spells. What is there for me to remember?”
“This is not your first time at anything, warlock, and I have known of you, and your destiny, since I was young.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You will remember when the time is right. You always do.”
“What about the other Arthurs? Are they memories too?”
“You and Arthur are two sides of the same coin. There cannot be one without the other,” the dragon said simply, then with a great heave of muscle and wing launched himself into the upper reaches of the cavern.
Once again, Merlin was left staring at the space where the dragon had just been, feeling wrong footed. The strange moments of thought and sensation were memories? How could that even be possible? He was just Merlin. Hunith’s strange little by-blow. Always-in-the-wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time Merlin.
“I can’t be one side of a coin or one half of a whole or whatever it is you think I am, Kilgarrah. I’ve always been very alone... but I suppose it was a mistake to think you might help me,” Merlin said softly to the darkness and turned on his heel and left. For a moment, he thought he could hear the faint sound of the dragon chuckling, and he pounded up the stairs as fast as he could.
May Day came and went in a flurry of song, dance and feasting that went on late into the night. Merlin felt unsettled and nearly jumped out of his skin every time he got close enough to the prince that they might accidentally brush against one another. Even if the dragon refused to give him a full explanation, he knew that contact with Arthur triggered the flashes or memories, if that’s what they really were, more often. Arthur looked at him oddly whenever they happened to touch and Merlin pulled away as if burnt, but did not comment on it. There were plenty of other things to occupy his royal attention.
Three days after May Day, the first body was found in the street, drained of colour with spidery marks spread across his skin. Merlin had been with Gaius that morning as it was a council day and Arthur’s agreement with the physician released him to his studies during the three days a week the prince was obliged to spend in council with the king. They had found the victim in the alley beside the apothecary, and though they had gone to some effort to keep the death from upsetting people in the town, soon there were a dozen more bodies and both the city and the castle were in a state of panic.
In Gaius’ workroom there was plenty of panic to go around.
“Aren’t you afraid of getting sick?”
“As the court physician, this is my job, and as my apprentice it is yours too,” Gaius told Merlin yet again. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this. The progression from onset to death isn’t more than a day. Nearly all illnesses progress slower and those that do affect the body this quickly don’t match the symptoms. I can’t help but think that this is not a natural sickness.”
“Not natural? What do you mean?”
“The only explanation I can think of is that sorcery is involved somehow. There is nothing in my medical texts that resembles this sickness.”
“You mean, someone is making people sick by magic?”
“Or using magic to spread something that is making people sick. I still can’t determine the source of the illness. People are becoming ill, seemingly at random. Most are from the lower town, but even though the king has quarantined the city, there are already three nobles infected.”
“And there’s no way to cure any of them?”
“I’m afraid not. Our best solution is to stop the spread.”
“But if the sickness is spread by magic, perhaps there’s something in my book that can cure it.”
“Are you mad? I’m certain Uther already suspects sorcery and the moment I tell him my conclusions there is bound to be a full scale search of the entire city. We can’t go using magical shortcuts, Merlin. We must rely on science to find the answers.”
“But Gaius, people are dying! I’m doing really well with the healing magic. It’s almost as easy for me as the stuff I do without spells.”
“And it’s very dangerous for you to be using.”
Merlin felt himself shaking, and turned away from Gaius. Right now, he couldn’t trust himself to be polite, and Gaius really didn’t deserve his anger. Heading for the door, Merlin said, “I need to get some air.”
“While you’re out you can stop by the herb garden. Some fresh mint and ginger would be useful. And Merlin... don’t do anything foolish.”
Merlin all but ran from the room. He hated feeling helpless and watching Gaius fiddle with his experiments while not making any obvious progress made him feel the need to escape. Instead of heading for the herb garden, however, he made his way up onto the castle battlements that overlooked the town. There was usually a breeze up there that made the air fresh, and when he felt trapped looking out at the fields surrounding the city made him feel less confined.
When he arrived, Merlin found Arthur standing rigidly overlooking the city.
“Sorry,” he mumbled and turned to leave.
“Merlin? What are you doing up here?” Arthur asked. “I thought you were helping Gaius.”
“I was, but... I had to get out of there for a bit.”
“The physician thing isn’t all it’s made out to be?”
“It’s not that. I just feel so helpless. People are dying and we don’t even know how the sickness is spreading. All of Gaius’ experiments take so long. It’s really frustrating.”
Merlin had half expected ridicule for his complaint, but instead he saw Arthur nodding.
“I know the feeling. Look at the lower town.”
Merlin scanned the normally bustling streets and found them nearly empty. There was no one at the stalls in the market and the only people about seemed to be the occasional person scurrying towards the well, and then hurrying back to their homes. Even from so far above them, he could sense their fear.
“It’s so quiet.”
“Everyone’s scared. I’m supposed to help protect the people, but father won’t even let me do patrols in the lower town in case I contract the sickness. He’s cut them off and left them to die. What for? There are already people in the castle who are sick too.”
“We’re going to figure this out. I know Gaius will find a way to stop the sickness.”
“I just hope there are still people left when he does.”
“Me too,” Merlin agreed.
For a long while they stood side by side in silence. It was soothing somehow, to know that Arthur was feeling as frustrated as he was.
Feeling calmer after the quiet moment spent in Arthur’s company, Merlin said, “I should get down to the herb garden. There are a few things that Gaius is short of.”
“Hop to it, then,” Arthur commanded, but his tone was friendly.
When Merlin reached the door, Arthur turned and called out to him, “Don’t go thinking that getting sick will get you out of your duties. I expect you back to work the moment Gaius is done with you.”
Merlin smiled. “You be careful too.”
When Merlin returned to Gaius’ chambers, he found the physician slumped on a chair by his workbench, staring at the body they had laid out for examination. Merlin still found the presence of the body disturbing, but the expression of bewilderment Gaius wore was even more troubling.
“Did you find anything?” Merlin asked as he set down the basket of herbs, already knowing the answer.
Gaius shook his head. “My experiments have yet to indicate a method of infection. What would a noblewoman and a boy from the lower town have in common?”
“Well, they probably wouldn’t talk to each other.”
Gaius gave him a withering look, but nodded. “No, they wouldn’t, which means the sickness is not spread through the air. I had already ruled that out, however. If it were airborne, I doubt there would be anyone left in the city or castle left unaffected by now.”
“They don’t wash their clothes in the same place or eat the same food.”
“True.”
“And the water for the castle comes from the well in the courtyard and the lower town gets theirs from the pump by the wall.”
“Wait a moment. That could be it.”
“But those are differences.”
“Not really, Merlin. The supply for both of those comes from the main cistern. Gather some jars. We’re going to take some samples.”
Gaius sent him to fetch water samples from the courtyard and the lower town, as well as from the large supply kept on hand in the castle kitchens, the stream flowing south of the horse paddocks beyond the walls and from barrels of rainwater collected from rooftops around the entire city. When Merlin returned, the physician lined up the dozen different samples and placed a delicate flower in each. In very short order, two of the jars had shrivelled blossoms, while the rest remained unaffected.
“Brilliant, Merlin. I believe we’ve found the method of transmission,” said Gaius.
“But the sample from the kitchens is fine. How can that be?”
“The kitchens store a great deal of water to have on hand for all that they need. It doesn’t need to be refilled more that once a week. The castle’s biggest saving grace has been that store, or surely everyone would have taken ill. The water from the stream also appears to be untainted, though that is not a very practical alternative for supply as it has dried up considerably since the spring runoff, but the rainwater is safe as well.”
“That’s not too bad, though. At least we know what’s making people sick.”
“With the emergency supplies the city may not be able to go for long, but you are right, we should be able to keep more from getting sick, for a while. Bring the samples from the main supply. We need to show the king immediately.”
As anticipated, Uther did not react well when informed that the illness was most likely magical in origin and resulting from some form of contamination to the main water supply for the entire city. The king ordered immediate rationing of the emergency water supply and a full scale search of both the castle and the town for the sorcerer responsible for the illness. Privately, Merlin thought it rather ridiculous to expect whoever might have tainted the water supply to have stayed in Camelot, but he wisely kept his thoughts to himself. Uther was never known to be rational in the face of magic and, since the incident with Knight Valiant, Merlin did his best to avoid the king’s notice. Uther was an exceptionally proud man and resented anyone he believed to have caused him to lose face.
In an effort to find the nature of the contamination, Gaius was given the keys to the cistern. Merlin gathered several more jars for samples and followed the physician into the dark and damp of the city’s main water supply. The space was larger than Merlin had expected, with several reservoirs connected by channels with narrow foot paths between each.
“Be careful not to touch the water when you collect the samples. The contaminant is likely to be more potent near the source. Fill a jar from each of the pools and do be sure check the label first.”
“Why are we checking each pool? They’re all connected.”
“Potency, Merlin,” Gaius said in exasperation. “If my suspicions are correct, the pools that are closest to the pipe that draws water for the lower town will be more affected than those where the well for the castle is. All will be contaminated, but if we know which of the pools is most affected, we are more likely to find the source. When we find the source, we might have some hope of discovering a way to purify the water.”
“Right. Just asking. One sample from each.”
“Sorry my boy,” Gaius apologised, “I didn’t mean to be short with you. The questions you’re asking aren’t foolish and I am glad you want to know why we follow the procedures we do.”
Merlin looked over his shoulder and smiled at Gaius. “It’s alright. I don’t think anyone is at their best just now.”
“Let’s hope we can find a way to remedy that.”
Merlin carefully dipped a jar into each section of the reservoir and was careful to stopper each properly and wipe the outside with a rag to avoid getting contaminated by the water himself. When all the jars were filled, he carefully made his way back along the narrow path and followed Gaius as he turned to leave.
Behind them, there was a large splash and a threatening growl. Merlin spun around to see something large and menacing rise from one of the pools and move towards them. While he stood for a moment, staring at the creature in shock, Gaius put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him towards the entrance.
When the door was shut and locked securely behind them, Merlin looked at Gaius in bewilderment. “What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know.”
“But... what... how do we...”
“That is what books are for, Merlin. I’m certain there will be something in one of my references that will explain what it is.”
Merlin nodded dumbly and followed Gaius back up to the castle.
The number of books Gaius possessed was truly staggering. Merlin could appreciate all the knowledge contained in them, but even with daily practice, his reading was still slow and laboured. Unlike his book of magic, however, most of the tomes Gaius asked him to read were written in precise, tidy script and well organized. Running his fingers along the spines of the many books in his shelves, Gaius found the ones he was looking for and passed one to Merlin.
“This one is an index of creatures born of magic. Check the section on those found in water first,” Gaius said beginning to flip through another heavy book he had just pulled from the shelf.
Merlin nodded and began to slowly search for the creature they had seen in the water supply. Fortunately there were many illustrations to aid his search, but krakens and selkies did not resemble whatever it was they had found. His finger tracked the words slowly as he read, stumbling over the many strange, unfamiliar words.
The room was quiet for some time, save Merlin’s soft mumbled reading. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Gaius made a sound of triumph and thumped a book on the table in front of him.
“Look here. I believe the creature we saw was an afanc.”
“An afanc? What’s that?”
“It’s a beast born of clay which can only be conjured by the most powerful of sorcerers.”
“Oh. How do we get rid of one of those?”
“I’m certain one of my references will have the answer,” Gaius said with confidence.
Merlin glanced up at the books that filled shelf after shelf and sat in teetering piles beside Gaius’ writing desk. He looked at the physician in horror. “That could take forever! Didn’t the king say the city would be out of emergency water in less than two days?”
“He did. I suggest you start looking.”
Merlin groaned, but accepted the book Gaius handed him without complaint.
Hours later, the words blurred before his eyes and his head ached. Actually, when he stopped to rub his eyes and shift in his seat, Merlin discovered that his back and shoulders and a whole bunch of other body parts ached as well. The search for a solution remained fruitless and he sighed in frustration.
“How does someone conjure an afanc anyway?”
“Hmmm? Why do you ask?” inquired Gaius without looking up from the book he was searching.
Merlin shrugged. “I don’t know... couldn’t I just unconjure it or something?”
“Unconjure isn’t even a word, Merlin.”
“Whatever. You said it’s made of clay, right?”
Gaius nodded, putting his book down. “Clay and water.”
“Do you suppose it might be like a frog?”
“It may have been a long time since I was last in Ealdor, but I’m certain the frogs you find there bear little resemblance to the afanc we saw.”
“No, I didn’t mean that it likes to hop around and eat insects. I was only thinking how frogs prefer to stay where it’s wet and cool. They don’t like to be where it’s hot and dry. Do you think an afanc might be like that?”
“It certainly seems to have thrived in the damp and dark of the cistern. I wouldn’t suggest chasing it out of there to roam the countryside, however.”
“Of course not. I was just thinking if maybe we could dry it out or something...”
“Actually, you may be onto something. An afanc is made of two of the base elements, earth and water. Perhaps air and fire might destroy it.”
“Do you think it needs to be magical fire or-” Merlin began, but a knock at the door interrupted him.
Arthur opened the door a moment later. “How did your search of the water supply go, Gaius? Did you find anything suspicious?”
“You could say that,” muttered Merlin.
Arthur looked at him expectantly. “What did you find?”
Merlin cast a nervous glance at Gaius, but answered, “There’s a creature called an afanc down there poisoning the water.”
“A creature?” Arthur asked with interest.
“Yes Sire,” said Gaius showing the prince the description. “It’s a creature not occurring naturally, but instead is conjured by a sorcerer.”
“And that’s what is down in the cisterns?”
Gaius nodded gravely.
Arthur took a long look at the book before striding towards the door with purpose. The physician called out after him, “Your Highness, where are you going?”
“To kill the afanc,” Arthur said, not slowing down.
“Uh oh,” Merlin groaned.
“You had better go with him. I fear a sword alone will not be capable of defeating an afanc.”
“How did he avoid getting killed when I wasn’t around?” Merlin asked.
It had been a rhetorical question, but Gaius answered him anyway. “Before you arrived in Camelot, Arthur was never the target of a magical attack, surprisingly enough. Uther was targeted many times, but never the prince. I hadn’t thought about it before, but it is most odd.”
“That prat leads a charmed life. I suppose I had better catch up with him before his luck runs out.”
Merlin caught up to Arthur at the heavy, locked door that normally kept people from causing mischief in the cisterns, but now was effectively keeping the afanc inside. He arrived just in time to see the prince pull at the door and curse softly. Merlin held back a chuckle and shook the keys he was carrying.
Arthur spun around. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought you might want these,” Merlin said with feigned innocence, jingling the keys again.
“Hand them over, and get out of here.”
“Not happening.”
“This isn’t a game, Merlin. Give me the keys.”
“You can have the keys, but I’m not leaving.”
“I wasn’t aware that slaying vicious creatures was something you were skilled at.”
“You also didn’t wait around to hear Gaius explain how to kill the thing.”
“Generally when you run a beast through with a sword or a spear it dies.”
“Unless it’s a magical creature. Ordinary weapons don’t usually work for killing things that are created by magic.”
“Really,” Arthur said sceptically, “and I suppose you are an expert in these things.”
Merlin glared at Arthur. “I don’t spend all my time with Gaius mopping floors and cleaning leech tanks. He is actually teaching me things.”
“Right, so how do I kill this afanc creature down there?”
“It’s made from earth and water, so we think that fire will be needed to destroy it.”
“You think. That fills me with confidence.”
“We haven’t exactly had time to sort out all the details. You could always wait until tomorrow when we’ve had a chance to finish our research, but if you’re determined to rush in there now, sword swinging, then I think the torch is going to be more useful to you.”
“Good to know. Now give me the keys and get back up to the castle.”
Merlin pushed past Arthur an unlocked the door himself. He ignored Arthur’s protests and held his torch in front of him. Merlin tried to look more confident than he felt about entering a dark space with lots of tunnels and hiding spots, one of which contained a vicious magical creature he wasn’t entirely certain he could kill. Arthur apparently gave up on trying to make him leave and closed the door behind them, then pushed forward into the gloom.
Their footsteps echoed in the darkness, making Merlin jump as the sounds played tricks on his ears. Merlin pointed the way towards the main chamber where the reservoirs were and they moved cautiously into the larger room. It was eerily quiet, and Merlin wondered if the ability to be incredibly silent was a trait all magical creatures possessed. He was reminded of the strange way sound travelled through the dragon’s cavern and shivered a bit. The afanc wasn’t likely to be interested in a conversation and it certainly wasn’t chained.
“Over there,” Merlin whispered. “That was the pool it was in earlier. It’s closest to the feed for the lower town.”
Arthur nodded in acknowledgement and lifted his torch higher to cast more light on the gloomy pool. The water was still, and though it looked a bit murky, there was nothing lurking beneath the water. Gesturing towards the closest tunnel that led away from the water, Arthur began searching for footprints or any sign of where the creature might have gone to. As they followed a trail of water into the tunnel, Merlin felt his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He jumped and twitched at every little sound and concluded that the anticipation of finding the creature had to be worse than actually fighting the thing. He was just about to suggest they backtrack to the main room of the cistern and try another tunnel, when an angry snarl reverberated through the confined space.
Merlin whirled around, holding his torch out defensively in front of him. Arthur had backed up close to him and they turned in slow circle, back to back, eyes searching the shadows. A dark shape crossed the section of tunnel they had just come up. Arthur took the lead and moved towards it. Darting out of a recess, the afanc growled and snapped at the prince. Arthur drew his sword and took several ineffective swipes at the creature, hastily jumping back each time the afanc reared in fury from the blows.
Merlin figured it was likely habit that had Arthur attacking with his sword, rather than with the fire, and he shouted out, “Use the torch, Arthur! Not the sword!”
Arthur shifted his grip on the torch and jabbed at the creature’s eyes. It roared and howled, sending terrifying sounds echoing off the stone walls. The fire had the afanc backing up through the tunnel, towards the main room of the cistern, but the torch flame wasn’t enough to kill it. Merlin wondered for a moment how they might catch the creature if it escaped back into the pools where the water would protect it from fire. Fire needed air, after all, not water.
The thought was enough to spur Merlin into action. Arthur was thoroughly distracted by the snapping teeth of the angry monster, and Merlin’s magic responded to his will more easily than it ever had. A swirling gust of wind blew through the tunnels and made the flaming torch in Arthur’s hand blaze brightly. The fire grew and expanded to encompass the entire head of the afanc. The creature howled and clawed at its face in pain, but the flame grew larger still sizzling and crackling along its skin. Merlin encouraged the fire to burn brighter and hotter and with one last shriek of pain, the afanc fell to the floor and lay motionless as the flame swept over its entire body.
Certain the afanc was dead, Merlin pulled back his magic and stilled the air. The cave smelled of burnt dust he could almost taste on his tongue. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Merlin said, “That smells disgusting.”
Arthur glanced back at him a grin tugging at his lips. “Were you expecting it to smell of flowers?”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure you killed it. Let’s get out of here. Gaius will probably want to come down and examine the body.”
“Better get used to the smell then,” Arthur quipped.
Merlin pretended to scowl, which had Arthur laughing and shoving him towards the entrance passage. When they reached the door, they found it thrown wide open. Arthur looked at it, puzzled.
“I was certain I closed the door behind us.”
For a moment, Merlin’s breath caught in his throat and he wondered if Arthur was going to remark on the suspicious way his torch had flamed higher in the tunnel. Then the prince shrugged, closed the heavy wooden door firmly, and gestured for Merlin to lock it.
“I suppose I didn’t. It’s a lucky thing too. The gust of wind it let in must have been what made the torches flare up like that,” Arthur reasoned.
Merlin smiled weakly. “Yeah, must have.”
Gaius spent most of the next day conducting experiments on the main water supply, adding tinctures and testing the results several times before he was satisfied that the contamination was gone. Merlin drew sample after sample for him from all the pools both from the top and at the bottom of each reservoir. This meant he was thoroughly drenched and miserable by the time they did the final check on the last pool. Teeth chattering, he shed the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders one more time and slipped into the cold water. His shivering was quite apart from the cold, however. The last pool had been the one the afanc had surfaced from. Even though he knew the creature was gone, there was still a thrill of fear at entering the water.
Merlin took a deep breath and ducked under the water, swimming to the bottom. He pulled the cork off the bottle, let it fill, then jammed the cork back on. Pushing off the bottom of the pool, Merlin’s foot brushed against something smooth and round. He burst through the surface of the water, gasping for breath.
“There’s something at the bottom,” he spluttered at Gaius.
“What?” Gaius asked in concern.
Merlin swam to the edge and handed the bottle to Gaius. “I don’t think it was something living. Here. I’m going to see if I can find it.”
It took Merlin two more dives to find the round thing again. It felt fragile and he pulled it carefully from the water and set it on the stone edge of the pool. By the time he pulled himself up out of the water and wrapped himself in the blanket again, Gaius had already picked it up and was examining something that looked like two halves of a large shell closely in the dim light.
“What is it?” Merlin asked.
Gaius looked up at him. “I think I know where our afanc problem came from.”
“Is that what that is? An afanc egg?”
“Not precisely. It is, however, how the afanc was placed in our water system. Do you see this sigil?” Gaius pointed at a marking on the shell of two red chevrons pointed in opposing directions with a dot in the centre of the diamond it made.
“What does that mean?”
“That is the mark of a very powerful sorceress, one who bears a great hatred towards Uther. Her name is Nimueh.”
“So she conjured the afanc and sent it here in that egg.”
Gaius nodded. “It would seem so. I had best report this to the king straight away. Good job Merlin. Get yourself dressed and go down to the kitchens for something warm. We’ll finish the last of the samples when I get back.”
Merlin shivered and nodded.
A large procession of horses arrived in Camelot a few days before the Midsummer celebrations sending the castle into a flurry of preparations. Since the incident with the afanc, Merlin had found the rhythm of life in the castle comforting in its predictability. With the arrival of Lord Bayard of Mercia and his substantial retinue, the entire castle was turned upside down. Merlin could appreciate the signing of the peace treaty between the two rival kingdoms was an historic occasion, but the castle seemed full to bursting with all the extra people. Knights, nobles, guardsmen and servants in Mercian blue seemed to be everywhere, getting in his way. Not that they were doing it intentionally, he supposed, but he still seemed to bump into and trip over people far more often than he usually did.
Merlin followed Gaius through a busy corridor the morning before the big feast. In theory, he was supposed to be learning about the dispensation of different restorative tonics, but in practice, Merlin was getting the distinct impression that Gaius really just wanted someone to fetch and carry for him today.
“Do we really need all of these?” Merlin complained as he bumped into yet another page with the large case of medicines he was carrying.
Gaius raised an eyebrow at him. “Would you rather make over a dozen separate trips?”
“No, I suppose not. I’m just sick of –ooof!” Merlin bumped into a Mercian servant who had come to a stop suddenly in front of him and knocked her to the floor.
“Oh dear. I’m so sorry,” Merlin apologised and helped the woman to her feet.
The laundry she had been carrying in her basket had gone tumbling to the floor, but the woman gave him a self depreciating smile. “It’s alright. It was my fault for stopping so suddenly like that. I just remembered something I had forgotten to do.”
Merlin bent over and picked up a shirt up off the floor. “Here, let me help you with that. I hope you won’t need to bring all of it back to the laundress again.”
She shook her head and smiled prettily at him from under long eyelashes. “Thank you. You’re very kind. I think everything will be fine.”
Merlin felt a blush rising in his cheeks, and he bent to pick up a few more items scattered on the floor. When he looked up, the look she was giving him was not the innocent smile that most of the serving girls favoured him with. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “There you go.”
“Aren’t you Prince Arthur’s servant?”
Merlin nodded. “Yes.”
“That must be such a privilege.”
“Some days it is. Other days he has me scrubbing his floors.”
She giggled and dimpled at him. “Thank you for helping me pick all this up. I’m Cara, by the way.”
“Merlin.”
“I’d better go. My lord will be waiting for me.”
As Merlin watched the woman walk off down the corridor, he felt the weight of Gaius’ stare on him.
“What?” he asked.
“If you are quite finished making eyes at Mercian serving girls, we still have several more patients to visit and I know you are required to attend the prince at midday meal today.”
“Hang on, I was just being polite.”
“Being polite is all very well, just don’t let it interfere with your duties.”
When Merlin arrived in Arthur’s rooms after helping the kitchen staff clear away the midday meal, he was greeted with a jacket tossed in his face.
“Hey!”
“What took you so long?” Arthur snapped, his impatience evident.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “If you hadn’t noticed, there were nearly twenty people at that little ‘informal meal’ you were just at. The kitchen staff needed some extra help clearing it away. They do have a feast to prepare for tonight you know.”
“A fact I am well aware of,” Arthur drawled. “I need this cleaned and all the buttons polished for the feast.”
“You couldn’t have let me know about this earlier? There’s not enough time to wash it properly.”
“You always seem to manage. I don’t have training or patrol this afternoon. You’re getting off lightly today due to the special celebration and all.”
“Does that mean I don’t have to serve at the feast?”
Arthur snorted. “If I have to sit through endless boring speeches tonight, I don’t see why you should get out of it. I even have formal livery for you to wear, in honour of the occasion.”
“Livery?”
“Tonight you are representing the royal servants of Camelot during the official signing of the peace treaty with Mercia. Ceremonial attire is expected.”
“The same people were in the hall last night and I wore what I’m wearing now.”
“Forget it Merlin. The steward delivered your livery this morning.”
Arthur held up a bright red tunic with a gold dragon emblazoned on the chest, a collared cape and a hat with... were those feathers?
Merlin shook his head. “No. No way. I’ll wear the tunic, that’s fine, but there is no way I’m wearing that hat and it is far too warm for a cape.”
“This isn’t a negotiation.”
“Then consider this my resignation. I’m not wearing it.”
For a long moment, they stared at each other. Arthur’s face was a mask of utter sincerity, but Merlin knew, just knew, he was being mocked. Firming his jaw, he held his head high. Arthur held out a moment longer, the burst out in delighted laughter. Watching the prince laugh until he clutched his sides put a smile on Merlin’s face. A moment later, he was laughing too.
“You don’t know, Merlin, how many servants I have made wear that hat. You are the first to ever say no and mean it. You really are something.”
“I’m so glad I amuse you,” Merlin said dryly.
“You should be.”
Arthur’s smile had lost that edge of teasing it normally had and his words were not sarcastic, but playful. It was almost like one of the Arthurs from his memories was speaking. It wasn’t as vivid as his normal flashes, but the image of a younger, messy haired Arthur overlaid Merlin’s view of the here and now. Arthur as a boy of perhaps twelve summers, with dirt smudged on his face, an affectionate smile on his lips and sunlight dancing in his laughing eyes, stood before him in rough, old woollen clothes. Merlin knew this boy; it was his best and only friend, who ignored what the elders told him and treated him like a person.
The Arthur of now put down the tunic on the table and walked towards the door and the image of the other vanished. Over his shoulder, the prince said, “I have affairs of state to attend to this afternoon. Just make sure my boots are polished and my jacket is ready for tonight.”
Merlin watched him go, a small piece of his magic still aching at the separation. Picking up the jacket, Merlin tried to see if there was any way to clean it magically without arousing suspicion at how quickly a thorough job had been done.
Arthur grinned at Merlin from where he stood behind Uther and Lord Bayard’s back. As the Mercian raised the feather quill with flourish, it was all Merlin could do not to chuckle. The grin slid from his face, however, when gifts were exchanged between Bayard and Uther and he caught sight of the woman he had knocked over in the corridor earlier. Instead of the smile she had favoured him with earlier, her expression was pinched as she looked nervously between Bayard and Arthur. When she saw him looking at her, her eyes became imploring and she gave a small jerk of her head towards the servant’s door. Merlin gave her a small nod and made an apologetic shrug at Arthur before joining her.
Outside the banquet hall, Cara seized his hand and looked at him with desperation.
“I need to tell you something, Merlin, but I’m afraid.”
Merlin frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“It wasn’t until I saw him give Arthur the goblet that I realized.”
“Realized what?”
Cara’s eyes darted nervously about and she leaned in closer to whisper, “Two nights ago, I was bringing Bayard his evening meal. He didn’t expect me to walk in.”
“What are you trying to say?” asked Merlin.
“If he finds out I said anything to you, he’ll kill me,” Cara said, wringing her hands and looking very afraid.
Merlin placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I won’t let that happen to you.”
“Bayard is no friend of Camelot. He craves the throne for himself.”
“Cara, what has he done with the goblet?”
“I saw him putting something in it... I shouldn’t tell you. He’ll kill me.”
“Was it poison?”
Cara bit her lip and nodded.
Fear settled unpleasantly into the pit of his stomach and Merlin began running back towards the hall. “I have to warn Arthur.”
Merlin burst into the banquet hall just as the toasts finished and the assembled guests raised their goblets to drink. The edge of the silver goblet was already pressed to Arthur’s lips as he shouted out, “Stop! Don’t drink it!”
Merlin skidded to a stop in front of Arthur and seized the goblet, ignoring Arthur’s incredulous expression and the king’s angry scowl.
“What are you doing?” Arthur hissed.
“Bayard has laced Arthur’s goblet with poison.”
Bayard set down his own goblet and drew his sword. “This is an outrage!”
A moment later all of the Mercian guests had drawn their swords and the guards of Camelot sprang into motion to protect the head table.
“Order your men to put down their swords,” commanded Uther. “You’re outnumbered.”
“I will not allow this insult to go unchallenged.”
Uther turned his full attention to Merlin with a look of extreme distaste. “On what grounds do you make this accusation?”
“I’ll handle this,” Arthur said as he came around the table as if to block Merlin from the angry gaze of the king. He gave Merlin a pointed look and snatched the goblet back out of Merlin’s hand.
The king ignored Arthur. “Unless you want to be strung up, boy, you’ll tell me why you think it’s poisoned. Now.”
“He was seen lacing it.”
“By whom?”
“I can’t say.”
“I won’t listen to this anymore,” Bayard said angrily. “Your servant lies.”
Uther walked deliberately around the table and gestured to Arthur. “Give me the goblet.”
Arthur handed it over with obvious reluctance and Uther carried it over to Bayard. “If you are telling the truth, you’ll have no objections to drinking from the goblet yourself.”
Bayard nodded and sheathed his sword without hesitation. Merlin watched this with surprise and a tickle of uncertainty began to creep through him, but everything was happening so quickly he didn’t have time to give the Mercian’s actions much consideration.
When Bayard extended his hand to take the goblet, Uther shook his head. “No, if this does prove to be poison, I want the pleasure of killing you myself.”
Bayard gave a small huff and shook his head. Uther turned and fixed a resentful glare at Merlin. “You boy, you will drink it.”
Merlin took the goblet from the king even as Arthur protested, “But if it is poison, he’ll die.”
“Then we’ll know he was telling the truth,” Uther said with grim satisfaction.
“He’s proven himself in the past,” Arthur pointed out, a desperate edge to his voice. “You disregarded him when he witnessed Knight Valiant using magic and he was proven correct.”
“We shall see if his honesty is proven a second time.”
“What if he lives?” Bayard asked.
“Then you have my apologies,” replied Uther, “and you may do with him as you wish.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Gaius move from where he had been observing the treaty signing. “Please your Majesty, he’s just a boy. He’s only trying to do what he thinks is right. He doesn’t know any better.”
Uther’s expression remained fixed and cold. “You should have schooled him better.”
Arthur shook his head and made a grab for the goblet. “Merlin apologize. This is a mistake. Here. I’ll drink it.”
Merlin stepped out of Arthur’s reach. “No, no, it’s alright.”
He took a step towards Bayard holding up the goblet and met the foreign king’s eyes for a long moment. He nodded his head slightly at Bayard then turned to face Arthur. As he drank, he felt the eyes of every person in the room on him and his heart raced. Arthur was visibly worried, but most of the other faces he could see looked expectant, like they wanted to see him die in front of them. Merlin had a moment’s thought that he would never understand the macabre fascination of the court of Camelot, then he spotted the movement of a woman in blue near the door. As he swallowed the last of the wine from the goblet, he saw her smile, not flirtatiously as she had in the corridor earlier, but with a wicked gleam of malice in her eyes. A moment later, she disappeared through the door.
When he removed the goblet from his lips, Merlin took a deep gasping breath and stood very still. He rubbed his tongue over the roof of his mouth, but couldn’t detect any taint to the lingering flavour of the wine. He glanced at Bayard then back at Arthur and felt his heart sink.
“It’s fine,” he whispered.
With a careless gesture, Uther said to Bayard, “He’s all yours.”
Merlin heard the sound of a weapon being drawn, but before he could turn to face Bayard he felt his breath stick in his throat. His mouth was becoming dry and it was difficult to breathe. His stomach began to churn and he felt decidedly unwell. Dizziness began to overtake him and he grabbed at his throat with his free hand. Merlin had a moment of true fear when he saw the expression on Arthur’s face as he wobbled on his feet, then the world around him began to tilt dramatically and went dark.
He glanced longingly across the village to where several boys were running around playing and gave the old man an imploring look.
“No Mael, you are meant for greater things. You must learn patience and control your magic or it will overwhelm you.”
He nodded; it was the same thing he was told every day. He wasn’t a normal boy. He had too much magic thrumming through his body and he needed to learn to use it properly. He was going to be shaman of the village one day. He had to be wise and skilled in magic. He didn’t have time to fool around with the other boys. There was some solace to be found in the fact that the chieftain’s son, Ardal, was often in a similar position. They had been born during the same winter, a harsh one when many people, old and young alike, had not survived. The boys he saw playing now were all younger than him, but he still wished he could join them. The old man had told him that it was his magic that helped the children and mothers survive and now the village was filled with joy and laughter. The crops were bountiful and hunting was good. Everyone smiled at him and remarked on their good fortune, but he wasn’t allowed to be a part of their joy. His job was to remain on the outskirts, protecting them. He often wondered what a boy of dozen summers could really be expected to do, but no one seemed to question his place with the shaman.
He saw the chief walking purposefully from his home with Ardal trailing behind carrying spears, arrows and various other hunting implements. He didn’t know much about hunting, but he knew enough to see that another excursion into the surrounding forest was imminent. He also knew enough not to bother asking if he could go. His forays into the woods consisted of picking medicinal plants and meditation in the clearing up on the hill where the magic of the earth seemed to swirl and dance. He hated the meditating the old man made him do in their hut, but feeling the currents of energy dancing in the clearing was the closest he got to being free.
“Focus, Mael. You must get this enchantment correct. The more powerful the spell, the more disastrous the effects can be if you get it wrong. Remember what happened at the last full moon?”
He sighed and nodded in resignation. The old shaman never listened to him when he protested anyway. Deep down inside, he knew he could do anything he could imagine with his magic, but he didn’t let on to the shaman how much control he actually had over it. He resented being a conduit as the old man often called him, or a tool as he often thought of himself. He was a person, but the shaman used him as a tool, like a staff or a scrying bowl. Though he hated himself for thinking it of the man who had raised him, he looked forward to a time when the old man was no longer around to control his every action.
“You must let your acolyte have the opportunity to exercise his talents on his own. One day it is he who will advise my son. It is important that Ardal knows and trusts his judgement as I have come to know and trust yours. What harm is there in letting the boys spend some time together? They are both responsible enough to do things on their own. You’ve said many times how well Mael knows his herblore. Ardal has come along well in his training. Let him escort the lad while he collects the plants you need. You have told me many times that you find the long days spent collecting difficult on your bones. Let the young ones take this burden from you.”
He lay still in his bedroll, listening to the argument the chief was having with the old shaman. If the old man knew he was awake, he would insist they go elsewhere to talk, but so far he had done a good job of feigning sleep.
“The boy must not be distracted by childish things. He must harness his magic properly.”
“Are you suggesting that my son does not take his future role seriously? Ardal is well aware of what Mael’s magic brings to this village.”
“Your son has done well and has learned many things, but it is important for Mael’s magic to remain untainted.”
“He’s still a boy. If he is to be any kind of advisor, he must live a bit of life.”
“His magic is so uncontrolled. It is not wise.”
“Unless there is something you have not told me, he has not had any drastic accidents in nearly a year and even the small ones are less frequent. I know you care for him greatly, but you must learn to let him go. I find it difficult to let Ardal do things on his own, but I know his is capable and I must let him have the freedom to become his own person or he will not be the leader this village needs when I am gone. It is the same for Mael.”
“I would not put our people in danger.”
“Neither would I,” the chief said, a trace of anger in his voice.
There was a long, tense silence and he held his breath and wished with all his heart that the old man would relent and listen to the chief.
“Very well,” the shaman said bitterness in his voice.
Fabric rustled and he heard bodies moving, but no more words were spoken. A small gust of air announced the chief’s departure, and he nearly vibrated with exhilaration at the words he had overheard. Perhaps there was some hope for a bit of freedom at last.
He woke to rough shaking and the craggy features of the old shaman hovering over him. “Get up, Mael.”
“I’m awake,” he said sleepily.
The old man nodded. “Good. You have a long day ahead of you today. I need you restock our supply of high summer herbs. It must be done in the next few days, and it is likely to rain tomorrow. I cannot accompany you today. Ardal will have to see to your protection in the woods. Because I will not be with you, you will have to control your magic on your own.”
He nodded, trying hard to keep the excitement he felt from bubbling to the surface. “I will.”
“If you are having any problems, you are to return at once.”
“Of course.”
“Good. Now eat before you leave.”
He could hardly believe his good luck as he fell into step behind Ardal and walked on the well worn path that led up into the forest where many of the summer medicinals grew. He had never had the chance to get away from the shaman for more than half a day before, and even then he had been confined to their hut, not allowed to wander free in the presence of another person. He felt both exhilarated and shy at the same time, and at a complete loss for words.
When they were well away from the village, Ardal spoke, “I can’t believe the old man actually let you out of his sight!”
The grin he had been fighting all morning split his face. “I know.”
Ardal stopped and turned to look at him. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever be allowed to really talk to you. My father says you have lots of training to do, but so do I and he still lets me play with the other boys.”
He shrugged. “I guess your father trusts you.”
“But you never get into trouble! I mean, sometimes I hear the old man shouting at you, but you never sneak out when you aren’t supposed to or run around and break things. How come the shaman doesn’t trust you?”
“I think it’s my magic. He wants to keep it controlled and focussed. I think he thinks if I’m around others I will lose it or something.”
“That’s silly.”
“I think so too,” he agreed then on impulse leaned in close to the other boy. “Do you want to know a secret?”
Ardal nodded enthusiastically.
“I don’t think he knows just how much magic I have. Sometimes I mess up on purpose so I don’t let him know how easy it is to do the enchantments he teaches me. He scares me a bit. I don’t know what he’d do if he knew everything.”
Ardal grinned broadly at him. “I knew it! I knew you had to have some rebellion in you.”
The other boy grabbed his arm and began tugging him along up the path. “Come on, let’s get your plants quickly then have a bit of fun. The old man never lets you do anything fun, does he?”
He smiled back, feeling warm happiness spreading through this stomach and into the rest of his body. The place where Ardal had grabbed hold of his arm tingled in a delightful way and he laughed, feeling joyful and carefree.
“Yeah,” he said, “I’d like that. Let’s have some fun.”
He saw blood and heard screams and felt agonizing pain then... nothing. He was floating and drifting in currents of air without thought or form. For a long time he wasn’t aware of what was going on around him, then suddenly he could see misty forest and rustling undergrowth.
The figure of a blond haired man dressed in mail riding on a bay mare appeared on a wide path in the forest. He looked and looked at the man without recognition and then a word filled his head. Arthur. That’s who this man is. Arthur, his other half, his missing piece, his counter balance. Arthur, who was riding along a path surrounded by thick undergrowth with dangerous creatures lurking within. The form of something with scales and wings dashed across the path behind Arthur, but the man didn’t notice.
He shouted, “Arthur! Arthur look out!”
The man didn’t hear him, and he fell into darkness again.
He was anxious when he arrived at the druid’s enclave, but he no longer had any choice in the matter. His parents started to look at him in fear and even the village wise woman had become wary of him. His powers were too strong and his village too small to offer him any more assistance. His magic came in fits and starts, like a narrow stream that was continuously blocked by bits of debris until the backup became too great and the water burst free. He had not been able to learn much in the way of enchantments because his magic was too unpredictable. When it did flow freely, however, it was nearly overwhelming and there was no one in his village with the strength to assist him. The village elders met many times over the winter and decided he should be sent away to the druids in the hopes they would be able to cope with his magic. He was worried that they’d think him a broken pot that couldn’t be mended, but he put on a brave face for his mother when he left his home nearly ten days ago.
He wasn’t entirely certain what he expected the enclave to be like, but what he found there wasn’t it. The druids lived in a village, much the same as any other village he had seen on his journey, much the same as his own, but more mobile. It was nearly time for the midsummer celebrations, and the encampment he arrived in was clearly only meant for summer living. He met so many other magic users in his first day there, it left his head spinning, but for the first time he felt like he might actually belong somewhere. There were people, young and old, families with children and individuals like himself, most of them magical practitioners. There were even some more mundane warriors who lived with them and offered their protection from more conventional threats. In his first night there, he had slept more soundly than he had in his entire life.
In the morning, he wandered around and smiled at everyone who is already up and about. Then, as he approached the clearing where the archery targets were set up, he felt an exhilarating thrill of magic shoot through his entire body. For a moment, he tensed, but when the magic didn’t seek to leap from his body the way it normally did, he looked around him to see if there was an explanation for the sudden surge of magic.
Leaning against a tree was a boy of about his age, but one that looked far stronger and more confident than he was. With a nervous wave, he greeted the boy with a weak, “Good morning.”
The fair haired boy smiled warmly returned his greeting, then pushed himself off the tree and approached. “You’re new. Were you the mage who arrived yesterday that everyone was talking about?”
He shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Offyd sounded very excited. He said you might be ‘Emrys’ whatever that means.”
“I don’t know what there is to be excited about. I’m just someone who is a bit of a mess when it comes to magic.”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t have any, but I’m still welcome here. I’m Ardal, by the way,” the boy said and extended his hand.
He smiled and clasped the offered hand, feeling magic shoot through is body and dance in his veins. A little breathlessly he replied, “Everyone calls me Mael.”
They stared at each other for a long while, hands clasped, and he could see images and thoughts of another time, another life, settling over his vision. A friendly face in a village that he could only look at from the outside. Someone to share laughter and smiles with. A close companion when he was allowed no other. Gentle touches shared in secret. Blood and pain and swirling magic and darkness... fathomless darkness.
The darkness resolved itself into a flickering light. A torch, he realized and drew closer. Once again unencumbered by a physical form he came close to the figure of a woman carrying a torch to light the way into a cave. A cruel smile twisted her lips, but the man who followed her into the darkness could not see it. The man was familiar, but the knowledge of him was difficult to hold onto and despite being free of the limitations of a physical form his thoughts were sluggish, like he was wading through a river of thick honey.
Arthur. He remembered the man. Arthur was in danger. The woman was going to hurt him.
“It’s a trap!” he called out, but Arthur couldn’t hear him.
Once again he fell back into the darkness.
He took a brief moment to compose himself after expending such a large amount of magic, then stormed out of his hut into the crowd of people. They were gathered around a fair haired young man, not much older than himself, jeering and throwing things at him. This was the sort of thing he expected from the Roman invaders, not his peace loving village.
Drawing on his magic, he let his voice boom out over the noise of the crowd. "What do you think you're doing?"
Various cries of 'making him pay' and 'giving him what he deserves' were shouted, but he ignored them.
"This is not who we are. We do not hurt and humiliate our enemies. When we do that, we become no better than those that are invading our lands."
"And what do you propose we do with him, Shaman?" someone asked condescendingly.
He frowned as he found the voice that spoke. It was Bran, their new leader. The previous village leader had been killed in the last raid, and Bran was eager to make his mark and prove himself. Bran also hated him and did a very poor job of disguising it. Bran resented that he had become Shaman at such a young age. It wasn't his fault the old wise man had become ill and died the winter before last, nor was it his fault he was the only one gifted in magic able to fill the role. Given a real choice, he would have left the village after the Sion's death and moved on to find someone else he could learn from, but the previous village leader had implored him to remain and help protect their village, and he had caved.
"I have not asked for much in return for my service to this village. I ask now that the prisoner be given to me, to do with as I will," he said as authoritatively as he could. He knew this was his best chance for saving the young man they had captured. He hoped the good will of the majority of the village would sway in his favour.
"What will you do with him?" Bran demanded.
He cast a glance towards the fields. "We have lost many able bodies. Let him work in their stead. There are also many tasks which I have had no apprentice for. There is much I could accomplish if I were not kept from my work"
Bran did a poor job of concealing his sneer, but he knew his request had been a reasonable one. To deny him outright would not strengthen his leadership. Instead Bran asked, "What guarantee will we have that he will work for our benefit and not cause us harm?"
"I have ways to bind him, to keep him from harming us, which will still allow him to work."
"And such ways are fool proof? None of my people will come to harm because of him."
"You have my oath that no harm shall come to our people from his actions."
It was with ill grace that Bran nodded and gestured to the two strong men restraining the young soldier. "On your head be it. Take him to the Shaman's hut."
He inclined his head as courteously as he could manage and turned on his heel, trusting Bran's compatriots to bring his new slave. That hadn't gone quite the way he had envisioned, but at least the young man was safe. He had felt the pull as soon as they had come into contact with the Roman raiders, sensing that his other half was somewhere within the swords and spears of the opposing force. His magic had reacted more strongly than ever, calling the elements to his hands and swirling around him until he had lifted several feet of the ground. The oncoming force had frozen at the sight and turned tail and ran as a violent storm of wind and water chased them away.
When the field had cleared, the only soldier remaining was a young man, scarcely more than a boy, who had been trampled in the crush of the fleeing troops and fallen with a twisted ankle. Merlin knew, knew, who it was, but Bran's strong men reached him faster. They had bound him and dragged him away, ignoring the pronounced limp as they demanded he march into the centre of the village to face his doom.
He pushed aside the heavy leather curtain and stood to the side as his other half, his Ardal, was shoved through the open door with a gruff, "He's your problem now."
The fair haired man blinked his eyes, adjusting to the dim light and started slightly when he caught sight of him. He smiled weakly in what he hoped was a non-threatening sort of way.
“Hey,” he said softly, and used his magic to move one of the low stools close enough to sit down on. He didn’t normally use his magic for simple things, but he was a bit worried the captured young man would try to run, and he really didn’t need another confrontation with Bran. Seeing this display of magic would likely remind him of what had happened during the fight, and that would be enough to keep him from running.
Blue eyes widened in shock at the less than entirely casual display, but the soldier sat down on the offered stool and his jaw relaxed as the weight was taken off his injured leg. He approached like the young soldier was a skittish horse. He kneeled in front of the painful and swollen foot and gently eased off the strange boots to get a proper look at it. When he was sure there was no break, he wrapped his hands around the swollen joint and let the magic flow from his fingers. The ankle would still be stiff and sore for a few days, but not overly painful.
When he glanced up, the look he received was one of awe. He smiled back a bit shyly and reached his hand out to call for the numbing salve he used to soothe pained joints. This time, he wasn’t using his magic for effect. The close contact with his other half had brought his magic closer to the surface than ever and before he really noticed what he was doing, the carved wooden jar was in his hands. He decided to ignore this new development for the time being in favour of treating his patient.
Roman Arthur Shaman Merlin by ~ReniMilchstrasse on deviantART
He carefully massaged the salve into the injured ankle, and drew back, smiling in pleasure at his work. His smile faded a little when he noticed his patient’s hands were still bound. Shaking his head, he untied the coarse rope and inspected the raw skin underneath. Scooping up another dollop of salve, he worked it into the abrasions the rope had made, grumbling all the while about people with more muscles than brains. It wasn’t until he noticed the completely blank expression on his companion’s face at the words he was saying, that the existence of a language barrier dawned on him.
“Sorry,” he said, feeling sheepish. He pointed to his chest and said clearly, “I’m Mael.”
Comprehension flared in pale blue eyes, and the Roman soldier pointed to his own chest and said, “Castus Artorius.”
“Artorius,” he repeated. He gestured to his stomach and made an eating motion with his hand. “Food?”
Artorius nodded, gratitude obvious on his face, and mimed drinking from a cup, while saying something incomprehensible. He rose and handed him a water skin. “Water.”
“Water,” Artorius repeated, opening the plug and taking a long drink of the contents.
He smiled and rummaged through a basket and found a couple handfuls of nuts and dried berries as well as the heel of a loaf of bread that wasn’t too stale and hard. He would make some broth for them both, but he didn’t want to make Ardal –no it was Artorius- wait.
Though they both made a few efforts to communicate, it is a quiet, subdued evening. He was both weary from the battle as well as thrumming with magic that did not want to be contained now that he was in contact with his other half. Artorius must be exhausted from the campaign and nervous about his new circumstances, but he accepted the change with as much grace as possible. Artorius was not struggling or obviously searching for a means of escape, but there was a tension in him that had only eased somewhat when his ankle had been cared for. Artorius accepted both food and drink without suspicion, but as the night darkened the young soldier’s expression became wary.
Once the remnants of their evening meal had been put away, he looked at the practicalities of the night ahead. He had an adequate straw filled mattress, but only one and he couldn’t bear leaving Artorius on the dirt floor, even if that was likely what the soldier had been accustomed to during long months of campaigning. He glanced at the bed then looked at Artorius seeing a hard look set on his face. Despite their difficulties communicating, it was painfully obvious what Artorius thought might be expected of a captive and just as obvious that he was prepared to put up a fight, magic or no.
“No!” He almost shouted and shook his head emphatically and then tucked his hands together up against the side of his face. “Sleep. Just sleep.”
Artorius still looked unconvinced, but made no move to stop him when he fumbled with the armour and helped to remove it. The muscles in Artorius’ jaw flexed from clenching, but he ignored it. He carefully banked the coals of the fire and reluctantly cast a spell on his door to prevent Artorius from attempting to leave before changing into a soft sleeping shirt. Once his boots were off, he lifted the blanket and gestured for Artorius to get in. Artorius was still sitting on the stool in his sweaty, dirty tunic glaring daggers at him.
Again, he acted out sleeping and motioned towards the bed again. He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. “Sleep.”
Stiffly, Artorius rose and moved over to the mattress. There was still a small limp in his gait, but he had no difficulty putting weight on it. When Artorius was laying rigidly under the blanket at the farthest edge of the mattress facing the wall, he crawled in and turned himself to face the hearth. The silence was tense and uncomfortable, but he offered a gentle, “Sleep well.”
Darkness enveloped him again and he drifted.
In the flickering light of the torch, he saw the woman gesture to a narrow ledge where a flower grew in the dark of the cave. His other half... his Arthur carefully stepped across a stone overhang and was forced to leap and grab at the ledge when the woman used magic to make the overhang crumble into the yawning chasm. Arthur lost his torch and as the woman left, the cave was plunged into complete darkness. There was the sound of scuttling feet and he knew there were creatures living in the shadowed places of this cave eager to make a meal of Arthur.
“It’s too dark,” he said and gathered together every bit of his floating magic and forced himself to take form.
The light he made was tinged blue and didn’t cast the long legged creatures in a favourable light. Arthur’s eyes widened at the sight of dozens of them climbing the sheer walls of the chasm towards him. With a heaving effort, Arthur swung up onto the ledge and stretched towards the flower that the woman had pointed out to him.
“Leave it, Arthur!” he called.
Again, Arthur didn’t hear him and struggled to get the flower. When a plant, flower, leaves, root and all, had been safely secured in a small pouch, Arthur looked around to find a way out. The darkness was threatening to overwhelm him again, but he struggled to maintain the glowing blue orb to guide Arthur out of the cave and away from the terrifying spider-like monsters that were rapidly climbing the wall towards him.
“Save yourself! Follow the light!” he shouted, and whether Arthur heard him or not, he began to climb.
“Faster! You must climb faster!”
When Arthur heaved himself over the top of the chasm wall and onto a path near an opening to the tunnel, he felt his grip awareness of the world fading quickly and once again, all was dark.
He didn’t know why being at council for the oppida was so uncomfortable, as it was a role he had been groomed for his entire life. Their leader had been a just and fair man, about his same age, but whenever he was near, he had found himself jumpy and nervous. A part of him, quite possibly the part of him that was magic, had wanted desperately to be close to his ruler, his king, but the sensible part of him had encouraged him to keep his distance.
Over the years, he had watched from the sidelines of the court and seen Atholl grow from impulsive warrior to responsible leader, to caring husband and father. He had wanted very much to be closer to such a worthy man, but a dark shadow had seemed to hover between them, like a memory or the ghost of a memory, and kept him from allowing himself the freedom to get closer. He had seen the troubles his leader faced and thought this darkness between them would only lay more burdens on an already burdened man. When Atholl was joyful, his own heart leapt and when Atholl had given him a kind word for sage advice, he would nod and accept the compliment with grace and it was enough.
When his king was old and died peacefully in his sleep, he felt the shadow between them nearly overwhelm him, but he did not succumb to it. For years he wandered with the shadows wrapping around him like a cloak and when the light returned, he knew it for what it truly was.
His Arthur was sitting in a dark room with iron bars and torchlight flickering from beyond. An angry man was yelling at him, but there was nothing he could do. His energy was spent from aiding Arthur in his escape from the cave. Unable to hold onto the meagre light any longer, he slipped again into the dark void.
In the flickering light of the campfire, he shivered and wondered why it was they always forgot to bring a spare blanket. Even though the harvest had not yet begun in the villages, it was cold at night and soon there would be frost. A warm body nudged up against his back making it nearly as warm as his front facing the fire.
He grinned. “I thought you didn’t get cold on nights like this?”
A husky voice in his ear said, “I don’t, but I might get lonely.”
A strong arm wrapped around his waist and he drifted easily into sleep.
His head was pounding and even the dim light from the candle hurt his eyes, but when Merlin came awake, he couldn’t feel anything but glad. The utter relief written on Gaius’ face is more than enough to make him smile, despite the wretched taste lingering on his tongue.
“Don’t look so happy. You aren’t rid of me yet,” he croaked.
He heard an excited squeal, and then his line of sight was filled with a cloud of dark curls and he winced at the tight embrace that enveloped him. A moment later Gwen pulled back, shaking her head at him in wonder.
“You had us so worried! Oh Merlin, it was terrible seeing you like that. And when we gave you the antidote you were so still, we thought we were too late. How could you have drunk that poison?! You nearly died!”
He smiled at her weakly as Gavin pulled her off him. “Don’t suffocate him, now that he’s awake.”
“Right. Sorry. It’s just, I’m so glad to see you’re alright. You are alright, aren’t you? How do you feel?”
“I feel like I’ve been thrown by a horse then made to lick the bottom of the trough in the stables, but other than that, I’m fine,” he reassured her.
Her smile faltered a bit, but Gavin spoke before she could voice any more of her concerns. “You won’t believe what happened while you were unconscious. Arthur would have been here to see you wake himself but-”
“But he is detained elsewhere,” Gaius interrupted. “He’ll see you later, I’m certain. I think that’s enough excitement for Merlin just now. He needs rest to recover his strength.”
Gavin and Gwen both nodded their understanding and left the room in short order, murmuring words of encouragement and promises to see him when he was feeling better.
When they were alone, Merlin struggled to sit up properly and really looked at Gaius. Instead of the elderly relation he had first seen when he arrived in Camelot, his vision was overlaid with dozens of other thoughts and memories. He saw the young man who had travelled the countryside seeking out healers of all sorts to increase his understanding of the healing arts. He saw the worried and hurt visage of the man he had met two decades previous, the man who was forced to turn his back on magic and serve a king who had lost his heart and his compassion. He saw, not the mentor he had come to know most recently, but the whole man.
Overwhelmed, he simply said, “Gaius.”
The physician turned to look at him. “Are you alright, Merlin? Would you like some water to rinse the taste of the antidote from your mouth? It certainly didn’t smell pleasant.”
“Thanks Gaius,” he said.
When Gaius handed him a cup, he drank several mouthfuls, swirling the water around in an effort to dispel the lingering flavour. He put the cup down on the low table beside the cot and looked at the old man’s face for a long time. “Oh, Gaius, the years have not been kind to you.”
“Merlin!” he said affronted. “It’s a good thing you are still recovering from doing something ridiculously brave, or I’d clout you for your cheek.”
Merlin chuckled at that. “You might not, if you remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
“A time before. A time when we knew each other as equals.”
Gaius put a hand to Merlin’s forehead and furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about? You must still be disoriented from the fever.”
“I am a bit overwhelmed, but it’s not the fever that’s brought it on. I’ve remembered, Gaius.”
“Remembered what?”
“Who I am. Who I was before. I remember a time before this castle stood and before the invaders from across the sea waged war on this land. I remember the lives I’ve had and the times in between. And I remember the last time I visited Camelot, shortly after Arthur was born and the queen died. I remember the kindness you showed to a good man and the promise you made me which you have dutifully kept. I remember it all.”
“Merlin, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying what the druids used to call me meant everything you thought it did.”
Gaius stared at him in disbelieving shock. “You’re Emrys.”
Merlin nodded. “I am... I... My head is so full.”
Gaius sat down on the stool beside the bed and guided Merlin back onto the pillow. “You’ve only just remembered then.”
“I think... while I was unconscious...”
“While you were unconscious you seemed delirious. You spoke at length in tongues I do not understand. Perhaps you were reliving some of your memories.”
“Everything is overlapping, Gaius. One moment you’re the person I knew years ago, the next you’re my mentor. It’s like with all the different Arthurs, but more confusing somehow.”
“The different Arthurs?”
“That’s why I was drawn to Camelot back then. I’m always pulled towards my other half.”
“But Arthur is not magical. How can he be caught up in your cycle?”
“I might have done something, I’m not sure.”
“Merlin,” Gaius chided, apparently forgetting for a moment that Merlin was more than just a slightly clumsy apprentice.
Merlin chuckled. “Don’t wag your finger at me, young man.”
Gaius looked at him agog for a moment, then chuckled himself. “This may take some getting used to.”
“I have to agree. There are a lot of gaps and I don’t think I’ve ever had so many memories come back at once before. I’ve also never known someone in more than one existence before, save Arthur, of course.”
“Could that be why your magic reacted so strongly to him when you first met?” Gaius asked.
He nodded. “I think so. I’m drawn to him; my magic is drawn to him. His presence makes me feel alive. I can’t begin to tell you how dreadful my existence was during the years I was without him. Three hundred and fifty years was a terribly long time to wait.”
“So long?” Gaius said in surprise.
“So very long. I’m tired just thinking about it.”
“Or you may simply be tired from fighting against a magically enhanced poison.”
Merlin nodded. “There is that too. What happened after I drank the wine?”
“A great many things. In short, Bayard and his entire retinue have been imprisoned while Uther tries to figure out what to do with him for attempting to poison his son. Arthur disobeyed his father to go in search of the morteus flower I required to make the antidote for the poison. Gwen and Gavin have been taking it in turns to care for you while I searched for alternative cures. And Arthur was thrown in the dungeons for leaving the castle without permission. It was Gwen that managed to retrieve the plant from him to brew the antidote. Uther is livid with the prince.”
Merlin sat in silence for a long moment as he took all this in. “Uther isn’t known for his rationality, I suppose. I don’t imagine he knows it wasn’t Bayard who laced the goblet.”
“He doesn’t. I will try to make him see reason, but I fear the peace treaty with Mercia may collapse into a full scale war because of this incident.”
“Good luck,” he offered only somewhat sarcastically.
Gaius sighed and shook his head. “Get some rest. I expect a night of normal sleep will go a long way to helping your mind acclimatise to all the new memories it holds.”
“I may just do that. I hope that when I wake everything isn’t so disorienting,” he said and got shakily to his feet.
He shuffled weakly towards the steps to his room, determined to have a bit of privacy to quietly fall to pieces in. He felt moments away from falling apart at the seams; he was overflowing with memories that had too many holes in them for everything to make sense. He barely managed to drag himself to his own bed before his legs gave way. Merlin fumbled with the blanket and drew his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees and holding on for dear life. The memories clamouring for his attention were making the blinding headache he was certain came from poison induced fever immeasurably worse. Thankfully, his body was still exhausted in a very physical sense from fighting off the morteus poison and he dropped off into a blissful slumber.
When Merlin woke again, his head felt decidedly less crowded. It was as if he had taken all the memories that were clamouring for his attention and pushed them into a room in his mind. The thousands of thoughts were still there, but he was able to keep them contained and perhaps take them out one or two at a time to examine. He also felt more like himself, or at least the version of himself he was more recently familiar with.
Stumbling out into Gaius’ workroom, Merlin smiled at the sight of the older man pottering about putting the room in order. When Gaius noticed him, the physician smiled warmly.
“Finally decided to join us again I see.”
“You were the one who told me to get some rest.”
“True, though I hadn’t expected you would sleep for another full day.”
“What?”
Gaius pointed to the window where light streaming in at an angle pooled on the floor. “Evening bell is not long off.”
“Oh,” Merlin said slightly stupidly. “Oops.”
“Are you feeling better at least? When I checked on you earlier you were sleeping deeply.”
He nodded. “I think I’ve managed to contain most of the memories. They’re still there, but not all trying to get my attention at once.”
“I can’t begin to imagine what that would be like. I almost don’t believe it.”
Merlin felt his legs grow shaky and he lurched towards a chair at the table closest to the fire. “I wouldn’t believe it myself if it didn’t make a whole lot of things make more sense. I don’t think I’ve ever had such an onslaught before. Bits and pieces are easier to handle.”
Gaius smiled kindly and scooped a bowlful of soup out of the pot hanging over the fire, setting it down on the table in front of Merlin. “You should eat something, old man.”
Merlin grinned at Gaius, then poked at the broth with a spoon in suspicion. “Thanks, I think.”
“Don’t worry,” Gaius said with a chuckle, “Gwen brought it up from the kitchens earlier. By order of Prince Arthur, I believe.”
“Is Arthur alright?”
“The king released him late last night and sent the Mercian’s on their way this morning. He’s rather embarrassed to have lost so much face, but he saw reason in the end. After the incident with the afanc, he was more willing to accept that the cup had been tampered with by Nimueh.”
“Was it really her then? That serving girl? Just before I blacked out, I thought I saw her smiling.”
“Nimueh is powerful and very adept at hiding in plain sight. I have little doubt that it was her.”
“Just what we need, a powerful sorceress bent on destroying Camelot and killing Arthur.”
“I think perhaps it was you she was after this time, though she would see plunging Camelot into a bloody war it can ill afford at the moment to be an additional benefit.”
“Me? Do you think she knows?”
Gaius shook his head. “She likely discovered it was you who helped destroy the afanc, but I doubt she has any idea who you are. If she did, she would have been more likely to confront you directly.”
“That’s something, I suppose,” Merlin said.
He tried to focus on the warmth of the soup spreading through his body and not the cold shivers the prospect of a direct confrontation with a sorceress in her prime would bring. He was so scattered that he couldn’t imagine such a conflict would end well for him.
When the knock came at the door, Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin even though he knew without looking who it was. He wasn’t prepared to deal with Arthur just yet, not with so many barely contained memories hovering at the edge of his consciousness, but that didn’t stop the prince from entering the room and standing close to him.
“Still alive then?” Arthur said, his voice somewhere between teasing and concern.
“Um... Yeah, just about,” Merlin said awkwardly.
He glanced briefly at Arthur and had to look away. “I understand I have you to thank for that.”
Arthur’s hand came to rest on the back of his chair and the charged feeling he always felt in the prince’s presence nearly took his breath away. The sensation was so strong he nearly whimpered.
Arthur was, thankfully, oblivious to his moment of distress. “Yeah, well it was nothing. A half decent servant is hard to come by. I was only dropping by to see that you were alright, check that you’d be back to work tomorrow morning.”
Merlin looked up at Arthur, feeling decidedly flustered, but managed, “Course. Bright and early.”
Arthur turned and walked to the door, and Merlin couldn’t stop himself from calling out. “Arthur... thank you.”
The prince turned and the features of his face softened. “You too. Make sure you get some rest.”
Arthur turned and left the room and Merlin was certain he had a pathetic dopey smile on his face. A very large part of him wanted to follow the prince from the room and drag him into a bone crushing hug, but with great force of will he managed to restrain himself. Gaius looked at him sympathetically and topped up his cup of tea.
“You may have had a rough start with him here, but he is a man of honour.”
“He always has been.”
“What are you going to do now?”
Merlin shrugged. “The same thing I always do. The same thing I’ve already been doing. He’s different, but the same and I’m different, but the same and what we do will be different, but the same.”
Chapter 4: Pieces of the Past
Chapter Text
Merlin spent more time in his room hunched over the red book of magic late into the night, slotting memories back in place from the time when he first put the words to parchment. Writing hadn’t been a skill he possessed for long, relatively speaking, so it was perhaps unsurprising that it was not one that returned to him easily. The painstaking process of committing his knowledge into the book had been a time consuming one, but three centuries of waiting had given him the opportunity. He remembered despairing at ever finding Arthur again and the weariness those years had brought. He had also remembered that his book contained more than just remedies and enchantments.
At the back, concealed from even his own eyes until now, was an account of all his previous lives as best as he had been able to remember them. There were pages upon pages recounting times before the Roman invasion of Albion and the eventual battles and rebellions against the invaders from across the sea. Over the days and weeks he read through his recollections, slowly drawing forward the memories that accompanied them and began slotting them into place within his mind. The jumble was becoming more ordered, like a puzzle with a great many pieces or perhaps more like a broken jar he was trying to reassemble. There were cracks and gaps and things that still didn’t seem to fit, but the overall shape of the jar was returning bit by bit.
His interactions with Arthur had been nearly overwhelming the first week after the large scale return of his memories, with thoughts and emotions breaking through the walls he had built in his mind to keep them contained. There were times when he nearly slipped and called Arthur by the wrong name or reached out to touch him in a way that was certainly not appropriate. He longed to be near Arthur even though doing so was quietly making him insane. A brush of a hand could bring back a hundred memories, both innocent and impure, of times when they were close. His ears were nearly constantly burning with embarrassment and his tongue was sore from having to bite back the words that threatened to spill out. In short, it was a trial, but one he wouldn’t wish to escape for anything. His magic sang and his heart ached and he wanted nothing more than to be at Arthur’s side.
His relationship with Gaius had been another shift in his life. Though the physician still found it difficult to see Merlin as more than the young man he appeared to be, they had become companions more than mentor and apprentice. He remembered Gaius having a wicked sense of humour and with the odd joke they developed an easy rapport. It was still a lot like learning the science of medicine all over again and the gentle prodding and reminders were made with such kind intent that Merlin didn’t find himself annoyed when Gaius slipped into instruction mode here and there. Gaius also took advantage of the extensive experience Merlin had to ease some of his burdens as court physician. Within the workroom, Merlin was often left to tend the many experiments and preparations Gaius had on the go and to assist those with minor ailments and afflictions that came knocking on the physician’s door.
Merlin was busy skimming through a large book on medicinal plants to find a specific one he had written about in his red book when a knock came at the door. Looking up, he saw Lady Morgana and smiled at her.
“Good morning, my Lady,” he greeted.
She smiled weakly back at him and glanced around. “Good morning, Merlin. Is Gaius in?”
“Sorry. He’s attending Lord... um what was his name? The one who arrived last night.”
“It’s Lord Daned. I guess I’ll come back later.”
“Is there a problem? Perhaps I could help you.”
She looked hesitant, and glanced back down the corridor for a moment, then came into the room, shutting the door behind her. Though she was impeccably dressed as always, Morgana looked agitated as she moved to sit in the chair across from him at the table.
“It’s the dreams again. I don’t know why I keep coming to Gaius for help with them. Sometimes I’m certain there isn’t really anything to prevent them and he’s just humouring me,” she said, her voice broken.
Merlin tucked a bit of parchment into his book to mark the page and set it aside to give Morgana his full attention. “He’s not just humouring you. Gaius is really concerned about your nightmares. He just hasn’t found the right thing for them yet.”
Morgana looked at him mournfully. “I just want them to stop. They scare me. I wish I wasn’t like this.”
His heart ached to see Morgana so upset and not be able to help her as he wanted to. It hadn’t been difficult for him to see that her nightmares were more than that. Gaius had occasionally brought him along when examining her after a troubled night and magic practically radiated off of her skin. Merlin knew that Gaius suspected she had some form of Sight, but had outright refused to tell Morgana that, let alone give her some useful instruction on how to control her gift. It was something of a sore point between the two of them, especially since the return of Merlin’s memories, but he had promised not to go against the physician’s wishes. It was a dangerous thing for Morgana, but Merlin suspected she had a notion that her dreams were not just dreams either.
“It will get better, I promise. Has Gaius ever given you herbs to burn in your hearth before you go to bed at night? Sometimes the smell of those can make your sleep better.”
“Are you an expert now, Merlin,” Morgana teased.
Merlin grinned and blushed a bit. “No, but my mum used to burn sage and rosemary in the fire if I was having trouble sleeping. The scent was soothing.”
Strictly speaking, this was true, and Morgana didn’t need to know that the mother he was referring to was not the one who lived in Ealdor. She had worried about him in a similar way to Hunith, though, and the comparison sprang to mind easily. He brushed aside the strangeness of having multiple mothers for the time being and focussed on Morgana’s worried face.
“I suppose it can’t do any harm and it certainly can’t be worse than some of the things Gaius has made me drink in the past,” she said.
Merlin went over to the rack were several bunches of herbs from the garden were hanging to dry. He took a bundle of sage and a few sprigs of rosemary and wrapped them in a square of linen for her. With what he hoped was a slightly simple, unpretentious smile, he handed her the bundle. “Give it a try. I hope it helps.”
“Thank you, Merlin. Perhaps a mother’s wisdom is what I need,” she said and glided from the room.
“You’re going to have to do something about Morgana, Gaius. You can’t keep putting her off like this,” Merlin told Gaius that evening over supper.
“Did she stop by again today?”
Merlin nodded.
“What did you say to her?”
“Nothing of consequence. I gave her some sage and rosemary to burn before bed. It won’t do much,” he said pointedly, “but she might find it soothing.”
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“I can’t stand to see her suffer, Gaius. The Sight is a great burden, even when an individual has training and support.”
“As long she continues to believe they are merely nightmares, she will be safer from Uther. If she discovers it is magic, she will have to keep it a secret from him.”
“I have the feeling Morgana would be quite adept at keeping it secret.”
“It would only add a further burden to her.”
“If she doesn’t get control of her gift, it will manifest in a different way. You know this, Gaius. Magic will find a way to express itself if the path it is meant to take is denied. I’ve battled with this my entire life, lives, whatever.”
“She’s not like you, Merlin.”
“No, she’s terrified and alone.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But it’s true.”
“Merlin, I can’t. I can’t keep more than I already am from the king. Don’t ask me break my oath to him.”
“Because you haven’t done that already by not informing him of what you know about Morgana’s condition? You’re a bit selective when it comes to that oath.”
“Don’t.”
Merlin heaved a heavy sigh and regretted his words. “Sorry, Gaius. That was uncalled for.”
“But not exactly untrue,” Gaius admitted.
“I shouldn’t have said it anyway. I know you’re in a difficult position.”
“Uther is completely irrational when it comes to the subject of magic. Even though he cares for her as his own, I fear for Morgana should Uther ever discover her talents.”
“I understand that, but I still believe it would be easier to protect her from harm if she was taught a little control. Perhaps teaching her some meditation and focussing techniques would be all it takes.”
“Perhaps, or it might make it worse, Merlin. Either way she is in a risky position, and so are you.”
“Some risks are worthwhile.”
“But is this one of them? If the worst happened, could you leave? Would you?”
“You know the answer to that already.”
“And you know the situation with Morgana is far from straight forward.”
Merlin nodded, but without much conviction. Gaius was right that he wouldn’t, couldn’t, leave Camelot and Arthur if he was exposed. And teaching Morgana illicit magical practices, not to mention revealing himself to her, was risky. It made him feel like a coward, though. He didn’t like to think of himself as a coward, but standing by and watching her troubles while doing nothing struck him as a very cowardly thing to do. It may be Arthur he was drawn to but he had compassion for those around him. Doing nothing seemed like a waste of his own talents.
Not for the first time, he mentally cursed at Uther Pendragon.
Merlin didn’t see Morgana again for several days, though he noticed Gwen looking tired and concerned. When asked, she told him that Morgana still slept fitfully, but hadn’t woken screaming in terror for a few nights. Merlin had thanked her and given her another packet of rosemary and sage to burn, despite feeling like a fraud for even suggesting it. It was better than nothing, he supposed.
He was sitting on the edge of the training field, watching Arthur lead the knights through their drills while trying to repair the dented links of a hauberk without magic when one of the castle pages came pelting towards him.
“Merlin! Gaius has sent for you,” the boy panted. “And the king asks for Prince Arthur to meet with him as soon as training is finished for the day.”
“Has something happened?” Merlin asked, handing the gasping page a water skin.
“It’s the Lady Morgana. She’s taken ill.”
“Oh dear. Thanks for coming so quickly. I’ll let Arthur know. Are they in Morgana’s chambers?”
The page nodded.
Merlin set aside the heavy mail shirt and waved Arthur over. The prince scowled at him, but when he noticed the page he raised an enquiring brow at Merlin.
“It seems Morgana has taken ill. Gaius has asked for me to assist him.”
“Then you’d best get moving.”
“Of course. Your father has also asked for you to go see him as soon as you’re finished here.”
“We’re nearly done. Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”
Merlin nodded and hurried up to the castle, afraid of just what might have happened with Morgana.
Merlin paced back and forth in Arthur’s rooms while the prince stared sullenly at the flickering candles. Neither of them had spoken and Arthur’s supper sat untouched on the table.
Arthur broke the silence. “It’s been two days.”
“Gaius will find a cure. He always does,” Merlin said with a confidence he did not feel.
“Merlin, I may accuse you of being simple, but even I know you’re not a complete idiot. Gaius has lost many patients in the past, because not all patients can be healed. He can’t cure everything.”
“He’s doing his best. I’m certain he’ll find something.”
Arthur didn’t respond to this reassurance, just kept staring at the candle. Distractedly he said, “There was a man waiting outside the castle gates this morning. He said he had a remedy to cure all ills.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“So did I. He hasn’t even seen her. How could he possible know how to heal her? I wish it were true though.”
“Me too, Arthur,” Merlin agreed quietly.
The next day, despite his scepticism, Arthur persuaded Uther to let the man in to see Morgana. Her condition was worsening and despite searching late into the night for possible cures, Merlin and Gaius hadn’t found anything they could possibly use, scientific or magical. The king was obviously growing desperate and allowed the traveller, Edwin Muirden, to examine Morgana.
Merlin had tried to be open-minded when he met Edwin, but there was something about him that didn’t sit right. It wasn’t the webbed scars that marred one side of his face or the many boxes of instruments and devices Merlin was sent to fetch. It was something intangible, a lack of sincerity about him that raised Merlin’s hackles. If that hadn’t been enough to trigger his concern, Merlin knew something was definitely not right when Edwin insisted everyone leave the room while he performed his diagnosis. Gaius frowned and exchanged a concerned glance with him. Neither Arthur nor the king seemed to think the request odd, but with the exception of highly unpleasant procedures or examinations of a more delicately personal nature, a physician did not normally force concerned family from the room, especially not royalty.
Merlin reluctantly left the room and went to stand beside Gaius while they waited in the corridor.
“Something’s not right about him,” Merlin said under his breath.
Gaius gave a very small nod. “I know.”
“I can’t believe the king would just let him-”
“Merlin, I know.”
“But what are we going to do?”
Gaius pressed his lips into a thin line and glared at the door. “We wait until he provides his miracle cure, and then find out what he’s really after.”
They didn’t have long to wait. All too quickly, Edwin appeared from the room, a spring in his step and a bloodstained piece of gauze in his hand.
“Good news, your Majesty. The Lady Morgana is not suffering from an inflammation of the brain,” Edwin informed them.
“What was it?” the king asked.
Edwin spoke with a distinct tone of smug satisfaction. “A cerebral haemorrhage.”
“A haemorrhage? I don’t think so,” Gaius protested immediately.
Edwin gave the physician a condescending look. “I found this trace of blood in her ear.”
Merlin felt a stab of worry in the pit of his stomach as he watched the expression on Uther’s face change from curiosity to concern.
“Good heavens,” the king murmured.
“The severity depends upon the location and size of the bleed,” Edwin continued with obvious pleasure at having the king’s full attention. “If not treated, it can lead to coma... and eventually death.”
Uther turned his sharp gaze on Gaius. “How could you have missed this?”
“I didn’t see any blood,” Gaius said coldly.
Merlin glanced between the king, Gaius and Edwin, watching the conversation that was not being spoken aloud. A quick glance at Arthur showed him to be doing the same thing, watching the situation warily. Arthur had a small frown pulling at his lips and his jaw was tense. It was an expression he had seen many times before and he hoped it meant what it had the other times he had seen it.
“Please,” Edwin said with false humility, “let us just thank the fates that more medicine to stimulate the circulation to her brain was not administered. Can you imagine what that might have done?”
“It may have increased the bleed,” Gaius stated.
The king looked horrified. “Is there a cure?”
“See for yourself,” Edwin said with a sweeping gesture and an insincere smile.
Uther hurried up the stairs and everyone else followed him eagerly, but Merlin hung back, still watching. When he poked his head around the door, he saw Morgana looking pale and drawn, but awake, with Uther hovering at her bedside. Edwin was watching the scene with immense satisfaction and Gaius appeared to be holding back his anger, just barely. Arthur looked up to see Merlin hovering at the door and raised an inquiring eyebrow. Merlin pointedly glanced between Edwin and Gaius and received an acknowledging nod. Arthur had seen it too. It wasn’t much, but at least the stranger’s miracle cure had not blinded everyone.
Merlin arrived in Arthur’s chambers with lunch to find the prince staring across the courtyard in the direction of Morgana’s window.
“Arthur? I brought you lunch since your father said he would be dining alone with Edwin.”
Arthur turned to look at him with a mildly annoyed expression. “Are you ever going to learn to address me properly?”
“Oh, I know how, but I still think it’s ridiculous.”
“I should have you thrown in the stocks for a day or two.”
“But you won’t. Not unless I get caught in public.”
“I’m still the prince when we’re alone.”
Merlin shook his head smiling. “But you’re not, or at least you don’t have to be. You can just be yourself.”
“Worst servant ever,” Arthur said, but he was smiling.
“I blame my master,” Merlin shot back.
Arthur’s smile faded a bit when he sat down to his meal. Merlin puttered about putting away shirts that had been delivered from the laundress, but looked up when Arthur spoke.
“What do you think of Edwin?”
Merlin set down the shirt he was holding and turned to look directly at Arthur. “I think... I think that he was able to cure Morgana far too easily. I also think he chose his words to cast Gaius in the poorest light possible.”
Arthur nodded. “I noticed the look he was giving Gaius. I’m not sure I trust him. I mean, I’m very relieved Morgana is better, but I agree it was too easy.”
“Miracle cures don’t exist. There are lots of remedies that work very quickly and effectively but they are the exception, not the rule.”
“What about the blood?”
Merlin shook his head. “Gaius checked for that. I was there and he told me what he was looking for while he did it. I think the king might have even been in the room. Gaius doesn’t make a habit of hiding what he’s doing.”
“I spoke with my father before he left to dine with Edwin. He said something about having the man do a review of Gaius’ work.”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Wonderful.”
“I suggested that since you are studying the science of medicine that you might be best to assist him.”
“Because I don’t have enough to be doing?”
“No, because you don’t trust him, and I don’t think I do either. If you’re acting as his dogsbody, you can keep an eye on him.”
Merlin entered the rooms Edwin had been given to use and looked at the various instruments already assembled on the tables. Gaius had some interesting implements for his scientific experiments, but these were very different. Copper tubes coiled around and emptied into canisters with strainers and spigots. There were small burners and clamps holding pieces together at precarious angles. He had seen many things in many lives, but perhaps Edwin had travelled beyond the shores of Albion in his studies. There were books with foreign scripts he did not recognize and unusual ingredients in stoppered glass jars. Merlin wondered if everything actually had a purpose, or if Edwin had assembled a collection of strange items just for show.
He picked up a carved wooden box, one that Edwin had insisted on carrying himself when they went to Morgana’s room, and cautiously lifted the lid. Inside were dozens of dead beetles. Merlin looked at the lid more closely and noticed a label, but it was written in a script he could not decipher.
“Those beetles have the most amazing powers of healing,” a voice from behind him said.
Merlin snapped the lid of the box shut and spun around to see Edwin hovering at the door.
“Sorry,” Merlin apologized, “I was just curious. You have lots of equipment that I’ve never seen before.”
Edwin smiled, but it did not put Merlin at ease. “It has been a long time since Gaius learned his craft. It’s only natural that he is a little behind the times.”
“Where did you study?”
“I have travelled many places and studied under masters in foreign lands. There is much I learned there that is new to these shores. Those beetles, for example,” Edwin said gesturing towards the box.
“How do they work?” Merlin asked in what he hoped was an innocent, slightly dim witted manner. He didn’t want to raise suspicions in the man.
Edwin took the box from his hands. He opened it and looked at the contents with a genuinely warm smile. “Hand me that jar with the blue powder and I’ll show you.”
Merlin picked up the jar Edwin had indicated and attempted to decipher the label. Once again, the script was one he did not recognize. Edwin accepted the jar and flicked off the lid. He sprinkled a pinch of the powder over the insects and murmured something nearly inaudibly under his breath. The box of beetles shivered and squirmed with life and Edwin held it up to Merlin to see.
“They are nearly lifeless without the powder, but can be easily revived. This makes it easy to store and transport them. When active, they seek out sources of bleeding and their saliva works to stop the flow. That is what cured the Lady Morgana. They can access places a human hand cannot.”
“That’s incredible,” Merlin said with a grin, though inside he cringed. He doubted magical beetles were the great remedy Edwin purported them to be and it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him that Edwin had used magic. He did a poor job of concealing it, but then perhaps it had been a test.
“I’ve learned many amazing things, things far beyond the skill of your mentor. I could teach you,” Edwin offered.
Merlin shuffled his feet nervously. “Perhaps. If you have the time.”
“There will be time enough,” Edwin said. “But for now we should attend to the task at hand. I wouldn’t want to keep the king waiting.”
Gaius had been sullen and dismissive when Merlin had returned late in the evening and appeared to have stayed awake all night when Merlin emerged from his room the next morning. He was muttering about family vendettas, but seemed too upset to have an actual conversation with Merlin. Arriving in Arthur’s rooms that morning didn’t improve the company either. The prince was already dressed and had clearly been up and about the castle for some time.
“Did you learn anything about this Edwin character yesterday?”
Merlin nodded. “I don’t think he is who he says he is.”
“Oh?”
“Well to start with, he knows Camelot far too well for someone who claims to have only visited a few times in his youth.”
“That doesn’t mean much.”
“Not on its own, no, but I think Gaius may have a notion of who he really is. He insisted Edwin was familiar to him and stayed up all night going through books of some sort, perhaps his old medical notebooks. When I saw him this morning he was angry, but wasn’t in a mood to talk.”
“Anything else?”
“Well, I won’t say I’m exactly an expert on everything there is to know about medicine, but I think Edwin was making stuff up. He didn’t review Gaius’ work, he invented mistakes.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Do you think the king with believe either me or Gaius at the moment?”
Arthur pushed away from the table angrily and walked to the window. “No, probably not.”
Merlin intentionally left out the part where he had caught Edwin using magic. He hated having to hide is magic so much and wanted to share his secret with the prince, but he knew it wasn’t time. Exposing Edwin, however, was not likely to make Arthur more receptive to the idea of Merlin having and using magic. It also wasn’t going to do a thing to convince the king. Uther had made his mind up not to believe Merlin’s word, and he doubted that was going to change now. He was glad his word was enough for Arthur, though, even if it didn’t help them much.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you something more useful.”
“You did fine, Merlin. I think Father has made up his mind anyway. Edwin asked for an early audience this morning.”
“No.”
“I’m afraid so. I’m supposed to fetch Gaius in time for the beginning of council.”
Merlin saw the regret written on Arthur’s face and though is softened the blow, it still hurt. “What will happen to Gaius?”
“He’ll be given a suitable pension and allowed to remain in his rooms for the time being.”
“Then perhaps we can find a way to fix this.”
“How do you propose we do that?” Arthur asked.
“I don’t know. Give me some time to think about it.”
Merlin couldn’t bear to go to the council chambers to watch what he knew would happen there and spent the morning attending to his chores for Arthur instead. It was mindless and gave him time to contemplate what to do. He wondered if there was a way to expose Edwin’s magic without bringing it directly to the king and facing Uther’s disdainful glare once more. It would take time to see an appropriate opportunity, he supposed, though Edwin had mentioned teaching him. That would give him the chance to stay close, and hopefully protect anyone from harm, but it would also put him in a dangerous position if suspicion was cast on his motives and behaviours.
When Merlin returned to Gaius’ workroom at midday, he saw his friend packing his things.
“Did Uther cast you out?”
Gaius shook his head. “No, but I can’t stay.”
“We can find a way to fix this. If we work together, I’m sure we can. Arthur will support you, as well. He is suspicious of Edwin.”
“So he should be.”
“What do you know?”
“His parents were executed during the Purge. The scars on Edwin’s face are from when he tried to pull them from the pyre.”
“Did you tell the king this?”
Gaius shook his head. “I would think you’d have learned by now that Uther is a stubborn man who does not listen when his emotions are high and he has already made up his mind. He is exceptionally protective of Morgana. He will hear nothing from me.”
“Nor, I’m certain, from me. What do we do?”
“You must be careful, Merlin. Edwin is here for revenge. When he has the opportunity, he will strike against Uther. I cannot be here when he does. He is clever, I’ll give him that. I have no wish to be framed for plotting against the king, which is likely something he will attempt to do. Edwin bears a great deal of malice towards me as well. I suggest you stick to Arthur’s side to avoid getting yourself caught in the middle.”
“Where will you go?”
He smiled wearily. “It has been too long since I have left the city. I think Hunith is overdue for a visit, wouldn’t you say?”
“Don’t tell her, about the past. I think it would only hurt her.”
“I won’t because it doesn’t matter. You are her son in all the ways that count and even if you are also more than that, there are bits of her in you now. You aren’t the same as you were before, not entirely.”
“For good or ill.”
“For good, old friend, for good.”
“Take care, Gaius. I’m certain you’ll be asked to return in very short order.”
“I will see you then. Be safe.”
Although Arthur was upset to hear that Gaius was leaving right away, he hadn’t sounded particularly surprised when Merlin told him. Despite assurances from the king that he was welcome to remain in the city, the castle even, it really had been in Gaius’ best interests to get as far from Camelot as possible before Edwin could find a way to engineer a disaster to lay at the old physician’s feet. As it turned out, Edwin’s patience for exacting revenge only lasted two days.
Merlin woke and stretched out in the small but comfortable bed in the servant’s quarters attached to Arthur’s rooms. The prince had decided it would be best for Merlin to keep as close to his side as possible in the absence of a suitable mentor. That this situation would give Arthur twenty four hour a day service in addition to providing an alibi should something go wrong did not escape Merlin’s attention. He couldn’t find it in himself to be too irritated by the prat, however. The bed was the softest he had ever slept on, with real feather pillows and proper linen sheets. The close proximity to Arthur had also seemed to help speed his nocturnal processing of the multitudes of memories still jumbled in his mind. On his way through Arthur’s rooms to fetch breakfast, Merlin took the opportunity to make sure the figure restlessly shifting in the oversized royal bed was in the process of getting up.
“When Gaius comes back, I’m officially lodging a complaint about my bed. If the one I have here is what I’m entitled to as your manservant, I refuse to sleep on that awful mattress again.”
From somewhere under the rumpled covers, Arthur said, “You’re only entitled to it if your body is sleeping in the bed in that room. Otherwise, it’s back to straw mattresses for you. Feather beds are only for servants who are at my disposal at all hours of the day and night.”
Merlin huffed. “Figures. Still, it might be worth it. It’s a very nice bed.”
Arthur sat up, hair sticking up in all directions, and gave him an exasperated expression that fell a bit short of true annoyance. “Is there some reason you feel the need to stand around chattering instead of fetching my breakfast?”
“Just checking to see that you’re awake. Is there anything in particular you want today?”
“Efficiency.”
“Fine. See if I give you a say in your breakfast again,” Merlin said loftily and left for the kitchens.
When he returned, Merlin found the prince out of bed and dressed far too informally for council.
“Not dressed for council this morning?” he asked.
“I want to get out of the castle for the day. I told father last night that we would be out hunting today. Weren’t you paying attention?”
“Not really. I was too busy trying not to spill anything and get shouted at again.”
Setting down the tray of food, Merlin removed the bowl of porridge he had wedged onto it for himself and sat down to eat.
Arthur goggled at him. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” Merlin asked.
“Insubordination.”
“What? You wanted breakfast efficiently and it’s here, well before first bell,” Merlin observed. “That does mean that I didn’t take the time to eat my own breakfast in the kitchens like I normally do. Which would you rather, a longer wait or sharing a meal with me?”
Arthur sighed heavily. “Father did tell me that privilege came with trials as well. You really are rubbish as a servant.”
“Hey!” Merlin objected, waggling his spoon at Arthur in disapproval, “I may have had a rough start, but you can’t say I don’t get things done properly for you, even when I’ve spent the day working with Gaius.”
Arthur looked at him speculatively for a long time then reluctantly dipped his head. “With the exception of your clumsiness while serving at banquets, not to mention your appalling hunting skills, I suppose that is mostly true.”
They spent a few minutes eating in silence before Arthur asked, “Where do you suppose he is now?”
“Gaius? Well he said he was going to visit my mother in Ealdor. If you’re riding full out a person can make the journey in a day and a half, but I doubt he’s moving that quickly. He might be near the ford at Tinneur.”
Arthur nodded. “He will be able to come back. I’m sure it’s just a matter of-”
A knock at the door interrupted the prince and Merlin jumped up to answer it. When he opened the door, he found Sir Leon on the other side, a worried expression written on his features. Merlin stepped back to allow the knight in.
“Sire,” Leon said with a nod.
“Sir Leon. What is it?”
“It’s the king. When his manservant brought him breakfast this morning, he wouldn’t rouse.”
“What?”
“We tried everything but he’s so deeply asleep he’d be dead if he wasn’t still breathing.”
Merlin sucked in a sharp breath and met Arthur’s eyes. There was a moment of recognition between them, then Arthur sprang into action. “Has someone sent for the physician?”
Sir Leon nodded. “As soon we realized it was not natural sleep, a page was sent to fetch Edwin and I came to get you myself.”
Arthur nodded. “I will go to the king’s chambers directly. While I am occupied there, I want the guard on alert. Don’t sound the bells, but have the gates to the city closed immediately. I don’t want anyone leaving.”
“Sire?”
“It is just a precaution. No one is to leave, regardless of rank or station.”
“Very well. I will see to it myself.”
“Thank you, Leon.”
The knight dipped his head in acknowledgment and departed swiftly.
Merlin shut the door and turned to face Arthur. The worry he saw there mirrored the worry Merlin felt himself.
“Shall we take odds on whether the new Court Physician has a cure?”
“Don’t try to be funny, Merlin. I just hope you’ve managed to learn something of use from Gaius.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Uther Pendragon lay in bed as pale and lifeless as Lady Morgana had just a few short days ago. The king’s manservant, a man of advancing years called Kenrick, was seated on a small stool by Uther’s bedside looking shocked and worried and there were a number of guards and knights keeping watch on both sides of the doors, but the Court Physician was conspicuously absent. Merlin followed along in Arthur’s wake and waited to see how his prince would deal with the situation.
“I was told the Court Physician was sent for right away. Where is Edwin?” Arthur asked, for all the world looking and sounding like he didn’t already have a strong suspicion of what the answer would be.
“The page returned a few minutes ago saying he wasn’t in his chambers. I’ve sent a messenger to look through the castle for him and two to the town. I’m certain he’ll be here shortly,” Sir Owain said.
“Good,” Arthur said with a nod and turned to the man sitting by the bed. “Kenrick?”
The man jerked his head up as if slapped and stumbled to his feet. “Sire!”
“I’ll sit with him now,” Arthur said, his voice surprisingly gentle to Merlin’s ears.
Even in what was certainly a bad situation, he kept catching glimpses of the man he knew before. As the memories of Arthur in the past began to mesh with his knowledge of this man, the headache inducing disorientation faded more and more. Arthur was always a devoted son, regardless of who his parents were. Kenrick accepted the dismissal, casting another worried glance at his master as he left.
Arthur took the stool beside the bed and cast a long look at his father. “It seems just like it was with Morgana.”
Merlin nodded, not certain he had the right words to respond.
“Did he tell you how he had cured Morgana?” Arthur asked.
“He has a box full of beetles. He said they find the sources of bleeding and their saliva helps the blood to clot.”
“Do you think that’s what wrong with my father? Is he haemorrhaging?”
Merlin leaned over the edge of the bed and looked carefully into the king’s ears. “Have a look yourself, but I don’t see any blood. Then again, I didn’t see any in Morgana’s ears either.”
Arthur repeated Merlin’s examination, frowning deeply. “No, you’re right. There’s nothing there to see.”
Merlin bumped into the bedside table as he was backing away from the bed and his hand knocked a small single dosage bottle to the floor. It didn’t shatter, thankfully, and he picked it up to have a closer look. The bottle was unlabeled, but the contents smelled strongly of aconite. He frowned.
“I thought the king took arnica before bed. Gaius said he has pain from an old battle wound and needs it to sleep sometimes.”
Arthur turned to look at him. “He does. He’s taken that potion regularly for years.”
“This isn’t that medicine. I smell aconite and possibly mandrake,” Merlin said.
He took a small bit of residue from the lip of the bottle and swiped it across the tip of his tongue with a finger. Moments later half his tongue felt numb.
“Sssit! Dat’ss po’en.’”
“Are you alright?”
He nodded. “I’s jus my dongue. Dis isn’ one of Gaius’ medicines.”
“You think Edwin gave it to him?”
“Who else?”
“Would a bottle of it be enough to put him into a coma?”
“I don’ think sso, bu paralysis for sure. Something else ma’e him unconscious,” Merlin said, struggling to get the words past his useless tongue.
“If this paralysed him, he’d be helpless against... anything.”
Sir Owain rapped on the doorway, “Prince Arthur?”
“Yes Owain?”
“The messengers weren’t able to find the physician anywhere in the castle or the town.”
“Wonderful. Sound the bell. Find Edwin and arrest him.”
If Sir Owain was in anyway surprised by these orders, he didn’t show it. The knight turned on his heel in a swirl of red cloak and strode swiftly away down the corridor signalling for the other knights who were at the door with Uther’s regular guards to follow. When they had left, Arthur turned to Merlin.
“I want you to go down to the rooms where Edwin was staying and see if you can find anything useful. I imagine you’d know better than I would what to look for.”
Merlin nodded. “I’ll ssee wha’ I can fin’ if Ewin lef’ anything.”
“I’ll send messengers out on horseback as soon as possible to find Gaius. I hope he won’t have crossed the border before they reach him. Camelot isn’t exactly on the best of terms with King Cenred at the moment,” Arthur continued to rattle on, more talking himself through what needed to be done than actually giving commands.
Merlin reached out and placed a calming hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “We’ll fix this.”
Arthur met his gaze for a long moment, allowing some of his concern to show in his face. Then his face shuttered and shook his head. “You sound like more of an idiot than you normally do. See about fixing your tongue while you’re at it.”
Merlin grinned weakly and muttered a quiet, “Prat,” and left to see what he could find in Edwin’s rooms.
Looking around, Merlin was surprised the page who had been sent to fetch Edwin hadn’t noticed the physician’s things had been largely packed up and the room left relatively empty. There were a few odds and ends left behind, like Edwin had been rushing, but little of any value or use remained. Merlin was doubtful that he would have been able to make sense of Edwin’s things, even if everything had been left behind. The script and language the man seemed to favour was one Merlin had never learned. It bore no resemblance to Greek or Latin in sound or script. He didn’t have the first clue how to decipher the writing. He also doubted there would be anything in Gaius’ rather extensive library to assist the king.
Instead, Merlin did a quick survey of the room to make certain there was nothing useful there and headed downwards. The only one in the castle he imagined might have a solution was the dragon. He was a bit reluctant to visit Kilgarrah, now that he remembered the day of the dragon’s capture and Balinor’s role in it, but he couldn’t come up with a better solution. Dragons had a healing magic all their own they could impart to humans if they wished. It was an outside chance, but Merlin knew he had to try.
Stepping onto the ledge of the cavern, Merlin called out into the darkness. “Kilgarrah? I need to speak with you.”
Immediately there was a clank of chains and the flapping of wings. The dragon landed heavily on raised stone across from him and glared. “I know why you’re here Emrys.”
“Well that should save us time, then.”
“For me, perhaps, but not for you. I won’t give what you want.”
“The king will die if I can’t find something to save him. I’ve never seen creatures like the beetles Edwin had. I don’t know how to control them.”
“Then Uther will die and your destiny can be fulfilled.”
“Kilgarrah, tell me how to cure him!” Merlin commanded.
Kilgarrah scoffed. “I am not yours to command yet, warlock. You may be my kin, but you are not yet a dragonlord.”
“Balinor’s still alive? But I was certain...”
“I don’t know where that traitor disappeared to, but he lingers on, as I do. I do hope his life has been equally confining and miserable.”
Merlin’s mind was racing at that information, but he shook his head to clear it. “That may or may not be his fate, but that’s not what I came here to discuss.”
“You will not persuade me. I have waited for the death of Uther Pendragon for twenty years,” the dragon said with pleasure.
“How can you be so eager for a man to die?” Merlin asked his voice bitter.
Kilgarrah’s lip curled. “Give me a reason why I should not.”
“Because Arthur isn’t ready yet,” Merlin stated. “This can’t be how he is meant to become king.”
“There are many paths leading to the same destiny.”
Merlin glared. “But some are better than others.”
“Arthur cannot become king without Uther’s death,” Kilgarrah stated.
Merlin shook his head and began pacing along the small ledge. “I don’t deny that, but now is not the time. I know it isn’t.”
“I think you have the mistaken impression that you have all the time in the world. You do not. If you and Arthur fail to achieve your destiny this time, there will be no more chances.”
Merlin stilled and turned to look over at the dragon, his face guarded.
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is that you are Emrys, the immortal, but Arthur is not and was never meant to be. Whatever it was you did to grant him these additional existences is failing. You nearly destroyed yourself, binding Arthur to you as you did, but the magic you used is slowly returning to you.”
“How did I do that? I don’t remember binding Arthur to me.”
“I do not know the finer details of any of your lives, let alone one so long ago. I doubt, however, that it was something you tried to do intentionally. Your actions certainly would have crippled you for a long time. I doubt you were able to use your magic properly for close to a century. At least not until you were reborn again. You have noticed your powers increasing with each life, have you not?”
“I have been born to magical parents six times since. I have felt the magic I gained from them each time. It is different from my own.”
“That may be true, but you are also regaining your own powers every time you come into contact with Arthur. You are the most powerful warlock that has ever or will ever exist, but you also need your other half. Arthur’s purpose is to ground you and help you to keep your magic stable.”
“Then how is it Arthur was never meant to share this existence with me? Will I not always need his help to be stable?”
“Had you succeeded at your task the first time, the energy created would have been more than sufficient to grant Arthur immortality, and far easier to do than tearing a chunk of your own magical essence and forcing it into him.”
“But where would the energy come from? You said our destiny was to unite Albion and bring peace.”
“Perhaps security is a better word than peace, but unity certainly. The people of Albion have not been fully united with the land they live on since the invaders from across the sea first arrived. A king of a united people is needed to re-establish the severed ties. This will not be simply conquering the kingdoms of men. Once the people have come together under one banner, their leader, their king, must then connect them to the earth.”
“How do we do that?”
“There is no one way, warlock, but the how will be clear when the time comes.”
“And the time hasn’t come yet. There is a lot Arthur needs to do to prepare for this. Taking the throne before he’s ready isn’t going to help him.”
“Uther’s reign has made the disconnection a hundred fold worse! His rule undermines your future day by day.”
“That may be true. He may be a terrible king, doing terrible things, but he is still Arthur’s father.”
“In this life.”
“This life is the only life Arthur remembers!” Merlin shouted in anger and frustration. “You said it would become clear when the time comes. I say it’s clear the time hasn’t come. If you won’t help me, if you can’t see past your anger at the man who wronged you, then I will find a cure myself. You may know many things, Kilgarrah, but you know nothing of the human heart.”
Merlin spun on his heel and stormed up the dusty staircase, for once the one to decide their conversation was over.
Merlin was apprehensive about returning to the king’s chambers without any real idea of how to cure Uther, but he didn’t see the point of delaying it either. The guards at the door let him through without hesitation and Merlin entered to find Arthur sitting alone at his father’s bedside. His shoulders were slumped and when he looked up at the sound of the door closing his expression was one of resignation, not hope.
“You didn’t find anything, did you?”
Merlin shook his head. “There wasn’t much left in the room. I don’t know how the page didn’t notice the lack of personal effects. Some of the bulkier instruments were left behind, but Edwin and all of his things are gone. I imagine he took off sometime in the night.”
Arthur nodded in agreement. “That seems most likely. Do you think Gaius left any books that might be of use?”
“I’m not sure. A lot of what Edwin had was very foreign and written in scripts I’ve never seen in Gaius’ library. If there’s something there, it may take me some time to find it. I’m not an expert on these things.”
“I’ve sent someone to fetch Gaius. I hope he’s able to find him in time. I can’t believe father let someone have such power at court so quickly! What was he thinking?!” Arthur said pushing up out of the stool and pacing the room.
“Arthur... why don’t you go walk the battlements or spar with one of you knights or pester Morgana or something. Get out of the room for a bit. I’ll sit with him for you,” he offered.
Arthur looked ready to protest, but glancing at the king’s unresponsive form seemed to change his mind. “I should check on how the search of the city is going. I’ll return shortly.”
Despite his initial reluctance, the prince departed swiftly and soon Merlin was alone with the king. He was angry with Kilgarrah for refusing to help, but he could understand the creature’s position. Uther had done many things that made Merlin’s life exceedingly difficult as well. If it weren’t for Arthur...
Merlin pushed away the thought before it could fully form and stood next to the bed. With his hands on either side of the king’s head, he loosened his grip on his magic a bit and tried to sense if there was anything there he could work with. His magic tended to work best on instinct anyway, and it was all he could come up with. The feeling of energy skittering across the surface of his skin wasn’t nearly as strong when he was around Arthur, but he had always been able to sense magical objects and creatures by the way their magic rubbed against his own. The power rippled strangely over his left hand and Merlin tried to grab hold of the strange current with his own magic. The feeling of it made his skin crawl, but in moments the small black body of a beetle emerged from the king’s ear.
Its legs writhed and twitched in response to Merlin’s magic surrounding it and he intensified the force of his hold until the creature curled in on itself and died. At least, Merlin was pretty sure it was dead. He would be certain to burn it, just in case.
Setting the beetle down beside the empty bottle on the side table, Merlin leaned in to see if the beetle had left any visible signs of damage, but there wasn’t even a trace of blood. He wondered how long it would take for Uther to regain consciousness and control of his limbs. The miniscule amount of potion that he had brushed across his tongue had been strong enough that his tongue still tingled. It had most likely been made more potent through incantations.
Merlin had enough time to closely examine the beetle, readjust the sheets and tidy the room from the disturbance left behind by several frantic men in armour knocking things out of place before he noticed Uther begin to rouse. He wasn’t sure how the king would react to his presence, but the sound of booted feet and the unmistakable thrill his magic gave let him know Arthur had returned from getting his breath of air. When the door opened, Merlin leapt from the stool and hurried Arthur over.
“I think he’s waking up.”
“Really?! What did you do?”
Merlin did his best not to fidget as he gave what he hoped was a plausible explanation. “I thought I saw something moving in his ear and I grabbed at it. It was one of those beetles Edwin had, like I thought.”
Arthur sounded a little breathless when he spoke. “Good work. Thank you, Merlin.”
He shrugged a bit and stepped back to allow Arthur to perch on the edge of the bed and take his father’s hand.
“Father? Can you hear me?”
“Arthur?”
“Yes.”
“That man... Edwin... He was...”
“False. I know. He fled the city sometime in the night. I’ve already sent a group of knights out to arrest him.”
“He was...”
Uther struggled to speak and appeared to still be having difficulty moving. Merlin took a few steps closer and said gently, “The potion he gave you was very potent, your Majesty. I expect it will take your body several more hours, if not another day or two to regain full control again.”
“You... Gaius is...”
Arthur interrupted. “I’ve sent the two best riders out to find him.”
“I should take these back to his workroom, actually,” Merlin said, picking up the empty bottle and the dead beetle. “I imagine Gaius will want to examine them.”
“Right,” Arthur said, “Go ahead. Is there anything else we should be doing?”
Merlin shrugged and hoped he looked at least somewhat uncertain. If Arthur stopped to think about it much, he might start to wonder at his sudden knowledge of healing. Hesitantly, he said, “Rest is probably what he needs, to give him the chance to recover from the potion and the beetle and everything.”
Before Arthur could say anything more, Merlin lifted the bottle and the insect, gave an apologetic half shrug and left the room.
If Gaius had actually been trying to keep his destination a secret from Merlin, he certainly hadn’t gone to any effort to cover his tracks. Granted, the old man probably thought it wasn’t likely for Merlin to leave Camelot and follow him, but saying he was going to visit Hunith in Ealdor didn’t seem all that likely either. The old physician had been right to put some distance between himself and the castle, but Gaius was dedicated to the king and had known as well as Merlin that Edwin was likely to make a move against Uther sooner rather than later. Gaius would want to be close and somewhere he might be of use, and an out of the way village in a foreign kingdom wasn’t either of those things.
It had taken Merlin next to no time to find the entry in a dusty old record book from the library that contained the record of Edwin’s parents, their arrest date and location and record of execution. They had been from a relatively inconsequential village a day’s journey by foot from Camelot. It was close enough to have regular trade and visitors to the city as well as strong family connections with people who had come to Camelot to learn a trade or find other work within the castle or city. If Edwin were looking for a familiar place to retreat to and disappear, his home village was as likely a place as any.
Which was how Merlin found himself on a theoretically borrowed horse riding as swiftly as he dared down the road away from Camelot. He had left the castle as soon as he realized where Gaius must have gone and the sun was low on the horizon at his back when the village came into view. It was reasonably quiet in the street, most people already at home with their families, but there was bright light and loud voices spilling from what must be the tavern. Merlin dismounted, bringing his horse to the stable behind the tavern and giving the boy there a coin for his trouble, thankful he had at least had gotten into the habit of keeping a few coins tucked away in a pocket. A quick glance at the other horses confirmed Merlin’s suspicions that Gaius had not headed for Ealdor. The man’s grey cob was busy munching hay in the second stall from the door, looking as contented as if he had been there all his life.
Inside the tavern it was noisy and almost oppressively hot. The summer night was pleasantly warm outside, but within the confined room sweat clung to the necks and faces of the men gathered around the tables drinking ale. The room was crowded, with assorted farmers, labourers and travellers finding camaraderie with each other, but Gaius was not to be seen anywhere. Merlin squeezed through the press of people towards the bar, and waved down the barmaid.
As politely as he could while practically shouting over the din, Merlin asked, “Has an older man, a traveller, been in here today?”
She smiled at him and leaned across the countertop. “You looking for the physician?”
“Yes.”
“He went up to his room after supper. He might be busy though. Some fellow with some horrible scars on his face was just in here looking for him. He went upstairs not long ago. I hope the physician can help him, poor bastard.”
Merlin’s heart began to race. “Which room is he in?”
“Upstairs, third door on the left.”
“Thank you,” he said distractedly and pushed his way across the crowded room towards the stairs.
The noise of the main room dropped to a background hum when Merlin reached the top of the stairs, but the sound was replaced by the pounding of his heart in his own ears. When he reached the door, he didn’t even knock, just jerked at the handle and slammed his shoulder against it. Naturally, the door was bolted. Without stopping to check that no one was watching, he waved his hand at the door and the bolt clicked out of the way.
Merlin burst through the door to find Gaius pinned against the wall, surrounded by flames. Edwin stood, silhouetted in the window, with his hood drawn up and the light of the fire dancing on the webbed scars of his face.
The cruelly satisfied smile on Edwin’s face fell when he noticed Merlin. “What are you doing here, boy?”
“Stopping you.”
Edwin thrust out a hand, shouting, “Forbaerne!”
The flames licking at Gaius’ feet leapt and spread along the floor towards Merlin. Merlin reached out his arms like he was calling for an eager puppy and drew the flames up into his hands. They flickered and danced in his palms, but the magic skittering along his skin would not let them burn him.
“You’re a sorcerer and you’re working as a Pendragon’s servant!?!” Edwin said in disbelief.
Merlin shook his head, hands stroking the dancing flames into a swirling ball of fire. “No, I’m the Sorcerer and I serve the Once and Future King.”
Magic poured through his hands and Merlin thrust the fiery ball away from him. There was a brief moment when the shock written on Edwin’s face turned to fear, and then the man was engulfed in flames. In a matter of seconds, the magical fire consumed him and left nothing but a small pile of dust and char on the floor.
The fire that had surrounded Gaius and trapped him against the wall flickered out and died, leaving the old man shaken and clutching at the wall. Merlin offered him a steadying hand and asked, “Are you alright?”
“I think so,” Gaius said shakily and allowed himself to be guided towards a chair. “How did you know that I was here?”
“Were you really trying to hide it from me?”
“No, but I also hadn’t expected you to leave the city. I’m glad you did though.”
“I want to find those beetles Edwin had and destroy every one of them.”
“Is Uther...?”
“Recovering. Edwin gave him a very powerful potion to paralyse him and it will probably take him some time to fell entirely well again, but Uther is still alive.”
“Thank you, Merlin. You probably won’t get the praise you deserve from others, but you should.”
“Probably not. I sort of... well I snuck out of the city, while the gates were meant to be locked down, without telling Arthur, so I’m not expecting praise so much as the stocks from him when we get back. Are you feeling up to riding back tonight, or shall we wait until morning to leave?”
In the end, Merlin returned to Camelot in the night, hoping his absence would not have been noticed... or at least not seen as remarkable as it would be if he returned on the open road the next day with Gaius in tow. The physician’s workrooms were still as Merlin crept in quietly in the dim light cast by the descending moon, until he stubbed his toe on the leg of a table and cursed. Someone gave a startled gasp, and Merlin saw the shadowed figure of a person slumped in a chair beside the cold hearth. The person stood bringing their face into the pale light coming in through the high window.
“Morgana?” Merlin said in surprise.
She gave him a weak smile. “Are you alright, Merlin?”
“Of course. What are you doing here? I mean, not that you aren’t welcome to come and go as you please, but it’s an odd hour for a social call.”
Morgana’s voice sounded haunted. “I dreamt again tonight.”
“What did you dream of?” Merlin asked gently.
“Fire. I dreamt I saw a man engulfed in fire. For a moment when I woke, I thought it might have been you.”
“I’m safe.”
“What about Gaius?”
“Gaius is safe too. I expect he’ll be back in the city by midday.”
“Was it Edwin that made me sick?”
Merlin nodded. “He had these beetles-”
“That’s all I wanted to know. I don’t want to think about it too much.”
“It has nothing to do with your dreams though,” Merlin said softly.
Even in the dim light, Merlin could see the anxiety write itself on her features before she turned away from him.
“Of course not. They’re just dreams,” she said, her voice shaking audibly.
“Do you truly believe that?”
Morgana stood impossibly still, like a deer with its ears pricked up at the sound of a snapping twig, ready to run. Merlin felt himself still as well, both wanting to speak openly with her and terrified of revealing himself. They stood frozen like that in the dark for a long time before Morgana’s shoulders slumped and her head dropped.
“No,” she whispered, “normal dreams don’t become reality.”
“I was thinking that maybe there is some better way to help you.”
“Not more potions and tonics. I’ve had enough of foul tasting sleeping aids that leave me feeling muzzy-headed and tired all the time.”
“I wasn’t thinking of medicines, my Lady.”
“Then what are you suggesting?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of reading,” Merlin offered by way of explanation, which in itself was true, “and there are ways of focussing the mind, breathing and meditation, that can help people suffering from mental distress.”
She looked at him sharply. “Are you suggesting I’m going mad?”
“No, no, not at all,” Merlin said hastily, “I just thought that if dreams come from within the mind, mental focus might help make it easier to make sense of them. To see them for what they are.”
“What are they, Merlin? If they aren’t just bad dreams, what are they?”
“A gift. And a burden.”
“I saw a man burn to death! How is that a gift?” she shouted at him.
“A talent, then. One that is both amazing and terrifying.”
“I don’t want this gift, or talent, or whatever it is,” Morgana said, starting to cry.
Merlin pulled her into an awkward hug and held her as she wept. “It will get better. I promise.”
“It hasn’t. Gaius has been treating me for years and nothing makes it better.”
“Perhaps it’s time to try a different method.”
“Do you think it will actually help?”
“I hope so, but I doubt Gaius would approve. He cares a great deal and wants to protect you.”
“I know how to keep a secret. I get the impression you know how as well.”
“So long as it isn’t harmful,” Merlin agreed.
“Arthur was in a right state last night when he couldn’t find you,” Morgana said, a note of amusement creeping into her voice, “but then, he obviously didn’t look very hard for you, did he?”
Merlin grinned at her. “Did he check the library?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, no wonder he didn’t find me then.”
“Goodnight, Merlin. Thank you.”
“Goodnight, my Lady.”
Morgana nodded and left. Merlin quickly put the books of magic he had taken from Edwin’s things in his hiding place with his own book and carefully cast a concealing enchantment on the loose floorboard. He managed to make it back out of the workroom without bumping into anything else and hurried through the quiet corridors. He slipped into the servant’s room attached to Arthur’s and gratefully curled up to sleep for what little remained of the night.
Looking back through his memories, Merlin was certain that he had never been adept at hunting. To be fair, it wasn’t a skill that was generally expected of him, but he would have thought that somewhere in the past eight hundred years he might have picked up some skills. It was as if he were simply lacking some basic aptitude for hunting that most people around him possessed. Most of the time, it didn’t bother him. He could feel the magic spark that filled every life, great and small alike, and killing creatures was not something that held pleasure for him. Though everything had happened very quickly, he could still remember the flare of heat and sudden cold brushing against his magic when Edwin died. Merlin didn’t regret killing the man, not in the sense that he wished he could go back and undo his actions, but he did regret the circumstances that rendered it necessary.
Now, however, trailing behind Prince Arthur, hunter of furry animals, Merlin did wish he was slightly more competent at the business of tracking and stalking. He wondered idly if he shouldn’t just reach out with his growing magical senses and track animals that way, but not only would that be dangerous, it would also feel like cheating. It wasn’t as if the deer could hide from him by holding very still. In the past several weeks, Merlin had gone into the forest for Gaius collecting plants and taken the time to exercise some of the magical skills that couldn’t be hidden within the castle walls. It felt good, like the stretch of muscles during spring planting after a winter of relative rest, and each time he worked in the forest he felt the familiarity return.
Following Arthur through the woods had its own familiarity, but Merlin was doing his best not to think about that. Some of the memories he had been sorting through lately were rather more intimate than he was comfortable with. He supposed he had known for a while now that there had been more to their past than simple companionship, but knowing it had happened and reliving it again, at night, in a bed some twenty feet from Arthur, was unsettling at best and potentially humiliating at worst. He wasn’t prepared to give up his new room, however. For all the potential negatives, the pleasure he felt at being close to his other half, even in sleep, was too great to deny. Even with Gaius back in his position of Court Physician and his own position of Physician’s Apprentice restored, Merlin wasn’t moving back to the storage room half a castle away from Arthur. When anyone asked about it, he joked about the comfortable mattress and superior sheets and they laughed, including Gaius, though the old man knew that wasn’t the entire truth.
While lost in thought, Merlin caught his foot on a tree root on the path they were following and stumbled forward, knocking into Arthur as he lined up a shot with his crossbow at some unsuspecting creature. Or it had been unsuspecting until Merlin had come crashing through the undergrowth.
Arthur pushed up off the ground, glaring at Merlin. “You really are completely incompetent!”
“Sorry.”
“Hunting requires speed, stealth and an agile mind. Apparently you have none of these things,” Arthur snapped in frustration.
Merlin couldn’t resist a jibe in return. “You’re able to get by on two out of three.”
Arthur looked about to say something cutting in return, but the sound of a woman screaming carried through the quiet of the forest.
“What was that?” Merlin asked, but Arthur was already reaching for the sword Merlin had been carrying.
“The voices came from over here,” Arthur said, then took off in the direction of the commotion.
Merlin did his best to keep up, and arrived at the source of the screaming in time to see Arthur clash swords with a man who was knocked off balance and fell to his knees. Without a moment’s hesitation, the prince turned his attention to a second man with a blade. There was already a man on the ground with an arrow sticking out of his chest and a fourth was attacking a young woman and an older gentleman who was on the ground on his back. The woman was still screaming, but before Merlin could do anything to help her, he saw the first man with the sword rising to his feet. The man advanced on Arthur, who was busy fending off the other attacker and didn’t see him.
Looking up, Merlin saw a good sized branch on the tree directly above the first swordsman and sent a quick surge of magic towards it. The branch snapped and came down heavily on the man’s head with a force great enough to knock him out at the very least. Arthur’s sword clanged loudly against his attacker’s frantic blows, but within a matter of moments, the prince pressed his advantage and ran the man through. The fourth man, seeing his compatriots defeated, dropped his grip on the woman and took off running into the trees.
Arthur wiped his brow with the back of his hand and glanced at where the insensate man lay beneath the tree branch.
“That’s a stroke of luck,” Arthur observed.
“Yeah,” Merlin agreed, but the prince didn’t seem to be looking for a response or explanation.
Stepping towards the woman who had screamed for help, Arthur asked, “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”
“No,” the woman said, lowering the hood of her travelling cloak to reveal a pretty face, “Thanks to you. I’m Sophia, and this is my father.”
“Arthur Pendragon, at your service,” the prince said, taking the woman’s hand and bowing to place a kiss on the back of it.
The woman, Sophia, smiled sweetly at him, almost too sweetly, Merlin thought with a sudden flash of irrational concern. The older gentleman smiled indulgently at his daughter and greeted the prince himself.
“I am Aulfric, heir of Tirmawr, and we are indebted to you. Thank you for your help.”
Merlin hung back and watched as the prince formally greeted the strangers. They were obviously nobility, based on their dress, but they were travelling without horses or retinue of any kind. It seemed odd to him, as most nobles who were not adept with a sword did not travel without the protection of those who were, nor were they inclined to walk. Aulfric and his daughter appeared in fine form, despite their recent attack and lack of provisions for travelling. They had no satchels, baskets, or bags of any kind. Not even a coin purse or a waterskin. All they were carrying seemed to be a pair of ornately carved staffs. Something he couldn’t quite place was dancing at the edge of his mind, seeking recognition when his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his name.
“Merlin would be happy to carry them for you.”
His head shot up. “What was that Sire?”
Arthur sighed and shook his head in exasperation. “Their belongings. You will help assist them in carrying their personal effects back to the castle.”
“Oh,” he said, “Yes of course.”
Aulfric shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. We only have the clothes on our backs, I’m afraid. I shall tell you, and King Uther, the whole sorry tale later if you wish.”
Arthur nodded, accepting the man’s words without question. “I’m certain my father will be pleased to extend you his hospitality and hear any tales you wish to tell.”
After arranging an audience with the king for Aulfric and Sophia, Arthur was a bundle of nervous energy, prattling on about finding Sophia the best room to stay in, making sure she had everything she could wish for after such a trying experience and generally sounding like a love struck boy of fourteen. Merlin couldn’t deny that she was very pretty, and she had fawned over Arthur with comments about daring rescues and exceptional bravery, but it all sounded a bit false to him. That could be his own wounded heart speaking, though. He remembered the pain of watching Arthur fall into bed with various women in several lifetimes. He remembered standing back and watching Arthur marry. He remembered the loneliness and the occasional resentment he felt towards the women. Seeing it again, while still in the process of remembering, stung him afresh.
Determined not to let bitterness rule him, Merlin did his best to see Sophia had all she needed. He asked Gwen to gather all the sorts of thing a lady might want if she were suddenly without all her possessions and made sure the bed in her room was made up with the finest linens. He smiled and was polite and did everything he could to please her, because it would please Arthur.
After bringing her the dress and hair combs Gwen had found for her, Merlin offered his best smile and felt relieved to be free to attend his regular duties again. He nearly crashed into Morgana in the corridor, where she stood frozen, a look of fear written on her face.
“I need to speak with you, Merlin,” she whispered.
The expression on her face was enough to let him guess what was troubling her, and he ducked into the nearest empty room. “What is it?”
“That girl, who is she?”
“Her name is Sophia. We came across her and her father being attacked by bandits in the woods.”
“She can’t stay here.”
“The king has already extended his hospitality to them.”
“Last night, I had another dream.”
Merlin looked at her face in concern. “Was it the same as before?”
“It was different, more like watching events play out, rather than disjointed images. I saw Arthur drowning. He was sinking into the water and that girl was standing over him, watching him die with a smile on her face,” Morgana told him, her voice shaking.
“Good, that’s good. Do you remember anything more? Any details?” he asked.
“Arthur was in his armour. He was sinking so quickly. The girl was in the same cloak she was just wearing and her eyes were... strange, almost red. The sky behind her was dark, but there was still plenty of light. It must have been a full moon. And... That’s all. I don’t remember anything more.”
“It’s alright,” Merlin said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “How do you feel?”
“Tired and afraid.”
“You’ve told me plenty. I’m sure we can stop this from happening. You and Arthur will both be fine.”
“It was awful, but this is the first dream I’ve had in days. I slept well for five nights in a row before last night. I can’t even remember the last time I was so well rested. Thank you, Merlin.”
The smile Morgana favoured him with was weak, but genuine, and Merlin once again felt badly for not trusting her with his secret. A part of him really wanted to tell her, if she hadn’t figured it out already, but it seemed wrong to tell Morgana before Arthur knew.
Suppressing the urge to blurt out something ill advised, Merlin gave her shoulders what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze and backed away. “It’s you who’s doing the work. I just pointed you in the right direction.”
“But it is helping. I can’t say what a relief that is.”
“I’m glad. Now I suppose I should go get in the way of Arthur and Sophia. What a joy that will be,” said Merlin rolling his eyes.
“Be careful of her, Merlin. She’s more dangerous than she looks,” Morgana cautioned him.
Merlin snorted a little at that. “I already think she looks plenty dangerous.”
Over the next three days, Arthur went from mildly infatuated to completely besotted with Sophia and every time Merlin tried to interfere, he ended up in the stocks. Arthur’s wounded pout was capable of destroying his resolve and had him lying to the king, badly, two mornings in a row. The worst part about his lies was they made him seem like the one to blame for Arthur’s gallivanting and he had spent both mornings in the stocks getting pelted with rancid cabbages and mouldy turnips. Morgana was kind enough to send Gwen down to visit him every hour or so with a wet rag to clean his face, but by the midday bell on the second day Merlin felt utterly miserable. His back and neck and arms ached from being held in place for so long and some wretched child had come up behind him and kicked him in the shins because some medicine the brat had been given had tasted foul. As if that was his fault.
Merlin couldn’t bear to face Arthur with carrot peelings stuck in his hair and smears of vegetable matter down his shirt, so he had gone to Gaius’ rooms to clean himself up, with the judicious use of a bit of magic, because he was out of clean shirts. Gaius offered his sympathy, but the man’s lips twitched even as he spoke, and Merlin couldn’t help but feel it wasn’t the sincerest sentiment. Gaius seemed to think Arthur’s sudden fixation with Sophia was amusing. Granted, he hadn’t told Gaius about Morgana’s dream, because that would mean he’d have to explain about the training he was offering her. The physician had made his opinions on the subject of Morgana’s talents abundantly clear and in the end Merlin could understand the man’s reasons, even if he didn’t agree with them. Morgana was already showing signs of improvement, not the least of which was the ability to sleep through the night undisturbed. She still wore a haunted expression far too often for his liking, but the dark circles under her eyes were fading and she seemed to have renewed energy for bickering with Arthur, which was always entertaining.
Arriving back in Arthur’s rooms with a fresh shirt and a clean face, Merlin was startled to see the prince there when he should be conducting drills with the knights on the training field. When Arthur saw him standing there, the prince smiled rather stupidly.
“Aren’t there drills today?” Merlin asked.
Arthur shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I have more important things to attend to. I need to speak with my father on a matter of greatest urgency.”
“Which is?” Merlin asked even as his heart sank.
Arthur’s expression melted into a soppy smile. “My heart’s desire. Hurry up and straighten my clothes. I must look my best.”
Merlin half heartedly adjusted Arthur’s collar and retied the laces at his throat. He had a sinking feeling something very bad was about to happen. It was followed by the even worse feeling that he wasn’t going to be able to stop it when he saw the flash of red that glinted in Arthur’s eyes.
He trailed behind Arthur as the prince took long, purposeful strides towards the council room where Uther was waiting for his son. Merlin hung back, out of the king’s direct line of sight and felt himself cringing as Arthur began to speak.
“I requested this audience, father, to discuss a matter of great importance. It cannot have escaped your attention that I and the Lady Sophia Tirmawr have grown very close.”
The king raised a brow and looked decidedly unimpressed. “Not too close, I hope.”
“We’re in love, which is why I come before you today to ask your permission to marry.”
Somehow, Merlin had known that those words had been about to pass Arthur’s lips, but that didn’t lessen the sting of them. Even as the king’s chuckle of amusement faded to anger and Morgana’s look of shock became one of fear, Merlin’s heart clenched painfully.
“I assume you’re joking,” Uther said in a tone that indicated he was not feeling particularly amused.
“No,” Arthur stated, “I’m going to marry her.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You only met two days ago.”
“We’re in love,” Arthur said in growing irritation.
Uther raised his brows and glanced over his shoulder at Morgana. “We had no idea that you were such a romantic, did we Morgana?”
Morgana’s already pale complexion had lost all colour entirely and she looked on the verge of either fainting or having a dangerous outburst, possibly even a magical one. Her eyes met his over Arthur’s shoulder and he tried to communicate to her with his expression that everything would work out. Merlin wasn’t sure how just now, but he would figure something out.
Morgana was made of sterner stuff than most gave her credit for, however, and she responded remarkably calmly, “No, he’s full of surprises.”
“I am going to marry her,” Arthur stated again, his words clipped. “I don’t care what either of you think about it.”
The tone of Uther’s voice turned dangerous. “I thought you came to ask my permission.”
“Out of courtesy, nothing more,” Arthur said.
The prince turned to leave and extended a hand to take Sophia’s. As they walked towards the door, the king barked, “Guards, door.”
Uther stood from the throne and placed his hands on his hips. “You forget whose court you are standing in.”
Arthur cast a glance back, an expression of malice on his face that was not mocking or playful in any way. It didn’t suit him. “You won’t stop me. If I want to marry her, I will.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Uther said, “Arrest Aulfric and Sophia Tirmawr and inform the executioner his services will be required tomorrow morning.”
“You can’t do this!”
“Yes I can, and unless you show me some respect, I will.”
There was a tense moment when father and son stood toe to toe glaring at each other, but it ended when Arthur took a step back and dropped his head in defeat.
“Release them,” Uther said, turning back to his papers as if the entire exchange hadn’t just happened. “You have your whole life ahead of you. Sophia is no doubt your first love, but she certainly won’t be the only one. Enjoy yourself while you can.”
Arthur glared at his father, then turned and stormed from the room.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Arthur wasn’t going to let the matter rest there. Arthur was stubborn and quite probably enchanted. As the prince brushed past him out of the room, the warm, familiar buzz of magic that danced on his skin when they were close had felt like stinging nettles and the flicker of red he had noticed earlier was reflected in Arthur’s eyes.
Merlin had to run through the corridors to keep up with Arthur’s angry pace and was panting when he arrived at the prince’s chambers.
“Get out!” Arthur snapped at him.
Merlin shook his head stubbornly. “No. I know what you think you’re doing and I’m telling you it’s a bad idea.”
“How dare you! You are a servant. It is not your place to tell me what to do or what I’m thinking!”
“You said you needed a servant who would be honest and speak their mind, even when it wasn’t in their best interests to do so. That’s what I’m doing now. Sophia is not all she claims to be. Have you had a look at her eyes? They go red when she looks at you! And now your eyes do it too. She’s enchanted you!”
“You see much,” a sickly sweet voice from behind him said. “Too much.”
Merlin spun around to see Sophia and Aulfric come into the room, their peculiar staffs in hand and eyes glowing. Merlin raised a hand towards them, uncertain what exactly he was going to do in Arthur’s presence, but he was a moment too late. Aulfric thrust forward his staff and a blinding surge of magic shot towards him. Merlin was thrown up against the stone wall and the world went dark.
Merlin woke to a splitting headache and frantic hands gripping his shoulders.
“Merlin? Come on, Merlin! You have to get up!”
He groaned and blinked his eyes, but was relieved to find the world one of dim twilight. The blurry form in front of him resolved itself into the face of Morgana and he batted her hands away from him.
“’M awake.”
“Are you alright?” she asked, worry evident in her voice.
“Fantastic. Never better.”
“I don’t think now is the time for sarcasm.”
“What time is it?”
“The evening bell just rang.”
“I’ve been out that long?”
“I just saw Arthur following Sophia and Aulfric from the castle. Merlin, the moon is full tonight. It’s just like my dream!”
Merlin struggled dizzily to his feet and took a few staggering steps. He nearly crashed back into the wall, but Morgana put a steadying hand on his shoulder.
“Are you sure you’re alright? Should I get Gaius?”
Merlin snorted, and nearly made a rather ill advised comment about having lifetimes of experience with magical attacks and head injuries, and having taught Gaius everything he knew about healing magic, but the bit of his slightly addled mind that was responsible for his self preservation kicked in and he shook his head instead. Coaching Morgana in meditation was one thing. Telling her he was a centuries old sorcerer forever drawn to Arthur by his magic was another thing entirely.
He patted the hand on his shoulder and said, “I’ll go get him. The prat isn’t going to be drowned by some evil enchantress with me around.”
“They do have magic then?” Morgana asked.
Merlin nodded and rubbed his chest where the impact of the bolt of magic still stung like fire. “Yeah, but I won’t let them get me this time.”
“How?”
Merlin waved her off and moved shakily towards the door. “Don’t worry. Just stay here. I’ll take care of it.”
Morgana seemed like she was going to protest further, but Merlin stumbled from the room before she could say anything else. He had to find Arthur quickly, which wasn’t going to be easy in his current state. Stopping briefly by Gaius’ workroom to get a tonic for the terrible headache threatening to split his head in two, he was grateful the physician wasn’t in and he wasn’t obliged to make explanations. Merlin made his way out of the castle towards the stables. Sophia and Aulfric had a considerable head start on him, and in his current state of unsteadiness, there was no way he could catch up with them on foot.
Upon leaving the stables, Merlin had to admit there was something to be said for being the prince’s servant. The stable boy didn’t question for a moment Merlin’s request for assistance in saddling Arthur’s horse for a matter of great urgency and within minutes he lead the mare out of the stables. Merlin managed to get mounted, though more clumsily than usual, and once properly seated, he dug his heels into the horse’s side and galloped out of the city. Though Arthur’s favourite mare wasn’t usually overly fond of him, the horse cooperated for a change and ran like its tail was on fire.
The full moon rose overhead and made the open country nearly as bright as it would be at midday, but Merlin’s magic drew him towards the trees and once under the thick branches of the forest it was much slower going. He still felt dizzy and unsteady after his sudden impact with a stone wall, but as he rode, he found it easier to remain upright and the pounding in his head started to dissipate. The shadowed path that wound through the forest was riddled with tree roots and fallen logs that would have had Merlin tripping constantly, but the mare was surefooted and picked her way steadily in the direction he had pointed her in. He could feel them getting closer and when the trees began to thin and he saw the smooth surface of a lake reflecting the moon like a looking glass, Merlin dismounted and tethered the mare loosely off of the path. He could see the silhouette of figures through the trees but didn’t think charging in without a plan was his best option. It hadn’t worked very well earlier.
Creeping closer to the break in the trees, he saw Aulfric standing at the water’s edge, arms raised and staff in hand. “I have done as the elders had bid me. I ask again for you to grant me an audience.”
Merlin’s brow furrowed at the words that followed, spoken in a strange language he did not recognize at all, but a moment later a whirring flash of light distracted him. Then another light appeared, followed by several more all spinning and hovering around Aulfric’s head. It was all moving too quickly for Merlin to get a handle on, and he focussed on the older man, concentrating on slowing the movement around him. Then everything in the clearing by the lake and the surrounding forest began to slow to a crawl. The night breeze seemed to struggle to bend the reeds at the water’s edge and the air became thick and heavy like honey. The flitting lights were not lights at all, but tiny winged figures, blue skinned and somewhat resembling men, though their features weren’t exactly like.
Aulfric said only a few words to them, then the flying creatures flew away from the shore and swooped and danced on the surface of the water where the moon was reflected large and rippling. “You must go to them now.”
“But... You’re coming with me,” Sophia said, her voice trembling with uncertainty.
“The gates of Avalon are to remain forever closed to me, but you have this chance, this one chance to return. I beg you take it,” Aulfric urged.
Like a candle flickering to life, understanding flared in Merlin’s mind. Sophia and Aulfric were sidhe. He had not had any direct encounters with them in the past, but suddenly all the incongruities of the pair made sense. It wasn’t reassuring, Merlin knew sidhe magic was powerful and volatile enough to make fighting them with his magical force alone difficult, but at least he understood what was happening and what it was that Morgana had truly seen.
Sophia set down her ornamented staff and clutched her father tightly. Arthur stood completely still, seeing and hearing nothing, as father and daughter parted. She took the prince’s hand and drew him with her into the water, walking into the inky pool with only a brief glance backwards. Aulfric stood at the water’s edge, focussed on Sophia as she and Arthur waded into the centre of the circle of glowing sidhe. Raising his staff, Aulfric began speaking the words of an enchantment, and time snapped back into its natural flow.
Everything began moving far too quickly; after slowing the flow of time, Merlin felt slightly addled. He was desperately trying to come up with a viable plan to rescue Arthur from a large number of magically powerful beings. His panic overwhelmed him when Sophia pressed her lips to Arthur’s and pushed him backwards into the water. The weight of the armour made the prince sink like a stone.
Merlin’s eyes flicked over to the staff on the ground at Aulfric’s feet, and without a second thought his magic seized it and sent it flying into his hand. The wood thrummed powerfully at his touch, channelling his magic along the shaft and through the stone fitted into the top. Merlin thrust his arm out in Aulfric’s direction and a bolt of energy shot out the end of the staff. On impact, Aulfric exploded into nothing more than dust that scattered and dropped into the water with a thousand tiny hisses of steam.
From her position in the lake, Sophia looked up in shock, but Merlin didn’t wait for her reaction. He levelled the staff at her and sent another burst of magical power through it. Sophia disintegrated just as Aulfric had, and Merlin rushed forward to the water’s edge, desperate to get to Arthur. He hesitated for a moment on the shore, watching the swirling lights dancing frantically on the surface of the lake. There were dozens of sidhe here, and he wasn’t certain he could fight them all, not if he was to get Arthur in time.
One of the sidhe flew towards him, but the rest remained on the water. “Emrys. I am surprised to see you here. Is the prince yours, then?”
Ignoring his surprise at being known to the sidhe, Merlin snapped, “Yes. I will have him back.”
“Of course. It was not our desire to have Sophia return to us. If it were, we would not have banished her with Aulfric in the first place. If you can find him, we will not hinder you.”
Merlin didn’t take the time to reply. He plunged into the water, desperate and panic stricken. A ball of blue light flared to life in his hand and he sent it out searching for Arthur, allowing him to see in the darkness of the water. When the light caught the glint of Arthur’s armour, Merlin dove down and struggled to haul Arthur to the surface. The water wasn’t so deep that he couldn’t stand with his head above the water, but Arthur was limp and unwieldy as well as being considerably weighted down. In the water, Merlin’s magic seemed sluggish and unable to do much to lessen the burden, but he hadn’t felt the wrenching sensation of being torn apart as he had so many times before and prayed he hadn’t been too slow.
Coughing and cursing, Merlin heaved Arthur out of the lake. The dozens of sidhe lighting up the water disappeared one by one into the night, leaving him alone on the pebbly shore of the lake. The ball of blue light hovered in the air beside him, casting an alarming blue tinge on Arthur’s skin. Merlin pounded on Arthur’s back, begging him to start breathing again.
“Breathe damn you! Come on Arthur! Breathe!” Merlin hissed.
His hands hurt, cold from the water and raw from the hard metal of the armour, but when Arthur began to cough and splutter, Merlin felt nothing but relief. Rearranging Arthur so he would be able to breathe easier, Merlin sat behind him, holding tight and shaking.
Arthur’s voice was a hoarse croak when he spoke. “You’re crying.”
Merlin wiped at his eyes, noticing the warm wetness there that was not lake water, and sniffed. “You great idiot. You nearly died.”
“Not this time. It’s not so bad this time.”
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t hurt, not like the last time. I won’t die on you.”
“You were in the water so long.”
“’M cold. Make a fire?”
Merlin couldn’t help snorting at this. “How am I supposed to do that? I wasn’t exactly thinking about packing supplies when I came after you.”
Arthur twisted around enough to look at him, and in the dim light the Arthur looked confused. “You mean you can’t this time? I thought you said there’s always a warrior and a warlock. And you’re no warrior.”
The blood drained from Merlin’s face and he stared down at Arthur in shock. His mouth hung open as the myriad thoughts swirling around in his head came to a complete stop. “What?”
“There was a landslide, and I was dying, and you were there. I said I’d try to remember.”
“You remember,” Merlin breathed.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what it is inside my head. It’s so... full.”
“I don’t believe it. That’s... How? Six times, and you remember now. How is that possible?”
“Merlin? I’m so confused,” Arthur said, and grunted as he shifted on the rocky ground. “Nothing makes sense. Are you... are you a warlock?”
Merlin bit his lip and nodded. “Yes, Arthur.”
“Oh... And can you light a fire, or do something to warm us up?”
“Yeah. I can do that,” Merlin said, and cast a nervous glance out at the lake. The sidhe said they would leave them alone, but he didn’t want to linger here. “Do you think you can move? I left your horse in the trees, and I’d like to get away from the lake if it’s all the same to you.”
“I can try.”
There had been some awkward manoeuvring, and Arthur was very unsteady on his feet, but they managed to hobble away from the water’s edge and into the trees. The horse was still tethered to the tree where Merlin had left her, and she stamped her foot irritably when they approached. Arthur was in no shape to ride back to Camelot just now, with assistance or otherwise, so Merlin found them a spot to camp down for the night and tended to the mare. He took a few minutes collecting some firewood, but when he returned to Arthur he was hesitant to use his magic to light the fire.
“Aren’t you going to light it?” Arthur asked.
Merlin glanced up nervously and met the prince’s gaze. It still didn’t quite register that Arthur knew about the magic and years of conditioning in this life made him hesitant to use it openly.
“Right,” he mumbled.
A flame burst to life under his fingers, and quickly caught on the dry tinder. Merlin glanced up to gage Arthur’s reaction, and saw him staring wide eyed at the small fire.
“Everything in my head... it’s true?”
Merlin shrugged. “I wouldn’t know for certain, but yeah... Overwhelming isn’t it?”
Arthur shivered and fumbled with straps of his plate armour. Merlin added a couple larger sticks to the fire and came over to help. Arthur’s fingers were trembling, whether from cold or shock Merlin wasn’t certain, and several of the fastenings were next to impossible to reach without assistance. The straps swollen with water were difficult to undo, but a bit of judiciously applied magic made them come free easily. Since the secret was out, Merlin didn’t see much point in making the task more difficult on himself.
After the hauberk and gambeson were removed, Arthur shifted closer to the fire, plucking at his wet tunic. The night air was cool, especially if you happened to be wet, and Merlin set aside the discarded armour and joined Arthur close to the fire, sitting as close as he dared. The stinging sensation he had felt earlier was gone, and once more his magic drew him closer, happy to be near. What Merlin really wanted to do was to hold Arthur as he had when they had first come out of the water, but he thought the gesture unlikely to be well received now.
Their clothes began to steam in the warmth, and after a long while Arthur said, “It’s very... confusing. It’s like you’re someone I know, but don’t at the same time”
“It will start making sense after a while. How are you, though? You did nearly drown.”
“Still cold. Why am I so cold... and wet?”
“Sophia was a sidhe, a fairy. She enchanted you and tried to drown you in a lake.”
Arthur looked a bit dazed by this information and stared into the fire, his brow furrowed. “I went to my father... Oh no! I tried to marry her!”
Merlin nodded. “That didn’t go over very well.”
“He’ll be livid,” Arthur groaned and buried his face in his hands.
“That depends on whether or not we can come up with a convincing story to tell the king, but for the record, I’m not spending another day in the stocks for you.”
Arthur stared into the fire, his expression dazed, slowly shaking his head. “Shit.”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m too wet and cold to make up any brilliant excuses for you. Let’s just warm up and get some rest. We can worry about it in the morning.”
“Yeah... That’s probably a good idea. I can hardly think straight.”
Merlin smiled weakly, nudging Arthur’s shoulder. “Give it some time, and rest. Sleep helps a lot.”
“Always offering your advice on everything,” Arthur observed, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Merlin said gently.
He pulled away from Arthur and fumbled in the dark for the discarded gambeson. It was still soaked, but Merlin felt better able to deal with the practicalities of their situation than he had earlier. He ignored Arthur’s watchful gaze as he used his magic to squeeze most of the water out of the fabric and heat it so it was reasonably dry. Then he waved a hand at a large fallen log and brought it close to the fire.
Merlin tucked himself against the length of the log and gestured for Arthur to join him. “Let’s get some rest. It’s been a long day.”
Arthur blinked a couple times in confusion, then nodded and moved to stretch out on the ground beside him. Merlin draped the gambeson over them as best he could, and tried to relax, despite being pressed full length against his other half. His other half who was now starting to remember a life they had shared before. It was something he had never hoped could happen, but he didn’t want to get overly excited about the prospect either. What Arthur had said, what he remembered, came from a time when they had been nothing more than friends. He may have always wanted more, but their lives hadn’t gone in that direction then. This life was infinitely more complicated, and the likelihood they could have anything more than friendship this time was remote at best. Still, his entire being, physical and magical, rejoiced at being so close.
Perhaps he was pushing his luck, but Merlin couldn’t resist resting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. They were crowded close together, and it was more comfortable that way. At least, that’s what he told himself. Arthur didn’t seem to mind, if the steady deepening breaths were anything to go by. The fire cast warm light on the leaves of the trees and occasionally sent out a crackling spark, but the flickering light was soothing. The body pressed against him was no longer shivering and Merlin began to relax enough for sleep to tug at him.
In the stillness, Arthur spoke. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Merlin asked, suddenly very awake again.
“For yelling at you, about Sophia,” Arthur mumbled his voice sleepy.
“It doesn’t matter. Go to sleep Arthur.”
Merlin waited for a reply, but the only response he got was quiet breathing. Merlin lay awake for a long time, ignoring the uncomfortably hard ground in favour of savouring the steady rise and fall of Arthur’s chest as he slept.
Merlin had worried just what Arthur’s reaction would be when he woke up the next morning. He had expected shock. He had hoped for curiosity and acceptance. He had feared anger. What Merlin really hadn’t expected was to be ignored. Arthur had pulled away from him in the early morning and disappeared into the trees. A short while later when Arthur returned, it was as if nothing had happened and they were simply on an overnight hunting excursion.
“Come on, Merlin. We have to get back to the castle,” Arthur said impatiently.
Merlin got to his feet and rubbed at the crick in his neck from sleeping awkwardly. “Yeah. I expect your father will have a patrol out looking for you by now.”
The prince grunted noncommittally and pulled on the gambeson. Merlin helped him put his armour on without the usual chatter and the silence between them grew painful.
“I still don’t have any idea how to explain this to him,” Merlin offered carefully.
Arthur turned to look at him and frowned. “We tell him the truth.”
“The truth?” Merlin asked nervously.
“Yes, Merlin. What else would we do?” Arthur snapped.
“Um...” Merlin’s mind was racing. He wasn’t certain if Arthur meant simply the truth that Sophia had used magic to make Arthur do the things he did, or if he meant to tell the king more...
Arthur’s demeanour was stiff and his face closed. “I am not in the habit of lying to the king.”
Merlin tried to keep his tone light, but felt his heart plummeting. “You could have fooled me these past few days.”
Arthur scowled. “Sophia was clearly an enchantress. I would not have acted as I did if I had been in my right mind.”
Merlin nodded, not quite sure what to say in response to that.
“Obviously, I will tell my father that the enchantment was broken and I am ashamed of my recent behaviour. The sorcerers were dealt with properly and everything can return to normal.”
“Right,” Merlin nodded in agreement, but he eyed Arthur warily. “You’ll be taking the horse then?”
“I’m not going to walk, Merlin. I need to get back before half the guard is out scouring the kingdom. I expect my father is furious enough with me as it stands. Keeping him waiting is not a smart plan,” Arthur sneered.
Merlin felt a lump rising in his throat at the cold tone and swallowed heavily. “Should I come back to the city? Do you want me to leave?”
“What are you talking about, Merlin? Of course you’re coming back to the city. If my armour isn’t tended to properly today it will certainly rust, and Gaius will be waiting for the plants he sent you out to the forest to collect.”
Merlin gaped at Arthur, but the prat didn’t notice. He was already fussing with his mare’s saddle and preparing to ride.
Arthur swung up into the saddle, cast a brief glance back at Merlin and said, “I expect you back in time to tend to my armour after training this afternoon.”
Without another word, the prince spurred his horse and disappeared down the path leaving Merlin feeling decidedly wrong footed. Arthur had acted like he hadn’t nearly drowned last night. He acted like he hadn’t suddenly discovered that his manservant was a warlock. He acted like he didn’t remember a thing from before, from an earlier life. Even worse, Arthur acted like he had those first few days after Merlin had become his manservant. He acted like he wanted nothing to do with Merlin at all.
As Merlin began to make his way back towards Camelot, he felt like his heart had sunk to the soles of his feet and was being steadily trodden on.
Chapter 5: What Was Once and What Is Now
Chapter Text
The days and weeks that followed Arthur’s near drowning and subsequent realization that Merlin was both a warlock and had shared several previous lives with the prince were exceedingly awkward.
Initially, Arthur seemed to be pretending that a great many things had never happened, like pretty much everything since the spring tournament. He expended a great deal of effort in being aloof, so much so that several people had noticed. It didn’t surprise Merlin that Gwen and Gavin both asked what had happened, but when three page boys, half the kitchen staff and every single stable boy, not to mention Sir Leon and Sir Bedivere, all asked what was wrong between them, Merlin simply shrugged and feigned ignorance. There wasn’t really anything he could tell them anyway. The scrutiny of the castle should have bothered him, but it was when they were alone that things were the most uncomfortable.
When Arthur wasn’t ignoring Merlin’s existence entirely, he was spending a good deal of his time glaring daggers. After ten days of tense silence and anxiety, Merlin snapped.
“Just say it already!”
Arthur’s scowl deepened. “Say what?”
“Everything you’ve been holding back. If you want to tell me you hate me, or wish I’d never come to Camelot or are planning to have me arrested sometime in the night and executed at dawn or anything else that you’ve not said since that damn night, just go ahead and say it,” Merlin said in a rush.
For a long moment, Arthur’s lips remained firmly pressed together. Then he drew in a noisy breath through his nose and yelled, “What exactly do you expect? Everything I thought I knew is a lie!”
“Arthur, I’m sorry. I would have told you about the magic, I wanted to, but I couldn’t. You have to believe I only ever used it to help you.”
“I don’t care about your bloody magic!”
Merlin blinked and stumbled over his words. “You don’t? Well, that’s good. Though, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t shout about it. That is, if you aren’t planning on having me arrested. But... if it isn’t the magic that’s bothering you, what is it?”
Arthur paced angrily around the room, then stopped by the window overlooking the courtyard and stared out. “Did you always know that your mother wasn’t really your mother?”
“No. I didn’t always know, but even if I had Hunith is still my mother. I am still a son to her. Your father is still your father, and so was your mother. They just aren’t the only parents you’ve had.”
“It’s such a mess in my head. I can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t or what is now and what was then. Sometimes I think I’m going to say or do something wrong. I feel like I’m going mad.”
Merlin came to stand beside Arthur and put a tentative hand on his shoulder. “I know. Believe me, I know.”
“A part of me really hates you because you’re everything I’ve been taught to hate since I was a boy. A part of me wants to go to the king, because surely what is happening in my head can’t be anything but sorcery. A part of me wishes we had never met... but then I’ll hear something that reminds me of a joke you told me once, except it isn’t you who told it to me, it was someone else who was also you and then my head starts to hurt because there’s too much there.”
“I wish there was something I could do to help, but I think it just takes time. It’s taken me months to get a handle on everything.”
Arthur looked at Merlin in surprise. “You didn’t remember?”
“No, not until I was unconscious from the poisoned wine.”
“And the magic?”
“I’ve always had that. It’s almost more than I can handle sometimes. It isn’t evil, though.”
Arthur turned from the window and the wall of anger that had separated them fell. “I know. Despite everything, I do trust you. I don’t think you have a malicious bone in your body.”
Merlin snorted. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well, perhaps one or two, but even so, you’ve more than proven yourself to me. I’m not going to have you arrested.”
“That’s a relief,” Merlin said, trying to joke but he knew it fell flat.
“That doesn’t mean I like the whole sorcerer thing.”
“I really didn’t expect you to.”
Arthur ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, an action that never failed to tug at Merlin’s heart. It was an instinctive action that Arthur always seemed to have and it left his hair in such childlike disarray that it was all he could do not to reach out and pat it back into place. Arthur sat down heavily in a chair and leaned forward with his chin on folded hands on the tabletop.
“Let’s just try to go back to the way things were. Before Sophia turned up, I was actually almost getting to enjoy your unique variety of inept servitude and irritating commentary.”
“Don’t flatter me with such extravagant praise. It might go to my head,” Merlin teased.
Arthur grinned back. “I’m certain it’s already too late for that. I’m serious though. Can we just go back to how things were?”
Merlin shook his head. “Don’t lie to yourself, Arthur. We both know it won’t be the same. Pretending otherwise will just make things more awkward than they already are.”
“So what do we do then, since you seem to know everything?”
“We get used to it. I’ve been your friend in six lifetimes. That doesn’t have to change in this one.”
“I’m the prince, Merlin. We can’t be friends.”
“And I’m a warlock. I am quite good at keeping private things private.”
“So what? You’ll keep doing a poor job as a squire during training and spilling my drinks at meals?”
Merlin shrugged his shoulders slightly. “I keep doing what I do when others are around. I’ll keep doing my job, but when all the things filling your head become too much to make sense of, you can actually talk to me about it, instead of quietly sulking until you explode.”
“I do not sulk!” objected Arthur.
“Yes, you do. You have made sulking into an art form.”
“Why have I kept you around for so many lifetimes?” Arthur groaned.
“Because you’d be lost without me,” Merlin said with a light hearted grin and ignored the pang he felt in his chest.
Things got a little better after Arthur had finally aired his frustrations to Merlin. He understood what Arthur was going through, but he didn’t really know how to help beyond being very patient. In many ways it was worse than the massive disorientation he had experienced with his own sudden onslaught of memory, because Merlin had no control over it. Arthur was more than a bit unpredictable, swinging wildly from warm and familiar to defensive and closed with little to no provocation.
Despite his assertion that he was still angry about the magic, Arthur seemed remarkably fine about the whole warlock for a servant situation. In fact, the subject of magic seemed the easiest one for the prince to broach. If they were alone, Arthur dropped small, teasing comments into their conversations about cheating at chores and watched Merlin keenly to see the slightest bit of magic performed. When it became apparent that the close observation was more out of curiosity than concern, Merlin made a point of getting caught doing small things in the privacy of the prince’s chambers. Arthur seemed to find the manipulation of fire the most fascinating, which shouldn’t have surprised Merlin if he had really thought about it, but the way Merlin was able to move objects with ease seemed to amuse the prince as well.
And then the questions started.
At first, Arthur only asked about the magic. He wanted to know what using it felt like. What was it like growing up with that kind of power? How did he learn enchantments? What could magic do? Who else knew about it? How did he manage to keep it hidden?
These questions began to lead into concern for Camelot. Was there a lot of magic going on without his knowledge? What incidents had happened without the king knowing? How did Uther not see what was going on? How had everyone not been killed by crazed sorcerers before he had arrived in Camelot?
Merlin had asked a number of these questions himself, but the last was one he had thought a great deal about. When Arthur had asked it, one evening back in his rooms after a long and trying formal banquet in honour of some nobleman’s impending marriage, Merlin had stopped bustling around the room tidying and had come to sit at the table.
“I think I actually have a proper answer to that one, Arthur.”
“I was kidding,” Arthur said.
“It’s a valid question though.”
“Are you suggesting my other questions weren’t valid?”
Merlin shook his head and smiled. “Shut it. I’m serious. I think I might be the reason Camelot was reasonably safe from magical attack for so long.”
“What? Did you bring all the insane sorcerers with you when you came from Ealdor?”
“No. When I came back, the spell I cast to protect you from all the insane sorcerers stopped working.”
Arthur’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What do you mean, came back?”
Merlin felt his ears grow warm and knew they were probably glowing. “I came to Camelot once before, when you were a baby.”
Arthur stared at him uncomprehending for a long moment. “You were here, in Camelot, when I was a baby?”
Merlin nodded. “It was before... You see, I don’t die exactly. I just keep living and living until the time is right and then I sort of... let go. It’s hard to explain. I was in Camelot before I was born as Merlin.”
“Right,” Arthur said, letting out a long breath and looking a bit dazed. “So when I was born, you were still the you from before.”
“Yes,” Merlin confirmed. “Normally I would have already started over, as soon as I knew you were back, but I didn’t right away. I knew this time was different.”
“What was it like? Camelot, I mean, back then.”
“Scared. It was the start of the Great Purge, and people were frightened. I wasn’t sure where I should go or what I should do, but I knew there would be problems. Making a bunch of magically gifted people angry isn’t the safest thing to do.”
“So how did you keep the city safe?”
“I wasn’t trying to keep the city safe, you dimwit, I was trying to keep you safe. A few nights before I left, I snuck into your nursery and placed a protective enchantment on you. It kept you fairly safe from direct magical attack, right up until I arrived back in Camelot. I hadn’t expected to be without my own memories, which very nearly got you killed. Sorry about that.”
“Lady Helen.”
“Yeah.”
Arthur picked up his wine goblet and drained its contents, then poured himself another. He pushed it across the table to Merlin and leaned forward with his chin in his hands, studying the flickering of the candles. Merlin took a few sips of the wine and sat forward, mirroring the prince. He pushed a tiny bit of magic into the flames and made them take the shape of diminutive dancers twirling and weaving around the wicks. The corners of Arthur’s lips tugged up a bit as he watched.
“Dying is strange. At least, it’s strange to remember. I remember being very cold and hurt, but it’s a bit vague. There are other things I remember much more clearly,” Arthur said.
“Like what?”
“Little things. Silly things. Every time I catch you sneaking blackberries off my plate I remember a little girl with purple staining her fingers and lips and the front of her dress. I think she was my daughter. It’s so odd to think that I’ve already been a father.”
“That sounds like Efa. She was already grown when I found you, but you loved her dearly. You were a great father.”
“Have you ever had a family?”
“No. I’ve never married.”
“Really? Six lives, and you never once settled down with a nice girl.”
Merlin could feel his cheeks flaming and didn’t like the direction this conversation was headed in. “No. I’ve been too busy trying to keep you out of trouble.”
Arthur looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment and Merlin blushed harder. He felt almost as if Arthur could read his mind, like the truth of why he never married was written plainly on his face for all the world to see. Merlin loved Arthur. He always had and he knew he always would. There had been very little time when he had been free to share that love with Arthur, but he had come to accept that. There were plenty of reasons why it could not be this time.
Arthur blinked, and the intense scrutiny was gone. “I suppose if there is any trouble to be had, you’d be reasonably useful to have around. Well, unless it’s to do with hunting. You’ve always been rubbish at that.”
“It’s never been skill I’ve needed to possess,” Merlin said in his defence.
Arthur chuckled. “Perhaps not, but you’re coming with me anyway.”
“What, hunting?”
“Yes, hunting. Weren’t you listening earlier? I told the king I was going spend a few days tracking hart. Venison would be appreciated at the feast to celebrate the start of the harvest.”
“Who else is coming along?”
“Just us. I need to get out of the castle for a while. Being around everyone else... it’s too much right now.”
The sun had barely peeked over the horizon when Merlin fumbled his way down to the stables with their gear for the hunting trip. He wished for a moment he could just make it float along behind him, but quickly stomped down on the thought. Sometimes when he wasn’t fully awake, idle thoughts became reality and that really was the last thing he needed just now. The stable boys had already saddled their horses, so he was able to load their gear right away. Merlin noticed a third horse had also been saddled and was puzzled. Arthur had said it was just them going, but clearly that didn’t seem to be the case.
Merlin had just finished adjusting the last of the straps when Arthur arrived in the stable yard with Sir Leon. Merlin did his best to disguise his confusion and disappointment. He had been looking forward to a few days spent with just Arthur, free to talk openly now that the air had been cleared between them.
Sir Leon gave him a friendly smile and went to his horse to secure his own gear. When Merlin glanced at Arthur, the prince shook his head in exasperation but made no explanations.
“You haven’t forgotten anything?” Arthur asked.
Merlin huffed. “I have packed for a hunt before.”
“Yes, and the last time you forgot to bring a whetstone. My knives couldn’t cut butter by the time we got back.”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “It won’t be a problem this time. Though I’m not sure I packed enough provisions.”
“Don’t worry about Leon. He doesn’t eat much on hunting trips.”
Leon grinned widely at this comment and swung up into his saddle. “You did say you wanted an early start today, didn’t you Arthur?”
“Keep your shirt on. The bush isn’t going anywhere,” said Arthur grinning widely.
Leon scowled for a moment, then said, “No, but it doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“We’ll get there in good time.”
Merlin looked back and forth between the two men aware another conversation was happening, but not certain what it was. Arthur looked at him and chuckled before mounting his own horse with grace. That left Merlin to struggle awkwardly up onto his gelding and follow behind as they guided their mounts out of the city.
For a while, Arthur rode ahead with Leon, chatting amiably with his fellow knight as they trotted along the well worn road leading away from the city. The late summer morning was refreshingly cool after weeks of hot weather that seemed all the more stifling when confined within the walls of the castle with an irritable prince. Merlin ignored the conspiratorial air between Arthur and Leon and resolved to simply enjoy the day.
They stopped a couple hours later by a shallow creek to water the horses and when they remounted, Arthur rode beside Merlin. Leon kept up an eager pace and pulled ahead of them, giving them relative privacy to talk.
“Don’t get your feathers ruffled, Merlin. Leon’s not actually coming hunting.”
“He’s not?” asked Merlin, confused.
Arthur shook his head. “No, he rarely does. The court believes him far keener about hunting than he is.”
“Then what is going to be doing instead?”
“You have noticed that I’m the only heir to the throne of Camelot.”
“Yes Arthur,” Merlin said rolling his eyes. “I believe you have pointed that fact out to me once or twice.”
“It means I’m not usually at liberty to go off places by myself. I always have someone with me on hunting excursions.”
After considering this for a moment, Merlin said, “So Leon is a front.”
Arthur nodded. “He pretends to come hunting with me for a few days and I get the chance to be alone and he gets a few days away from the scrutiny of the court.”
“Scrutiny of the court? What issue does the court have with him?”
“You really don’t pay any attention to castle gossip, do you?”
“I hear my fair share, but I don’t believe most of it.”
“Leon is Lord Bradbury’s second son, so he lives at the garrison at Camelot. Before he joined the garrison year round, he would return to his father’s lands for the winter. A few years ago he fell for their seamstress’ daughter and when his father found out about the affair he sent Leon to Camelot to keep him busy and turned out the girl and her family.”
“That’s terrible!”
“I know. For almost a year he had no idea where they had gone, but when we were out on patrol once he found her living with her aunt and uncle in Savdon. She was pleased to see him again, and he still is ridiculously in love with her, so they’ve carried on their secret romance. Since I became first knight, I’ve been in charge of scheduling the patrols, so I try to make sure Leon gets up here a bit more often. I keep Leon’s confidence and he keeps mine. There are a couple other knights I trust for this sort of thing, but it makes Leon happy to visit her. The girl too, I suppose.”
“That’s...” Merlin found himself struggling for words for a moment, “That’s really sweet, actually. You act like a massive prat so much, but you really are a secret romantic.”
Arthur scoffed at this. “I just happen to know how to use a person’s soft spot.”
“I tried not to compare you to yourself, but sometimes I can’t help it and it hasn’t been all that favourable, but I think you’re just really skilled at hiding the good bits. What you’re doing for Leon is a wonderfully kind thing.”
Arthur shrugged off the compliment and shook his head. “You are such a girl, Merlin.”
Spurring his horse, Arthur trotted ahead to catch up to Leon, but every few minutes he would glance back at Merlin, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Sir Leon parted ways with them late in the afternoon where the road turned east to Savdon and a narrower path split from it heading north into the woods. The man did a poor job of hiding his eagerness and before Merlin lost sight of the road from the trees he saw Leon nudging his horse to a canter. Merlin found himself moving at a slower pace as his horse picked its way carefully over the rougher, less used path. Arthur had seemed more relaxed this morning, but the subtle tension he carried in the stiffness of his posture eased. They rode for another hour or so until they were well off the road and found a place to camp by a slow moving pool in the river.
While Arthur fussed with the campsite itself, Merlin was dismissed to collect firewood. When they were out with the other knights Merlin grumbled about the task, but this time he was able to savour the startled expression on Arthur’s face when he wandered back with a large pile of wood floating behind him. He laughed and set it down in a careful pile, then flicked his hands and brought several smooth stones out of the river to form a ring for their fire pit.
Once the fire was lit, Merlin sat down on a fallen log and stretched his legs with a small sigh. “That feels much better.”
“You know, if you keep doing that, the shock effect is going to wear off.”
“Good. I’m not doing it to shock you. I’m using the magic because it wants to be used, especially when I’m around you. You have all kinds of pent up energy when you’re forced to sit in on council for more than a morning. This is the same thing. Holding it in is wearing. It leaves me jumpy.”
“Do you remember the time when we had that terrible snowstorm and we were stuck inside for over a week with the wind and the cold? I thought Drew was going to twitch right out of his skin. He must have been five, or maybe six,” Arthur said sitting down on the log beside Merlin.
Merlin’s heart leapt, and his mind quickly seized upon the memory. “He was six. It was my second winter with you. The novelty of someone making amusing shapes out of smoke and shadows had completely worn off by then.”
Arthur smiled warmly at the memory. “He was never one to sit still, always moving from dawn till dusk.”
“Just like you,” Merlin observed.
Arthur startled and seemed momentarily disoriented. “Damn, I did it again.”
“Found yourself in another time and place?”
Arthur nodded. “This is exactly why I need to get away from court for a while. It’s very distracting.”
“Does being around me help or make it worse?” Merlin asked.
“It helps, I think. The memories are starting to get less jumbled, but it’s still very confusing.”
Merlin had been careful not to probe too deeply into how much Arthur remembered, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Is it just one life, do you think, or several lives?”
“Only one. I don’t even know how you manage with more than that.”
Merlin grinned wryly. “Magic.”
Arthur snorted and poked at the fire with a stick. “Is that going to help you hunting tomorrow?”
“Has it ever in the past?”
“Not that I can recall.”
“Then there’s your answer. I thought this trip about getting away from the castle for a few days.”
The look on Arthur’s face stated plainly what the prince thought of that comment, but he still said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. Of course we’re here to hunt. We can’t exactly go back empty handed when we told the king we would get fresh game for the harvest celebrations.”
“What we? You told your father you were going hunting, not me.”
“Don’t you know that Sir Leon is an excellent tracker? How could we not come back with at least a deer apiece with such skill on the hunt?”
“Forget what I said earlier. You really are just an ass, with moments of lesser pratness that can occasionally be mistaken for goodness.”
Arthur chuckled.
The three days they spent tracking and hunting in the forest were some of the happiest Merlin could remember having in a very long time. Arthur was far more easy going away from his responsibilities as prince and first knight and with no one else around they were free to tease and joke without fear of reprisal. Arthur also began to share small reminiscences of the past, and the shock of it seemed to be wearing off. They had a friendship again, and even if it had to be kept hidden, his magic seemed to hum with contentment on his skin all the time. Spells he had struggled to relearn were returning without difficulty now. For once in this life, things seemed to be flowing as they should be.
Which was why Merlin shouldn’t have been all that shocked when it all fell apart again.
Really, Arthur should have been contented with the two does he had killed. It wouldn’t be an easy thing to bring what they had back to meet Leon, but adding a third would certainly require magic of a more obvious variety to bring it home. Arthur, however, had argued that they had a few more hours before Leon would be at the crossroads and he had seen fresh rubbings from a stag with an impressive rack on the trees near their campsite and wanted to try for it. Merlin was relegated to flushing game, as he had been the entire trip, but when he stumbled out of the underbrush into the clearing, any irritation he had been feeling vanished.
Silver white and gleaming in the morning light was a unicorn. Merlin was stunned. He knew they existed, but he had never chanced upon one before. Unicorns were shy of people, understandably so, and were usually only found in the deepest most untouched forests. Yet this one did not flee at his less than stealthy approach. Instead, it moved towards him. Completely forgetting about Arthur and his hunting escapades, Merlin moved slowly forward and extended a hand. The warm, velvety soft nose bumped against his hand and he felt a wild thrill of delight. His heart leapt, his magic surged, and his face split with a broad smile. She was wholly remarkable and captured his entire attention.
Merlin didn’t notice Arthur’s approach, whether due to stealth or distraction Merlin couldn’t be certain, but when an arrow pierced the unicorn’s neck inches from where his fingers were stroking the soft fur he jolted back to reality as if he had been shot himself. Merlin cried out as the unicorn staggered and fell to the ground. Moments later, Arthur came crashing out of the trees.
“Merlin! Are you alright? Did I hit it?”
Merlin turned, body shaking and eyes brimming with tears to look at him. “You hit it, alright, but it’s no stag.”
Arthur continued to approach and gaped at the wounded beast. “A unicorn?! I can’t believe it!”
“You idiot! What have you done?” Merlin whispered and dropped to his knees beside the unicorn’s head. He ran his hands along her muzzle trying to soothe her, but his magic could already feel the life force and magic beginning to slip away.
“What do you mean? I’ve just managed to hunt the most elusive animal in the forest. Father will be so impressed!”
Merlin felt something heavy and ice cold settle in his stomach and the tears threatening in his eyes spilled over and slid down his cheeks. The unicorn struggled through a few more pained breaths and then... she was gone. He felt her death and it physically and magically hurt him. Arthur circled around the body gawking and making sounds of elation and ignored him completely.
“We won’t bring back the carcass. It’ll be like horse flesh, most likely, and no one will want to eat it, but we have to take the horn. It’ll be the prize of the kingdom!” Arthur crowed.
Looking up, Merlin caught a flicker of movement behind Arthur and saw what he thought was a man dressed in tattered white robes. The man looked oddly familiar. He blinked the tears out of his eyes but when he looked again the figure was gone. He shook himself and stood, looking out into the forest, but saw no sign of anyone.
“What is it, Merlin?”
“Nothing... I thought I saw someone, but...”
“If there were anyone around, we would have noticed them by now. Come on and help me with the horn. We’ll have to hurry or Leon will wonder what happened to us.”
Merlin shook his head and turned to stare at Arthur. “What are you doing? It’s a unicorn Arthur! You don’t go hacking it to pieces. You shouldn’t have shot it in the first place!”
“I’m not hacking it to pieces, Merlin. I just want to take the horn back. And besides, why shouldn’t I have shot it? It’s just an animal.”
“An animal you aren’t going to use for food! It’s a life, Arthur, and it wasn’t hurting anyone. Killing it serves no purpose beyond enlarging your ego!”
“Don’t you see? Uther will be thrilled to have the horn. He’ll be proud of me. I’ve spent my whole life trying to please him and have never been able to manage it. This is something that can’t possibly disappoint him.”
“What does it matter? What does the pride of a cruel man get you? Do you think a unicorn’s horn will make him love you more than the ghost of a woman long dead?” Merlin bit out angrily.
Arthur snarled, “How dare you!”
Merlin turned away from Arthur, his heart breaking. Already he regretted speaking so harshly, but the words were already said. He couldn’t unsay them now. “I’m going back to break camp. Do what you like, Arthur. You always do.”
If Arthur said anything in response to that, Merlin didn’t hear it for the roaring of blood in his ears.
The ride back to Camelot was tense and nearly silent. Sir Leon met them as agreed at the trailhead and was suitably impressed by the unicorn horn, but quickly picked up on the discord between them. Merlin couldn’t bear to ride behind and look at the cloak wrapped bundle that contained the horn, so he relentlessly drove his gelding to the front and kept a quick pace that would keep him ahead of the others. Once or twice Leon quickened his pace enough to ride beside him, but Merlin was in no mood to exchange pleasantries with the knight, even if Sir Leon was someone he usually got on with fairly well.
It was dusk when he arrived at the gates to the city, well ahead of Arthur and Leon. By the time they arrived at the stables, Merlin had already put away his tack and brushed down and fed his mount. Arthur glared daggers at him when he took the prince’s horse to tend to himself.
“I’ll see to the deer and have your gear up in your room shortly, Sire.”
Merlin delivered the honorific with as much sarcasm as possible and pointedly ignored the start of whatever protest Arthur was about to make. He couldn’t be around Arthur right now, at least not in public, without ending up in the stocks. Arthur stormed off with Leon, his ever so precious bundle cradled in his arms, without a backwards glance.
Once the horses were tended to, and the deer brought down to the kitchen with the aid of one of the stable hands, Merlin rushed to Arthur’s rooms to put away the gear in the hopes he could take care of it all without having to see the prat again today. He had stewed all the way back to the city, smarting from their argument in the forest. Merlin could have understood Arthur not realizing the animal he was hunting had been a unicorn and accidentally shooting it, but the way he had rejoiced in its death, like it was something to be celebrated, was like a slap to the face following a punch to the gut. He also knew instinctively that there were going to be repercussions from the foolishness of taking the horn as a trophy. The world, both magical and mundane, wanted balance. Killing a unicorn was sure to throw off that balance.
Merlin tidied the haphazard mess Arthur had left in his haste to dress in more appropriate clothes to present the horn to the court, gathered some mending as a defence against accusations he was shirking his duties and retreated to Gaius’ rooms. He hadn’t spent much time there since moving into the servant’s room attached to the prince’s suite and felt a bit guilty for ignoring Gaius lately. He had been so caught up in his own troubles, not to mention secretly helping Morgana against the physician’s wishes, that he had scarcely had a conversation with Gaius that wasn’t about patient treatments in weeks.
Sitting down on a wooden stool near the fire with his mending, Merlin fiddled with the needle and thread and began tending to the ripped seems. He focussed on the task and allowed himself to pretend that there was no place else he should be, and nothing else he should be doing. A short while later Gaius returned and stared in shock when he saw Merlin hunched over a shirt and squinting in the dim light.
“Merlin? What are you doing here?”
“I hope you don’t mind. I need to get away from Arthur for a while. We had a bit of a row.”
“Let me hazard a guess and say it was about the unicorn.”
Merlin felt his heart clench painful again and nodded.
Gaius shook his head in disapproval. “Uther was rather impressed by the horn and wasn’t especially keen to listen when I said I thought it would bring misfortune to the kingdom.”
“Arthur wouldn’t listen either. He was practically dancing in glee when he saw what he had shot and so eager to show the horn to Uther for approval too. I can’t believe he’d take such joy in killing things.”
“Arthur’s been a hunter all his life.”
“He’s always been a hunter before, too, but then he at least respected the animals he killed,” Merlin countered.
Gaius sat heavily on the stool across from him and looked thoughtfully at his folded hands. “Yes, but he didn’t have Uther to please before.”
Merlin dropped all pretence of mending the shirt and looked up at his friend. “I said something awful to him in the forest. I’m not sure he’ll forgive me for it.”
“Arthur’s always had a quick temper, but he is usually fairly quick to forgive as well. I’ve not known you to have much of a temper, but when you do get angry it isn’t generally for nothing. I’m certain with a bit of time to cool off you’ll get it sorted out.”
“I asked him if he thought a unicorn’s horn would be enough to make Uther love him more than the memory of his mother.”
Gaius sucked in a sharp breath.
“I know, I know,” Merlin hurried to add. “It was a cruel and completely uncalled for thing to say. It was out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I know Arthur’s only just beginning to remember and this life is so much more real to him but-”
“Hold on, Merlin. Remember? Are you telling me Arthur remembers previous lives you’ve shared?”
Merlin bit his lip and looked guiltily at Gaius. “I hadn’t told you? Oh, I’m sorry. It was very tense and awkward for a while and I wasn’t sure what he was going to do about it, and... Yes. Arthur is starting to remember at least one of his previous lives. He’s had a difficult time making sense of it, and I think there are lots of gaps, but he does remember.”
“When did this happen? Did this have anything to do with the tiff you two had a few weeks ago that you wouldn’t tell anyone about?”
“In remembering, it might have come to his attention that I was and still am a warlock.”
“I see. How did that go?”
“Initially very well. Gaining a lot of memories like that is really disorienting, not to mention the fact he had nearly drowned, so he just accepted it. After that, he pretended nothing had happened, but he didn’t have me arrested either, so it could have turned out much worse.”
“Merlin, I think there is rather a lot you haven’t told me about. Nearly drowned?”
“This requires tea, I think.”
Merlin stood and filled the heavy blackened kettle with water. He hung it on a hook over the fire and then set about selecting herbs that would help settle his nerves. When the water was ready, he made tea, and they sat down to a long chat that lasted well into the night.
Breakfast the following morning was a frosty affair, but it seemed they both had opted for stony silence over angry shouting. By the time a page arrived to summon Arthur on some matter of great urgency, they had exchanged no more than a dozen words. It was a relief when Arthur left, though that piece of him that always tugged when they parted pulled rather more forcefully. Merlin spent the morning seeing to Arthur’s chambers himself and cleaned them from top to bottom. He used magic for much of it, naturally, but a thorough scrubbing still took time. By the time he was finished, Merlin didn’t feel much better, but at least there could be no question of his work ethic today.
When Arthur returned close to the midday bell, one look on his face told Merlin something terrible had happened. Arthur shut the door and leaned heavily against it.
Merlin’s brow furrowed. “Arthur? What is it?”
“The crops have failed.”
“Which crops?”
“Based on what the messengers that arrived this morning have said, every single field in the kingdom. There’s no harvest.”
Merlin felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “What? But yesterday...”
“Ruined. We rode out to look at the nearby fields and every one of them is completely ruined. There’s nothing left but what we have in the stores.”
“But they’re nearly empty.”
“I know. We’ve enough for the castle itself to survive perhaps a month, six weeks at most, but everyone in the entire kingdom is affected. People have already started arriving in the city. Distributing rations to those seeking aid... we’ll be lucky if there’s enough for a week.”
“We have to find some way to fix this.”
Arthur pushed himself off the wall and shouted, “How Merlin? Are you powerful enough to restore all the crops in the entire kingdom?”
“Clearly something managed to destroy them overnight. That sort of thing isn’t natural. It stands to reason that it can be undone if we can figure out what caused it.”
“And I suppose you’re full of ideas, since you seem to know everything. What could have done this?”
“I’ve lived long enough to know I don’t know everything. What I do know is that something on such a scale isn’t easy to do. If it’s some form of sorcery, which sounds likely, then either a group of mages worked together or...” Merlin trailed off.
“Or what? What is it?”
“Or something has thrown off the magical balance of the land.”
“What sort of thing could do that?”
Merlin cringed, knowing what he was about to say would sound remarkably like ‘I told you so,’ but was still the most plausible explanation. “The death of a significant magical creature can cause an imbalance.”
Arthur winced as well. “Like a unicorn?”
“Like a unicorn,” Merlin agreed.
“Damn it!”
Arthur paced around the room like a caged bear, cursing under his breath. When he had calmed somewhat, he asked, “How do we fix this?”
“I’m not certain, but... right before we started shouting at each other, do you remember I thought I saw someone behind you in the clearing? It was just for a moment, and I convinced myself I was imagining things, but perhaps there was someone there. It would give us a place to start.”
“Can’t you find some spell to fix this?”
“Magic doesn’t work that way, Arthur. There are rules and limitations just like anything else. I may be powerful, but I’m only one person. Something of this scale is beyond me to reverse. We need to know more. The only place I can think to start looking is back in the forest.”
“Perhaps it’s nothing to do with the unicorn. It could be a coincidence,” Arthur said, but he didn’t sound particularly convinced.
“That’s a pretty big coincidence.”
“I’m not running back out to the forest to look for a man who may or may not be there.”
Merlin shrugged and shook his head. “Then I’m out of ideas.”
It took Arthur all of a day to accept that killing the unicorn was the likeliest cause of the crop failure. It was easier to deny when it was just crops, but the next morning when the water in the well turned to sand, the alarm in the city was enough to spur him into action. Merlin wasn’t at all certain what they had to do to correct the imbalance, but by second bell the following day they rode out of the city at a gallop, heading towards the forest where they had found the unicorn.
When they reached the clearing, there was no sign of the unicorn’s body and not so much as a footprint or broken tree branch that would indicate anyone else had been there. Arthur growled in frustration and Merlin suggested they split up to cover more ground. He listened to the grumbles about not finding anything because there was nothing to find, but Arthur took a path westward out of the clearing while he headed eastward.
Merlin kept a close eye on the trail, willing himself to see something of importance, but the truth was he wasn’t a tracker. He pushed his senses outward with his magic enough to know he had interrupted a pair of deer drinking by the stream, sent at least a dozen squirrels scurrying up the surrounding trees and frightened a family of pheasants. None of the things he encountered were remotely like a mysterious man who could appear out of nowhere. Merlin stopped and closed his eyes, trying again to pull the man’s face to the front of his mind, but it was blurry and indistinct. He felt like he should have known who it was. The sense of familiarity was so strong.
Giving up, he pressed on and slowly circled around until he arrived back in the clearing. He walked the clearing slowly, kneeling down to look at the place where the unicorn had fallen, but the ground wasn’t even the slightest bit disturbed. It was like nothing had happened. Merlin wished that was true and that the horrible incident had been no more than a bad dream.
He didn’t know how long he had been kneeling there, lost in thought, but the sound of someone approaching made Merlin leap to his feet. He was both pleased and disappointed to see Arthur return on his own.
“Any luck?” Merlin asked.
“I met him,” Arthur said breathlessly.
He snapped to attention and took a good look at Arthur’s features. He looked pale and shaken, as if he had seen a ghost.
“Who was it?”
Arthur shook his head and said, “He didn’t say who he was, but he told me that to undo the curse I have to go to the labyrinth at Gedref and pass a test.”
“What sort of test?”
“He didn’t stick around long enough for me to ask. One moment he appeared out of nowhere, said his piece and the next he was gone.”
“Was he an old man, dressed in tattered white robes?”
Arthur nodded. “And he had some kind of staff. I almost don’t believe he was there. There were no footprints, no bent branches, no sign at all that he had been there.”
“If you’re mind is playing tricks on you, it’s happening to us both. I guess we make for Gedref,” Merlin said and began down the path to where they had tethered the horses.
“You can’t come with me,” said Arthur.
Merlin stopped in his tracks and turned to fix Arthur with a stubborn look. “You aren’t going alone.”
“I have to. That was part of the instructions. I must go alone.”
“Not happening, Arthur,” he said, and continued towards the horses firm in his conviction.
Arthur kept just a pace behind him and wouldn’t back down. “It’s my test, not yours. If you come... what if that’s enough to fail the test? I won’t have the people of Camelot starve to death because I couldn’t follow directions.”
“There’s no place I would be but by your side. What would you have me do?”
“Start looking for other ways to lift the curse if I fail this test.”
“You won’t fail. Not with me at your side.”
Merlin scowled as he watched Arthur disappear into the early morning mist. It had been late when they had arrived back in Camelot, still arguing about Arthur going to the labyrinth alone. Gedref was several hours ride southwest of the city on the coast, and they had returned to get fresh horses and a small bit of rest. Well, Arthur intended for a single fresh mount, but Merlin had absolutely no intention of allowing him to go alone.
The lower town had been empty and silent, a strict curfew in place in an effort to maintain order at a time when fear and desperation could make people act irrationally. When Merlin stopped in to see Gaius, he learned that there had been several brawls in the streets earlier in the day as people fought over the dwindling food stores and the last precious stores of water. Gaius estimated there was less than three days worth of provisions remaining, and the king had ordered the distribution to the people to stop. When Merlin had arrived back at Arthur’s rooms to impart that piece of information, Arthur had nearly left immediately, but he had seen the sense of waiting until morning to depart.
After waiting long enough to allow a sufficient head start that Arthur would not notice him following, Merlin slipped into the stables and saddled a new horse for himself. He had spent years wandering the countryside around Camelot, and Gedref was far more familiar to him that is was to Arthur. He had spent time wandering the labyrinth, marvelling at the enchantments that kept the tall hedges from growing wild and closing in until it was nothing more than a dense thicket. Now he wondered if he had been watched during the time he spent there.
Merlin kept up a brisk pace as he rode through seemingly endless fields of ruined crops. The fall sun was still hot and it burned off the fog quickly, leaving the countryside looking bleak and lifeless. The birds and animals that were normally active in the hedgerows were either silent or had already moved on. Just a few short days and Camelot felt barren and lifeless.
He didn’t catch sight of Arthur riding ahead of him, even when he crested the hill that sloped down towards the entrance to the maze. There was no sign of Arthur’s horse, and Merlin felt a surge of panic. Perhaps something had waylaid Arthur and he hadn’t made it this far at all. With worry gnawing at his insides, Merlin set his horse to graze on a long tether and walked into the labyrinth. He drew heavily on his memories to try to keep on track, and only had to double back a few times when he arrived at a dead end.
Just as he was beginning to think he might be gaining on Arthur through fewer wrong turns and steadier progress, a voice spoke from behind him and he froze at the sound.
“Your loyalty is admirable, but Arthur must complete his test on his own.”
Merlin turned in the direction of the voice, but just as he caught a glimpse of the white robes, the world went dark.
Merlin woke to find himself slumped over what felt like a rough wooden table. He tried opening his eyes, but the bright light was painful and he closed them again right away. He could hear the sound of waves crashing on a rocky shore and for a moment he wondered who he was. Did he live by the sea or was he not supposed to be here? His mind was a little foggy.
A voice with incredible depth of age spoke somewhere behind him, “I am sorry for the manner in which you were brought here, but this test remains Arthur’s, not yours. Your participation in it, however, is necessary.”
Merlin lifted his head from the table and sat up. For a moment he waited to check his equilibrium, then carefully cracked an eye open. The world was still very bright, but it wasn’t painful this time. He risked opening the other eye and tried to look around him. Fuzzy brightness resolved itself into a pale grey rocky shore, waves crashing upon them a short way off and a cloudless blue sky. Everything around him was of such a vast scale as to seem infinite and Merlin felt his grasp of the here and now tenuous at best. He gripped the rough edges of the table to center himself and craned his neck around in search of the man who had spoken.
Further up the slope of the shore, near an opening in the wall of hedges he saw a white robed figure and his mind clicked. Labyrinth, Arthur, test, unicorn... the pieces all slid easily back into place. He was on the shores of Gedref, waiting for Arthur to find his way through the labyrinth and face some unknown test from a strange man. Panic flared in him and Merlin quickly tried to stand. Just as quickly he sat back down on the low stool, barely able to keep his balance. Merlin turned to glare at the robed figure, but the man wasn’t looking at him.
He shouted, “What have you done to me?”
The man did not turn to face him, but said calmly, “I have done nothing to cause you significant harm. You are likely still dizzy from the enchantment I used to bring you here. You should feel well again shortly.”
“What about Arthur? What have you done to him?”
“I have done and will do nothing to him. What becomes of him will be entirely a result of his own actions. Try to remember that, Merlin. He will be here shortly.”
Merlin gave a frustrated shout, and tried to stand again, but his legs were unwilling and his head spun with the effort. He also shouted at the man some more, but his words were entirely ignored, and he soon gave up. He rested his elbows on the table and held his chin in his hands. He felt helpless. His magic was sluggish to the point of near unresponsiveness, and even if it wasn’t, Merlin would not harm the man unless there was no other option. So, for the time being, he sat and stared out at the waves, feeling strangely calm despite the situation, and trying to summon up concern for how calm he felt. His mind, however, couldn’t hold on to the worry and it drifted as he watched the waves rolling up onto the rocks.
As it always did, Arthur’s approach made his magic swell in greeting, and Merlin turned to see Arthur appear at the exit of the labyrinth. From where he sat, he could see Arthur was flushed and breathing heavily, as if he had run the whole way through the maze of hedges. Their eyes met, and Arthur visibly startled before taking several steps towards him. It seemed Arthur hadn’t noticed the man standing there waiting, and he approached the table without caution.
“What are you doing here, Merlin?”
“You didn’t honestly believe I’d stay behind, did you?”
“Not really, but I had hoped. How did you get here before I did?”
Merlin nodded his head towards the robed man who had come closer to the table.
Arthur turned to face the man. “I will take whatever test you wish, but let Merlin go. He should not be made to suffer for my actions.”
“Merlin is a part of your test. He cannot leave,” the man said, then gestured towards the opposite end of the table. “Please sit.”
Arthur frowned and looked back and forth between the man and Merlin. He did not sit.
“If you refuse the test, you will have failed and Camelot will be destroyed,” the old man said.
With obvious reluctance, Arthur took his place at the opposite end of the table and set his sword down with a clatter. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
Merlin had to look away from the resigned expression on Arthur’s face and focussed his attention on the robed man. The face was at once familiar to him, but he struggled to identify him. Age sat on his features and in his stance in such a way that Merlin knew instinctively that the man was far older than could be readily guessed. The eyes were deep and old and sad. There was a terrible sadness there that nearly radiated off him.
The man spoke again. “Before you there are two goblets.”
As one, Merlin and Arthur turned to look at the table. Between them sat two intricately etched silver goblets. Merlin hadn’t noticed them in the time he had sat at the table, but there were enchantments that could limit perception and keep objects from a person’s awareness. He turned back to look at the man again.
“One of these goblets contains a deadly poison, the other a harmless liquid. All of the liquid from both goblets must be drunk and each of you may only drink from a single goblet.”
Arthur’s face scrunched up in distaste and he said, “What kind of a ridiculous test is that? What does that prove?”
“What it proves is for you to decide. If you pass the test, the curse will be lifted.”
Arthur looked back at the goblets on the table between them and met his eyes. Merlin’s mind was racing with a hundred different thoughts, most relating to the words deadly poison and what he would do if they got this wrong.
“Alright, let’s think about this,” he said to himself more than Arthur. “What if I drink from my goblet first?”
“If it’s poisoned, you’ll die.”
“Not necessarily, but if it’s not you’ll have to drink from your goblet and you’ll die. There must be a way around it.”
“It’s perfectly simple, Merlin. One of us has to die. We have to determine which goblet has the poison, and then I’ll drink it.”
“No, I’ll be the one to drink it.” There was no way he would allow Arthur to die especially knowing it would be the final time. There would be no more lives, no reuniting again. He would be alone, forever.
Arthur, however, was stubborn. “This is my doing. I’ll be the one to drink it.”
“You don’t understand. There will be no next times. If you die now, this is it. Without you, everything is heavy and lifeless and every part of me from my magic to my body itself aches. I can’t... I just can’t Arthur.”
“I won’t let you drink poison for me again, Merlin. I don’t know what it is that makes you think you’re invincible, but if you drink it, you’ll be just as dead.”
“You don’t get it. I’m immortal. I can choose to be reborn, but I don’t die. I’ve dragged you with me since the first time, but I can’t sustain it, not anymore. If I drink the poison, you’ll be fine, and so will I. It’s the only solution.”
“We don’t even know which goblet it’s in. We need to figure that out first.”
“I’ll drink them both.”
“You can’t. He said each of us can only drink from one goblet.”
Merlin stared at the goblets, wondering if he could manipulate the silver and make a single goblet instead of two without spilling anything. He suspected the man had already accounted for magical intervention and would prevent him from interfering in that way. A moment later, it dawned on him that a perfectly mundane solution would work just as well.
“We need all the liquid in one goblet. Then we’ll know that goblet is definitely poisoned and one person can consume it all.”
Arthur nodded. “That would work. Both of them are less than half full. Do you think he’ll stop us from doing that?”
Arthur gestured towards the robed man watching them and Merlin’s eyes followed. He was distracted again for a moment by the familiarity, but he couldn’t quite grasp the right memory that would enlighten him. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Arthur move and turned back to see both goblets in Arthur’s hands, the last few drops of liquid dripping from one goblet into the other.
“What are you doing Arthur? Don’t!”
“I have to, Merlin. You might think my life is worth more than yours, but it isn’t worth more than that of every person in Camelot.”
“Mine isn’t either. Please! Please Arthur!” Merlin could hear the desperation in his voice and didn’t care. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. They were supposed to get it right this time.
Arthur ignored his pleading and downed the entire contents of his goblet without pause. Setting the goblet back on the table with a shaking hand, Arthur said, “I had to. I’m sorry.”
Merlin leapt up from his stool as Arthur slumped sideways and fell to the ground.
“Arthur! Arthur, come on. Come on. Come on!” he said, shaking Arthur’s shoulders as if to wake him. “NO!”
The robed man approached him as he kneeled at Arthur’s side, a familiar desperation beginning to claw at his insides. “Please! You took him from me once, Anhora, not again. Let me take his place! Please!”
“So you do remember me. I wasn’t certain you would,” Anhora said calmly.
Merlin’s face crumpled with the pain of the memory. “Only just now. I would have gladly died for him then, and I gladly offer my life now. Please!”
“This was Arthur’s test, not yours.”
“But I’m meant to stand beside him! We’re meant to get it right this time.”
Anhora shook his head slightly. “He’s not dead. He’s merely consumed a sleeping draught. He will awake shortly.”
“What?”
“A great many years have passed since we last spoke. I have dedicated my existence to protecting purity which cannot protect itself. Unicorns are pure of heart. To make amends for killing one, Arthur had to prove that he too was pure of heart. He was willing to sacrifice his life to save yours, Mael.”
“And the last time? You were responsible for his death then. How can you speak of purity? You killed him as a sacrifice!”
“I made a great many mistakes then and have spent many centuries atoning for them. I thought it was my task to guide you down a path you weren’t meant to travel.”
“What did you hope to accomplish?” Merlin asked his voice still harsh with anger.
Anhora spoke regretfully, “I believed you were meant to shield Albion from the invaders from across the sea. I could only See the devastation the Romans would bring and had spent my life searching for a way to protect us, all of us, from them. When you were born, I was certain your magic was meant to accomplish that and I wished to direct it from the beginning. In hindsight, I can see that Albion was not meant to exist in isolation from the rest of the world and my attempts to direct you, to use you, for my own aims only pushed you further down the path you were meant to follow.”
“I don’t think I was meant to do this, living over and over again, always losing him.”
“You had bound yourself to Ardal completely without knowing it years before I attempted the ritual. I failed to see it or see you as a person then, only a vessel. It was a vain effort on my part to attempt to raise you as nothing more than a magical conduit. I had the greatest of intentions, but that does not ensure the greatest of results. Your path, both of you, was then as it is now; to bring unity and peace. A great many lives would have been spared had I not obstructed you.”
“You believe my purpose, our purpose, is to bring peace to the land?”
“You are meant to unite the whole of Albion, the land, its people and its magic. Together you will bring a time of unheard of prosperity and strength.”
“The dragon, Kilgarrah, has said that too.”
“So you have met the dragon,” Anhora said with pleasure.
“He said it was our destiny. He said that when the time comes, we would know what to do. I don’t see how we will manage, though. If it’s been our purpose all along, we’ve already failed many times over.”
“Your talents were great enough to have achieved it when we first lived, but my interference led you to a more difficult course. Since then you have both grown far beyond what you were then. You shall have to make the most of what is different this time.”
“Like what?” Merlin asked.
“Arthur remembers what has come before, does he not?”
“Not everything, but some of it, yes.”
“Those who do not learn from their mistakes are destined to repeat them,” Anhora said sagely and turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” Merlin asked.
“I am tasked with protecting that which is pure. I must return to the forests.”
“Was this meant to be your path, even then?”
Anhora gave him a rueful smile. “No. I believe I was meant to protect you, then. To protect the purity of your heart and soul. I failed rather abysmally then, myself. The task I have now is worthy, however, and I am content to do it. Good luck, Mael... Merlin. I’ll understand if my apology holds little worth to you, but I am sorry for the wrongs I have done you.”
“Thank you,” said Merlin, but Anhora was already gone.
Moments after Anhora disappeared, Arthur began to stir. Merlin felt an immense wave a relief wash over him, but seeing Anhora again, remembering Anhora, had left him feeling rattled. Merlin sat at Arthur’s head, running his fingers through the golden strands of hair and trying to regain his composure. Looking out at the sea, he listened to the steady lap of the waves, his mind lost in a memory that was centuries ago.
Dorchester 240 BC
The air was cool and the waves crashed up on the shore steadily, but the sun was hot and even in the wind he felt warm. Summer was at its peak and everything around him, rock, leaf and tree, vibrated with the vital energy of summer. The weather had been favourable since early spring and it was one of those years of plenty that were so rare as to be nearly mythical. The crop this year promised to be the best in living memory and hunting had been good. He couldn’t remember a time when he had eaten so many rich meals so close together. Even if his life was still more restricted than he would like, he was happy. Things were good.
He had his senses wide open, feeling out the world around him, and his magic leapt when it felt Ardal approaching. Even when he wasn’t exploring the ambient magics around him, he could nearly always feel when Ardal was close. He closed his eyes, relaxed against the log on the beach that was his usual meditating spot and smiled.
He heard the sound of pebbles bouncing and skittering from underfoot and felt a shadow fall across his face.
“Daydreaming again?” Ardal teased.
He kept his eyes shut and shook his head. “I’ll have you know I’m meditating. Anhora wants me to get the feel for the vital energies of a good summer so I might be able to recreate them better during poorer years.”
“Well, if you’re busy, I suppose I could go tell my father I will go hunting with him. You don’t seem to need my protection.”
His eyes popped open and he looked up at Ardal’s grinning face. “I didn’t say that. Your protection is always welcome, especially when I’m meditating.”
“I’ll just make myself comfortable then,” Ardal said and sat down on the log behind him.
They shuffled a bit until they were both comfortable with him leaning back against Ardal’s legs, his head tipped back on Ardal’s knees to enjoy the sun. Fingers gently combed through his hair and for some time they sat there in silence. He wasn’t actually meditating anymore, just enjoying Ardal’s presence and the rare joy of physical contact. A while later, his backside was beginning to get numb from staying in one position too long and he felt fidgeting behind him. Opening his eyes, he stretched his neck further back and looked up inquiringly.
“Care to meditate elsewhere?” Ardal waggled his eyebrows.
He chuckled. “Did you have somewhere in mind.”
“I stumbled across this great place for swimming a few days ago when I was out hunting. Perhaps you’d like to feel the vital energies of the place.”
“Hmmm...” he said, pretending to think about it, “If it’s in the forest, I really ought to have proper protection against the more dangerous creatures that might use such a waterhole.”
Ardal nodded. “You should. I suppose it will fall to me to protect you.”
He grinned, “I guess it will.”
They joked and teased each other as they ducked through the thick brush that nearly obscured the path Ardal was following. When the foliage thinned out, Ardal took off at a sprint and he chased after, dodging low branches and trying to avoid the roots that usually tripped him up. He broke through the last of the underbrush into the clearing by a wide pool in the slow moving river. The surrounding trees were tall and the light that filtered through the leaves was softer, almost a golden green. Despite Ardal’s joking, it really was a place filled so filled with life energy it practically vibrated.
Or perhaps that was just Ardal himself. Glistening with sweat from his run, Ardal had shucked his tunic and tossed it on a rock and was in the process of wiggling out of his trousers. When he managed to remove everything, Ardal waded into the water without so much as a backwards glance. He knew Ardal was paying attention, though. Every move betrayed him from the way he held his shoulders to the slightly exaggerated sway of his hips.
After a moment of standing there watching, he began to remove his own clothing. His eyes never strayed from the play of dappled light on golden skin. When he approached the water himself, Ardal glanced back at him, winked and dove into the water. Ardal broke through the surface of the water a moment later and shook his wet hair like a dog, spraying droplets all over him. He waded into the water to join Ardal, watching the way the light glistened on the wet skin of Ardal’s chest. Reaching out a hand, he pulled him closer and lowered his mouth to catch a droplet of water as it slid down Ardal’s neck. The skin beneath his tongue tasted of sunlight and sweat. He threaded his fingers through Ardal’s damp locks took in a shuddering breath.
Cool fingers touched his cheek, and Merlin jerked back to the present. Arthur was looking up at him from his lap and he was still absentmindedly stroking Arthur’s hair. He jerked his hand away as if burnt and gave Arthur a nervous smile.
“How do you feel?”
Arthur tried to speak, but his voice cracked. He sat up a bit and coughed, then said, “Not dead. What happened?”
“It wasn’t poison in the goblet. Anhora put a sleeping draught in it. You were meant to believe you would die.”
“I did. Wait... you said Anhora. Why is that name familiar?”
“He was my guardian once. The first time,” Merlin stated and struggled to his feet.
He walked down the shore a ways, feeling a jumbled mess of emotions. He didn’t want to think about Anhora now. He still couldn’t let go of the resentment he felt towards his first mentor. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but the bitter taste of it remained just the same. He didn’t particularly want to remain locked in the memory of swimming with Ardal... Arthur... his mind still struggled with names. That day had been full of fun and freedom and love and it had been glorious. Remembering it now hurt. It hurt to think of all he had lost and would never get back again.
Merlin stared out at the sea, wind roaring in his ears and salty spray landing on his face occasionally when a larger wave crashed upon the rocks. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand gripped his shoulder. He felt every link of the chainmail where it pressed against his back and fought hard not to lean back against Arthur.
Arthur leaned in closer to speak into his ear. “Daydreaming is supposed to be enjoyable. You look miserable.”
Merlin glanced back slightly, then turned his face back towards the sea. “Haven’t I earned the right to be miserable? Haven’t I suffered enough?”
“It wasn’t all bad, was it?”
“No,” he whispered, his voice getting lost in the wind.
Arthur didn’t speak for a long while, caught up in looking out at the water with him.
“We lived by the sea. You used to spend a lot of time looking out at the water,” said Arthur
He nodded.
“I used to sit with you sometimes.”
Merlin nodded again, not sure what to say. Not sure if Arthur was just guessing, or actually remembered, and not daring to ask.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Arthur asked, his voice barely audible over the rush of wind and water.
“Tell you what?” he asked, turning to face Arthur.
Arthur’s face was a mix of guarded, hurt, and hopeful. “You said you’ve never married. It’s because we’ve always been closer than friends.”
Merlin shook his head. “Not always.”
“But we have been lovers.”
“Yes.” Merlin felt his lips shape the word, but he couldn’t hear himself speak over the roaring in his ears.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s not something you always want, and even if you wanted it sometimes it isn’t something you can have. I accepted that a long time ago.”
“Don’t I get a say?”
“I always leave that choice to you.”
“Idiot,” Arthur whispered.
Arthur wrapped one arm around his back and twined the fingers of the other hand in his hair, and Merlin’s magic thrummed with such intensity he was certain it would shake him apart. Merlin licked his lips reflexively as Arthur leaned in, their breath mingling warm between them while the cool ocean air blew around them. Unable to hold back, Merlin closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against Arthur’s. It was gentle and hesitant at first, but he wept with joy at finally, finally feeling whole again. Arthur traced a wet tongue along the seam of his lips and pulled away just enough to nip at them when they parted before sliding his tongue into Merlin’s mouth. Merlin clung to Arthur, not caring how uncomfortable it was to be pressed so tightly against armour, only needing to be closer.
When they pulled apart sometime later, Merlin sucked in shaky breaths and smiled what he knew was a truly ridiculous smile. Arthur brushed at his cheek with the pad of his thumb, smudging the salty tears that had mingled with the sea spray. Merlin buried his face in Arthur’s neck and continued to cling to his other half as if by holding Arthur tightly enough he could keep himself from ever feeling incomplete again.
Arthur said, “I think I can feel your magic.”
“I can’t hold it in.”
“I don’t want you to.”
Chapter 6: The Warrior and the Warlock
Chapter Text
Riding back from Gedref, Arthur looked visibly relieved to see the crops restored, fully ripe and ready for harvest. They saw countless people already out in the fields working to bring in the harvest. The curse had scared everyone and there was a desperation in their motions that made Merlin want to stop and help, but he kept riding. Arthur noticed his troubled expression when observing the workers and when their horses were close enough, reached out a hand to squeeze his shoulder. It really shouldn’t have been all that reassuring, but the touch made his magic leap with joy again and Merlin couldn’t keep worry in his heart when he felt that good.
The mood in the city when they arrived was exultant. Arthur set out to find the king right away and offer some kind of explanation, though Merlin wasn’t entirely sure what. Most likely something that involved defeating the evil sorcerer Uther was certain to believe had been plaguing his kingdom and all would be well between father and son. Gaius asked some rather more pointed questions when Merlin stopped by to see the physician and get the news of what had happened while he was gone. In return he told Gaius what they had really done to restore the crops, albeit with some rather large omissions. As always, he felt badly for not being open with his old friend, but the happiness in his heart was too great to allow him to let him feel it too deeply.
After Arthur had attended a large celebratory meal with the royal court, just short of a feast but not by much, they spent the rest of the evening in companionable silence. There was much to be said between them, but for the time being, Merlin was just happy to be close to Arthur. He puttered around the room tending to a dozen little things he did around the prince’s chambers. At one point, Arthur huffed in annoyance and ordered him to stop acting like a servant and sit down. Merlin smiled and joined Arthur at the table. Arthur was pretending to read what were, without doubt, some important records for council the next day, but when Merlin sat forward and brushed his fingers against Arthur’s, a smile tugged at the prince’s lips. Arthur shifted his hand and hooked his fingers with Merlin’s, but kept his attention on the documents. Merlin felt a matching smile cross his face and he let his attention drift around the room, straightening and tidying with very little effort, his magic so cooperative it worked with scarcely a thought to direct it.
When he had finished everything that was simple enough to do with his magic, Merlin gave Arthur’s hand a squeeze and headed for his room. It was late and despite the wonderful feeling burning in his chest, he was worn out after the events of the past few days.
Arthur looked up from his papers. “Where are you going?”
“You may be used to riding around the countryside for days on end at a full gallop, but I’m exhausted.”
“Is your bottom sore?” Arthur teased.
Merlin chuckled. “Yes. I’m going to bed.”
The wide smile on Arthur’s face faded. “You’ll stay here, won’t you?”
“Arthur...”
“I’m done in too. I feel like I could sleep for a week but I’ve spent enough nights alone.”
The expression on Arthur’s face was completely unguarded, and Merlin didn’t have it within him to refuse. That night, he slept in Arthur’s large bed, with Arthur’s strong arms wrapped around him and muscled chest pressed against his back. There were a few kisses and exploring touches, but nothing more. It was soothing. The breath on the back of his neck soon evened out and the arm holding him close became lax and heavy. Merlin drifted to sleep feeling happy and safe and alive.
In the morning, Arthur attended council and Merlin was left to work with Gaius. He was still largely a fetch and carry boy for the physician, not only because he couldn’t be seen to know or do too much, but also because Gaius was getting older and traipsing around the lower town wasn’t the easiest thing for him anymore. Merlin reflected that he had lost far too many people he cared about over the years, not just Arthur. The greatest curse of continuing to live was watching others die around you.
Merlin was at the water pump fetching a pail for a harried woman who had three children coughing and sneezing when he saw a familiar figure in the crowd. He dropped the bucket and dashed through the milling people towards her.
“Mother?”
Hunith smiled and hugged him. “Merlin.”
Merlin returned the hug and pulled back to look at her face. A deep purple bruise was spread across one side of her face, the skin around the eye swollen and painful.
“What happened to you?”
Her lips trembled. “Why don’t we find Gaius and I’ll tell you everything.”
Merlin traced a finger lightly across her swollen cheek and nodded. He quickly delivered the bucket of water and ducked down the less crowded side streets that would bring them to the castle gates faster.
The physician was busy with one of his many experiments and had several bottles and beakers bubbling over burners on his work bench distilling their contents into flasks through a long series of glass tubes. Merlin had tried to make sense of this aspect of Gaius’ work, but it much of it was pointless to him. He interacted with the world differently and most of the various processes to make medicines more potent were redundant with the use of a simple spell. Of course Gaius had sworn not to use magic, but Merlin had made no such oath. When he was making medicines, he did it the easy way and these days he only received a token glare from the old man.
Gaius looked up when they entered and dropped everything he was doing.
“Hunith, what are you doing here? What happened?”
She smiled weakly at him. “We’ve had some problems in Ealdor.”
“Please, sit. Merlin, put the water on and find me that salve for bruises and swelling.”
He might have made a lightly biting comment at the order, but Merlin was feeling too shaken to do anything but comply. He subtly prodded the coals to life with his magic when he placed the kettle over the fire and went to the storage cupboard to find the salve. One he had made only last week leapt into his hands.
Merlin knelt down in front of Hunith and scooped a dollop of sticky salve onto his fingers. He gently smeared it over the bruise, cringing each time she winced in discomfort.
“What sort of problems? Who did this? Was it one of the other villagers?”
“Don’t be ridiculous Merlin. It was that bandit, Kanen. We had heard he was troubling other villages nearby a great deal in recent years, but we haven’t had trouble with him in Ealdor before. This summer he started turning up and demanding food and supplies. It wasn’t much at first and he only came with a few men so we resisted him, but a few days ago he rode in with nearly forty men and demanded our entire crop. We’ve not much for ourselves this year. Some people from Camelot’s outlying villages crossed the border looking for food only a day earlier and we gave them what we could. What we have will barely last us the winter.”
Merlin’s eyes widened. The incident with the unicorn had affected everyone within Camelot’s borders, but he had seen the huge numbers of people coming to the city for aid. The king was usually fair and generous with his people. He hadn’t thought that the border villages would seek aid from outside the kingdom, but then, they must have seen the crops still flourishing on the other side of the border. Surely Ealdor wasn’t the only village to have offered aid to those seeking it. Life in the outlying areas was harder than it was in the heart of a kingdom. There was a fellowship between people in these places that had nothing to do with kings and borderlines.
“There’s a council this morning. I’ll make sure Arthur gets you an audience,” Merlin said.
Gaius shook his head. “I don’t think that will help, Merlin. Uther fought with Cenred for many years and the treaty with him was long in the making. I highly doubt he would violate the treaty and risk open war again, especially not after the recent troubles.”
“Uther’s more likely to help than Cenred. Ealdor’s too poor and remote for his concern,” said Merlin.
Hunith nodded. “We sent a messenger to Cenred after the first few attacks, but he wasn’t even granted an opportunity to plead our case. I know it’s unlikely that we’ll receive help from Camelot, but it’s the only chance we have.”
Merlin squeezed her hand. “I’m Prince Arthur’s manservant now. He’ll make sure you have a chance to speak your case.”
“My son,” she said and cupped his cheek fondly. “You’ve done so well for yourself.”
The affection he saw in Hunith’s face made him uncomfortable, but he forced a smile in return. “Let’s go find the prince.”
Getting Hunith the opportunity to speak at council was as easy as Merlin had anticipated. After a brief explanation of the situation, Arthur hadn’t hesitated to grant her an audience with the king. Unfortunately, Uther’s willingness to help Ealdor was as Gaius had thought. The king was unwilling to cross Camelot’s borders and put the peace treaty in jeopardy for the sake of a small village, even if it had provided aid to his people. Merlin stood by his mother’s side as she pleaded her case. As Uther spoke, Arthur’s lips pressed together in a firm line of displeasure.
Hunith accepted the king’s words with grace and left the council chambers with Gaius. Merlin went with them. He made sure to bring a proper meal up from the kitchens for his mother to eat and offered her his bed in Gaius’ rooms to rest, then left the physician’s rooms. He felt too unsettled to stay in one place any longer and he left to find a place to be alone with his thoughts.
During the day, the castle battlements were usually fairly quiet. He walked along the stone walls staring out at the prosperous fields surrounding the heart of the kingdom. The people here didn’t live in fear of bandits. Life was difficult for the peasant farmers, but they were protected by their king. In times of need, they could petition for aid and usually it would be granted. It wasn’t an easy life, but it was a fair one. Ealdor had long since given up hope of fair treatment. Though there had not been bandits in the past few years, there was no aid for them if the harvest was not good. Merlin remembered a few years in his childhood when he had gone hungry in the later stages of winter because the harvest had not been enough. There had been no help for them then, and there was no help for them now. Except now the lack of a harvest was not one of nature.
Why hadn’t Kanen troubled Ealdor like the other villages until now? It wasn’t something Merlin had stopped to consider closely before. He had grown up knowing that along the border there were always bands of thieves who took advantage of the lack of patrols in the area. He had figured Ealdor too poor to offer anything of worth to the bandits, but perhaps that was wrong. It was too great a coincidence that Kanen had begun to harass Ealdor for the first time after Merlin had left. His magic had always been good a keeping him safe in the past. Was this another of those things?
Merlin stopped pacing and bent over the stone wall, shaking. He was so preoccupied by his thoughts that when a hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him upright, he was startled to see it was Arthur.
“Are you alright?”
“The reason Kanen is attacking Ealdor is because I left.”
“How is that?”
“The villages surrounding Ealdor have been plagued by Kanen’s men for several years, but they never bothered us. I never thought it was odd, but do you remember when you asked me if I had brought all the crazy sorcerers with me from Ealdor?”
Arthur nodded but looked confused. “What would that have to do with bandits in the border villages?”
“I tried to keep you safe, but that does no good if I don’t keep myself safe as well,” Merlin said with a pained smile.
Arthur’s eyes widened in comprehension. “You kept them from attacking your village.”
“Not intentionally, but probably. I remember raiders coming when I was much younger, but in recent years...” Merlin shook his head. “I just thought we had been lucky, but I was probably protecting the village without realizing it. I left them defenceless.”
“We’ll take care of them.”
“How? I mean, I could put some kind of enchantment on the village, but that’s going to look really obvious. There’s no way word of that isn’t going to get back to Camelot.”
“I’m going with you. We’ll rally the villagers and defend the Ealdor. The raiders will be a disorganized rabble and won’t expect the people to fight back. I’ve seen their kind before. With a bit of organization we can get rid of them,” Arthur stated with confidence.
Merlin gaped at him. “Did I miss something when I left? Camelot can’t break its treaty. If you cross the border it will be seen as an act of war.”
“I’m not going to ride in, banner flying. You said Cenred doesn’t pay any attention to Ealdor. He won’t find out.”
Merlin studied Arthur’s face carefully and frowned at the stubborn set of his jaw. “Your father has forbidden you to go, hasn’t he?”
“He’s not my father. I don’t want to be anything like him.”
“Arthur... he is. What came before doesn’t change the way things are now. He’s still your father, and the king.”
“Are you going to tell me that you look at Hunith the same way you did before you remembered?” Arthur snapped, still angry.
Merlin shook his head. “No, I can’t say that. It was... strange seeing her again. It’s good though. You know, of all the mothers I’ve had, she is the only one who kept me until I was grown. She was afraid for me, but never afraid of me, never afraid of what I can do.”
“She seems like a remarkable woman.”
“I think Igraine was too. She would have been an excellent mother, and if things had been different, I think Uther would have done better. He was different then. I never interacted with him directly, but it was obvious he cared for his people. Camelot was happy for many years.”
“Before I was born.”
Merlin hated to hear the bitterness in Arthur’s voice. “Nimueh interfered in ways she shouldn’t have. I don’t think her intentions were bad at the time, but she didn’t understand what she was meddling with. I believe you were meant to be born here and would have been anyway, even if Nimueh hadn’t interfered.”
“She has a lot to answer for.”
“And she will, but only when the time is right. Going in search of revenge doesn’t gain anyone anything.”
The stony expression on Arthur’s face eased and he asked, “Is that why you let Anhora go?”
Merlin began shaking again and Arthur put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. He wished they weren’t up on the battlements, in full view of the city. What Merlin wanted right now was to hold and be held.
“I spent many years beyond furious with Anhora, but it didn’t do me any good. It didn’t bring you back to me any sooner. When I saw him again... I was still angry with him, but it didn’t consume me anymore.”
It seemed Arthur didn’t have a response to this and they looked out at the city without speaking for a short while longer. When Arthur drew his arm away he said, “I’m still going with you.”
“Are you looking for ways to enrage the king?” Merlin asked.
“He’ll forgive me,” Arthur said with a careless shrug. “He always does. Besides, I told him with bandits roaming unchecked along the border, it makes sense to send patrols to check on the outlying villages. We need to make sure everyone under Camelot’s protection has a harvest to take in after everything was destroyed.”
Merlin gave Arthur a look of fond resignation. “So you lied to him.”
The corner of Arthur’s lips twitched. “I think he’s probably already guessed my plans, but so long as he has plausible deniability he’ll overlook it. I’ll ride out with the patrol heading west this afternoon and break away in the evening to meet up with you.”
When Merlin stopped at the kitchens in the hopes of getting some provisions for his trip, he found that word had already travelled through the castle and the cooks were expecting him. Alys gave him a large bundle of food for himself and his mother and several loaves of bread and a small bag of flour to take back to the village.
“It’s not much,” she apologized, “but I hope it helps.”
He stuttered his thanks for her kindness and hurried to finish his own packing. When he got back to Gaius’ rooms, he found Gavin sitting on a stool chatting amiably with his mother and sharpening a throwing knife.
“Gavin, what are you doing here?”
“Well, since Sir Pellean will be on patrol for the next week and doesn’t need me to ride out with him, he said I should find a way to make myself useful while he’s gone,” Gavin said with feigned innocence. “I’m going with you.”
Merlin sighed. “Gavin, you’re squire to one of Camelot’s knights. You can’t cross the border without comment.”
Gavin shrugged. “I’m the third son of a noble family with low standing at court. I’m a nobody. I’m not an expert with a sword, but I’ve been training hard. I can help.”
“What if you get hurt or even killed? Kanen is not a nice man,” Hunith warned.
“Merlin’s already saved my life. I owe him a debt of gratitude,” Gavin said earnestly.
Hunith looked at Merlin with both curiosity and pride and that seemed to be the end of the matter. Gavin hoisted a bag of supplies and handed Merlin a sword.
“You may be terrible with a sword, but you’ll need one. I grabbed a few of the old banged up practice swords. They’re in rough shape, and no one uses them anymore. They won’t be missed.”
At the stables too, he was met by more supplies and offers of assistance, though Merlin felt compelled to protest more forcefully when Lady Morgana and Gwen insisted they were coming along. Morgana may have trained to use a sword, but if anything were to happen to her Merlin knew Uther would be beyond furious. As for Gwen, she might know plenty about armour and weapons from watching her father in his smithy, but she was no fighter. However, she was both fiercely stubborn and dedicated to serving Morgana, which meant the departure from Camelot would be made with five riders, not just two. The expression on Hunith’s face told Merlin she echoed his concerns, but she thanked them just the same and they left from the city as the afternoon bell rang.
They rode swiftly, though not at a full gallop. Merlin had told Arthur he would stop for the night at the river Tawe. The sun had already dipped below the horizon when they arrived at the main ford and they made camp on the far side a ways upstream and off the road. Merlin didn’t want them to be too exposed to others that might be travelling along the road, but he also didn’t want to be difficult for Arthur to find. Though he had set himself to a patrol with other knights he trusted implicitly, it was possible Arthur would have to wait until after dark to break from the group.
After tending to the horses, sharing the provisions the kitchen had given them, collecting enough firewood to last until morning, and setting out their bedrolls, Gavin, Gwen, and Hunith settled in for the night. Merlin offered to keep watch, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep until Arthur arrived, and Morgana offered to sit up with him. Hunith quirked an eyebrow as a small smile tugged at her lips and Merlin rolled his eyes at her. The three were obviously tired from the day’s ride, and in a short while they appeared to drift off to sleep.
Morgana sat on the ground beside him and poked at the fire. “Do you have a plan?”
“Not really,” Merlin admitted.
“Do people there... know about you?”
Merlin kept his eyes fixed on the fire and tried to keep his voice level despite his racing heart. “Know what about me?”
“Don’t play games with me, Merlin. You took off to confront someone who attacked you using magic without so much as a knife. Leaving aside the fact you’re the first person who seems to have even the slightest understanding of what my dreams are like and how to do something about them, that alone is enough for me to make the logical connections.” Morgana leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “You’re a sorcerer. You have magic.”
Merlin’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t want to tell anyone else, but Morgana deserved the truth, at least part of it. “Yes. It’s not quite the same as yours. I don’t have the Sight, but I have magic.”
“Do you know how to use it?” she asked expectantly. “Will you be able to defend the village with it?”
With a flick of his fingers, Merlin turned the flickering edges of the fire a rainbow of different colours before dropping his hands and sighing. “In a way that isn’t completely obvious? Possibly. I hadn’t figured that part out yet. Having you and Gavin and Gwen along complicates things a bit.”
“What about Arthur? Wasn’t he planning to join us as well?”
“Arthur knows,” said Merlin.
“He does?” Morgana blurted.
Merlin couldn’t help but smile at her shock. “I try not to keep secrets from him.”
Morgana stared at him wide eyed. “So you just told him?”
“Well, not exactly,” Merlin admitted. “He knew about the same time you figured it out, I suppose.”
“Those weeks when he was so nasty after Sophia was gone... that’s what he was angry about.”
Merlin nodded. “It could have gone better, but we got past it in the end. Perhaps... if you wanted someone else to... You can talk to Arthur. You can trust him with your secret. He cares for you as a sister.”
A voice behind them said, “Just what is my sister doing here anyway?”
Morgana rose smoothly to her feet and spun around, a dagger that had been concealed somewhere about her person in hand and pointed at the intruder. When Arthur stepped from the shadowed shelter of the trees, Morgana pulled a face. “It would serve you right if I slit your throat.”
Arthur snorted. “As if you could get close enough to even try.”
“You seem to have forgotten who used to win all of our little sparring competitions when we were young,” Morgana shot back.
Arthur said, “You only ever won because I let you.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Arthur, and one day you might actually believe it,” Morgana said insincerely.
Merlin got to his feet and hissed. “Would you both quit that? I think the others would rather stay sleeping than listen to you two sniping at each other.”
Both Arthur and Morgana had the decency to look chagrined and the bickering was put on hold. Arthur came closer to the fire and nudged Merlin’s shoulder. “You didn’t have any problems on the road?”
Merlin smiled at the thrill of pleasure the brief contact sent racing up his spine and shook his head. “Any trouble sneaking away from patrol?”
Arthur chuckled. “Every one of them knew exactly what I was planning to do. They’ll dip south and come up along the western border. I told them if all went well I’d meet them at Tineuur in four days time.”
“Will it be enough time do you think?” Morgana asked.
“Kanen won’t wait long,” Arthur said. “It will have taken him a few days to get what he needs to transport an entire village’s harvest, but if he takes longer than a week to return I’d be surprised. Men like that aren’t patient.”
“Any ideas on how we’re going to stop him?” asked Merlin.
“Not knowing the lay of the land or the assets at our disposal, it’s rather difficult to make plans. We do know Kanen isn’t likely to have disciplined fighters with him. That will make him easier to fight,” said Arthur.
“With farmers,” Merlin reminded him. “These people have never held a sword before, Arthur.”
“You know as well as I do that a man will fight more fiercely than any soldier to protect what he holds dear.”
“When there’s hope. From what my mother said, I’m not sure Ealdor has much hope,” said Merlin
Morgana looked quizzically between him and Arthur, as if they were a riddle that was troubling her. “There’s something-”
Merlin raised a hand and shook his head. “Morgana... not now, please. It’s late and we still have a long ride in the morning. You should try to get some rest. We all should.”
“I’ll keep watch,” Arthur offered.
Merlin shook his head in amusement. “Give me a few minutes and that shouldn’t be necessary.”
The rest of the journey to the border was uneventful. They woke at first light in the morning and were on their horses quickly. Morgana kept casting curious glances between Arthur and Merlin, but said nothing. Merlin chivvied his horse to the front of the group with Arthur while the rest rode more slowly. Gwen chatted amiably with Hunith and Gavin blushed and stammered any time Morgana said something to him.
The sun was high in the sky when Merlin guided them off of the main road onto a narrow, winding path that took them west across the border. They crossed another river and Merlin found himself pushing his horse faster. The land became increasingly familiar to him, more than the faded memories of days long gone. He hadn’t expected it to feel like coming home, but something in the woods and even the earth itself leapt out to greet him. Combined with Arthur only a few feet behind him, it was a heady experience.
As the trees thinned and they came out into the top field his high spirits vanished. Eight men on horses were circling the village and several large men could be seen bursting into houses and loading pillaged items onto a large cart. Children were shrieking and cowering in the skirts of weeping women and the men of the village shouted and raged impotently as the armed men took all that they could carry. Just as Merlin was about to ride into the fray, Arthur pulled up beside him and held up a hand to stop him.
“The ones on horseback have crossbows. Can you do anything about that?” Arthur hissed urgently.
Merlin gave a curt nod. Jamming the trigger mechanisms would be relatively simple, even with multiple targets.
“Good. I think there’s only a half dozen on the ground. I don’t think they expected any resistance,” Arthur observed then dug his heels into his horse’s flank.
Gavin and Morgana followed close behind Arthur, pounding down the field without hesitation. Merlin concentrated on interfering with the crossbows, and turned to Gwen.
He pointed to a spot behind three disinterested looking raiders. “If you skirt the edge of the tree line, you should be able to come in behind those three riders over there. Maybe spook their horses?”
Gwen nodded and slipped back into the trees.
Hunith shook her head as Gwen left. “They shouldn’t have come. Lady Morgana is riding straight into the middle of everything. What if she gets hurt?”
“She’s tougher than she looks,” said Merlin. “Once the riders give up on their crossbows, I’ll join them.”
“Are you an expert with a sword now, too?” Hunith asked, a hint of amusement in her voice despite everything.
Merlin shrugged. “I doubt any of them are worse than playing practice dummy for Arthur when he’s in a mood.”
Everything happened very quickly after that. Arthur rode into the heart of the chaos and leapt down from his horse, sword swinging. Morgana and Gavin were right behind him and soon the raiders stopped ransacking houses and focussed their attentions on the unexpected attack. Gwen burst out of the trees shouting loudly and swinging a switch at the horses. As the animals bolted, their riders struggled to stay on. The others on horseback visibly struggled with their crossbows, and a few dismounted and advanced with swords and daggers.
Merlin took this as his signal to join Arthur and raced down towards the fighting. He managed to dismount without falling over or impaling himself on his own blade and took on the first raider that crossed his path. The man was stocky and slow but heavily muscled. The first few strikes he made were like hitting a stone wall and the man pushed at Merlin until his back was against the wall of a house. Another jarring blow made his hand vibrate and his grip loosen and Merlin thought perhaps this hadn’t been one of his better thought out plans.
When he could barely hold onto his sword, Merlin let his magic flare and poured heat down the metal of his sword and into the blade of his opponent’s. It glowed as if it had just been pulled from a forge, and the man screamed and dropped it. Merlin also gave the man a push back with his magic, barely restrained now, and delivered a sound blow to his attacker’s stomach. The raider doubled over and fell to the ground; just behind him, Merlin saw Will staring at him in shock. Merlin offered a quirk of the lips in greeting, and then turned his attention back to the clang of swords.
Two more bandits fell and the leader of the group signalled the others to retreat. He swung up on his horse and shouted, “You wait until Kanen hears of this. We’ll burn your pathetic little village to the ground!”
The man astride the horse pulling the cart kicked at his mount and turned around in surprise when the horse moved forward and the traces let go. The cart didn’t move an inch. He swore and used his reins to urge his horse again. The raiders galloped out of town, leaving behind chaos, but also Ealdor’s supplies. Hunith stepped back from the cart, her expression one of slightly smug satisfaction. Merlin grinned at her and turned to survey the scene before him.
A few doors had been wrenched off their hinges and people’s personal belongings were strewn everywhere. The gates to the livestock pens had been broken and sheep and pigs were running loose, adding to the confusion. The villagers looked around in shock, likely equally surprised by their abrupt change in fortune as the disarray they found their homes in. When he glanced over at Arthur, Merlin saw an experienced leader taking stock of the situation and deciding what needed to be addressed first.
Merlin turned around and saw the man he had killed and took a few steps away from the crowd of people. Blood stained the ground in a dark pool beneath the man, and Merlin shook a little. It wasn’t the first person he had killed, not in his past lives or this one, but it still left him shaken. A part of him was glad of it. If killing ever became easy, he didn’t want to think about how dangerous he might be.
Looking up from the ground, he saw Will standing in the doorway of his home, watching him.
“Still up to the same old tricks?” Will asked. “I thought we’d finally gotten rid of you.”
They held each other’s eyes in stern seriousness, then Will cracked and smile and Merlin found himself in a fierce hug.
“It’s good to see you Will,” Merlin mumbled against his friend’s shoulder.
“How have you been? There hasn’t been a word of news out of Camelot since you left, except for the people who came looking for food a week ago.”
“I’ve been busy,” Merlin offered vaguely.
Will shook his head. “I haven’t seen you in six months and all you have to say is that you’ve been busy.”
“I’ll tell you about it later. I think we’d better see to sorting out this mess first.”
Will gestured to where Arthur was standing with Morgana and the others and asked. “So who’re they then? You brought some girls and young boys to help us?”
“If Lady Morgana hears you calling her a girl, she might have you on a spit for her supper. Gwen is the blacksmith’s daughter and insisted on coming along to help with weapons and things. The boy is Gavin; he’s a squire to one of the knights and Arthur...” Merlin looked to where the prince was marshalling people and setting tasks like he had ruled over Ealdor all his life and couldn’t help the way his lips quirked up at the corners. “Prince Arthur is first knight and heir to the throne of Camelot.”
Will gave Merlin a look that expressed just how unimpressed his was by this information, but before Will could respond a voice spoke clearly over the hum of the gathered villagers. “I know that Kanen’s men have disrupted your lives and invaded your homes, but that ends now.”
Merlin turned to see Arthur standing on the bandits’ abandoned cart circled by the people of Ealdor. The people around him were still looking about the village in shock, but their eyes returned to the prince and when the murmurs quieted, Arthur spoke again.
“I’ve seen his kind before. I’ve heard their threats. More men may return to take what they can from you, but we will not let them. We will be prepared. We will stop them-”
Will pushed his way through the circle of people and glared up at Arthur. “Who is this we? The last I heard the Pendragons didn’t rule Ealdor. Who put you in charge?”
“He’s come to help us, Will,” Hunith admonished.
“I don’t think getting our homes burnt to the ground is any kind of help.”
Merlin pushed through the people and stood in front of Will shaking his head. “That hasn’t happened yet. We can stop it from happening.”
“Are there more knights and soldiers you brought along then? Are they just hanging back in the trees so that their prince could have his moment of glory?”
“William!” Hunith scolded.
“It’s alright,” Arthur said, “Let him speak. This is his home, not mine. What would you have us do?”
“We can’t fight against Kanen. He has too many men. There weren’t many here today, but when he comes back he’ll have forty at least, maybe more.”
“What’s the alternative?” Arthur asked.
Will frowned and his shoulders slumped. “We give him what he wants. At least then we’d have our homes and our lives.”
“What good is a home if we starve to death in it this winter?” said a woman in the crowd. A few others nodded.
Arthur nodded. “Even if you survived the winter, Kanen will return again, wanting more.”
“So you think it’s better to die now? Go home and have your glory in battle there. You don’t belong here,” Will said and pushed his way back through the villagers.
There were some disgruntled murmurings as Will turned his back on the gathering and headed back into his home. Merlin caught Arthur’s eyes for a moment, biting his lip and tipping his head in the direction his friend had gone. Arthur gave a barely perceptible nod and continued talking up the villagers, rallying them to make a stand.
Merlin slipped through the gap in the crowd Will had made when he left and followed him. Ducking in the door of Will’s home, he stood watching his friend angrily picking up the mess the raiders had made. The table and benches were overturned, the contents of the shelves spilled over the floor and the stand that held Will’s father’s armour and livery was knocked down. Merlin lifted a hand and sent his magic to put this most precious thing to rights and Will spun around to glare at him.
“Will,” Merlin said gently, “Arthur came to help. We all came to help.”
Will shook his head. “He’s a prince. He’s here to get some glory at the expense of our lives.”
“He’s not like that. I’ll be the first to admit he’s a bit of a prat, but his heart is in the right place. You can trust him.”
“Is that so? How much to you trust him?”
“I trust him with my life, without question.”
“So he knows your little secret then?”
Merlin nodded. “He does.”
Will stared at him in shock. “You told the prince of Camelot you have magic and he was somehow alright with that? I don’t believe that for a second.”
“I’ll admit, it didn’t go over all that well at first, but he never once mentioned turning me over. Arthur isn’t his father.”
“And what will happen when you do something he doesn’t like? What will happen when he’s bored of his pet wizard?”
Merlin’s heart clenched at the bitterness in Will’s voice. “Will... there’s more to this than me being Arthur’s manservant.”
“His servant? How did...? You know what, I don’t want to know. I don’t want anything to do with this mess,” Will said, grabbing a satchel and shoving a few things haphazardly into it. “Kanen will be back soon and I have no intention of being here when he does. You can stay here and play at being whatever it is you think you are to the royal ass, but I’m leaving.”
“Don’t go Will, please.”
Will shook his head. “You’re different now, Merlin. I don’t think I like it.”
Pushing past him, Will shoved at the door hanging off one of its hinges and left without a backward glance. Merlin followed him outside and stood in the middle of the street, watching his childhood friend leave. It was a very odd sensation. A piece of him felt as if it might have been Arthur walking away, but his magic still hummed pleasantly beneath his skin the way it only did when he and Arthur were in accord. Merlin’s brow furrowed and the corners of his lips turned down.
“He’s your friend, isn’t he?” a voice beside him asked, startling Merlin from his thoughts.
“What? Oh, Gavin, you startled me. Yes... Will and I were close growing up,” said Merlin
“Why is he so angry?” Gavin asked. “I would have thought he’d be happy to have people here to help the village.”
Merlin shook his head. “It isn’t the help so much as who the helpers are.”
“The girls?”
“No, the prince. Will has a rather substantial resentment towards royalty.”
Gavin looked at him in confusion. “Why is that?”
“His father was a knight, but fell out of favour with Cenred. His lands were taken from him and he was sent to live on the outskirts of the kingdom. Will was young, but old enough to remember when things were better. When Will was eleven, Cenred called his father back to fight and he never came home. His mother was devastated and there wasn’t a thing done by the king to aid them,” explained Merlin.
“Really? The more I hear about him, the more I think Cenred doesn’t sound like much of a king.”
“I didn’t know much of anything about kings before I came to Camelot, but I’m inclined to agree with you,” Merlin said with a nod. “Cenred doesn’t care much for his people, at least not those on the outskirts of the kingdom.”
Gavin’s eyes followed Will’s retreating figure and he pursed his lips. “If his father was a knight, then technically that would make Will a noble, wouldn’t it?”
“Don’t let him hear you say that, if you value your face as it is. The last person to say anything of the sort ended up with a broken nose and two black eyes,” said Merlin.
“I’m good at ducking, Merlin. Better than you are,” Gavin said and jogged up through the field to where Will was about to disappear into the trees.
Merlin stared for a long time at the spot where the gangly young squire he had befriended had gone in search of Will. He didn’t think there was anything that could change Will’s mind, least of all whatever wisdom a fourteen year old boy could impart, but he was touched that Gavin wanted to try. Will was as stubborn and pig headed as Arthur, and just as arrogant sometimes... Merlin sucked in a sharp breath and went very still. In a lot of ways, personality wise at least, Will was very much like Arthur.
A strong hand gripped his shoulder and Merlin glanced back to see Arthur’s concerned face.
“You alright?”
Merlin felt more than a little dazed, and said, “It’s very strange being back here.”
Arthur nodded, but didn’t say anything. His solid presence at Merlin’s back was comforting and soon the tension he was holding in his shoulders relaxed.
“I’m sorry he was such an ass,” Merlin offered.
“It’s not your fault,” Arthur said, unconcerned.
“Will the people fight?”
The hand still resting on his shoulder squeezed a bit.
“They’ll fight. We’ve got a lot of work to do to get them even halfway competent, though.”
“They’re farmers, Arthur. Don’t expect miracles.”
Merlin could hear the grin in Arthur’s voice. “That’s what you’re for. I’ll do my best to train them in the basics. You just need to figure out how to keep it from turning into a rout.”
“So nothing too difficult then,” Merlin said, affecting a highly put upon tone.
“Nothing you can’t figure out, I’m sure,” said Arthur.
That night, Merlin lay down on the hard packed dirt floor of his childhood home and stared up at the ceiling. It had been a very long day, and tomorrow was bound to be equally exhausting, but he felt restless and couldn’t seem to let sleep take him. Arthur was the picture of relaxed comfort, flopped down in a sprawl of limbs with his head towards the wall. Merlin was a little wary of the feet so near his head, but in previous overnight excursions the prince hadn’t proved to be a kicker, or at least not an unintentional one. The banked fire only gave off a very dim light, but it was enough for him to see the still outlines of Gwen and Morgana asleep in the only bed and Hunith curled up on the pallet he had slept on for years. It was crowded, but their number was smaller than it might have been. Whatever it was Gavin had said to Will, the two seemed to have found some common ground and Will had offered a space in his own home for the young squire to sleep. Merlin had tried to talk to Will again, but was met with stony silence and he gave up. He wasn’t entirely certain why Will was so angry with him, but he knew his friend well enough not to push too hard.
Merlin shifted and tugged the blanket closer around him, trying to get comfortable. He didn’t mind sleeping on the ground, but it did irk him a little that despite growing up sleeping on the softest feather beds, Arthur seemed equally comfortable pretty much anywhere. It also irked him that Arthur was able to fall asleep so easily when he could not.
“Stop it,” Arthur grumbled. “You’re thinking so loud it’s interrupting my rest.”
“I can’t sleep,” he told Arthur, elbowing the leg that was tapping at his shoulder.
Arthur sighed heavily. “I noticed. Why don’t you just turn around and get over here already?”
“What?”
Though it was dark, Merlin could practically hear Arthur rolling his eyes. “The night air has a cold bite to it, and we’re already sharing blankets. We’ll both be more comfortable if you turn around the other way.”
“We always sleep like this away from the castle, and besides, what about...” Merlin trailed off and glanced around the room at the others sleeping close by.
Arthur made a small huff of suppressed laughter. “Worried about offending Morgana’s delicate sensibilities? I’ll be very shocked and a bit disappointed in her if she hasn’t figured it out already.”
“There’s an it to figure out?” Merlin asked, hoping he sounded casual and unconcerned. He was still unsure exactly where things stood with Arthur at the moment. Since leaving Gedref, there hadn’t been any real opportunity for them to be together away from prying eyes. Despite the rather desperate kiss they had shared before returning to Camelot and the all too brief night spent holding each other in Arthur’s bed, Merlin still couldn’t quite believe that things had actually changed.
Arthur slid his hand up along Merlin’s calf and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “I hope so.”
Merlin could feel himself blushing, and was grateful it was dark. He felt a bit foolish, both for his assumption about the sleeping arrangements and his reaction to Arthur’s touch. With a light tug, he freed his leg from Arthur’s grasp and shifted around so they were lying with heads pillowed together on Arthur’s rolled up cloak.
Arthur turned on his side facing Merlin and whispered into the space between them, “Better?”
“Your cloak is softer, I think,” Merlin observed.
Arthur shifted until their foreheads were touching. “Does that mean you’re going to be able to sleep now?”
Merlin shrugged. “Do you have any brilliant ideas for defeating Kanen without a very obvious display of magic?”
“They’ll put up a good fight, I think, and we likely only have another day, perhaps two, to practice. It’s going to take strategy to defeat them,” said Arthur.
Merlin suggested, “A trap?”
Arthur nodded, his nose bumping against Merlin’s. “Something to restrict their mobility. We can’t let them fight on their terms. With riders, they’ll slaughter us.”
“Or simply burn the village.”
“No, that’s a bit of an empty threat... or at least they won’t burn it first. Kanen will want to take everything he can get from Ealdor. He won’t burn it without getting all he can.”
“I can give us some warning for their arrival,” said Merlin, “but I’m not sure how to get them off of their horses.”
Arthur made a small hum of consideration. “If they rode them into town and were barricaded in, that would get them off their horses.”
“It would also have them all in the village. I won’t be able to do much once they’re here without being very obvious.”
“Then maybe you’ll have to be obvious.”
Merlin grabbed Arthur’s forearm and held it tightly. “Arthur, news of things that are suspiciously magical comes into Camelot all the time and it never ends well. If I do something here, something obvious, there is no way it will stay a secret.”
“Then what would you suggest?” Arthur asked.
Merlin turned onto his back and stared up at the dark again. “I don’t know... What if... what if we beat the raiders at their own game?”
“In what way?”
“Well, bandits and such tend to hide in wait and ambush people. The element of surprise makes up for lesser numbers and weapons doesn’t it?”
“Quite often, yes. It’s a strategy that works well for small groups of outlaws.”
“With a bit of warning, we could do the same,” suggested Merlin. “All the paths that lead to the village are heavily wooded less than a mile off. Once we know which way they are coming from, we could get everyone together to hide in the trees before Kanen arrives.”
Arthur considered this for a moment and nodded. “The horses would be a disadvantage in the undergrowth.”
“And with a bit of cover, I can do a fair bit to help without being obvious.”
“I suppose you’ll take care of figuring out the where and the when?”
“Morgana knows as well. She could help as a lookout.”
Arthur shifted, and Merlin could see him looking over to where Gwen and Morgana were sleeping. When he settled back down, he said, “If anything happens to her, there is no way we can ever show ourselves in Camelot again. I can guarantee my father was livid when he discovered she was gone.”
Though he was also worried for Morgana’s safety, Merlin offered what little reassurance he could. “Morgana can take care of herself. Besides, you know she won’t give you any peace until you let her help, but I doubt the people here will take well to a woman giving lessons in swordplay. Well, to anyone but the other women that is.”
“What do you mean, Merlin?” Arthur asked, lifting up on one elbow and staring down at him. “No one is teaching the women to fight.”
Merlin tried to keep his voice neutral and said, “Perhaps someone should. You did meet my mother, didn’t you? She isn’t going to stand by while the men do the fighting, and she isn’t the only one.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Arthur, do you know what life is like for a peasant woman if her husband is killed?”
Arthur hesitated for a moment. “Difficult, I expect.”
“If by difficult you mean constantly on the brink of starvation and death, then yes, that about sums it up. If you were wondering about what had Will in a strop earlier, it wasn’t just you coming in and telling people what to do. His father died fighting for Cenred and afterwards the king didn’t do a thing for Will or his mother. They had nothing and no man to help with the work. People weren’t always kind to them, just like they weren’t always kind to us,” Merlin explained, feeling himself getting wound up.
“And the women fighting and possibly dying themselves is somehow better? Do you think it’s easier for the children left behind with no mother?”
Merlin turned back on his side facing Arthur and laid a hand on his chest in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “No, of course not, but if the women do fight it gives us a greater strength in numbers. I’ll protect everyone as best I can, but magic can’t do everything. I can’t let my magic do everything.”
“Why not?” Arthur asked, turning towards him again. “You have the power to.”
It wasn’t something Merlin had ever tried to explain before and it took him some time to find the right words to explain himself. “I’ve already used my magic to kill too many people this time. I can’t let myself use it that way any more than I already have. It upsets the balance. When someone is killed by a sword or dies of a natural disease, the distribution of magic remains stable. When I do it with magic, it leaves a void or creates a surge that affects everything around it... not to mention the fact that it feels utterly wretched. I don’t just watch them die, Arthur, I feel it. I can feel the life leaving a person.”
Arthur gave an involuntary shudder at that. “Oh. That sounds... rather unpleasant.”
“It’s horrible,” Merlin whispered.
Strong arms pulled him in, and for a long time Merlin lay shaking in Arthur’s arms, remembering all the times he had felt people die. The times when it was a natural death were difficult, yet easier to bear than the memories of the deaths he had caused by magic... they made his skin crawl and his stomach sink.
“I understand,” Arthur said much later, speaking softly against Merlin’s ear.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into Arthur’s chest.
Arthur just held him tighter. “Don’t be. We can make an ambush work. It’s a sound tactic. In the morning, I’ll start preparing the villagers, and I suppose Morgana can talk to the women and see what they want to do. It’ll be their choice.”
“It’s everyone’s choice.”
Fingers traced across Merlin’s forehead, along his cheekbone and down the bridge of his nose, mapping his face in the dark. A thumb brushed against his lower lip, dragging it down and he swiped the tip of his tongue across the pad of the finger and brought his upper lip over the digit giving it a slightly sloppy kiss. Arthur’s thumb slipped from his lip and trailed a wet line down to the point of his chin. A second hand joined the first and Merlin was drawn into a deep kiss that left his heart racing and his body trembling.
“When this is over, and we aren’t on the floor of your mother’s home with three people sleeping nearby...” Arthur trailed off.
Merlin let out a low, slightly pained groan and shifted in an attempt to get more comfortable in his suddenly too tight trousers. “That had better be a promise.”
Even in the dark, he could hear Arthur’s wicked grin. “I’m a man of my word.”
They lay awake together for some time afterwards, not speaking and not touching, just listening to each other breathe.
After riding out along each of the roads leading from Ealdor and laying enchantments to warn him if anyone crossed them, Merlin spent a good portion of the following day going through the motions of beginner sword drills alongside the other villagers. Arthur did a far better job instructing them than he had ever tried to do when he made Merlin pick up a sword, and Gavin scurried around the group offering assistance and demonstrations in a kind, unassuming way. Arthur also did a good job hiding his concern at the sword wielding capabilities of a group of peasant farmers, but the corners of his lips twitched downward a bit too often and his eyes were grim. Merlin could tell that he was worried.
Somehow, Gavin had managed to convince Will to stay and fight, which was a mystery to Merlin. However, Will joined in with the rest of the villagers holding a wooden stave and following the motions the prince led them through. Anytime their eyes happened to meet, Will’s expression became closed. Merlin could nearly feel the cold waves of anger coming off his friend and did his best to ignore it. He couldn’t help but notice how much more readily Will was picking up the drills than everyone else, though. He wasn’t the only one, but one look at Will’s face kept anyone from commenting.
When they broke for the day late in the afternoon, Arthur stalked off in the direction of the river, and Merlin was fairly certain following could only result in a fight. Instead, he hauled a bucket of water up from the well and carried it into his mother’s house and offered to help her with supper.
“Has Camelot changed you so much then?” Hunith asked.
Merlin carefully poured water into the largest pot and set it on the hook over the fire. “How do you mean?”
Hunith picked up a small knife and began cutting vegetables. “Well, willingly offering to help with supper is a bit rare for you, but it’s not just that. I’ve watched you... You’re different than you were. Was a few months all it took?”
He couldn’t look Hunith in the face, and busied himself with fetching a few logs to build up the fire before he answered. “I’m not so different.”
She shook her head. “You don’t see it, but you are, especially around the prince.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You always were an unusual child but now... you’ve aged somehow. Matured as well, but it seems as if there are many years sitting on your shoulders and on Prince Arthur’s as well. You are both too young for that. Has something happened since you left?”
“A great many things have happened. Arthur and I have been through a lot, but... I’m still me. I’m still Merlin. That hasn’t changed,” Merlin told her, though he wondered if he wasn’t trying to convince himself more than Hunith.
The steady sound of Hunith’s knife tapping against the wooden block filled the silence that stretched between them. He could feel her gaze on him and he wondered just how changed he was from the boy she had waved goodbye to in the spring. He jumped when she spoke again.
“You are and you aren’t. But I suppose that’s what all mothers must face when their sons grow up. Are you happy?”
A wide smile spread across his face and he met her eyes and nodded. “I am, more than I had thought possible.”
“And your powers?” she asked, unable to conceal her worry. “Gaius mentioned that keeping them hidden in Camelot has been challenging for you.”
“It’s gotten better. I have much more control now,” he said with confidence.
Hunith looked at him for a long moment then turned her attention back to the cutting board and asked, “Are you absolutely certain telling the prince was a wise thing?”
Merlin was momentarily dumbfounded. “How did..?”
“You are too easy around him. It was like that between you and Will when he found out.”
“I trust Arthur completely. We don’t have secrets from each other.”
Hunith smiled, but her eyes were sad. She set down her knife and wiped her hands on her apron before reaching up and pulling him into a fierce hug. “I am glad you are happy, but you’ll have to let me worry about you still. It is my job.”
“You’re a wonderful mother,” he mumbled into her hair. “I know we used to argue about the magic, but I know you just wanted to keep me safe.”
Hunith pulled back then and eyed him critically. “And what kind of risky thing are you planning to do with it?”
“You heard Arthur’s plan. An ambush is the best chance we have.”
“And what will you be doing?”
“Figuring out when they are close and which way they are coming from,” Merlin said, doing his best to look innocent and obedient, which never worked with his mother, but was worth a try.
“And?” she pressed.
“Nothing too dangerous... at least not any more dangerous than what everyone else will be doing.”
“My boy,” she said, looking at him with sorrowful eyes, “I shouldn’t have come to Camelot. I’ve put you at too great a risk.”
Merlin shook his head and poured the chopped vegetables into the pot, no longer able to bear the weight of her gaze. “Don’t be silly. I’m glad to help and Arthur and the others are too.”
“They shouldn’t have come either, but I am glad to have you here,” she said, handing him a spoon to stir with.
With a flick of his hand, he set the wooden spoon in motion and settled into the stool by the hearth. “When the fight is done and Kanen is gone, I’m going to make sure Ealdor is safe again. It was my leaving that brought them here. I didn’t realize it before, but I’m certain it was my magic that kept raiders from here for so long.”
Hunith looked at the spoon and frowned, but didn’t mention it. “It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself for the things cruel men do.”
“I don’t, but I will keep you safe. Even if though I’m not here anymore, I promise you’ll be protected.”
After a restless night, Merlin awoke early and slipped out of the house in the grey light of early dawn. The dew was heavy on the grass and the damp chill of the air crept its chilled fingers in between the seams of his clothes. He briefly considered returning to the protective shell of blankets that he had shared with Arthur, snug and warm, but simply tugged his cloak closer. Everything was still and quiet, but tense, even in the sleepy morning hours. Fog had settled between the buildings, and the trees across the field were barely visible.
He slipped into the shed where his horse was stabled and set about readying it to ride. The other horses lifted their heads and watched him, but were not inclined to stir. Merlin was glad. He didn’t wish to disturb everyone so early, but he needed to move. The spells he had laid yesterday several miles off on each path leading towards Ealdor would alert him to Kanen’s arrival. However, part of his ruse was acting as a scout to warn the village and his anticipation wouldn’t allow him to remain idle any longer.
One of the other horses whickered softly and Merlin looked up to see Morgana slip in through the door.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.
Merlin nodded. “Early morning would be the best time for Kanen to catch us unawares.”
“Are you actually going to ride, or just get far enough down the road to be out of sight?”
Merlin gave a small grunt as he tightened the girth of the saddle and tugged at the buckles to check them. “I’m fairly certain I know which way they’ll come from and I can’t just hang about waiting. At the very least I can prepare the ambush site.”
“Prepare it how?”
“Come along if you’d like. You’ll see,” Merlin offered knowing full well that had been Morgana’s intention all along.
She readied her own horse quickly and soon they were riding out along the road that followed close to the river leading southwest away from the village. The fog was denser in the trees and everything seemed close.
A short way down the road Morgana asked, “What is it, exactly, between you and Arthur? Every time I think I have it figured out I see something new that creates more questions than it answers.”
“You couldn’t have asked a simpler question, could you?” Merlin said, shaking his head.
She shrugged in response. “I only ask questions I don’t think I’ll be able to find the answers to myself. How is it that you and Arthur have gotten so close in such a short time? I’ve known him since I came to court when I was twelve and I’d like to think I know him better than anyone, yet in a few months, or really just a few weeks, everything has changed. He’s different... so are you for that matter.”
“Morgana... I have fewer secrets from you than I have from nearly everyone, but this isn’t something I’m ready to share yet.”
Morgana pursed her lips but conceded the point with a small nod of her head. “Just be careful. Whatever it is, I doubt that Uther would approve.”
He snorted at that. “I don’t think there’s much about me Uther would approve of.”
“No, probably not,” Morgana chuckled. “Not the least of which would be teaching me magic. What were you planning to do to prepare for the ambush?”
“Just ahead here is where I’ll start,” Merlin said, pointing ahead to where the road curved. “We want the raiders to ride completely into this area with all the thick underbrush, but not ride past the cover of the denser trees. I’ll lay a spell like a trip line at the edge of it that will spook the horses if any try to ride beyond it. Before that, the places we’ll be hiding could do with a bit more concealment and some sound muffling too, perhaps. As much as Arthur’s tried to train them, I doubt a large group of nervous villagers will be especially quiet. Aside from that, there isn’t much I can do until Kanen and his men actually arrive.”
Morgana nodded in understanding and asked, “What will you do then?”
“Make it as difficult as possible for them to attack and give our people a fighting chance.”
Merlin reigned in his horse and dismounted awkwardly. He was slightly envious of the way Morgana made such a graceful decent, but he ignored her superior little smile and tied his horse to a nearby branch. Morgana watched him closely as he walked up and down the road whispering enchantments. It was still odd, using magic when someone was watching, but his self consciousness faded quickly and he focussed entirely on the task at hand.
When he was done, Merlin drew the magic buzzing along his skin back within himself and looked at Morgana with a smile. “I think that should do it.”
“I hope this is the way they do come, or it’ll be a wasted effort,” she replied.
He would have shared in her concern, but just then the lingering awareness he had left far out on the road the previous day jolted his senses. “Kanen is coming this way.”
Morgana looked at him curiously. “You’re certain?”
Merlin nodded. “They just passed the enchantment I laid farther up the road yesterday. Let’s go. We need to get everyone ready.”
As the more skilled rider of the two, Morgana took off more quickly than he could follow without losing his seat, and when Merlin arrived in the town, alarmed villagers were already stumbling out of their houses. Gwen and Gavin were handing out swords to those best able to wield them, while others gathered pitchforks and other tools to use.
Arthur was in the middle of the disorganized group barking orders. “Those with young children should head for the trees to the north and hide there. If we fail, you will at least have some chance of escape. Everyone with a weapon, gather by the south road. Stay calm and quiet. We must move quickly if we are to get in place in time. If Kanen thinks he can catch us sleeping, he’s in for a surprise.”
A group of the very young and the very old carrying small bundles set off on the road heading north to conceal their tracks in the morning dew before finding a good place to hide. The majority of the villagers gathered by the south road. Merlin noticed Will with them, jaw set in a stubborn expression, outfitted in his father’s old armour and holding the sword that Merlin knew had been polished reverently in secret. Gavin gave Will a wide smile and a nod, which Will returned stiffly. Will looked over as Merlin dismounted, eyes flicking between he and Arthur, and Merlin felt the chasm between them widen. He was glad Will was there to help, but he knew that his friendship with Will was lost.
When Merlin waded through the gathering crowd to Arthur, he placed a hand on Arthur’s elbow and asked, “Ready?”
Arthur nodded. “As best we can be. You?”
Merlin returned the nod. “They’re travelling fast. We need to go now.”
His idea to lay enchantments to muffle the noise that fifty nervous villagers would make while waiting for a band of vicious raiders was ultimately what gave them the edge they needed. At the first sound of hoof beats on the road, the people around him began whispering and shifting nervously in their hiding places. In the still morning, he could see the leaves of their cover twitching and drew on his magic to still them. With all the other spells he was maintaining, the addition of this was a strain and he felt sweat standing on his forehead, the moist warmth mingling with the cool damp that already clung to his skin.
He didn’t need to hold the stillness for long. Dozens of men on horseback riding at a fast trot came around the bend in the road only to be drawn up short when the horses in the lead balked and reared at an invisible barrier. Even with his own nerves, Merlin couldn’t help a small grin at the confusion the horses’ abrupt halt caused. Raiders were shouting at each other in bewilderment and frustration, milling about.
Then Arthur yelled above the din, “NOW!”
Dropping every spell save the enchantment keeping the horses from travelling further down the road, Merlin shifted his focus to adding to the chaos before him. Villagers were leaping out of the bushes, swords, pitchforks and scythes in hand as they came at the raiding party. Kanen looked around him in surprise, but did not hesitate to take his sword in hand.
“They’re just villagers! Cut them down!” he shouted.
Merlin did his best to ignore the noise and the panic and focus on aiding as best he could. He broke the straps on several saddles, causing the riders to come tumbling to the ground. He jammed crossbow triggers, tripped men and made the weapons the raiders carried slip from their grasp. His magic flowed easily, rippling and surging out at his command. It was still taxing, and his entire body was now drenched with sweat, but the more power he used the more he seemed to have. Drawing on the energy of the earth around him, he felt his focus begin to slip and he had a moment’s worry that he perhaps wasn’t being as careful as he should be, but he was still sheltered in the undergrowth.
Despite Arthur’s concern for the abilities of farmers wielding weapons, the people of Ealdor were fierce in the defence of their home. Even with superior weapons, several of Kanen’s raiders had given up the fight as more trouble than it was worth and were making to leave. Kanen barked orders and redoubled his own efforts against the growing number of direct attacks against him.
A sword blow from behind made Kanen scream in pain and attempt to pull in gasping breaths. Blood coloured his mouth and in moments the choking coughs became a wet gurgle and Kanen fell to the ground. Seeing their leader fall, the remaining raiders gave up on the fight and attempted to remount their horses and retreat. Several villagers chased after them, and Merlin used his magic to send a spike of terror through the fleeing raiders that made them depart as if they were being chased by dragons.
When Merlin felt he had his magic under control again, he left his concealed spot and stumbled out onto the road. Most of the villagers had stopped to stare at the place where Kanen lay bleeding on the ground. Standing behind the man who had plagued their village was Will. Merlin blinked at the sight of his childhood friend holding a bloodied sword and staring at the man he had killed in shock.
The moment was broken when Gavin put a hand on Will’s shoulder and Will visibly startled. “I killed him.”
“Yeah,” Gavin said with a small nod.
The expression on Will’s face changed from stunned shock to horror, but the people around him didn’t seem to notice. The villagers began cheering and congratulating each other, while Will looked on, aghast. Not able to bear the look on his friend’s face, Merlin scanned the crowd for Arthur and found him standing several paces beyond Kanen’s body, taking in the scene before him. When their eyes met, Merlin felt a relieved smile tug at his lips briefly then he gestured towards Will. Arthur took in Will’s countenance and nodded in understanding, but before he was able to step in, Gavin grabbed Will by the elbow and steered him away from the cooling body. Together, they began to walk back towards the village, away from the excited people. Arthur let them go, and Merlin made no effort to push his way through the crowd to get to them. Merlin knew he wouldn’t be welcome now. He had a good idea of how Will was feeling, but it was no longer his place to offer comfort.
Instead, Merlin let Arthur make his way over and allowed himself to enjoy the relief that they were both unharmed.
“You alright?” Arthur asked when he stood in front of Merlin.
He nodded. “Better than Will, I think. You?”
“Nothing serious. You can put salve on my bruises later, if you like.”
That brought a genuine smile to his lips. “Do it yourself, you lazy prat.”
“Some healer you are,” Arthur teased.
“I think there are plenty of people who need my help,” Merlin said seriously.
Arthur sobered. “I know. It wasn’t a rout, though. That’s down to you.”
“Three men... that’s a hard blow here. Better than we could have hoped, but still...”
“You did all you could. Look at you. You’re drenched in sweat. Are you certain you’re alright?”
Merlin nodded, feeling the slightly dizzy and unfocused sensation sending his magic in so many directions brought continue to fade. “It shouldn’t take too much longer to feel myself again. We need to take care of the bodies.”
“I’ll help them,” said Arthur and gave him a little push in the direction of the village. “You just make sure anyone with injuries is tended to.”
By noon, most of the aftermath of the fight with Kanen was taken care of. Merlin had tended to those who were injured and the bodies of both the fallen villagers and the raiders were laid on pyres to be set alight at sunset. The people of Ealdor mourned for their losses, but in general spirits were high. Arthur promised the village leader that he would send some additional supplies of grain to make up for what they had so generously offered their neighbours.
In the afternoon, Merlin wandered up through the stubble of the upper field and pushed through the low brush at the edge. The path he had travelled so often with Will appeared to be grown over, and a small part of him was still sad to have lost their closeness. He wouldn’t trade what he had gained, but Will had been a fun, easy going companion that counterbalanced Hunith’s worry and seriousness. The spot in the woods had been their place, but knowing more of his own past made Merlin realise just why he had always felt at peace sitting with his back against the old oak. He ran his fingers along the rough bark and tucked himself easily into his favourite spot amidst the roots, looking up at the leaves shivering in the wind on the upper branches.
He opened his senses and properly savoured the magical energies of the grove. The tree at his back was steady and strong and the current of power made small eddies around him. It was a soothing familiar feeling and it helped him to fully regain his composure after his earlier exertions. He wasn’t there alone for long, though. The bright spark that was Arthur nudged at his awareness and soon Arthur arrived in the circle of trees.
“Meditating?” Arthur teased.
Though he tried to sound irritated at the interruption, Merlin knew he fell short. “I was until someone interrupted me.”
“I can go if you like.”
“No. Stay,” Merlin said and patted the ground beside him.
Arthur ignored the spot Merlin had gestured to and knelt in front of him straddling his outstretched legs. “I always knew you liked my interruptions.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Merlin asked, both hopeful and wary.
“Yes,” Arthur said and leaned forward to capture Merlin’s lips.
Merlin felt as if all his worries and doubts were being drawn out of him through Arthur’s kiss. He reached a hand up to pull Arthur in closer, threading his fingers into the hair at Arthur’s nape. With his other, he ran his hand down Arthur’s back and slipped his fingers under the edge of Arthur’s old shirt, worn soft with use. His fingers encountered warm skin and Arthur hummed against his lips in appreciation. Exploring hands made their way to the bottom of Merlin’s shirt and tugged it up to expose bare skin. After some awkward wriggling resulting in an elbow to Arthur’s stomach, they broke the kiss and scrabbled to remove their shirts as quickly as possible.
The autumn air was cool on his skin and the slide of Arthur’s warm bare chest against his own felt wonderful. The rough bark at his back was less wonderful, but Merlin ignored it in favour of enjoying the muscled expanse of Arthur’s back. Merlin nipped at Arthur’s lips and trailed a line of biting kisses down his neck from jaw to collarbone. Arthur gasped and ground his hips urgently against him at a more forceful bite, clutching Merlin tight.
A tongue darted out and traced his ear and Arthur spoke in a low growl, “We’re not in your mother’s house.”
“No,” Merlin said more breathlessly than he had intended.
Arthur brought a hand up to pinch one of Merlin’s nipples. “No one is trying to sleep nearby.”
“True,” he agreed, squirming at the sensation.
Arthur added, “The raiders have definitely been dealt with.”
Merlin nodded and slid his hands below the waist of Arthur’s trousers, cupping his ass. “They have.”
“And I did say I was a man of my word...” Arthur trailed of, nibbling at the lobe of Merlin’s ear.
Merlin whimpered and pushed his hips up to meet Arthur’s. “A promise is a promise.”
Arthur tugged at his shoulders and they rolled on the soft ground away from the base of the tree and into the warm light of the sun. They broke apart long enough to struggle out of what remained of their clothing and when they came together again, they clutched at each other, as if the brief moment apart had been a lifetime. With his entire body bare against the ground, Merlin felt each blade of grass dance across his skin and the surge of energies within the earth. It was a glorious feeling, if not quite so wonderful as the feel of Arthur’s body pressed against his, and Merlin ran his hands along Arthur’s back pushing the awareness of sensation into him. Arthur gasped and pinned him down.
“Is that... Is that what the world is like for you?”
“It can be, that and more.”
“Show me.”
Since the realistic possibility had occurred to him, Merlin had been apprehensive about whether the memory of sex with Arthur would overshadow the reality of it, but in that moment, everything settled into place. Every touch, each flex of muscle and press of their bodies became the most natural, the most necessary, thing in the world. Trapped between them, their cocks slid together, hard and straining and Merlin hooked his legs together under Arthur’s ass. With each thrust, he gripped at Arthur, pulling them tighter together, wanting to crawl inside Arthur. And suddenly, he was.
Merlin’s awareness expanded beyond himself and it was like he was wearing both his and Arthur’s skin. He could feel the heat of the late afternoon sun warming his back along with the tickle of grass and the grit of earth beneath it. He could feel the heavy weight of Arthur pressing down on him and the tight grip of legs wrapped around him, pulling them together. He could feel the burn of stubble from Arthur’s sloppy, desperate kisses along with his own fingers twining through his hair. He keened and bucked helplessly at the onslaught of sensation and felt Arthur groan both against him and within him. It was everything and more, the thrumming energies of the woods around them, the joyful flight of the birds, the gentle sigh of the breeze and the deep and powerful undercurrent of the earth beneath them. It was too much. Arthur bit down on Merlin’s shoulder and Merlin jerked and thrashed and spent himself, crying out with words both foreign and familiar to his ears. Arthur was right behind him and a second wave of sensation swept through his body, leaving Merlin trembling and struggling to hold on.
Arthur collapsed on top of Merlin and the heavy weight pressing his body into the ground helped him return to a solitary awareness. He was able to recognise his own shaky breathing in counterpoint to Arthur’s ragged pants and the discomfort under his left hip from an unfortunately positioned twig. His heart slowly returned to its regular rhythm and once more, Merlin was himself and nothing more. He didn’t feel diminished though. The yearning that had lingered at the edge of his awareness for so long, even when they were close, was gone. Merlin felt like he fit in his skin properly for the first time in so very long. He loosened his desperate grip on Arthur’s shoulders and trailed his fingers gently along Arthur’s back, exploring the play of muscles under the skin.
It was simple and comforting to lay like that, relaxed and contented. When Arthur recovered, he shifted off Merlin and stretched out on his back, tucking Merlin in against his side. Arthur turned his face up to the sun with his eyes closed and Merlin watched him through droopy eyelids. There were a dozen different things Merlin wanted to say, but the quiet was too nice and there was no need to interrupt it with inadequate words. Instead, they lay there together, silent and happy, until the chill of evening shadows urged them back into their clothes to return to the village.
It was late morning the following day by the time they gathered at the edge of the village to make their farewells. Merlin was both sad and relieved to be leaving, and he hugged Hunith tightly to him as if by hugging her hard enough he could hold onto some part of his previous mothers.
She returned the embrace with a tight grip. “Take care of yourself, Merlin.”
“You too. The next time you come to Camelot, I don’t want it to be for visiting a physician.”
Hunith pulled back and smiled warmly at him. “Perhaps to see you appointed advisor to the king then.”
“Don’t joke. I’m serious.”
“So am I. When the time is right, I’ll come back, and you can tell me everything.”
Merlin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Everything?”
“Well, perhaps not everything,” she allowed with a quirk of her lip, “but I expect to hear some of what you haven’t said.”
He pulled her tight to him again. “I love you.”
She patted his back and stroked his hair. “I know. I love you too, my boy. Now go on, the others are waiting.”
Reluctantly, Merlin let go and gave her a watery smile. Hunith patted his cheek and stepped back towards the buildings. A fair number of villagers were watching as they readied to leave but, as he scanned the faces of the people he had grown up with, he noted with unsurprised sadness that Will’s face was not among them. Merlin swung himself gracelessly up into the saddle and patted the patient gelding. With a last look back at the village, Merlin turned and nodded to the others, already mounted and ready to go.
Merlin prodded his horse to the front of the group, leading the way from Ealdor. As they rode out on the north road, he thought he saw someone standing in the trees at the edge of the field. He lifted his hand from the reins and gave a small wave that the others wouldn’t be able to see, then urged his horse to a trot.
Autumn slipped by quickly in Camelot, and soon the chill of winter came blowing out of the north bringing an end to the freedom of time spent beyond the walls of the city and driving everyone indoors. The weather turned foul less than a fortnight after the last of the harvest was brought in and wet sleet made anyone who had to venture outdoors miserable. Despite the harvest being restored after Anhora’s judgement even more bountifully than it had grown, the winter was looking to be a long and difficult one. Snow came early, wet and heavy and soon all but the main roads were mired in a slushy mess that made most travel out of the question.
Merlin returned to spending more time working with Gaius preparing medicines and treating the increased number of patients seeking remedies for various cold weather ailments. He also dedicated more time to working with Morgana, free to instruct her directly now that his secret was shared with her. She had a sharp mind and was a quick study, picking up the various mental exercises and simple enchantments readily. Merlin had been hesitant to teach her more obvious spells, practically under Uther’s nose, but in the end he could not refuse her. The thought of the long years she spent in fear of her talents preyed at his compassionate nature and he could not deny her the opportunity to use her power of her own accord. He did, however, limit the enchantments he taught her to the least noticeable and most benign, though he knew that would not save either of them if they were discovered. Keeping these lessons a secret from Gwen was also rather challenging, and finding the opportunity to work together when they wouldn’t be interrupted was difficult.
Despite being more confined, Merlin found himself surprisingly contented. His days were busy and his nights... His nights were spent with Arthur, sheltered from the creeping cold of the castle walls beneath warm blankets and soft linen sheets. They had needed to be cautious in their public interactions since they had returned from Ealdor. More than once he had received an elbow to the ribs and a pointed look from Morgana when he treated Arthur in ways that might raise both the eyebrows and suspicions of the various courtiers. Still, as winter deepened and the nights grew longer, Merlin savoured the many hours of darkness he spent in Arthur’s bed rediscovering the lover he had waited so long for.
Less than a week before the Midwinter feast and Arthur’s coming of age celebrations, while laying in a post coital haze with his head pillowed on Merlin’s stomach, Arthur mumbled something into his navel that jolted Merlin into wakefulness.
“What?!”
Merlin felt Arthur frown against his stomach. “You heard me. I don’t know if I can make my oath at Midwinter.”
“Arthur, you have noticed the dozens of nobles that have travelled through terrible weather to get here for your coming of age ceremony haven’t you?” Merlin said completely incredulous.
“Of course, but that doesn’t change the fact that saying those words... it would be a lie, Merlin.”
Merlin’s voice softened, “Is it just the ‘laws and statues’ part that bothers you?”
Arthur nodded. “Mostly. If I don’t have my word, what do I have?”
“Your ancestors include more than just Uther, and even he wasn’t always opposed to magic. You can make your pledge with that in mind,” he said, brushing Arthur’s sweaty fringe from his forehead.
“It isn’t just about the magic. I don’t want this,” Arthur said, with a slightly wild hand gesture encompassing the bed and their state of undress, “to be something we have to hide forever. If I’m to be king, I won’t pretend anymore.”
“You want the kingdom to know about this? About us? Don’t be ridiculous, Arthur. Even as king, you can’t just do whatever you want. There’ll be expectations from everyone and you’ll need an heir. Regardless of what you do in your own court, other kingdoms will see it as a weakness,” Merlin said and stroked Arthur’s hair soothingly as if the action might dispel some of his own upset.
“It’s not ridiculous, Merlin. I won’t live a lie and I won’t marry some poor woman just to make people happy, and unless you’ve been making up everything you said about unifying the land and all this once and future business it won’t matter. If I’m to be high king of all Albion, there won’t be any other kingdoms to find me weak, and even if they did, I have you. Once your talents are known, only a fool would stand against us.”
“And an heir?”
Arthur shook his head. “You’re the immortal one, you figure it out.”
Merlin felt his heart both swell and break at the same time. That Arthur was even entertaining the notion of the true nature of their companionship becoming known made him want to shout from the tallest tower of the castle, but Merlin knew it wasn’t a practical reality of their situation. Nor was forgoing a wife and heir if uniting Albion didn’t go as planned. “Arthur, it isn’t that simple...”
“I know it isn’t quite that straight forward, and I’m not suggesting walking through the castle arm in arm or dancing to minstrels for the entertainment of the court. All I am saying is that you won’t be a dirty secret to be hidden away and pretend doesn’t exist. Things will be difficult enough when we repeal the ban on magic.”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “And you think people won’t have some serious misgivings when they find out you’re sharing a bed with a sorcerer?”
“They can think what they like,” Arthur said and licked a damp trail up from Merlin’s navel to his left nipple where he stopped to nibble, completely distracting Merlin’s thought processes.
“I can’t think when you do that.”
“Then don’t think. Let me worry about the court.”
Merlin tried to think of a response to that, but Arthur’s hand grasping his thigh and pulling him to straddle Arthur’s hips made it impossible to come up with a sensible reply.
On Midwinter’s eve, Merlin stood at the edge of the hall, dressed in his official livery. The room was filled with every noble family that had been able to make the journey to the castle to join in the celebrations held for Arthur’s coming of age. From his place against the wall he had a clear view of the steps up to the throne where Arthur knelt before the king and recited his oath.
“I solemnly swear to govern the people of this kingdom and its dominions according to the customs, statues and laws laid down by my forbears. I promise to exercise mercy and justice in my deeds and judgements.”
“Do you swear your allegiance to Camelot, now and for as long as you shall live?” Uther asked, holding out a sceptre.
Arthur’s voice was clear and filled the hall over the low murmurings of the assembled guests. “I, Arthur Pendragon, do pledge life and limb to your service and to the protection of its peoples.”
The corners of Uther’s mouth turned upward as he took the crown Geoffrey had brought up from the vaults and placed it upon Arthur’s head. “Now, being of age and heir apparent, from henceforth you shall be Crown Prince of Camelot.”
The hall burst into applause and though Merlin could not see Arthur’s face clearly, he could see the look of genuine pleasure and pride on the king’s face. A small frisson of gratification danced at the edges of Merlin’s awareness, and he knew without seeing Arthur that he was truly happy to receive Uther’s approval. Despite his misgivings about the oath taking, Arthur had finally accepted that every future ruler who had ever taken such an oath did so with his own interpretation of what the words really meant. Ultimately, Arthur’s pledge was more to the people of the kingdom itself than to Uther. It had been with that in mind that Arthur had spoken with such conviction. Now, all of Arthur’s worries were lifted off his shoulders and he walked proudly through the hall accepting congratulations and well wishes from the guests.
Merlin continued to watch Arthur swan around the room revelling in the moment. His attention was so focussed on the newly crowned prince that he didn’t notice Gwen sidling up beside him.
“How does it feel to be servant to the Crown Prince?” Gwen asked.
Merlin jumped. “You startled me Gwen.”
“You were watching Arthur pretty intently. Proud of him?”
Without really considering his words, Merlin said, “Arthur doesn’t need a crown for me to be proud of him. He knows that.”
“You really do love him, don’t you,” Gwen whispered.
“What?” Merlin said his attention suddenly focussed entirely on Gwen.
She smiled kindly at him. “It’s alright. I don’t think anyone else really sees it. I only noticed because... Don’t get mad, but Morgana let it slip. Sorry.”
Merlin groaned and let his head thump back against the stone wall. “This is never going to work. Why do I listen him? How on earth does he convince me to do foolish things like letting my guard down?”
“We all do foolish things when we’re in love, Merlin,” Gwen said, barely restraining a giggle.
He shook his head at her. “You think this is funny.”
“It is, a bit. I mean, I understand that it’s serious and if someone important caught you there would be all sorts of trouble, but once I knew what to look for... He’s so different now, from what he was like before you came to Camelot. He smiles more, and is nicer to everyone regardless of their rank or station. He still gets testy when things don’t go his way, and loses his temper, but I see him trying harder at things because he wants to do better for you. It’s really sweet.”
“I’m doomed. I might as well run away now while I still can.”
“Don’t be so overdramatic, Merlin.”
“Overdramatic? When I’m-”
The sound of glass shattering interrupted him and both Merlin and Gwen jerked their heads to see a dark horse with a black rider burst through the window into the room. Ladies shrieked and clung to each other and the many knights milling about the room drew their swords in response to the intrusion. The rider walked his horse slowly and deliberately the length of the hall towards where Arthur stood, sword ready, in front of Uther.
As the horse passed by him, Merlin felt waves of cold power rolling off the figure and shuddered. He glanced over to where Morgana was standing and she met his gaze, pale faced and frightened. Merlin was just about to step forward, damn the consequences, when the black rider, a knight, took one of his gauntlets to hand and threw it down to the floor between Uther and Arthur.
For a long, tense moment the room was utterly silent.
“I, Sir Owain, accept your challenge.” The knight beside Arthur stepped forward, gauntlet in hand and faced the challenger.
The helmeted head turned sharply to face Owain. “Single combat. Noon tomorrow. To the death.”
Owain nodded and the knight turned his horse and rode from the room. At once the hall exploded with exclamations of surprise and Arthur turned to stare at Owain in disbelief. Merlin could see Arthur speaking urgently to the young knight, and he was torn between the desire to shadow Arthur in case of any further danger and the urge to follow the dark knight to figure out what exactly it was. Instead of following either of these impulses, Merlin edged through the crowd towards Gaius.
Leaning in close, Merlin said, “That was not a man.”
Gaius shook his head. “No, it wasn’t.”
“He wasn’t interested in challenging Sir Owain, either.”
“I fear not,” Gaius agreed. “I shall have to consult with Geoffrey, but I think I have a good idea who our unexpected guest was.”
“Gaius?”
“Merlin, stay with the prince, and make sure he doesn’t do anything rash.”
“I think you seriously overestimate my powers of persuasion.”
“Merlin...”
“Alright, you don’t need to order me to do something I would do anyway.”
Gaius shook his head and turned to go, then looked back and gave him a piercing stare. “Don’t you go doing anything foolish either, with or without Arthur.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow at Gaius and received one in return. Shoulders slumping a little, Merlin nodded and sought out Arthur in the crowd to keep an eye on him until the excitement had passed and they could both return to Arthur’s chambers.
After the uncomfortable forced cheer of the banquet Uther had insisted continue as planned, Morgana had come to Arthur’s chambers and railed at Arthur about the challenge. Merlin had seen the fear in her eyes and already knew what she had seen. Owain was going to die. Arthur hadn’t even bothered offering comforting platitudes. He simply nodded when Merlin spoke of the cold waves of magic rolling off the black knight and lowered his eyes and sadly shook his head when Morgana begged him to call off the duel. His voice was resigned when he spoke of the Knights’ Code and sleep did not come easily to either of them. In the morning, Arthur had gone to the training grounds with Owain to guide the young knight thorough a warm up and offer what advice he could.
It was a grey day, cold and damp. Dozens of servants had been up since dawn clearing the wet snow from the arena and the ground was a mess of slick mud on frozen earth. Arthur had spent a long time frowning at the combat location and shaking his head, obviously not pleased and worried about the outcome of the duel.
Now, as the midday bell sounded, Arthur’s face was grim and Owain’s nervous as they made their way from the entrance to the center of the arena. The dark knight was already waiting for them, completely still, the point of his sword to the ground with hands resting upon the hilt and his gaze fixed on the royal box where the king sat. The man had not removed his helm and Merlin was quite certain that what they would see if he did would send Owain fleeing from the arena, Knights’ Code or not. Morgana was seated beside Uther, her pale face and the dark circles under her eyes all Merlin needed as evidence that she had spent the night caught in dark dreams of unpleasant futures. Merlin hung back beside Gaius by the entrance, hoping that there was some chance of Owain surviving.
Arthur’s face was grim as he walked with Owain to the centre of the arena in front of the royal box. The gathered crowd stopped whispering and everyone seemed to hold their breath. Uther’s face was carefully blank, but the king’s hands gripped the arms of his seat. The air was tense as Owain removed his cape and took his sword in hand.
“The fight shall be to the knight’s rules,” Arthur said in the hush, “to the death.”
Arthur took his place at Uther’s side and the black knight moved for the first time since his arrival for the duel, taking his large sword in a two handed grasp and facing his opponent. Owain settled his helmet into place and stood ready.
“Let battle commence,” Arthur announced.
The words had scarcely left Arthur’s mouth when the black knight made a heavy swing at Owain, on the offensive immediately. Owain blocked it with his shield and the metallic clang resonated through the arena. The young knight blocked several more blows, backing up around the field, but not making any strikes of his own. The black knight was a full head taller and several stone heavier and each hit fell against Owain with a force that made him stagger. Merlin turned his eyes briefly to Arthur, noticing the prince was having a difficult time remaining still in his seat, sword hand clenching and unclenching with each strike.
Merlin cringed when Owain was knocked off balance by a kick to his shield. The onlookers gasped as the black knight advanced, but Owain managed to roll away from the next blow and regain his feet. Owain raised his shield against the onslaught that followed, but was driven back onto one knee, bracing himself.
Arthur, no longer able to restrain himself, shouted, “One well aimed blow!”
Owain forced his shield arm higher and drove his sword up into the black knight’s abdomen, sinking the blade deep. Staggering back to his feet, Owain didn’t notice his sword had come away with no blood. The black knight, completely unharmed, pressed forward, battering Owain with a dozen vicious blows. Owain, unable to keep his feet, fell back to the ground. The black knight stepped over Owain and Arthur leaned forward, hands braced on the rail in front of him as if about to jump into the fight himself. Uther placed a restraining hand on his son’s shoulder even as the black knight raised his sword and drove it through Owain’s chest.
Merlin looked on, appalled but not surprised. Morgana turned her face away into Gwen’s shoulder as the black knight pulled his sword free and came to stand facing the king. Blood welled up from Owain’s wound and soon the ground around him was stained crimson. Arthur broke free of Uther’s restraining grasp and launched himself out of the royal box. He strode purposefully towards the black knight and Merlin bit his lip knowing exactly what Arthur was about to do.
The gauntlet Arthur threw seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to fall to the ground. It landed at the black knight’s feet with a soft clink of metal that echoed in the sudden silence.
“I, Arthur Pendragon, challenge you.”
The black knight’s voice was hollow. “So be it.”
“Single combat, noon tomorrow,” Arthur said grimly.
The black knight nodded, and turned at once to leave the arena. As he passed by Merlin, the cold waves of magic rolled off him again. Merlin shuddered.
“Please tell me you know something about what exactly that thing is,” said Merlin.
Gaius drew a shaky breath and nodded slightly. “I think I might.”
Merlin looked back to Arthur and saw that Uther had left his seat and was leaning into Arthur’s face, speaking quietly but intently. Arthur nodded at whatever was said and turned to kneel by Owain’s body. Several other knights joined him and together they bore Owain from the field. Arthur would not meet Merlin’s eyes as he passed. Looking back, Merlin saw Uther staring down at the bloodied ground and shaking his head.
Unable to stay there any longer, Merlin turned to Gaius and with a nod they left.
The stairs leading down to the crypt were dark and a thick layer of dust covered the steps. Gaius had insisted he needed to check the tomb before he could be certain, but Merlin had already guessed what Gaius was thinking. Still, he picked up a torch from the sconce and lit it. Holding it high, he peered into the gloom below.
“Lead the way.”
Gaius led him down into a wide room with a low ceiling. The room was crowded with several rows of stone tombs and narrow doors in the wall leading to dark alcoves. The air was close and stale and room icy cold.
“Over here, Merlin,” said Gaius, pointing to the far end of the room.
They shuffled through the narrow space between the rows and came to stand in front of a stone tomb, cracked and broken... and empty.
“It’s a wraith, isn’t it?” Merlin asked, already knowing the answer.
Gaius nodded. “I had feared it might be.”
“Owain never stood a chance. No mortal weapon can harm a wraith.”
“I didn’t want to believe it. Uther didn’t want to believe it.”
“Who is it?” Merlin asked.
“Tristan, Igraine’s brother.”
“The queen?”
Gaius nodded. “When Igraine died, Tristan blamed Uther for her death... blamed him for...”
“Blamed him for using magic to help her conceive,” guessed Merlin.
“Yes. Tristan came to the gates of the city and challenged Uther.”
A horrible realisation hit Merlin. “It was their duel that triggered the Purge, wasn’t it.”
Gaius stared at the gaping hole in the tomb, lips pursed and brow furrowed. “The straw that broke the donkey’s back, possibly, but the bitterness and anger Uther felt came before Tristan arrived demanding blood. They fought and Uther won, but after he was dealt the fatal blow, Tristan cursed Camelot to one day suffer his return.”
“Did he have magic?”
“Not that I was aware of. I had thought it the ramblings of a dying man.”
“Well, curse or no, wraiths don’t just appear on their own,” Merlin observed. “They have to be summoned.”
“And have a spirit with enough anger and grief to give it purpose. Tristan would have been chosen because he would be driven to act.”
“He wanted revenge on Uther.”
Gaius nodded. “Yes... and possibly Arthur.”
A spike of fear ran through Merlin. “Arthur?”
“Have you never seen a man who blamed a babe for the death of a woman he loved?” Gaius asked, his voice filled with great sadness.
Merlin frowned. “Arthur lost his wife that way, once. He grieved, but he adored his son.”
“I have at times wondered how much Uther regrets having an heir instead of a wife. He cares for Arthur a great deal, but there are times...” Gaius shook himself. “I should not speak of it. I don’t know the mind of the king.”
“It doesn’t matter what Uther’s feelings are towards Arthur; I seriously doubt he wants to lose his son and for once we are in perfect accord. We need to find a way to destroy the wraith.”
“I have never encountered one myself before,” said Gaius.
“Nor have I,” Merlin said. “I’ve only heard stories of those who have, and none have been good. I don’t know of anyone who has destroyed one outright.”
“There may be information in some of my texts. We will find something,” Gaius said, his voice sounding doubtful.
Merlin felt doubtful himself, but he held the torch high to light their way and followed Gaius up the stairs to search for some hope.
The weak winter light faded quickly and night settled in dark and uneasy as Gaius and Merlin searched for something that might work. Merlin’s strength had never been in combative magic and there were no solutions to be found in his book. Despite the hundreds of books shelved in Gaius’ rooms, there were none there that held an answer either. Any references to wraiths were followed by admonitions to avoid them at all costs as they would only depart when their purpose had been fulfilled.
Though he knew it was likely futile to search in the library for information about magic, he had allowed Gaius shoo him off to look. Geoffrey had frowned at Merlin’s nervous rambled explanation but had raised his eyebrows in shock at the news that Gaius believed the black knight to be a wraith. He didn’t have much help to offer, as Merlin had expected, but he did mention an ancient ballad that told of a warrior who had a weapon that when wielded could not be beaten. When Merlin expressed curiosity in the tale, Geoffrey had produced a worn scroll, cracked and spotted with mould. Geoffrey struggled to translate the text, written in a disused script, but as the old librarian spoke, Merlin began to shake. A sword, forged in a magical fire, had been wielded to defeat a myriad of fantastic creatures. Gryffins, cockatrices, wyverns... all had been slain, and no man who stood against the warrior had been able to best him.
Merlin jumped to his feet, calling his thanks over his shoulder as he bolted from the room. He needed a sword. Arthur would be busy either running drills or tending to his sword himself, and Merlin didn’t want to take his favourite blade if his idea didn’t work. He nearly went sprawling as he tripped on the stairs leading up to Morgana’s chambers and clutched at the doorjamb, panting as he pounded on the door.
Gwen opened it, looking startled when she saw him. “Merlin? What’s the matter?”
“Gwen... I need a favour.”
Gwen looked taken aback. “From me? What can I do?”
Morgana came up behind Gwen and looked at him with a desperate sort of hope in her eyes. “What is it?”
“I need a sword,” he blurted.
Gwen snorted indelicately at this. “You?”
“Yes. I mean, it’s for Arthur. I need a sword for Arthur,” Merlin managed to gasp out at her.
Gwen’s brow furrowed. “Has something happened to his? He shouldn’t use a different sword for a duel without having long practice with it. He wouldn’t be used to the weight and balance.”
Morgana spoke from behind her. “Arthur can’t win with his sword. It can’t kill the black knight.”
Merlin shook his head. “No. I have an idea, but... if it doesn’t work, I don’t want to ruin his blade. I know it’s a lot to ask Gwen, but I need the strongest sword your father has ever made.”
Gwen was puzzled, but Morgana’s gentle urging had the three of them slipping out of the castle to the smithy. Gwen bit her lip as she stepped down from the barrel she needed to reach the very top shelf and handed Merlin a cloth wrapped sword. Morgana held the candle she had surreptitiously lit closer as the fabric fell away. They all looked at it in wonder.
“It’s amazing, Gwen. I knew Tom was talented, but I’ve never seen a sword like this,” Morgana whispered.
Gwen smiled. “He finished it not long ago. He says he thinks it’s the best sword he’s ever made.”
“I have to agree,” said Morgana.
Merlin nodded. “It’s perfect.”
“My father will kill me if he finds out I’ve taken it,” Gwen said.
“No he won’t. He’ll be proud, very proud,” Merlin said, wrapping the blade up again and tucking the sword under his arm.”
Morgana met his eyes. “What are you going to do to it?”
“Make it the mightiest weapon ever,” Merlin said, hoping he sounded confident and hurried to the door. “Thank you, Gwen. I’d explain, but... well, you’ll understand tomorrow, I expect.”
When Merlin arrived at the opening to the dragon’s cave, he found Kilgarrah already there waiting for him.
“Merlin. I wasn’t certain you would ever return seeking my aid,” the dragon drawled.
Merlin ignored him. “Do you know why I’m here?”
“I do not get much news of the goings on of the castle locked away down here as I am, but yes, I have some notion. The dead who do not sleep have a rather distinctive magical signature, do they not?”
“Tristan threw down the gauntlet at Arthur’s coming of age celebrations. Owain took up the challenge.”
“And he fell,” Kilgarrah stated.
Merlin nodded. “I’ve never encountered a wraith before. I didn’t know what it was and there was no way to stop the duel.”
Kilgarrah sat back on his haunches and looked piercingly at Merlin. “What have you come to ask of me?”
“Arthur will fight the wraith tomorrow. He needs a sword that can kill the dead. I need a magical fire to burnish a sword for Arthur.”
“Merlin, any weapon forged with my assistance will have great power,” Kilgarrah said in a low warning tone.
Merlin nodded solemnly. “I know.”
“You do not know. You might guess, but you have not seen what damage such weapons have wrought in the wrong hands.”
“In lesser hands, yes, it would be dangerous, but not Arthur. He is pure of heart. It will not corrupt him.”
“His worth has been proven, yes,” Kilgarrah allowed, “but he is still mortal.”
“For now,” said Merlin simply.
“Perhaps,” Kilgarrah paused and stared a long while at Merlin. “If I do this thing for you, the sword must be wielded by Arthur and Arthur alone.”
“I understand.”
“You must swear to this. Without your oath, I cannot conscience creating such a dangerously powerful weapon.”
“It will be Arthur’s. I swear it to you. If he should perish,” Merlin said, swallowing a lump in his throat at the very thought, “I will see to it that no other hand can use it. That is my oath to you.”
Kilgarrah held his gaze for a long time and nodded. “Let me see this sword then. What weapon have you found that you believe can withstand a dragon’s fire?”
Merlin removed the cloth and raised the sword in the air in front of Kilgarrah with his magic. The dragon tilted his head this way and that contemplating the blade, then nodded.
“The man who forged this blade was a master of his craft. On its own, it would be a mighty weapon. When I am through, it will have no equal.”
Merlin drew back to the entrance of the cave and lifted the sword higher. He had to shield his eyes as Kilgarrah bathed the sword in flame. He felt heat prickle against him in the icy cold of the cavern and bright light flare behind his closed eyes. When the sound of flames ended, Merlin looked out to see the sword suspended in the air, glittering in the torchlight. He lowered it and brought it near, gasping at the etchings that had been made upon the blade.
“It’s beautiful,” Merlin breathed, ghosting his fingers along the inscriptions that seemed wrought in gold.
“Beautiful, yes, and terrible. Remember your oath, Merlin. Excalibur is Arthur’s alone.”
Merlin met Kilgarrah’s eyes and nodded. “No other hand shall touch it.”
Merlin left the cave under the castle and hurried up to Arthur’s chambers. The hour was late, but he doubted Arthur was doing anything but pacing restlessly or sharpening his sword. When he let himself in with his precious bundle, eager to show off the magnificent blade, he found the room quiet. Much to Merlin’s surprise, Arthur was flopped on the bed, still clothed and fast asleep. Merlin smiled fondly and chuckled. Too many late nights must have finally caught up with Arthur.
Setting the wrapped sword down carefully on the table, Merlin shook his head at the remains of the prince’s dinner. It was picked apart, but largely uneaten and even the wine was still half full. Feeling parched, he picked up the goblet and drained it then poured himself another from the pitcher. The horrible nervous feeling he had felt since the black knight arrived was fading and the tension he had carried in his shoulders was slipping away. He felt good, and sleepy. With his task completed and a way to defeat the black knight found, Merlin knew he could indulge in a well earned rest. His lids drooped and he shuffled over to the bed to collapse beside Arthur.
In his sleepy, fuzzy-minded state, he noticed Arthur hadn’t even taken off his boots, which was odd. Blinking his eyes several times, Merlin tried to focus his mind, but found he couldn’t. Something wasn’t right. He licked his lips and ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth tasting something odd and herbal on it. He sucked in a breath. He’d been drugged, and Arthur too by the looks of it.
Merlin reached out a hand to the post at the end of the bed to steady himself and swung his head around to the door. The effort was far greater than it should have been. He blinked again several times, and his vision finally focussed on a person standing by the door.
“Gaius... I think I’ve... drugged,” Merlin said with effort.
Gaius nodded and came toward him. “I am sorry, Merlin. I could not deny Uther this request. Neither you nor he could bear to see Arthur die tomorrow.”
Merlin shook his head slowly and wobbled precariously. “He won’t... I have... Gaius...”
“All will be as it should, Merlin. I would not have done this if I didn’t think it for the best. Let’s get you laying down. I don’t think I could lift you if you fell asleep where you are.”
“Gaius... no...” Merlin mumbled, but insistent hands guided him around the end of the bed and eased him down beside Arthur.
The last thing Merlin saw as his eyes fell closed was Gaius’ face leaning over him. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”
He heard footsteps walking away and the snick of the lock on the door and then everything fell away into sleep.
Merlin nuzzled the warm body next to him, feeling contented and lazy. Consciousness was just pulling at the edge of his pleasantly sleepy haze and he didn’t want to get up. He was content and moving seemed like a great deal of unnecessary trouble. With some effort, he cracked an eyelid open and pale winter light burst into his vision. The quality of it was enough to let him know it was past morning and getting on to noon. Had they really been allowed to sleep the morning away? It must have been some feast the night before for no one to come looking for Arthur. Or was it some sort of a birthday present? His mind turned over this thought for several moments, then he startled into wakefulness.
Arthur’s birthday had been two days ago and a wraith dressed as a black knight had arrived. Arthur had challenged it and was set to fight at midday. Bolting upright, Merlin swayed a little and took in their condition. They were both in bed with a heavy blanket covering them as they lay fully dressed. Arthur was still flat on his back, breathing slow and deep, obviously still heavily asleep. Casting his eyes around the room, Merlin caught sight of the remnants of a meal on the table. He nodded as the fog in his mind started lifting. Arthur hadn’t finished supper, not even his wine.
The wine... it had been drugged. It had been drugged by Gaius. As the night before began to resolve itself in his mind, Merlin staggered to his feet and went to check the door. It was locked, though it wouldn’t take more than a thought for him to unlock it. Clearly, however, they weren’t meant to leave the room. Panic suddenly clenched his heart and he looked to the table again. The sight of red wool wrapped around a long sword filled him with relief. He walked unsteadily over to the table and carefully removed the cloth.
The light reflecting off the sword was nearly blinding. The sword seemed to shine not only from the surface, but from within as well. The etchings Kilgarrah’s fire had made upon the blade were even more intricate and beautiful in the light of day than they had appeared when he first saw them by torchlight the night before. Down the centre was written TAKE ME UP in an ancient script and Merlin remembered the dragon naming the sword and his vow in return. This was Arthur’s sword, and only Arthur’s.
A groan from the bed caught Merlin’s attention and he set down the sword, hurrying to Arthur’s side. A bleary eye glared up at him from the pillow.
“How are you feeling?” Merlin asked.
“Mmph,” Arthur grunted and blinked his eyes several times in rapid succession.
Merlin brushed his fingers fondly across Arthur’s cheek. “Don’t sit up too quickly. You might feel a bit dizzy.”
Arthur smacked his lips and shook his head a bit. “Did I drink a lot last night?”
“No. Gaius drugged your wine. He knocked both of us out.”
“What?!”
Arthur struggled to sit up. He wobbled a bit precariously, but seemed to find his equilibrium quickly. Merlin brought his hands to Arthur’s shoulders to steady him. The unsteadiness seemed to pass quickly and Arthur looked down at himself, then at the bright light streaming in through the window.
“It must be nearly midday. I have to get ready,” Arthur said with a slightly frantic urgency.
Merlin gave Arthur’s shoulders a small squeeze. “Easy. You’re right and we’ll get down there, but you’ll probably need a few minutes before you’re up to armed combat. Just try standing for the moment while I get your gear ready.”
Already feeling much steadier, Merlin quickly rummaged through the wardrobe and began arranging Arthur’s things. Arthur stumbled over to the window and looked out on the courtyard below.
“There’s no one about. They must all be at the tournament arena.”
“We’ll find out when we get there.”
Arthur ran his hands through his already messy hair in frustration. “If I’m late, everyone will think me a coward.”
“If you’re late, it will be because Gaius drugged us with a sleeping draught,” Merlin said and he could hear the bitterness in his own voice. “He said... I think he said something about Uther telling him to do it.”
“You think?” Arthur snapped.
Merlin ignored the tone and replied, “Well, I was already nearly half asleep myself when I saw Gaius. He must have been waiting for me to come back.”
“Where were you, anyway?”
“I was busy meeting with the dragon.”
“The dragon? You mean the one that’s locked up under the castle? What for?” Arthur asked in complete bafflement.
“Yes, that dragon. I went to see Kilgarrah because I needed his help. I have something for you, Arthur,” Merlin said softly.
Arthur turned from where he had been staring out the window and Merlin carried the sword reverently over to him, kneeling as he presented it. Arthur’s eyes widened as he took in the weapon and almost hesitantly reached out a hand to pick it up. He raised it and turned the blade back and forth, watching the way the light played across the surface and testing the weight of it. Merlin stepped back as Arthur brought a second hand to the hilt and swung it back and forth a few times. A small smile played on both their lips.
“It’s called Excalibur,” he whispered. “It was made for your hand, and no one else’s.”
Arthur’s voice was hushed with awe. “It’s incredible.”
“The sword itself was made by Tom, and then it was burnished with the dragon’s breath. It will be able to destroy a wraith.”
“I don’t doubt it. It’s... Merlin... Thank you,” Arthur said, struggling for words.
Merlin felt his heart swell and turned away, not wanting to be like some over-emotional young maiden. “It’s the sword you deserve to have. Now come on. Let’s get you dressed.”
A strong hand gripped his shoulder and turned him back around. He looked up to see Arthur’s earnest expression just before Arthur leaned in a kissed him with a brutal urgency. When Arthur broke the kiss, he leaned his forehead against Merlin’s.
“I love you. You deserve more than that, but it’s all I have to give.”
Merlin closed his eyes, allowing himself a brief moment to savour Arthur’s declaration. “It’s enough. It’s always been enough.”
Excalibur by ~ReniMilchstrasse on deviantART
Nearing the tournament grounds, the clash of swords meeting was barely audible over the gasps and cheers of the crowd. The castle and streets had been deserted and Merlin had little doubt that the whole of the city was there watching. At the entrance to the arena, he caught his first glimpse of the king duelling, and it did not look to be going well.
The black knight was on the offensive, backing Uther up along the walls that protected the people in the stands. Each blow he blocked with his sword caused his knees to buckle and forced him to take another step back. A hard strike against his shield sent Uther off balance and he twisted away, stumbling as he tried to regain his footing. The black knight pressed his advantage and threw his weight behind a long slash across the king’s torso. Uther failed to block in time and the crowd gasped and fell quiet as their king sank to his knees.
Arthur did not pause long enough to put on his helm. He gripped Excalibur tightly in both hands and charged onto the field. Surprise echoed through the stands and Gaius whipped his head around look at Merlin. Merlin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he stepped forward to have a better view of the fight.
“Merlin, what are you-”
He shook his head slightly, eyes focussed on Arthur. “Did you really believe I would allow him to fight without a weapon that could defeat his opponent?”
“Uther came to me. He commanded me to keep Arthur from the challenge. In this, I would not refuse him,” Gaius said with conviction.
Merlin felt irritation rising, but tried to remain calm. “This is Arthur’s challenge. He shouldn’t have been locked in his room like a disobedient child.”
They spoke no more for a time, attention fixed on the clash of swords. Both Arthur and the black knight were battling without shields in a two handed grip. Arthur moved with a speed and ferocity Merlin had never seen and though it was by no means an even matchup, he began to gain ground on the black knight. A wild swing at head level made Arthur duck and turn, sword leading him through and he nearly caught the black knight on the back swing, but the knight’s sword rose to block just in time. Metal rang out like clear chimes with the force of their blows and even without trying to connect with Arthur, Merlin could feel the pulsing adrenaline in his system.
The black knight came in close, delivering bone jarring blows that Arthur struggled to block, but none found their mark. When the knight lifted his sword above his head to bring it down with greater force, Arthur sidestepped and the chipped and tarnished blade sank into the ground. Without a moment’s hesitation, Arthur levelled his sword and drove it hard and deep into his opponent’s gut.
Pulling back, Excalibur slid free easily and gleamed in the light, not a trace of blood upon it. However, unlike the combat with Owain, the black knight made a horrible sound and staggered backward. There was an unearthly shriek as the air around the knight began to swirl. His head jerked back with great force and the helmet he wore fell to the ground. The crowd erupted with cries at the sight of the shrivelled, decomposing face of the wraith. Arthur took several steps back and was unable to disguise his horrified expression. It was not long lived, however. The wraith began falling to pieces and within moments was nothing more than eddying mist and smoke. The dark smoke rose up into the sky and then it burst apart and was carried away by the wind.
For a moment, everyone was still, and then a great cheer burst out from the stands. Arthur raised Excalibur in acknowledgement, then turned to where Uther lay on the field.
Merlin glanced briefly at Gaius. “We’ll need some men to carry Uther from the field. He doesn’t have much time.”
With long strides, Merlin entered the arena and came to stand behind where Arthur was kneeling. The ground beside the king was stained with blood, but Uther was still awake and breathing. Merlin rested a hand on Arthur’s shoulder but did not say anything. After a brief meeting of eyes, Arthur turned back to his father, holding his hand tightly.
Looking away up into the stands, he saw the jubilation on the faces of the onlookers turn to sorrow and wished they would leave and let Arthur have this moment without their scrutiny. It was a more subtle and complicated magic than he was used to using, but Merlin closed his eyes and reached out to gently prod people into leaving. Thankfully, his efforts were assisted by the royal guard who began clearing the stands and urging the crowd to leave. He whispered a spell to make Arthur and the king as unremarkable as possible and soon the arena was nearly empty.
Morgana came down from the royal box and offered him a nod of thanks before kneeling in the dirt beside Arthur, not caring for the icy mud that stained her dress. Gwen hung back, visibly puzzled under the effects of Merlin’s spell and Merlin scanned the rest of the stands to see if there were any stragglers. At the top, near one of the stairs that led to the exit, stood a cloaked figure staring down at them. Merlin let his spells drop and focussed his attention on the figure. Cold blue eyes met his and he startled in recognition. Nimueh.
He was about to move away from Arthur and climb up to her, when she inclined her head, nodded and was gone.
Arthur walked ahead of the half dozen knights who bore the king up to the castle, head held high, but Merlin could feel Arthur’s pain. Although his injuries had not killed him outright, the wound Uther had suffered at the hands of the wraith was fatal. Once within the king’s rooms, Merlin hung back by the door to let Arthur and Morgana make their farewells. Uther had refused Gaius’ treatment and the physician stood silently beside Merlin, in case he was called for.
In a hushed voice, Gaius said, “Would you have refused if Arthur had made such a request of you?”
Merlin shook his head. “Probably not, but it would not have been a good way for Arthur to gain the crown, locked in his rooms. The people saw him today and knew him for his bravery and selflessness.”
“The sword... Where did it come from?” asked Gaius.
Merlin gave a weak smile. “I had Kilgarrah make it.”
Gaius’ eyebrows rose to his hairline. “That’s more than just a weapon to defeat a wraith.”
“I know,” Merlin said with a nod. “It’s the sword of the Once and Future King.”
Gaius met his eyes and asked, “What will you do now, Mael?”
Merlin turned to look at the room beyond where he could hear Morgana’s quiet tears turn to louder, hiccupping cries and saw Arthur stand and take her in his arms, rubbing her back soothingly. “We do what we were meant to do eight hundred years ago, only now both the task and the rewards are far greater.”
Over the next several days, Merlin scarcely saw Arthur. During the day, he was busy attending to matters of state and succession and at night he held a vigil over Uther’s body, as was customary. During the funeral ceremonies Merlin had remained at a distance, taking in Arthur’s tired and worn features. The days without rest were taking their toll, but it would be over soon. The rites were not delayed for need of travel as nearly all the heads of noble houses were at the castle already and the coronation would take place the following day, now that the appropriate period of mourning had passed.
Merlin had been somewhat at loose ends, unsure of what Arthur wanted or needed from him, and not able to find a spare moment to talk alone together. He made sure Arthur’s rooms were maintained, even though Arthur wasn’t there to do more than change clothing. He checked in on the knights and the stables and a dozen little things he knew Arthur gave his attention to and made sure everything was running as smoothly as could be expected. Merlin also visited Morgana and did his best to ease her mind about the conflicted emotions she felt at her guardian's passing. For all that she had feared Uther, she had also loved him.
Exhausted, and nearly to the point of falling asleep standing up, Merlin stumbled into Arthur’s room and almost fell over his feet when he saw Arthur there. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, the prince’s crown he had received less than a week earlier in his hands. At the noise, Arthur looked up, his thoughtful expression softening when he saw Merlin.
“Hey,” Merlin said gently, regaining his balance and coming over to sit on the bed beside Arthur.
“Hey,” Arthur replied. “It’s been some week.”
“It has. Ready for tomorrow?”
“Not really. I don’t feel ready.”
“You never feel ready,” Merlin said with a grin, but sobered quickly. “I don’t think anyone does.”
Arthur shook his head. “It wasn’t meant to happen this way, was it?”
Merlin shrugged. “I’ve been told by several people that there are many paths that can lead to the same destiny.”
“These past months... since I remembered... It’s been so awkward and uncomfortable around him. I wanted to be free of it, but now...”
“He was still your father, even if he wasn’t the only one or the best. There’s nothing wrong with grieving his loss.”
“He did terrible things, Merlin, unconscionable things, but he also used to let me ride in front of him on his fancy destrier when I was small and let me best him with the first wooden sword he gave me.”
Merlin placed an arm around Arthur’s shoulders and squeezed. “For all his deeds and misdeeds, he met an honourable end. He wanted to protect you, and he walked into that duel without hope, so that you could rule after him.”
“He spoke... before the end,” Arthur said leaning his head against Merlin’s shoulder, “He said he was proud of me. He said he hoped I would be a kinder and more just king than him.”
The stoic face Arthur had worn since walking from the tournament field cracked. His breath hitched and half choked on sobs as he wept in Merlin’s arms. Gathering him in his arms as best he could, Merlin held tight, stroking Arthur’s hair and whispering quiet reassurances. When the tears were spent, Merlin urged Arthur into bed and slid in behind him, holding him close with both arms and magic.
Chapter 7: A New Tomorrow
Chapter Text
Seven Years Later
Merlin stood on the battlements overlooking the city in the late evening with his senses open. He closed his eyes and reached out to the whisper of a warm breeze that swirled and danced at the edges of his awareness. It smelled of fresh spring rains and whispered of hope and promise. He had been waiting to feel it for months now and a smile played at his lips. The time had finally come.
With a spring in his step, he quickly descended into the citadel, though he watched his feet as he went. He was still cautious of taking the stairs too quickly and tripping over the hem of the formal robe Arthur insisted he wear. He had worn one for nearly four years now and he still wasn’t comfortable with it, but it gave Arthur pleasure to see him in his finery. So, like most of the castle, or the entire kingdom really, he caved for the sake of a pleased smile on the face of the king. As he hurried through the corridors, he nodded at the various people, servants and nobles alike, who were making their way towards their evening meal. He received polite nods and friendly smiles in return. On another evening, he might stop to chat with those who greeted him, but he was too eager to find Arthur to tarry in conversation.
He found Arthur, as expected, in his council chambers looking over various documents that demanded his attention. The last of the evening light cast the room in a golden glow, but as it faded Arthur hunched forward, squinting his eyes in the growing dim. With a careless flick of his fingers, Merlin lit the candles at the small desk set by the window. The crease in Arthur’s brow smoothed and he trailed his finger down the page, finishing what he was reading before he looked up. The smile that spread across Arthur’s face still made Merlin’s heart skip and his magic surge slightly in response.
“It’s time, Arthur,” Merlin said gently.
Arthur tilted his head slightly and looked at Merlin in confusion. “Time?”
Merlin nodded. “The land is ready. It’s time.”
Arthur’s eyes widened and he pushed up from his chair, crossing the room to Merlin with long strides. He stood in front of Merlin, breath shaking slightly and his entire body on alert.
“Is it really?”
Merlin reached across the small space separating them and took Arthur’s hands in his. “We’ll need to leave tomorrow. I think we’re meant to arrive for Beltane.”
Leaning in, Arthur captured Merlin’s lips in a quick, but joyful kiss and pulled away smiling. “I’ll let Morgana know, if she doesn’t already. How long will we be away?”
“Ten days at most.”
The Isle of Blessed was a full four days ride from the castle at Camelot, but the roads across the land were no longer particularly dangerous. There were still wild animals and the occasional small groups of men who resisted the rule of law, but things were peaceful now for the most part. The road north was long, winding through broad mountains and across many rivers and streams. The spring was waxing, full of life as they travelled with the cheerful twitter of birdsong in the trees that were bright green with new leaves. The days were warm and pleasant to ride in, but the nights were still chilly enough that there was no question about sleeping tucked close together for warmth.
The sun was beginning to drop low on the horizon on Beltane eve when Merlin first caught sight of the lake in the valley below. It was already shadowed and the surface appeared shrouded in a mist that made it difficult to distinguish any features. Arthur looked at him questioningly, but Merlin simply shrugged and carefully picked his way down the narrow, overgrown path leading down to the water’s edge.
At the bottom, there was a wide clearing of good browse for the horses and a rickety dock at the shoreline next to which a small boat was bobbing slowly in the gently lapping waters. They worked quickly to relieve the horses of their burdens and tethered them so they could graze freely. Arthur lingered a few moments, checking hooves for stones and whispering affectionate words, which he would never let anyone but Merlin see him do. As always, his heart tugged to see the care and attention Arthur gave everyone if a person had an eye to see it, and before he became ridiculously soppy, Merlin turned his attention to the boat.
The boat was tiny and would barely hold them both, even with the small amount of gear they had brought. Despite its shabby condition, however, it appeared to be watertight. Cautiously, Merlin lowered himself in, checking the stability. Arthur’s boots seemed inordinately loud when he walked out on the dock to join him.
“You’re certain that will hold us?” Arthur asked in a whisper.
The stillness of this place seemed to call for hushed words and Merlin nodded. “It’ll be a tight fit, but we should be fine.”
Arthur passed down their small packs and tentatively lowered a foot into the boat. It swayed with the unbalanced weight, but stabilized quickly once Arthur was in and seated.
“I still feel ridiculous dressed like I’m about to attend a formal feast in the middle of nowhere,” Arthur pointed out for the tenth time that day.
Merlin smiled fondly at him. “You’re here as the High King of Albion to represent your people.”
“And you? You’re my Chief Advisor and Royal Consort. I don’t see why you’re in plain clothes,” Arthur groused without any real heat to his words.
“Because that’s the way it is. You’ll see,” Merlin said as he untied the boat from the dock.
With a flick of his wrist, the boat began to move out into the lake and Merlin sat on the bench in front of Arthur. He looked on with eagerness and curiosity for his first glimpse of the island. He had known their time would be soon and all winter he had scoured every library he had at his disposal to learn all he could. What precisely would be expected of them, he wasn’t sure, but he had worked out a few things. Arthur was the representation of all the peoples of Albion, gathered together under his banner; it was his place to connect with the earth in whatever ritual would take place on the island. What that would be, Merlin hadn’t found a proper answer for, but he had his suspicions. All he could guess with any certainty was that they were meant to interact with the natural magics of the earth. Merlin had tried to discuss it with Kilgarrah several times, but freedom had seemed to make the dragon even more cryptic if anything. The only reassurance he had been given was that he would know what to do when the time was right.
The boat slipped through the gathered mists, the small waves barely making a sound against the bow as it cut through the water. When they came through the densest fog, stone ruins loomed in front of them. Without conscious guidance, the boat glided up to a wide stone step at the shore and stopped. Merlin looped the rope around a broken stone pillar that might have been part of a wide archway once, and carefully stepped from the boat. He nearly tripped on the damp steps but managed to regain his balance before tumbling into the water. Arthur grinned and shook his head, but managed not to laugh before climbing out of the boat himself.
They walked up into the ruined remains of what once must have been a great fortress. It was still and quiet in the shadow of the stone walls. When they walked into an open courtyard torches flared to life around them and Merlin instinctively put his back to Arthur, his senses alert. The response was strong in Arthur as well, and he took Excalibur to hand without hesitation.
“Well met,” said a woman’s voice echoing off the stone around them.
Merlin relaxed slightly, but remained alert. “Hello, Nimueh.”
A light feminine chuckle rang in the air. “Hello, Emrys. I bid you and your king welcome.”
As one, Merlin and Arthur turned to the far end of the courtyard where a woman in a red gown walked barefooted across the grass towards them.
“You know why we are here,” stated Merlin when she drew near.
She nodded. “You have been called, and my time is over.”
Merlin nodded, but Arthur sheathed his sword and shook his head. “I was startled. I’m not here to do you harm.”
Nimueh’s lips curled up in amusement at his words.
“You have become a far greater man than I had thought possible when last I saw you,” she said and turned to Merlin. “I offer my apologies, Emrys. Had I known, I would not have stood in your way.”
“I’m not angry with you any longer, Nimueh. Your obstacles served their own purpose apart from your designs,” said Merlin.
“So they did,” she agreed. “Are you ready? It has been a long time since there was a High Priest of Albion.”
Merlin looked at her in surprise. “You would give up your place to me so easily?”
“I cannot serve as you would. As protector of the magical powers of the land, I have been given more time, but it is not true immortality. I would not be able to unite with the people, either,” she said, glancing briefly at Arthur before returning her intense gaze to Merlin. “This is your destiny. I understand it has been a very long time in the making.”
“You will die,” Merlin observed.
Nimueh’s breath caught a little at the words, but she kept his gaze, chin lifted proudly. “That is part of the balance. You do not need my lifeforce, but your king does. For what is to come, I do not begrudge the exchange.”
“I wish...” Merlin began, then let out a long breath, slumping his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter, but I do wish we hadn’t been adversaries.”
The smile she favoured him with was warm and kind. “That you have endured so much yet still have your kind heart intact is a wonder to me. Light the ceremonial fire and be truly united with your other half. Let him take in your power and bless the earth with life. Complete the only task remaining to you and Albion will be protected and united for all the days to come.”
Arthur stepped towards Nimueh, his hands twitching as if he wanted to reach out to her but wasn’t certain if it would be inappropriate. She took pity on his discomfort and extended a hand. He took it and brushed his lips across the back of it.
“Thank you. I never expected to have cause to give it, but you have my gratitude.”
“Rule well, and have the wisdom to know when it is time to place your kingdom in the hands of others,” Nimueh said.
Stepping back, she moved to the centre of the courtyard and raised her hands up to the sky. The wind picked up and the ground and the walls and the air around them began to pulse with magic. Merlin gasped and struggled for a moment to draw breath, feeling himself suddenly so full of power that it threatened to shake his body apart. Arthur looked at him in concern but before Merlin could say anything in reassurance Nimueh cried out. Her body was lifted in the air and seemed to change from solid flesh to something fluid and changeable. She hovered there for a moment and then was gone, like mist chased away by the sun.
The swell of power within him surged greater still and Merlin could not take even a moment’s pause at Nimueh’s death. Arthur had turned his focus back to him and was staring wide eyed. A glance at his hands showed the power crackling visibly over his skin. With no more than a thought, a bonfire burst into existence where Nimueh had stood. Merlin took Arthur’s hand and felt the overwhelming power race from his body over to Arthur’s.
They walked hand in hand to the edge of the flames and Arthur paused, quirking a smile at Merlin. “Jump with me?”
“Always,” Merlin said with a grin.
Full to bursting with magic and emotion and sensation, Merlin gripped Arthur’s hand tighter and they jumped across the roaring flames. Their feet scarcely had touched the ground on the other side before they were clutching each other, tugging at clothing and pressing desperate kisses along skin as it was exposed. The fine clothes Arthur had complained about were tossed carelessly to the ground away from the fire in a scattered heap with Merlin’s.
With little urging, Merlin guided Arthur down to the ground, pressing him into the grass and attacking the bare skin that glowed golden in the firelight with his mouth. Merlin licked a wet line up Arthur’s neck and felt the magic roar in behind it. Arthur groaned and keened as Merlin brought his attention to each new part of his body and let the power sweep in behind it.
When he had seen to Arthur’s face, neck and chest, leaving the skin alight with magic as he went, Merlin focussed his attention lower. Long fingers traced the muscled lines of Arthur’s strong legs. He pressed his fingers firmly into the tensed muscles pulling still more groans. He felt dizzy from all the power he was drawing on and pushing into Arthur’s body and Arthur’s unseeing glassy eyes were enough to indicate he felt much the same.
When Merlin brought his hand to stroke the hard length of Arthur’s cock, Arthur writhed and tried to pull back from the rushing onslaught that followed but Merlin would not grant him release.
Arthur pleaded, “Please. Merlin, it’s too much.”
“There’s more,” Merlin said, his voice full of power and promise.
Too overwrought to resist, Arthur rolled easily onto his front, giving up and letting Merlin do what he would. As he had done to Arthur’s front, Merlin kissed, bit, and sucked his way down Arthur’s back. Arthur clenched his hands, pulling loose dirt and grass up with his fingers. Not letting up, Merlin nipped and sucked at the base of Arthur’s spine, just above the swell of his arse. Arthur bucked his hips and keened louder as Merlin dropped lower, spreading Arthur open. Pressing a tongue at the tight pucker of skin, he licked and pushed in until Arthur was dripping wet and open.
Barely able to see through the golden haze of magic taking over his senses, Merlin slid his arms under Arthur’s hips and pulled him up to his knees. Merlin became aware, now that the moment was upon him, of the desperate straining of his own cock. His physical urges had been muted almost completely by the swell of the magic, but drawing a finger along the cleft of Arthur’s arse and pressing a finger into the clenching wet heat made him moan with need. Taking his cock in hand, Merlin positioned himself and pushed in, bending over Arthur’s back until his lips were pressed against the nape of Arthur’s neck.
He had only a moment to savour the tight heat that engulfed him, before the magic came racing in to overtake his senses completely. The bright golden light cut out his vision and all Merlin could do was hold tight to Arthur as wave after wave of magic drove him forward. Power roared in his ears and crackled like lightening along his skin, pouring through him into Arthur until it could be borne no longer. Merlin came with a scream, shuddering and spasming until the golden light faded to black.
It was fingers stroking idly through his hair that Merlin became aware of first. It was familiar and comforting, like the steady heartbeat under his ear. He was abstractly aware of a blade of grass tickling his thigh and he twitched trying to shift away from it. His body was decidedly unresponsive and he cracked an eyelid.
“What..?” he asked, not really certain what question he was looking for an answer to.
Arthur’s voice rumbled beneath his ear. “You’re awake. Are you alright?”
“I think so. You?”
“Yeah. I’m not sure I can move just yet though.”
Merlin pressed a kiss onto the skin where his lips were resting. “We don’t have to. We can stay here all night.”
“Yes, but even with the fire, it’s not exactly warm tonight,” Arthur pointed out.
“Never satisfied, are you?”
The arm around Merlin tightened and soft lips brushed against his forehead. “Any more satisfied and I’m not sure either of us would have woken up again.”
Merlin felt a twinge of concern as the memory of their frenzied magical joining solidified in his mind. “Do you feel alright? You weren’t hurt were you? The magic was so overpowering and...”
“It was, but I’m just fine. You worry too much, you great girl.”
“Hey!” Merlin objected.
Arthur just pulled him tighter in his arms. “I’m not sure I’ll be up for any vigorous riding for the next few days, but we have time.”
“We have all the time the world,” Merlin whispered, the realization suddenly dawning on him.
With great effort, Merlin pushed himself up on his elbow and looked at Arthur. His face was all angles and shadows in the flickering light of the fire and the sight of it made Merlin’s heart clench.
“I love you.”
Arthur cupped his cheek and drew him in for a kiss that was heat and passion and promise made real in the slide of lips and teeth and tongue. The urgent strain of holding his magic in was gone and the waves of it rippled between their bodies and settled back into Merlin easily when they broke apart. It was as if the distinction between his body and Arthur’s didn’t matter to his magic anymore and the power just settled where it needed to.
“Did you feel that?” Merlin asked with nearly giddy excitement.
Arthur nodded, a smile playing at his lips. “My other half.”
“My other half,” Merlin breathed, and kissed Arthur until they both forgot about the chill of the night air.
The ride back to Camelot was slow. They took their time and stopped regularly just to enjoy the cool shade at the edge of a stream or briefly venture into the woods to hunt. The land around them was more alive than it had been on their journey to the Isle of Blessed and they both could feel it.
As they neared the city, they met far more people on the road travelling home from Camelot after selling goods at market and gathering supplies. They smiled and greeted their fellow travellers warmly, though most were too shocked when they realized who was speaking to them to respond with more than a stammered greeting and a hasty dip of the head. Arthur chuckled at their flustered demeanours, but Merlin sighed and shook his head. He was grateful for nearly all the changes they had made, not just in Camelot, but in the whole of Albion. This, however, was something he wasn’t entirely fond of. He had never been someone of rank before. The excessive bowing and repetitive displays of respect wore on him at times. Merlin wouldn’t change it, though.
He hadn’t dreamed that this was something he could have, standing beside Arthur openly, without artifice. There had been some upset amongst the courtiers and advisors when the young king had made it plain to them that he would not take a wife, but instead make Morgana and her line heirs to the throne. Not only had she become active in the ruling of the kingdom, Arthur also left her free to make a match of her own choosing. Arthur had been in a bad mood for months when it became plain one of his knights, Sir Bedivere, had won her heart, but several years and an adorable baby boy had tempered his irritation with her. They still bickered constantly, but Merlin had come to suspect this was out of equal parts habit and affection.
As they crested the last hill and Camelot came into view, Merlin smiled at the sight of the castle silhouetted against the rich hues of the evening sky. Arthur reined in his horse, and Merlin stopped beside him. Arthur looked out over the land surrounding the city, smiling fondly. Merlin reached out and placed a hand on Arthur’s thigh. Arthur startled, but turned his fond smile on Merlin and took his hand. Merlin gave a small squeeze and knew he was grinning like a fool when Arthur brought his hand to his lips and pressed a small kiss on the back.
Though there would be bad years along with the good, the accord of the people and the land would bring prosperity. Merlin could see endless possibilities laid out before him and a future as golden and bright as the man by his side.
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